WHil'st the Rage and fury of a Civil War (during the reign of Charls the ninth) rent France in pieces, Love was not wanting to find room amidst those disorders; and to cause as great in his own Empire, as the Ambi­tion, [Page 2]and self-ends of some Great Ones caused in that Dominion.

The only Daughter of the Marquesse of Mezieres, an Heiress very considerable, no less for her great Estate, then for her alliance to the Illustrious House of Anjou, from whence she was descended; was pro­mised in marriage to the Duke of Maine, a younger Brother to the Duke of Guise (since called Balafre.) The only want of years in this great Heiress seem'd to retard her marriage: during which time the Duke of Guise, who saw her often, discovering in her the early appearances of a Beauty (which age in a short time was like to render most accomplish'd) grew ex­ceeding amorous of her, and fortune prov'd so favourable to him that he re­ceived a reciprocal return of his affection.

They long (with care) conceal'd their Love, the Duke of Guise (who was not then possest with so much ambition, as since) ardently wished to marry her; but the [Page 3]fear to displease the Cardinal of Lorrain, who served him instead of a Father, hin­dered him from declaring his intentions.

In this condition were affairs, when as the House of Bourbon, who could not but with envy behold the rise of that of Guise, perceiving the advantage which they would receive by this marriage, resolved to deprive them of it, and to make it ad­vantageous to themselves, in procuring this Heiress to marry the young Prince of Monpensier.

Endeavours were used to execute this design with such success, that the friends of Madamoiselle de Mezieres, contrary to the promises which they had made to the Cardinal of Lorrain, resolved to bestow her in marriage on that young Prince. The whole house of Guise were extream­ly surpriz'd at their proceedings, but the Duke, above the rest, seemed to be ore­whelm'd with grief; the interest of his Love made him receive this breach of [Page 4]their word as an unsufferable affront; and in spight of all the perswasions and en­deavours u [...]d to the contrary (by the Cardinal of Lorrain, and the Duke of Aumale, his Uncles, who would not ap­pear too obstinate in a business which they perceived beyond their power to hin­der) his resentment soon appear'd, and with such violence too in the very pre­sence of the Prince of Monpensier, that from thence proceeded a hatred between them, which finished not, but with their Lives.

Madamoiselle de Mezieres, importun'd by her Relations to marry that Prince, and perceiving otherwise that 'twas im­possible for her to marry the Duke of Guise, besides her vertue prompting her, that 'twas dangerous to have that Person for a Brother-in-Law, whom she had wished for as a Husband, in the end resolv'd to follow the inclination of her friends, and conjur'd the Duke of Guise no longer, by [Page 5]any new obstacle to divert their mar­riage.

In fine she married the P [...]nce of Mon­pensier, who shortly after carried her to Champigni (the usual seat belonging to the Princes of his family) withdrawing her from Paris, where the burthen of the war was like to fall heaviest; that great City being menac'd to sustain a siege from the Huguenots Army, of which the Prince of Conde was General, who now for the se­cond time had begun to declare War against the King.

The Prince of Monpensier even in his childhood had contracted a firm, and particular friendship with the Count of Chabanes, who was a man far more ad­vanc'd in years then himself, and a person of extraordinary merit. This Count had been so sensible of the esteem, and of the confidence which this young Prince reposed in him, that contrary to the en­gagements which he had made to the [Page 6]Prince of Conde, who gave him hopes of considerable imployments in the Huguenots party, he declar'd himself for the Catho­licks; since he could not resolve to be op­posite in any thing to a Person, that was so dear to him. This alteration of Party having no other known foundation, it was doubted whether it were real or no; and the Queen-Mother, Catherine de Medicis, had such great suspitions of him, that the War being declar'd by the Huguenots, she had a design to arrest him, and to secure his Person, had not the Prince of Monpen­sier endeavour'd to hinder it, and carried Chabanes to Champigni, in company with his Wife.

The Count being of a very pleasant, and very agreeable humour, he soon gain'd the esteem of the Princess of Mon­pensier, and in a short time she repos'd no less confidence in him, and had no less ami­ty for him, then had the Prince her Hus­band. Chabanes on his side beheld with [Page 7]admiration so much Beauty, Wit, and Ver­tue; which appear'd in this young Princess, and making use of the friendship which she shewed him to inspire her with the prin­ciples of an extraordinary Vertue, and worthy of the greatness of her birth; he in a small time render'd her one of the most accomplish'd Persons in the world.

The Prince being return'd to Court, (call'd thither by the continuation of the War) the Count remain'd alone with the Princess, and began to have a respect, and an amity for her, proportionable both to her quality, and merits. The confidence which they repos'd in each other, aug­mented on both sides, but grew so great on the Princess of Monpensiers part, that she acquainted him with the inclination and affection which she had had for the Duke of Guise: but she inform'd him also at the same instant, that her Love was now almost extinct, and that there re­main'd no more at present, then what [Page 8]was requisite to defend her heart, from any such other inclination; and that her Vertue, joyning it self to the remainder of this impression, she was not capable to have any thing but disdain and aversion for all those who should dare to have any Love for her.

The Count, who knew the sincerity of this fair Princess, and who perceiv'd in her, dispositions so contrary to be ensnar'd with the inticing baits of gallantry, and courtship, doubted not at all of the ve­rity of her words; Yet notwithstanding his Reason prov'd too weak a defence to protect him from the assaulting charms of a Beauty, in whose company, 'twas his fortune to be every day, so that at length he became passionately enamour'd of this Princess, and whatsoever shame at first posses'd him to be thus vanquish'd, yet in the end he was forc'd to submit, and to affect her with the most sincere, and violent passion, which perhaps ever was; [Page 9]And though he was not Master of his heart, yet he prov'd so of his actions. The alteration of his mind chang'd not at all his humour, so that none suspected him to be in Love.

He took great care, during the space of a whole year, to hide it from the Prin­cess, and he believ'd that he should alwayes have had the same desire to have con­ceal'd it from her. But Love produc'd the same effects in him which it generally does in all Lovers, causing in him a de­sire to reveal his affection, and after all those difficulties which are wont to per­plex Lovers on the like occasions, he at last took on him the boldness to acquaint her with his affection, being before well prepar'd to endure the violence of that storm, wherewith the haughty humour of this Princess seem'd to menace him. But he found in her a tranquillity, and a coldness worse a thousand times then all the rigour, and ill usage, which he had expected.

She took not so much pains, to put her self in a Passion for what he had say'd; she only in few words represented to him the difference between their Qualities, and Age, the particular knowledge which he had of her vertue, and of the inclination which she had had for the Duke of Guise, but, above the rest, what he ow'd to the friendship of the Prince her Husband, and to the confidence which he repos'd in him. The Count (at these words) thought he should have dyed at her feet, through shame and grief; but she indeavour'd to comfort him in assuring him, that she would never remember what he had told her, and that she would ne­ver be perswaded to believe a thing which was so disadvantageous to him, and that she would ever still regard him, as her best friend.

These assurances (as may be imagin'd) were some consolation to the Count; but yet he made a sensible discove­ry [Page 11]of the disdain, and aversion, which the Princess had for him through her words; and the next day, though he be­held her with a countenance as uncon­cern'd as formerly, yet his grief and affli­ction much increas'd. The Princess on her part lessen'd not at all the esteem which she before had for him, she us'd him with the same affability as she was accustom'd to do: and often (when oc­casion serv'd) took an opportunity to dis­course of the inclination which she for­merly had for the Duke of Guise: and Fame beginning then to publish to the world those great and excellent qualities which appear'd in that Prince, she confess'd to him that she was extream glad to hear it, and that she much rejoyc'd to find that he merited the affection which she had had for him.

These signs of confidence, which had been formerly so dear to the Count, be­came now insupportable to him; yet he [Page 12]durst not shew his displeasure to the Prin­cess, though sometimes he presum'd to put her in mind of that which he had had the boldness to declare to her.

After two years of absence (Peace be­ing made) the Prince of Monpensier re­turn'd home to visit the Princess his Wife, cover'd o're with the Lawrels, and ho­nour which he had gain'd at the siege of Paris, and at the Battel of St. Dennis. He was surpriz'd to find the Beauty of this Princess arriv'd to so great a perfe­ction, and through an inclination of Jea­lousie (which was natural to him) he seem'd to be troubl'd at it; foreseeing well, that he should not be the only Person, to whom she would appear fair. He much rejoyc'd to see the Count of Chabanes, for whom his kindness was not at all dimi­nish'd: he demanded earnestly of him a cha­racter of the humour, and conditions of his Wife, who appear'd almost a stran­ger to him through the small space of [Page 13]time which he had liv'd with her.

The Count with a sincereness, as exact, as if he had not been at all in Love, de­clar'd to the Prince all what he knew of this Princess capable to make him Love her; and he also advertiz'd the Princess of Monpensier of all things which she ought to perform fully to gain the heart and estimation of her Husband.

In fine, the Counts Passion so naturally inclin'd him to think of nothing else, but what might augment the prosperity, and happiness of this Princess, that he ea­sily forgot how much it concerns Lovers to hinder Persons they are in Love with­all, from keeping a perfect correspondence with their Husbands.

Scarce was the Peace concluded, but the War began to be renew'd again, oc­casion'd by the design which the King had to arrest at Noiers the Prince of Conde, and the Admiral of Chastillon; and this de­sign having been discover'd, they began [Page 14]on both sides to make new preparations for War, which constrain'd the Prince of Monpensier to leave his Wife, and to make his appearance there, where both his ho­nour, and his duty call'd him. Chabanes follow'd him to Court, having fully justi­fied himself in the Queens opinion. It was not without extream grief that he depart­ed from the Princess, who on her side re­main'd much perplext with the thoughts of those dangers which her Husband was going to expose himself to, in the War.

The Chiefs of the Huguenots party re­tiring themselves to Rochel, Poictu, and Xaintonge being on their side, the War grew hot, and the King assembl'd toge­ther all his forces to suppress their Rebel­lion. The Duke of Anjou his Brother (who was since stil'd Henry the Third) acquir'd much honour by several gallant actions which he perform'd, and amongst the rest at the Battel of Jarnac, where the Prince of Conde was kil'd. In this War, [Page 15]it was that the Duke of Guise began first to have considerable imployments, and to make it appear that he surpass'd by much the great hopes which had been conceiv'd of him.

The Prince of Monpensier, who hated him, both as his particular enemy, and as that of his Family, beheld with Jealous eyes the Glory of the Duke, as well as the kindness which the Duke of Anjou shew'd him.

After that both Armies had tir'd them­selves by several small encounters; by a common consent of both Parties, the Troops were licenc'd for some time, to retire to their several Garrisons. The Duke of Anjou remain'd at Loches to di­stribute orders to all those places which in probability were like to be attacq'd by the Enemy; the Duke of Guise tarried with him, and the Prince of Monpensier accompanied with the Count of Chabanes return'd to Champigni, which was not far distant from thence.

The Duke of Anjou went often to vi­sit the Places which he was about to for­tifie, and one day as he return'd to Loches by a by-way unknown to those of his re­tinue, the Duke of Guise, who bragg'd that he knew it, plac'd himself at the head of the Troop to serve them instead of a Guide; but after that he had rid some time, he lost himself, and found that he was upon the bank of a small River, which was unknown to him. The Duke of Anjou rallied with him, and jear'd him for his ill conduct, and making a stop there (being dispos'd to mirth, as usually young Princes are) they perceiv'd a small Boat which stood still in the midst of the River, which not being very broad, they could easily distinguish objects, and per­ceive in the Boat three or four Women, and amongst the rest, one who appear'd to them very fair, who was in rich apparel, and who attentively regarded two men, who were in the same Boat with her, and [Page 17]were a fishing. This adventure caus'd a new joy both to these young Princes, and to those of their Train. It appear'd to them as a Romance-like accident, some telling the Duke of Guise that he had pur­posely lost them only to make them have a view of this fair Person, others saying that (after what Fortune had done for him) he must of necessity grow amorous of her; and the Duke of Anjou main­tain'd, that he was oblig'd to become her Lover.

In fine, being resolv'd to see the con­clusion of this adventure, they caus'd some of their followers to ride into the River, as far as possible, and to call to that La­dy, and tell her, that the Duke of Anjou was there, and that he would willingly cross the Water, and intreated her to come, and take him in. This Lady (who was the Princess of Monpensier) hearing it say'd that the Duke of Anjou was there, and not doubting at all (through the [Page 18]quantity of people which she saw on the Rivers-side) but that it was he, caus'd her Boat to advance towards that side of the River, where he was; His graceful Mine made her soon distinguish him from the rest, but yet she sooner took notice of the Duke of Guise, whose sight wrought in her such an alteration that it caus'd her to blush, which rather aug­mented, then decreas'd her Beauty, and made her appear to the Eyes of these Prin­ces, as a Person supernatural, and wholly divine.

The Duke of Guise (in spight of that advantageous alteration which two or three years, since last he saw her, had made in her) immediately knew her, and inform'd the Duke of Anjou who she was, who was at first asham'd of the Liberty which he had taken, but perceiving the Princess of Monpensier so fair, and this ad­venture so much pleasing him, he resolv'd to compleat it, and after a thousand ex­cuses, [Page 19]and a thousand complements, he invented a story of some considerable bu­siness, which he say'd he had to do on the other side of the River, and accepted of the proffer which she made him to carry him over in her Boat; he enter'd it alone acompanied only with the Duke of Guise, giving order to those that follow'd them to go, and cross the River at some other place, and to come and meet him at Champigni, which the Princess inform'd them was not above two Leagues distant from thence.

As soon as they were in the Boat, the Duke of Anjou inquir'd of her, to what propitious Fate it was they ow'd so fortu­nate an adventure; and what detain'd her there in the midst of the River. She an­swer'd him, That she came from Champigni in company with the Prince her Husband, with a design to hunt; but finding her self too much tir'd, she came for refresh­ment to the Rivers side; where the curio­sity [Page 20]to see a Salmon taken (which had entangl'd it self in a Net) had caus'd her to enter the Boat. The Duke of Guise did not at all interest himself in this dis­course, but feeling that Passion began to revive again in his breast, which he had formerly had for that Princess, he suspe­cted that he should find it a difficult task to escape from this adventure, without be­coming again her captive.

They soon arriv'd to the other side of the River, where they found the Pages, and Servants of the Princess of Monpensier, who there attended her. The Dukes of Anjou and Guise assisted her to get on Hors­back, where she comported her self with an admirable grace. During the way, she entertain'd them with most exquisite discourse upon several subjects; so that they were no less surpriz'd and charm'd with her excellent parts, then they had been before with her Beauty, and they could not forbear to acquaint her how [Page 21]extreamly they were amaz'd with those extraordinary perfections which they dis­cover'd in her. She answer'd to those commendations which they gave her with all the modesty imaginable, but a little more coldly to those which came from Duke of Guise; being willing to use a re­serv'dness towards him, which should hinder him from building any hopes upon the inclination which formerly she had for him.

Arriving at the outward-most Court at Champigni, they found the Prince of Mon­pensier, who but then return'd from hun­ting. His amazement was great to be­hold two men ride on each side of his Wife, but it augmented extreamly, when (approaching nearer) he perceiv'd that they were, the Duke of Anjou, and the Duke of Guise. The hatred which he had for the last, joyning it self to his natural jealousie made him find something so un­pleasant to him to see these Princes in [Page 22]company with his Wife, without knowing what accident had brought them together, nor what they came to do at his house, that he could not conceal the disorder which it caus'd in him, though cunningly he re­jected the cause of it upon the apprehen­sion which he had, that he should not be able to receive so great a Prince, both according to his quality and to his own wishes.

The Count of Chabanes appear'd yet more perplext to see the Duke of Guise with the Princess of Monpensier than seem'd the Prince himself. The adventure which Fortune had made use of to bring these two Persons together appear'd to him as an unlucky Omen, from whence he prog­nosticated that this Romance-like begin­ning would be follow'd by other acci­dents of the like nature.

At Night the Princess of Monpensier en­tertain'd these Princes very generously, and with a civility which was natural to her. [Page 23]In fine, she pleas'd her Guests but too well. The Duke of Anjou, who was a Prince of a comely personage, and very accomplish'd, could not behold a person so worthy of him, without ardently de­siring to enjoy her; soon became infected with the same Disease which possest the Duke of Guise, and alwayes feigning ex­traordinary affairs, he remain'd two dayes at Champigni, without being oblig'd to stay by any other motive, then by the charms of the Princess of Monpensier; the Prince her Husband not using any intreaties to re­tain him there.

The Duke of Guise, before he departed, took an opportunity to acquaint the Prin­cess, that he was still the same, which he had ever been, (and since his Passion had never been reveal'd to any) he often told her in publick (without being over-heard by any, but her self) that there was no change in his affection, but that at present [Page 24]he retain'd as much adoration, and respect for her, as ever.

In fine, the Duke of Anjou, and he at length departed from Champigni with much regret. They rid a long while with­out speaking one to the other, and re­main'd in a profound silence, till at last the Duke of Anjou, imagining that per­haps their silence might proceed from one and the same cause, demanded briskly of the Duke of Guise, if he meditated upon the beauty, and perfections of the Princess of Monpensier. This brisk demand, joyn'd to what the Duke of Guise had already ob­serv'd, concerning the inclinations of the Duke of Anjou, made him perceive, that infallibly he would become his Rival, and that it extreamly imported him, not to dis­cover his Love to that Prince; but to de­prive him of all suspition, he answer'd him smiling; That he appear'd himself so much taken up with the imagination, [Page 25]wherewith he accus'd him, that he had judg'd it uncivil to interrupt him; That the Beauty of the Princess of Monpensier was no new thing to him; That he had accustom'd himself to gaze on the Luster of her charms, without being dazel'd with them, ever since she was design'd to have been his Sister-in-Law, but that he per­ceiv'd very well, that all persons were not so well prepar'd against them as himself. The Duke of Anjou ingeniously confest to him, that he had neyer yet seen any thing, which in his opinion, seem'd comparable to this young Princess; and that he found very well, that her presence might prove dangerous to him, if he should often ex­pose himself in her company: he would fain have made the Duke of Guise confess, that he apprehended the same Fate him­self too: but the Duke (who began now to make a serious affair of his Love) would confess nothing to him.

These Princes returning to Loches enter­tain'd [Page 26]themselves often with a very plea­sing discourse of the adventure which had caus'd them to discover the Princess of Monpensier: but it prov'd not a subject of so great diversion at Champigni. The Prince of Monpensier was discontented at all which had happen'd, without being able to give a Reason wherefore. His Wifes being in the Boat, appear'd to him as an unlucky accident: It seem'd to him, that she had entertain'd these Princes too kindly; and that which displeas'd him most, was to have observ'd that the Duke of Guise had regarded her very atten­tively.

These thoughts caus'd him from that instant, to conceive a furious jealousie, which made him to remember the passion, and resentment, which that Duke had shewn against his Marriage, and he had some thoughts, that, from that very time he had been amorous of her. The ill hu­mour which these suspitions put him into, [Page 27]caus'd sometimes but ill usage to the Prin­cess of Monpensier. The Count of Chabanes (according to his custome) took care to hinder, that their private discontents, broke not out into an open quarrel, endeavou­ring through that, to perswade the Prin­cess how great, and real the passion was, which he had for her, and how disinteress'd from all self-ends.

Yet he could not refrain from asking her the effect which the sight of the Duke of Guise had produc'd in her. She acquain­ted him, That she had been troubl'd at it, through the shame which she had, to re­member the kindness which she had for­merly shew'd him: she confest that she had found him far more accomplish't now, then at that time; and that his discourse seem'd to intimate, that he would per­swade her to believe, that he still affected her; but she assur'd him, that nothing was able to force her to relinquish the resolu­tion which she had taken never to [Page 28]engage her self in so perilous an Affair.

The Count of Chabanes was much re­joyc'd to hear this resolution; but no­thing could secure him against the suspi­tion which he had of the Duke of Guise. He represented to the Princess, that he extreamly fear'd, that the first impres­sions of her Love would soon return, and made her apprehend the mortal grief which (for their common intrest) he should have, if one day he should see her change her present resolutions. The Prin­cess of Monpensier (alwayes continuing her reserv'dness towards him) scarce an­swer'd to what he said concerning his pas­sion, and never consider'd him, but in the Quality of her faithful'st friend, without doing him the honour to take notice of him as her Lover.

The Armies having quitted their Garri­sons, and being again upon their march, the Princes return'd to their several Com­mands, and the Prince of Monpensier found [Page 29]it convenient, that his Wife should come to Paris, to be no more so near those places which were the seat of the War. The Huguenots besieg'd the City of Poi­ctiers, and the Duke of Guise cast himself in the Town to defend it, where he perform'd such actions, during the Siege, which alone were sufficient to ren­der for ever famous any other person, but himself.

Soon after, was fought the Battel of Moncontour, and the Duke of Anjou, af­ter he had taken St. John d' Angely, fell sick, and immediately quitted the Army, either through the violence of his distem­per, or through the desire which he had to return and take his ease, and to partici­pate of the pleasures and recreations en­joy'd at Paris, where the presence of the Princess of Monpensier was not the least attracting object that drew him thither.

The Army continued under the com­mand of the Prince of Monpensier, and [Page 30]soon after, Peace being concluded, the Court, return'd to Paris where the Beau­ty of the Princess eclips'd the Luster of all those, who till then had been ad­mir'd; and the charming perfections both of her Wit and Person soon attracted the eyes of all the Court upon her, who con­sider'd her as a person that surpass'd hu­manity. The Duke of Anjou chang'd not at all, at Paris, the inclinations which he had conceiv'd for her at Champigni; and he took an extream care to acquaint her with as much through all his actions, taking notwithstanding great heed not to render her too apparent testimonies of his affection, through fear to give jealousie to the Prince her Husband.

The Duke of Guise, was now become passionately inamour'd of this Princess, and being willing (for several reasons) to con­ceal his passion, he resolv'd with the first opportunity to declare it privately to her, thereby to avoy'd all those various re­ports, [Page 31]which generally springs from pub­lick Courtship. Being one day at the Queens appartment at a time when there was small company there (the Queen be­ing retir'd to discourse about business with the Cardinal of Lorrain) the Princess of Monpensier coming in, he resolv'd to make use of that opportunity which Fortune presented him with, to speak to her; and approaching to her, I go about to surprise you Madam, (said he) and to displease you, in acquainting you, that I have ever pre­serv'd and cherish'd that passion which formerly was not unknown to you, but which since (through again seeing of you) is so much augmented, that neither the severity nor hatred of the Prince your Husband, nor the Pretensions, and Rival­ship of the first Prince of the Realm, are able to reprieve me one moment from its violence. It would indeed have shew'd more respectful from me, to have reveal'd it to you by my actions; but Madam, my [Page 32]actions had discover'd it to others, as well as to your self; and I only desire, that you alone should know, that I am so presum­ptious to adore you.

The Princess was at first so surpriz'd with this discourse, that she had no power to interrupt him; but recollecting her self, and going about to answer him, the Prince of Monpensier enter'd the Room, whose presence, with what the Duke of Guise had said to her, so disorder'd and perplext the Princess, that it posses'd him with greater suspitions, then if he had over-heard the Duke of Guise's discourse. The Queen came out of her Closet, and the Duke retir'd himself, to cure the Prince of jealousie.

The Princess of Monpensier at night found her Husband possest with the grea­test melancholly imaginable, and he be­hav'd himself so passionately towards her, that he forbid her evermore to speak to the Duke of Guise, which caus'd her to re­tire [Page 33]to her appartment; much possest with sadness, for the adventures which had happen'd to her that day.

The next following, she saw the Duke of Guise at the Queens Lodgings; but he kept at a distance, and came not near her, but contented himself to go out of the Room presently after her, to make it ap­pear to her, that he had no business there, when she was absent.

Scarce a day past in which she did not receive a thousand conceal'd assurances of this Dukes passion, without that he ever so much as attempted to mention it to her, but at such a time when none could take notice of it, and as she was well assur'd of the reallity of this passion, she began (notwithstanding all the resolutions which she had made at Champigni to the contra­ry) to feel something of that passion re­turn in her heart, which had formerly possest it.

The Duke of Anjou on his part forgot [Page 34]nothing which might declare his Love to her in all places where 'twas his fortune to see her, and made it his business conti­nually to follow her, when she rendred visits to the Queen his Mother.

About this time, it was taken notice of, that the Princess Margaret his Sister (who much affected him, and who was since Queen of Navarr) had some kindness for the Duke of Guise, and that which disco­ver'd it more, was, the reservedness which the Duke of Anjou shew'd to the Duke of Guise. The Princess of Monpensier soon learn't this news, which seem'd not indif­ferent to her, and which made her more sensible of the concern which she had for the Duke of Guise, then she thought she had been. Monsieur de Monpensier (her Father-in-Law) then marrying Madamoi­selle de Guise (Sister to that Duke) she was constrain'd to see him often in those places, where the presence of both Par­ties was requisite to celebrate the Nup­tial Ceremonies.

The Princess of Monpensier no longer able to endure a man for her Servant, whom all France believ'd in Love with the Princess Margaret, resolv'd to take on her the boldness to acquaint him, how much she thought her self injur'd. And being offended, and griev'd that she had de­ceiv'd her self, One day, as the Duke of Guise met her at his Sisters, being separa­ted from other company, and being about to speak to her concerning his passion, she briskly interrupted him, with a tone that signified her displeasure, and replyed, I cannot comprehend why you should build such hopes upon the weak foundation of a folly, which I was guilty of at thirteen years old, as that you should have the boldness at present to make Love to such a person as my self, but above all, at such a time, when in the view of the whole Court, you appear engag'd to an other.

The Duke of Guise, that had a great deal of Wit, and was much in Love, had [Page 36]need to consult with no Oracle to under­stand the meaning of the Princesses words, answer'd her with much respect; I confess Madam, that I have been too blame, not to despise the honour of being Brother-in-law to my King, rather then to let you suspect one moment, that I could desire to possess any other heart, then yours; but if you will do me the favour as to hear me, I am confi­dent I shall justifie my self in your opi­nion.

The Princess of Monpensier reply'd no­thing, but she remain'd still, and went not away from him, and the Duke per­ceiving that she granted him the audience, which he had demanded, and wish'd for; acquainted her, That, without any endea­vours of his own, us'd to gain it, the Princess Margaret had honour'd him with her affection; but that having no Love for her, ‘He had but very ill recom­penc'd the favour which she did him, untill such time that she had giv'n him [Page 37]some hopes to marry her; that in truth, the grandure to which this match might raise him, had oblig'd him to render her more observance and respect, then usuall, which it seem'd had giv'n cause of suspition both to the King, and to the Duke of Anjou; That the oppo­sition both of the one, and the other disswaded him not from his design; but if that design displeas'd her, he would from that very instant abandon it, and never think on it more, during his Life.’

This oblation which the Duke of Guise made of his own intr'est to please the Princess, soon made her forget all the ri­gour, and displeasure wherewith she had entertain'd him, when he first began to speak to her. She soon chang'd her dis­course, and began to entertain him with the weakness which possest the Princess Margaret to Love him first, and of the considerable advantage which he would [Page 38]receive in marrying her. In conclusion, without saying any thing obliging to the Duke of Guise, she discovered to him a thousand charming perfections, which he had formerly ador'd in Madamoiselle de Meziens: and though they had not long discours'd together, yet they found them­selves so accustom'd to one anothers hu­mours, that Love which was no stranger to their breasts, soon found out a way to return again into its ancient Chan­nel.

They thus finish'd this agreeable con­versation, which left a very sensible im­pression of Joy upon the Duke of Guise; nor did the Princess participate a less share than he, to learn that he yet really affe­cted her. But when she was retir'd to her Closet, what reflections did she not make upon the shame which she had, in suffering her self to be so soon or'ecome by the Duke of Guise's excuses; upon that Labyrinth of trouble, which she was ago­ing [Page 39]about to involve her self into, by en­gaging her self in a business, which she had regarded with so much horrour, and dete­station, and upon the dismal misfortunes, wherewith the jealous humour of her Husband seem'd to threaten her, but these unpleasant thoughts were the next day soon discipated by the Duke of Guise's presence.

He fail'd not to render her an exact ac­count of that which past between the Princess Margaret and himself, the new alliance of their Houses, often presented him with opportunities to speak to her; but he had no small trouble to cure her of the jealousie which the Beauty of the Princess Margaret gave her, against which all his Vows were to weak to secure her from suspition. This jealousie serv'd the Princess of Monpensier to defend the remain­der of her heart, against the endeavours us'd to gain it by the Duke of Guise, who already possest its greatest part.

The Kings marriage with the Princess Isabella (Daughter to the Emperour Ma­ximilian) fil'd the whole Court with feasts and rejoycings. The King gave a Ball, where the Princess Margaret, and the rest of the Princesses danc't, the Princess of Monpensier appearing the only person that could dispute the prize of Beauty with her. The Duke of Anjou, with the Duke of Guise, and four others, which were of their company danc'd an Antick-dance in the shape of Moors, their Habits were all alike, and such as are ge­nerally us'd on the like occasion.

The first time that the Ball was danc'd, the Duke of Guise before he danc'd (not having put on his vizard) say'd some­thing in passing by to the Princess of Mon­pensier, she soon perceiv'd that the Prince her Husband had taken notice of it, which much disturb'd her. Soon after seeing the Duke of Anjou, with his Vizard on, and drest like a Moor, coming to speak to [Page 41]her▪ perplex'd through her disorder, she believ'd that it was still the Duke of Guise, and approaching to him, Have no respect too night (said she) but for the Princess Margaret. I shall not be jealous, 'tis my command, I am observ'd, approach me no more. As soon as she had finish'd these words, she retir'd, and the Duke of Anjou remain'd as surpriz'd, as if he had been Thunder-struck, he perceiv'd at that instant that he had not only a Rival, but a Rival too belov'd; he soon apprehen­ded by the name of the Princess Margaret, that that Rival was the Duke of Guise, and he made no question, but that the Princess his Sister was the oblation which had ren­der'd the Princess of Monpensier favourable to the vows of his Rival.

Jealousie, Despight and Rage joyning themselves to the hatred, which he had already for him, caus'd him to be possest with whatsoever may be imagin'd of a most violent, and impetuous passion, and [Page 42]which had immediately produc'd some bloody Effect of his displeasure, had not that dissimulation which was so natural to him (and which at present was so re­quisite) soon rescu'd his Reason, from those violent motions of his passion, and oblig'd him, for several prevalent reasons, (as affairs then stood) not to attempt any thing against the Duke of Guise. Yet ne­vertheless he could not deprive himself of the satisfaction which he took to tell him, that he knew the secret of his Love; and accosting him in going out of the Room where they had danc'd, 'Tis too much (said he) to dare at once to raise your ambitious thoughts, to pretend to my Sister, and to deprive me of my Mistris. The respect which I bear the King, hinders me at present, from declaring my resentment; But remember that perhaps the loss of your life, shall be the smallest punishment where­with, some time or other I shall chastize your temerity. The Duke of Guise, [Page 43]though unaccustom'd to such menaces, yet he had no opportunity left him for an answer, because the King who went out at that instant, call'd them both, to speak to them, but they imprinted in his heart a desire of revenge, which he endeavour'd all his life time to satisfie.

From that very Night the Duke of An­jou began to render him all sort of ill turns (that lay in his pow'r) with the King: he perswaded him that the Princess his Sister would never consent to marry the King of Navarre (with whom it was then propoun­ded to marry her) so long as the Duke of Guise was suffer'd to come near her, and that it was a shame to suffer that one of his subjects (to satisfie his own Ambition) should bring any obstacle to a business, which (in probability) might give peace to France. The King bore already ill will enough against the Duke of Guise, and this discourse so augmented it, that seeing him next day, as he was about to enter [Page 44]the Room, design'd for the Ball, at the Queens Lodgings (adorn'd with an infi­nite number of Jewels, but yet more adorn'd by this graceful mine) he plac'd himself before the entrance of the door, and tartly demanded of him, where he went. The Duke without being daunted, answer'd, That he came to wait on him (and as it was his duty,) to render him his most humble service; to which the King reply'd, that he had no need of it, and so turn'd from him, without taking any further notice of him.

The Duke of Guise, though for all this, did not forbear to enter the Room, en­rag'd in his heart both against the King and the Duke of Anjou, but his grief serv'd but to augment his natural fierceness, and through spight he oftner approach'd the Princess Margaret, then he had been ac­custom'd to do, since what the Duke of Anjou had said to him concerning the Princess of Monpensier hinder'd him from regarding her.

The Duke of Anjou carefully observ'd both one and the other: the countenance of that Princess (though she endeavour'd all she could to conceal it) discover'd the displeasure which she conceiv'd, when the Duke of Guise spoke to the Princess Margaret. The Duke of Anjou, who through what she had said to him, when she mistook him for the Duke of Guise, had perceiv'd that she was jealous, hop'd to cause a misunderstanding between them, and setting himself down by her; 'Tis for your intrest, Madam, more then for my own (said he) that I go about to ac­quaint you, that the Duke of Guise merits not that you should make choice of him to my prejudice; let me intreat you not to interrupt me to tell me the contrary of a truth, which I but too well know. He deceives you Madam, he sacrifices you to my Sister, as he has made an oblation of her, to you. 'Tis a man that is only ca­pable of Ambition, but since he has had [Page 46]the good fortune to please you, 'tis enough. I will not hinder him to enjoy a happiness, which without doubt I merited better then he: I should render my self unworthy of it, if I should strive longer to obtain the conquest of a heart, which another possesses, 'tis enough that I have not hitherto, but incurr'd your dislike, and I would not willingly cause hatred to succeed, by any longer importuning you with the most ardent, and faithful passion that ever was.

The Duke of Anjou, who was very sen­sibly wounded both with Love and grief, had scarce power to finish these words, and though he had begun his discourse through a malitious intent, and through a desire of vengeance; yet he grew so mol­lified in considering the Princesses Beauty, and the loss which he receiv'd in loosing the hopes of ever being belov'd, that without attending her answer, he went out from the Ball, feigning that he found [Page 47]himself indispos'd, and went home to his own appartment to muze seriously upon his misfortune.

The Princess of Monpensier remain'd af­flicted and perplext, as may be easily ima­gin'd, to see her reputation, and her most important secret, remaining in the hands of a Prince, whom she had treated ill, and and to learn from him (what she could now no longer doubt off) that she had been deceiv'd by her Lover. Which ad­ded together, prov'd things that did not leave her so much Mistris of her passions, as was requisite she should be, in a place destin'd only to mirth and jollity, Yet she was forc'd to remain there, and after­wards to go and sup at the Dutchess of Monpensier's (her Mother-in-laws) who took her along with her.

The Duke of Guise who languish'd with impatience to relate to her what the Duke of Anjou had said to him the day before, follow'd her to his Sisters, but [Page 48]how great was his amazement, when go­ing about to entertain this fair Princess with discourse, he found that she reply'd not to what he said, but only made him most fearful reproaches; and her passion caus'd her to make those reproaches so confus'dly, that he could comprehend nothing from them, but only that she accus'd him of infidelity and Treason.

Orewhelm'd with despair to find cause for so great an augmentation of grief, where he had hop'd to find consolation for all his discontents; and affecting the Princess with a passion so violent, which left him not that liberty to remain du­bious, whither he were again belov'd, or no; he resolv'd to hazard all at once and to give her an infallible proof of his his affection. You shall be satisfied Ma­dam (said he) I will do that for you, which all the Royal-Authority should not have obtain'd from me, nor have forc'd me to perform. It will cost me my Fortune, but [Page 49]that is a thing too inconsiderable to be vallu'd, to satisfie you.

Without remaining any longer at the Dutchess his Sisters, he went immediate­ly to find out the Cardinals his Unkles, and under pretext of the ill treatment which he had receiv'd from the King, he represented to them so great a necessity, to secure his fortune, for him to make it appear, that he had no thoughts to mar­ry the Princess Margaret, that he engag'd them to conclude his marriage with the Princess of Portia, who had already been propounded to him.

The news of this marriage was soon known throughout all Paris, every body seem'd amaz'd at it, and the Princess of Monpensier was posses'd at the hearing of it, both with joy, & grief; she was much pleas'd to see the power which she had over the Duke of Guise; but at the same instant, she was as much displeas'd to have caus'd him to relinquish a design so advantageous to [Page 50]him, as was his marriage with the Princess Margaret.

The Duke of Guise who had a mind that Love should recompence him for what he lost by Fortune, prest the Princess to grant him a private audience, to clear him­self of the unjust reproaches which she had made him, and he obtain'd from her a promise that she would be at the Dut­chess of Monpensiers (his Sisters) at such a time when that Dutchess should be ab­sent, and when he might entertain her in private.

The Duke of Guise soon receiv'd the effect of this promise, and had the happi­ness to prostrate himself at her feet, and the freedome to declare to her his passion, and to inform her how much he suffer'd through her suspitions. The Princess, who could not forget what the Duke of Anjou had told her, (though the Duke of Guises proceedings ought sufficiently to have secur'd her from jealousie) acquaint­ed [Page 51]him with the just cause which she had to believe that he had betray'd her, since the Duke of Anjou knew that, which it was impossible for him to have learnt from any other, but himself. The Duke of Guise knew not what defence to make for himself, and appear'd as much perplext as the Princess of Monpensier, to divine who (in probability) had discover'd their in­telligence. In fine, in the remainder of her discourse, as she represented to him that he had been too blame to precipitate his marriage with the Princess of Portia, and to abandon that of the Princess Mar­garet, which would have prov'd so advan­tageous to him, she told him that he might well judge that she was not at all jealouse of it, since that at the Ball she her self had conjur'd him to have no respect for any there, but for that Princess.

The Duke of Guise reply'd, that 'twas possible that she might have had an in­tention to impose that command upon [Page 52]him, but assuredly that she had not done it. The Princess maintain'd the contrary; and in conclusion, at length with di­sputing, and examining one an others ar­guments, they found that of necessity, she must have deceiv'd her self, through the resemblance of their habits, and that she her self had reveal'd that to the Duke of Anjou, which she accus'd the Duke of Guise to have acquainted him with.

The Duke of Guise, who was almost justified in her opinion, through his mar­riage, became entirely so, through this con­versation. This fair Princess thought she could not with justice refuse her heart to a man who had formerly possest it, and who but lately had abandon'd all his am­ambitious pretensions for her sake, she soon consented to accept his services, and per­mitted him to believe, that she was not in­sensible of his passion. The arrival of the Dutchess of Monpensier (her Mother-in­law) put a conclusion to this discourse, [Page 53]and hinder'd the Duke Guise from de­claring to her the transports of his joy.

Shortly after the Court removing to Bloys, the Princess of Monpensier follow'd it thither, where the marriage of the Princess Margaret, with the King of Navarre was concluded. The Duke of Guise knowing nothing more of grandure, and good fortune, then to be belov'd by the Princess of Monpensier, beheld, at present, with joy the conclusion of that marriage, which perhaps at another time had o're­whelm'd him with despair: but yet he could not so well conceal his Love, but that the Prince of Monpensier discover'd something of it, who being no longer Master of his jealousie, commanded the Princess his Wife to depart for Champigni. This command seem'd very harsh to her, but yet she was forc'd to obey it. She found means to take her leave in private of the Duke of Guise, but she was much per­plex't to find out a sure way for him to [Page 54]convey Letters to her; in fine, after she had ruminated on several, she at last fixt her thoughts upon the Count of Chabanes, who she always accounted for her friend, without considering that hewas her Lover.

The Duke of Guise, who knew to what degree the Count was a friend to the Prince of Monpensier, was amaz'd that she chose him for her confident: but she as­sured him so much of his fidelity, that she secur'd him from suspition. This discourse ended, he parted from her possest with all the grief which absence and separation (from the belov'd Person) can cause in the breast of an afflicted Lover.

The Count of Chabanes, who, during the time of the Princess of Monpensier, be­ing at Blois, had been sick at Paris, hearing that she went to Champigni, met her upon the way, to wait on her thither: She now began to shew him several tokens of kind­ness and good will, and testified to him an extraordinary impatiency to discourse [Page 55]with him particularly in private. But what was his surprizal and his grief when he found, that this impatiency only sig­nified to relate to him that she was pas­sionately belov'd by the Duke of Guise, and that she had a reciprocal kindness for him: his grief and his astonishment was so great, that it permitted him not to re­turn a reply to what the Princess had said, who was so taken up with her passion, and who found her mind so much eas'd to discourse to him of it, that she took no notice of his silence, but went on with her discourse, and related to him what had happen'd to her, with such ex­actness, that she forgot not the least cir­cumstance material to her story. She ac­quainted him how the Duke of Guise and her self were agreed to receive through his means the Letters which they had en­gag'd to write to each other.

These words prov'd like mortal wounds to the Count of Chabanes, to see that [Page 56]his Mistris would have him serve his Ri­val, and that she her self propounded this to him as as a thing which would be very pleasing to her. Yet he was so absolutely Master of himself, that he conceal'd from her his resentment, and only acquainted her how much he was surpriz'd to perceive in her so great a change. He hop'd at first that this alteration of her humour, which depriv'd him of all his hopes, would de­prive him of his passion too: but he found this Princess so charming, her natural Beauty being lately much augmented by a certain gracefull air and carriage which she had learnt at Court, that he was ve­ry sensible that he lov'd her more then ever. The great confidence she reposed in him, in acquainting him with her se­cret kindness and tenderness she had of the Duke of Guise's respect made him discover of what an inestimable value the affecti­on of this Princess was, and caus'd in him an ardent desire to possess it. And as his [Page 57]passion was extraordinary, so it produc'd in him the most extraordinary effect ima­ginable, for it made him undertake to de­liver to his Mistris the Letters of his Rival.

The Duke of Guise's absence caus'd the Princess of Monpensier to become exceed­ing pensive, and not hoping to receive any comfort, but from his Letters, she inces­santly importun'd the Count of Chabanes to know if he receiv'd none, and grew almost passionate with him, that he had not yet deliver'd her any. At last he re­receiv'd one, brought him by a Gentle­man belonging to the Duke of Guise, which he immediately carried to the Princess, not to retard her Joy one moment, which was excessive at the receiving of it, and she took no care to conceal it from him, but inviting him to participate of that which was as pleasant as poison to him, she favour'd him with the reading of the Letter to him, and the affectionate and [Page 58]witty Reply which she made to it; this answer he carried to the Gentleman that brought the other, with the same fidelity with which he had render'd to the Prin­cess the Letter which he had receiv'd, but with far more grief. Yet he comforted himself a little with thoughts that this Princess would make some reflection up­on what he did for her, and hop'd that she would prove so gratefull to acknow­ledge it, but finding her aversion to in­crease more, and more every day against him, through the ill humour which she was in for the Duke of Guise's absence, he took the liberty upon him to intreat her to be mindful a Little of what he suffer'd for her. The Princess whose inclinations were soly fixt upon the Duke of Guise, and who found none (in her opinion) but him alone worthy to adore her, re­sented so ill that any other should dare to pretend Love to her, that she treated the Count of Chabanes worser on this oc­casion, [Page 59]then she had done at first, when he mention'd Love to her. And though his passion, as well as his patience, was extream, and had ap­pear'd to be so upon all occasions, yet he departed from the Princess, and went to a friends house (not far distant from Champigni) from whence he writ to her with all the passion, which so strange a procedure could inspire him with, but yet too with all the respect that was due both to her Quality and Person, and by his Letter took an Eternal farewell of her.

The Princess began to repent her self to have disoblig'd a man, over whom she had such pow'r; and being unwilling to loose him, not only through the amity which she had for him, but also through the in­t'rest of her Love, (to serve her in which his friendship was extreamly requifite) she sent him word that she desir'd yet once more to speak with him, and that afterwards she left him the liberty to dispose of himself as he pleas'd.

Lovers are generally very weak, and are soon o'recome by any thing that bears but the least shape of incouragement when once in Love. The Count obey'd her message, and return'd, and in less then in the space of one hour the Beauty of the Princess of Monpensier, her Wit, and some obliging words, render'd him more sub­missive, and more her slave then ever. Nay he gave her too immediately the Letters, which he had but then newly receiv'd from the Duke of Guise.

About this time, the desire which they had at Court to cause the chief of the Huguenot-Party to come thither, to ef­fect that execrable design, which was executed on St. Bartholomewes day, made the King (the better to delude them) to send away from about him all the Princes of the house of Bourbon, and of the house of Guise. The Prince of Monpensier re­turn'd to Champigni, where his presence serv'd but to o'rewhelm the Princess his Wife with grief.

The Duke of Guise retir'd himself in the Countrey to the Cardinal of Lorrain's his Unkles, where Love, and want of imploy­ment, caus'd so violent a desire in him to see the Princess of Monpensier, that with­out considering what he did hazard both for her and himself, he feign'd a journey, and leaving all his train at a small vil­lage on the way, he took only with him that Gentleman, who already had made several journeys to Champigni, and took Post thither: and as he had no other Per­son to make his address to, but to the Count of Chabanes he caus'd his Gentle­man to write him a Note, by which the Gentleman intreated him to come and meet him at a place which he appointed him.

The Count of Chabanes, believing that it was only to receive Letters from the Duke of Guise, went and met him, but he was extreamly surpriz'd, and no less afflicted, when he saw the Duke of Guise, his affli­ction [Page 62]equalling his amazement. The Duke, prepossest with his design took no more notice of the Counts perplexity, then the Princess of Monpensier had done of his silence, when she related her Love to him. He began to exagerate his passi­on to him, and to make him believe that he should infallibly die, if he did not ob­tain for him from the Princess, the permis­sion to see her. The Count of Chabanes answer'd him coldly. That he would ac­quaint the Princess with all that he desir'd, and that he would come and return him an answer.

Their discourse ended, he return'd to Champagni assaulted by such various pas­sions, that sometimes their violence de­priv'd him of his Reason, and he often took a resolution to return to the Duke of Guise without acquainting the Princess of Monpensier with his being there; but the exact fidelity which he had promis'd her soon chang'd that resolution.

He arriv'd at Champigni, without know­ing what he had best to do, but being in­form'd that the Prince of Monpensier was gone out a hunting, he went directly to the appartment of the Princess, who seeing him troubled, caus'd her women immedi­ately to retire, to know the subject of that disorder: he told her (moderating his grief as much as possible) that the Duke of Guise was within a league of Champigni, and that he passionately desir'd to see her.

The Princess at the relation of this un­expected newes gave a great cry, and her disorder seem'd to be little less then that of the Count. Her love at first represen­ted to her the joy, which she should have to see a man whom she so tenderly affe­cted; but when she consider'd how con­trary this action was to those strict rules of vertue which she alwayes practiz'd, and that she could not see her Lover, but by suffering him at midnight to enter her [Page 64]appartment, she found her self perplext extreamly.

The Count of Chabanes (who attended her answer as an Oracle to pronounce to him either Life, or Death) judging of the incertainty of the Princesses resolution by her silence, ventur'd to speak to her, to represent to her all those dangers which she would through this interview expose her self too, and being willing that she should perceive that he made her not this discourse upon the account of his own int'rest he told her. If Madam, after all which I have represented to you, your passion is yet more prevalent with you then my Arguments, and that you desire to see the Duke of Guise, let not my con­sideration (if that of your own int'rest does not do it) hinder you from obtain­ing your wishes. I will not deprive a Person I adore of so great a satisfaction, nor cause her to search for persons less faithful then my self to procure it for her. Yes [Page 65]Madam if you consent, I will go this very Night, and find the Duke (since 'tis too hazardous to leave him longer where he is) and bring him here to your appart­ment. But by what way, and how, said the Princess, interrupting him. Ah Ma­dam (cry'd the Count) 'tis done alrea­dy, since you only deliberate upon the means, that fortunate Lover shall come Madam: I will bring him through the Park, give order only to one of your Women (in whom you most confide) that she should let down precisely at mid­night, the little draw-bridge which reaches from your Anti-chamber to the Garden, and do not disquiet your self about the rest. Finishing these words, he rose up from his seat, and without atten­ding any further consent from the Princess of Monpensier, he went out and took horse, and went to find out the Duke of Guise, who with an extream impatiency expe­cted him.

The Princess of Monpensier remain'd so troubl'd at what had happen'd that it was some time before she came to her self again; but as soon as she had recover'd the use of her reason, her first intention was to have had the Count of Chabanes call'd back, and to forbid him to bring the Duke of Guise thither, but it lay not in her power to put this thought in exe­cution. She imagin'd that without cal­ling of him back again, it was only requi­site not to let down the Draw-Bridge to spoil their design, and she believ'd that she should have continued in that resolu­tion, but when the hour of appointment was come, she could no longer resist against the Desire which she had to see a Lover whom she judg'd so worthy to adore her; and she instructed one of her woman with all, that was requisite to in­troduce the Duke of Guise into her ap­partment.

In the interim that Duke & the Count of [Page 67] Chabanes approach'd near to Champigni, but in a very different condition; the Duke abandon'd his mind only to Joy, and to whatsoever hope and good success, inspires of most agreeable, and pleasing into a Lover: but the Count, on the con­trary, abandon'd himself over to dispair and rage, which mov'd him a thousand times (had not his honour, and the Base­ness of the action prevented him) to have thrust his Sword through the body of his Rival. At last they arriv'd at Cham­pigni, where they left their horses with the Duke of Guise's Page, and passing through the breaches, which were in the wall, they ent'red in the Garden.

The Count of Chabanes, amidst his de­spair, alwayes retain'd some hopes that the Princess of Monpensiers reason would at length return, and aid her against her passion, and that in the end she would take a resolution not to see the Duke of Guise: but when he saw the Draw-Bridge [Page 68]let down, he could then no longer doubt the contrary, and at that instant his pas­sion grew so violent, and so unruly that he was ready to have executed the last ef­fects of his despair; but recollecting him­self, and thinking that if he made a noise, he should apparently be heard by the Prince of Monpensier (whose appartment look'd out upon the same Garden) and that all that confusion would in the end light upon the persons whom he most af­fected, his rage (no longer agitated by the violence of his passion) immediately grew calm, and suffer'd him to accomplish his design, and to conduct the Duke of Guise to the feet of his Princess: where not be­ing able to be a witness of their discourse (though the Princess testified to him, that she desir'd it, and though he wish'd it himself) he retir'd into a small passage (which was contingent to the Prince of Monpensiers Lodgings) being perplext with the most sad and dismall thoughts, that did [Page 69]ever possess the mind of a disconsolate Lover.

In the mean while, though in their pas­sage over the Draw-bridge they had been careful to make but small noise: yet the Prince of Monpensier, (who through mis­fortune) awak't at that instant, heard them, and caus'd one of his Gentlemen, belonging to his chamber, to rise, to see what it was. The Gentleman put his head out of the window, and though the night was dark, yet through its obscurity, he could discover light enough to perceive that the Bridge was let down: he adver­tiz'd his Master of it, who presently com­manded him to go into the Park, and see what was the matter. Immediately after he rose up himself, being disquieted, with thinking that he heard some body walk about, and came directly to the appart­ment of the Princess his Wife, which was opposite against the Bridge.

At the very instant when he approach'd [Page 70]that small passage, where the Count of Chabanes was, it chanc'd that the Princess of Monpensier who was asham'd to find her self alone with the Duke of Guise, intreat­ed the Count several times to enter in her chamber, but he alwayes excus'd himself, and as she continued still pres­sing him, (possest with grief and passion) he answerd'd her so loud, that he was heard by the Prince of Monpensier, but so confus'dly, that the Prince only hear'd the voice of a man, without distinguish­ing that of the Count.

An adventure of the like nature had given cause of suspition to a mind possest with more tranquility, and less jealousie then this Prince: so that it soon produc'd in him an effect both of rage and fury, which made him knock with impetuosity at the Princesses chamber door, and cal­ling aloud to cause it to be open'd, he gave the greatest surprize imaginable to the Princess, the Duke of Guise, and to [Page 71]the Count of Chabanes, and this last hear­ing the Princes voice, soon apprehended that it was impossible to hinder him from being perswaded, but that there was some body in the Princess his Wives Chamber, and the greatness of his passion represent­ing to him, that if he found the Duke of Guise there, the Princess of Monpensier would have the affliction to see him mur­der'd before her Eyes, and that the very life it self of this Princess would not be se­cur'd from danger (these thoughts inspir­ing him with a resolution worthy of him­self) he resolv'd by an unparallel'd Ge­nerosity, to expose himself to the Princes fury, to save from ruine an ungratefull Mistress and a Beloved Rivall; and whil'st the Prince gave a thousand knocks at the Door, he went to the Duke of Guise, who knew not what Resolution to take, and committed to the care of the Princess of Monpensiers Woman, who had assisted them to enter by the Draw-bridge, to conduct [Page 72]him out by the same way, whil'st that he oppos'd himself to sustain the Princes fury.

Scarce was the Duke got out of the Anti-chamber, but the Prince, having forc'd the passage door, enter'd in the Chamber as a man possest with rage and fury, and who sought an object against whom he might vent his displeasure. But when he saw no body but the Count of Chabanes, and that he saw him remain un­movable, leaning upon the Table, with a countenance in which sadness was repre­sented in its lively colours, he remain'd un­movable as the other, and his surprize was so excessive to find alone, and at mid-night in his Wives Chamber, the only man for whom he had the greatest kindness in the world, that it so disorder'd him, that it left him not the power to speak. The Princess was laid down upon some Cushions, in a condition ready to faint away, and perhaps Fortune never represented three [Page 73]Persons in a state more worthy of Commi­seration.

In Fine, the Prince of Monpensier who could scarce believe his Eyes, and give cre­dit to what he saw, but imagin'd it to be some fallacy, or some illusion, and who had an intent to disengage himself from that Chaos of confusion in which this ad­venture had invellopp'd him, and addres­sing his speech to the Count in a tone which shew'd that he yet retain'd a kind­ness for him; What is't I see (said he) is't reall, or is't some illusion? Is't possible, that a man whom I have lov'd so dearly, should choose my Wife above all others to seduce her? And you Madam (said he) turning to the Princess, was it not suffici­ent to deprive me of your heart, and of my honour, without depriving me of the only man capable to comfort me in these misfortunes. Answer me either the one, or the other (continued he) and clear me from the suspitions that I have [Page 74]conceiv'd of an accident, which I cannot believe to be such as it appears.

The Princess remain'd unable to answer, and the Count of Chabanes open'd several times his lips, without being able to bring forth a word, but at last, I am criminall (said he) as to what concerns you, and unworthy of the friendship which you have shown me, but 'tis not after the na­ture, which perhaps you may imagine. I am my self more misfortunate, and in a more desperate condition then you. My death shall revenge you, of what I have been culpable of towards you, and if you will deprive me of Life presently, 'tis the only favour which you can bestow upon me that will be acceptable, and welcome to me.

These words (utter'd with a mortall grief, and an air which sufficiently de­clar'd his innocency) in stead of clearing the Prince of Monpensier from his suspitions, perswaded him more, and more to believe [Page 75]that there was some hidden mysterie con­ceal'd in this adventure, which surpast his imagination to divine, and his despair augmenting through this incertainty. Ei­ther deprive me of life your self (said he) or give me some explanation of your words. I comprehend nothing, you owe this satisfaction to my moderation, since any other, but my self, before this, would have imprinted characters of venge­ance upon your heart for so sensible an affront, and have sacrifiz'd your life, to expiate your crime. The evidences are very false (answer'd the Count in inter­rupting him,) Ah they are too visible and too apparent (reply'd the Prince) I must revenge my self first, and then search out the mysterie of this adventure at leisure.

In saying these words he drew near to the Count of Chabanes with the action of a man possest with rage and fury. The Princess fearing some mischief would fol­low (which though could not well hap­pen, [Page 76]since her Husband had no Sword about him) rose to cast her self between them, but her faintness was so great, that it forc'd her to sink under this endeaovur, for as she approach'd the Prince her Hus­band, she fell down in a swound at his feet.

The Prince was yet more concern'd at his Wives fainting, then he had been at the tranquility which he found possest the Count when he approach'd him, and not being able longer to endure the sight of two persons who gave him such cause for grief and discontent, he turn'd his head on the other side, and threw himself upon his Wives bed, orewhelm'd with an un­imaginable grief.

The Count of Chabanes penetrated with repentance, to have abus'd a friend from whom he receiv'd so many tokens of kind­ness, and finding that he could never make amends for what he had committed, de­parted hastily out of the Chamber, and [Page 77]passing through the Princes appartment, of which he found the doors open, he de­scended into the Court, took horse, and guided only by his despair, he wander'd up and down the Countrey till at length he arriv'd at Paris.

In the interim, the Prince of Monpensier, who saw that the Princess return'd not from her swound, left her to the care of her Women, and retir'd into his Chamber, pos­sest with a mortal grief.

The Duke of Guise, who was got safe out of the Park, without almost knowing what he did (so much he was troubl'd at what had happen'd) departed some few Leagues from Champigni, but he could go no further, without hearing some news of the Princess; which caus'd him to stay in a Forrest, and to send his Page to en­quire of the Count of Chabanes, what had succeeded that misfortunate adventure.

The Page could not find the Count of Chabanes, but he learnt from others, that [Page 78]the Princess of Monpensier was extraordi­nary ill. The Duke of Guises disquiet was much augmented by what his Page related to him, but without being able to hinder it, or to receive any comfort, he was con­strain'd to return to his Unkles, least he should give them cause of suspition through his longer absence.

The Duke of Guises Page had indeed related to him the truth, in telling that the Princess of Monpensier was extream ill, for the truth was, that as soon as her Women had got her to bed, she was seiz'd with so violent a Feaver, and withall began to grow so light-headed, that from the very second day of her sickness, her Life was in extream danger, and her recovery was much fear'd.

The Prince feign'd to be sick too, to the end that none should be amaz'd why he enter'd not into his Wives Chamber, but the order which he receiv'd to return to Court, whither all the Catholick Princes were [Page 79]summon'd to exterminate the Huguenots, hope him out of the perplexity into which this adventure had plung'd him, and he return'd to Paris not knowing what he ought either to hope, or fear concerning the Princess his Wives distemper. He was but scarce arriv'd there, when they begun to attacque the Huguenots in the person of one of the Cheifs of their Party, the Ad­miral of Chastillon, and two dayes after was perform'd that horrible Massacre, for its execrableness, so famous throughout all Europe.

The poor Count of Chabanes, who came with an intent to conceal himself in one of the remotest parts of the Suburbs of Paris, there to abandon himself over entirely to his grief, was invellop'd in the Huguenots ruine. The Persons where he lodg'd having known him, and remembring that he had been suspected to be of that Party, mur­der'd him that very night which prov'd so fatal to several persons. In the morn­ing [Page 80]the Prince of Monpensier going out of Town to distribute some orders to keep all in peace and quietness, past through the Street where the murder'd body of Chaba­nes lay. At first he was seiz'd with asto­nishment at the sight of this deplorable spectacle, but afterwards his friendship re­viving, it caused in him some grief, but the remembrance of the affront which he be­siev'd he had receiv'd from the Count at length gave him joy, and he seem'd con­tented (without any endeavours of his own) to see himself reveng'd by For­tune.

The Duke of Guise's thoughts being ta­ken up with a desire to revenge his Fathers death (and soon after being overjoy'd to have accomplish'd it) his affection by de­grees began to diminish, and to grow less and less for the Princess of Monpensier, and he began to be less concern'd to hear from her then formerly, and finding that the Marchioness of Noirmoustier, a Person pos­sest [Page 81]with a great deal of Wit and Beauty, gave him more encouragement and hopes then that Princess, he engag'd himself en­tirely to her, and lov'd her with an unex­pressable passion, which endur'd till death (which at last frees us from all our passi­ons) put an end to their affection.

In the mean while, after that the Prin­cess of Monpensiers disease was arriv'd to the height, it began to decrease, she reco­ver'd again the use of her reason, and finding her self somewhat comforted through the absence of the Prince her Hus­band, she gave some assurance, and hopes of her recovery, her health notwithstand­ing return'd not to her but with great trouble, through the ill disposition of her mind, which was again of a new perplext, when she bethought her self, that she had hear'd no news at all of the Duke of Guise, during the whole time of her sickness. She enquir'd of her Women, if they had seen no body that came from him, and if they had [Page 82]receiv'd no Letters, and finding nothing which answer'd her expectations, and which she had wish'd for, she imagin'd her self to be the most unhappy Person in the world to have hazzarded all, for a man who in the end forsook her, and it yet prov'd a new addition to her misfortunes, to learn the death of the Count of Chabanes, which she soon heard of (through the care which the Prince her Husband took to have her acquainted with it) and the Duke of Guises ingratitude made her more sensible of the loss of a man whose fidelity was so well known to her.

Such heavy discontents soon forc'd her to sink under their weight, and reduced her into a condition far more dangerous then that from which she was but lately escap'd, and as the Marchioness of Noirmoustier was a Person who took as great care to have the addresses which were made to her taken notice of, as others did to conceal them: those of the Duke of Guise soon be­came [Page 83]so publick, that at as great a distance, and as sick as the Princes of Monpensier was, she heard them confirm'd from so ma­ny hands, that she could no longer doubt of her misfortune.

This news prov'd fatall to her life, and now her courage grew too weak longer to sustain the weight of her misfortunes, she could no longer resist against the grief which she had to have lost the estimation of her Husband, the heart of her Lover, and the most faithful'st friend that ever was. She dyed in few dayes after in the prime of her age, one of the most Beauti­ful'st Princesses of the world, and who without doubt had been the most happiest, if Vertue and Prudence had but had the conduct of her actions.