CEase, illustrious Shepherd, cease to regret the Mag­nificence of Rome, and and trouble not the Tran­quillity of our Groves, by your un­just and inutile Plaints, and leave to perswade us, That be it for the Agreement of Persons, or Purity of Manners, or the Innocence of Pleasures, or the Felicity of Life, or for veritable Vertues, our Cam­paigns ought not to be preferred before the Pomp of the most cele­brated Cities; and the simplicity of our Cabins, to the Abode of the most Superbe Palaces. I avow, that the description which you have made of this Haughty Pride, which vaunts it self of subjecting [Page 3]all the Earth to it, is very diffe­rent from that which I have a design to shew you this day. In the one they see Crowns and Scep­ters; in the other but Chaplets of Flowers and Sheep-hooks, In the first, they see but by the splendor of Gold, Pearls, and Diamonds; in that which I am about to shew, you shall see no other Gold than that of the Sun-beams; no other Pearls, than that of the Dew, spread over the Enamel of our Meads and Flowers; nor no other Diamonds, than the liquid Chrystal of our Fountains: But, O Tityrus, how pure is this Gold, and what an agreeable Lustre have these Pearls, and how delicious is this moving Chrystal, to those who leave not themselves to be blinded with false Appearances; and He who knows to do as he ought, discern­eth the Beauties of Art from those of Nature, and prefers, with Judg­ment, a durable Felicity from that [Page 4]which passes away. You will say to me, perhaps, What do I mean to speak so, it seemeth as if I had but little considered the Magnifi­cent description of the Portraiture that you have made me see of the Court of Augustus, since I accord not with you, that you have cause to complain of being so far from it; 'tis true, I have remarked all the Lines out, and I avow, that at the first, the sight of these great Build­ings of Marble, of Jasper, and Por­phyry, have made me doubt, if I ought not to prefer 'em to our Grots; however, I have not been any long time in this Error, and though, without doubt, this Pi­cture is not a little flattering, I have not left to know, that you are in the wrong, to speak of Rome as of a place in which nothing is wanting to render an honest man happy; and of our Forests, as of an Abode where one can find no­thing, which can reasonably satis­fie [Page 5]a Person of Spirit. Examine all these things in order, I conjure you, and forget not to hear me attentively, and to perswade you more strongly, I shall let you see that Rome is, in my imagination, such as you have depainted it, to the end, that by the opposition of the Life of the Court, and that of the Countrey, I may make you see the Advantages and the Defaults of the one and the other, that I may lead you the more easily into my Sense. You have said to me (if I deceive not my self) that the Beauty of the places where they inhabit, serve very much to render men happy; and that fine Objects elevate the Spirit; and, that this being so (as I avow it,) Rome is the most charming Abode in the World, since that it is there, where one may find the most splendid Objects: You have, I say, assured me, that all the Temples there are filled with the Works of all the [Page 6]greatest Masters of Antiquity; that all the Furniture is Superbe, and that all the publick Places are adorned either with Statues of Brass, or with Triumphant Arches; and that, in fine, she shuts up in her Walls all that which Art can produce of marvellous, and all that which is most rare in the Uni­verse. We shall see after this, un­just Shepherd, if I shall find in our Solitudes wherewith to make you forget such fair Objects, and where­with to make you confess, that a Campaign Life is preferrable to that of the City. I see well that you find my Design too hardy, and that you have pain to compre­hend (you, I say, who have never loved the place where you were born, and who have forgotten it:) that out of Rome one can see any thing of marvellous, nevertheless, there is a notable difference be­tween the Ornaments that embel­lish it, and those of the place where [Page 7]we inhabit; Art is that which ren­ders it Fair; on the contrary with us, we rejoyce of all the Beau­ties of Nature; in fine, she's but the Work of men, and our Abode is the chief Work of the Gods. It is true, we have no Palaces, but if our Cabins are less Magnificent, they are by their lowness farther from Lightning, and Tempests. And then, to say the truth, whoever sets himself to consider the marvellous Structure of the frettised Canopy over our Heads, regretteth not the most Superbe Cielings at Rome. But, shall I tell you, that it seem­eth as though you studied to tell me, that the Stars, and the Sun, each one in their courses, enlight­en not the Capitol, and that Rome is but a place of obscurity and darkness. I avow it, Shepherd, I avow it, and to make you avow the same, suffer that I make you see that, which without doubt, you remember not to have seen, I [Page 8]would say, the Rising and the Set­ting of the Sun in our Campaigns, be it when we are in our Woods, or when we walk on the Banks of some of our Rivers: Ah, Shepherd! if it is true, that fine Objects ele­vate the Spirit, and that the Mar­ble, Jasper, Porphyry, Pearls, Dia­monds and Gold, give agreeable thoughts, what ought not this fair Star to do, at his Arrival upon the Horizon? He who hath communi­cated to all these things the little Beauty that they have? In fine, there, is nothing more Beautiful in all the Universe, than his Magnifi­cent entrance in the Mornings with us; at Rome, they scarce ever see him without Clouds; the Mists and the Smoke obscure one part of his Rays; and they say, he is an­gry not to be employed in that place, but to enlighten Cheats, Flatterers, and voluntary Slave, they think (I say) that he hides one part of his Light, because his [Page 9]heat serves not there, but to dry the Dirt in the Streets. In the place where we are, when he be­gins to appear, it is but to dissipate the innocent Vapors which arise out of the Earth, and to dry the Dew which refreshes our Fields, and to open our Roses, to paint the Wings of our Butterflies, and to receive the Vows of all the Shepherds in our Hamlets; also he appeareth to us all the Day, with so much magnificence, as nothing can equal his Glory: the first of his Rayes begin to sow Purple, Gold, and Azure, in some paths of the Sky, and it seemeth that all Nature rejoyceth therein. The darkness of the Night dissipates it self, the Stars disappear by Respect, the Birds awake themselves to sing: Our Flocks would go out of the Folds, and all our Shepherds and Shepherdesses, who are never wea­ry of seeing the same Object, when 'tis agreeable, admire more and [Page 10]more, this marvellous Mass of rich and vivid Colors, which spread themselves upon the Clouds at the arrival of this fair Star: they ad­mire, I say, these Beautiful Impressi­ons of Light, which he communi­cates to all Objects which are ca­pable to receive it. He gilds the tops of our Mountains, and silvers the surface of our Rivers, and by his long luminous Beams he pierceth through the shades of our Forests, only to render 'em more agreeable, and not to take away their cool­ness, nor to dissipate their shade. In the morning he permits us to be­hold him, at Noon it suffices that our Groves defend us from his Heat; in the Evening he makes us see his Image in our Fountains; but so charming and so marvellous, as all the Diamonds in the World cannot equal the Beauty of the least of his Rayes. When he leads away the day, he gives us hope to see him very soon again, by the Su­perb [Page 11]Apparel which goes before him, and when he unrobes himself, he seems to assure us, by the abun­dance of the Riches that he hath employ'd to paint the Skies, of Vermillion, and of burnish'd Gold, and that pleasing variety of bright and dark Colors, that his absence shall not be long, and that he will return again to us in a few hours, as illustrious as before. I avow, Shep­herd, by this feeble Discourse that I am about to make, that there is nothing at Rome so fine as this that I have now represented to you, though this is not the onely thing that renders our Abode agreeable. There are other places where the Sun scarce enters, which are yet di­verting enough; We have pro­found Grots within the Concavity of Rocks, where the Day never comes without difficulty, and the Night mingles its Shades with the Light, though Darkness is never intirely banish'd thence, and, tho' [Page 12]they are carpetted and hung but with Moss, nevertheless the Silence and the Coolness that's there is ne­ver encountred but with Pleasure: there one may Treat himself with that Tranquillity and that Sweet­ness, as if he were the onely thing in Nature; there one may peace­ably rejoyce of all the Charmes of Solitude: You may, if you please, go from hence to a Fountain, the Waters whereof are so clear, that it permits you to see through its Waves the diversity of the Flints and Gravel which are at the bot­tom of its Bed: It makes but a fee­ble murmur, apter to invite you to repose, than to disturb you with Chagrin: the Waters which flow from it forms a Brook, which winds it self like a Serpent, making a lit­tle noise as it passes amongst the Peebles, the Moss, and the Flow­ers, into a Medow, where 'tis con­founded with others which run thither, and there unite and min­gle [Page 13]their Waters, till they make a large River, whereof the flowing and the Banks make a new Diver­sion, and the Purity on't ought, without doubt, to be more agree­able than the muddy Waters of Tiber. But if from these peaceable Beauties you'll pass to those which mingle their Charms with I know not what of terrible, and which give somewhat of Horror in divert­ing: We have dreadful Precipices, we have Rocks whose Tops touch the Clouds, and from whence de­scend furious Torrents, who in their fall make as much Noise as Thun­der, or the Sea: They say these are Mountains of Snow, which pre­cipitate themselves one upon ano­ther, 'till so many Waters rush from 'em, that one would say to see 'em [...]oul and bound in such abundance, and with such impetuosity, that they would submerge all the Earth, nevertheless they fall into a Gulph which is at the foot of a Rock, [Page 14]from whence they go till they hide themselves in the Abyss, where they go (without doubt) to ren­der their Tribute to those from whence they came. At parting from hence, Shepherd, will you that I conduct you into one of these fine Medows, where you shall find a great Carpet of different flowers, where you may see an hundred Sources of Chrystal; where on the one side there is an agree­able River, on the other a great quantity of Pines, Willows, and Alders, who by their shade permit you to pass the Day (though the Sun be intirely there) very plea­santly, as well as the Shepherds which repose themselves there; but perhaps you will not stay there any long time: Let us go then, Shep­herd, let us go into one of these Forests, whereof the Obscurity, the Silence, and the Age seem to im­print a Respect in all those which walk there. If this shady Forest [Page 15]were at the Gates of Rome, it would not but be fill'd with Thieves or fugitive Criminals: and in this place, here with us, is found but Deer, Stags, Hinds and Kids: You may know by their number, that we employ not often the Toils to take 'em, and you may see by the little care they take to hide them­selves, that this place is an inviola­ble Azile unto 'em. All these great Paths, where the Day per­mits us with difficulty to distin­guish the Colors, and we almost doubt whether the Leaves be not rather Blue than Green, leaves us not without something wherewith to divert the Spirit, and the Eyes of a Melancholy Shepherd, and in some of the Walks, that have less of this thick shade, where the Sun-Beams come to dissipate a part of this agreeable Night, there was ne­ver any thing seen finer than these long streams of Silver, who seem as they would force this Obscurity [Page 16]to yield its place to their Light, and one would say, by the Agita­tion of the Leaves, that they would press themselves together to hinder their passage, but it makes 'em tremble the more, to give entrance to this Enemy of Darkness. As you walk from this Forest, will you let me conduct you to the side of a great Pond, whereof the Tran­quillity wants little of the place from whence you came (which stay'd you to remark its Beauties.) The Zephire here is no more than what serves to curl its Waves, and it agitates them so gently, as you may easily see all the Fish which are at the bottom of these Waters, which are as Clear as Peaceable; some of 'em swim with precipita­tion, to seek their Food, others elevate themselves above the Wa­ter, whilst some of the more fear­ful go to hide themselves at the least Noise that they understand. But, if from the bottom of this [Page 17]Chrystal, you will consider the Surface, you shall see it all cover­ed with Swans; you may admire, Shepherd, the whiteness of their Plumage, the Gravity that they observe in swimming, and the No­ble Pride which appears in their Eyes: Say they not that they de­spise all those who behold 'em? and say they not also, that they have hovers in which they have a design to please, when they make Sayls of their Wings, to divert 'em, and that they swim not but to be ad­mir'd? Ah, Sheph [...]d! how far are the Inhabitants of Rome from these innocent pleasures? their tumul­tuous Life robs 'em of these Deli­cacies. I am not yet at the end of the description of the Places where we inhabit, I must there­fore conduct you upon one of these high Mountains, from whence you may discover at once Rivers, Forrests, Plains, and Pasturage; whereof the view is so boundless, [Page 18]as if the Objects seemed to efface and shut up themselves, and, as if the Sky touch'd the farthest part of the Earth you descry. But per­haps you love not a Prospect so extensive: Suffer then that I bring you to some of our little Hills, or into some of our Valleys, to the end to make you avow, that their Abundance ought to be preferred to the Sterility of the seven Hills of Rome: These little Corners of the Earth are so much favoured of Heaven, that they seem to be intirely covered from all the inju­ries of the Air: The Wind seldom blows, the Hail spoileth not the Grapes, the Verdure is eternal there; and, I think, what they cul­tivate not, the Sun onely does it, and makes 'em grow and ripen, and does all that which Agricul­ture produces elsewhere with so much care and pain. And, not to forget that which shews the Libe­rality of our Shepherds, and that [Page 19]which is the innocent Love of our Shepherdesses; Can you put in comparison the Perfumes at Rome with the amiable Odor of our Vio­lets, Roses, and Gilli-flowers, there is at lest this difference, that the one satisfies but the Sense of Smel­ling, and the other, besides their agreeable Odour, please the Sight infinitely; in effect, can you see any thing finer than this prodigi­ous Quantity of Flowers where­with our Gardens are replenish'd, be it for their Form, for their love­ly shining Colors, or for that pleasing Variety that's found a­mongst 'em. Believe me, Shepherd, the Magnificent Tapistries of Rome shews you nothing so marvellous: the Purple in them is not so fair as the incarnat of our Roses, the Pearls of our Crowns Imperial, are better than those of the Orient, and the least of our Flowers is more worthy of Admiration, than all that which Humane Art can invent. [Page 20]After that I have made you see that which I call the chief Work of the Sun, let me conduct you in­to the next Grove, it is there where you shall find that which one can never find at Rome; it is there, where you shall understand what they never understood in any City; it is there that you shall be constrain'd to avow, that one must be insensible of Pleasure, not to prefer the Countrey Life to that of the Court. See then, I conjure you, this great, number of Shep­herds and Shepherdesses, who, whilst the great Heat of the Day continues, have conducted their Flocks to graze in the shadow, under the thickest part of the Grove, and admire the good meen of the one, and the Beauty of the other, (though this is not yet the place where I ought to speak of it) and hear onely that which they hear, (I would say) this great quantity of Birds, who, by their [Page 21]different Notes make such an agree­able consort: They say to those that understand their Songs, that they dispute amongst themselves who shall carry the prize of the Victory. But, above the rest, ad­mire this knowing Master of Mu­sick, who, by the least of his Songs surmounts all others; the rest have a sense of their feebleness, and they refrain by impuissance, or by Re­spect, and the Nightingales are those onely which come with equal Arms, and assay to vanquish or to be overcome, the one of the other. Hear how admirably this here pas­ses his Cadences, how he falls his Voice and upholds it again, and inforces it there, and with what justness he animates his Songs: He who answers him hath a particular Charm, he is more languishing and more Amorous; but as he is more feeble than the other, I think he will be overcome: Hear how they redouble their Efforts, you may [Page 22]discern the Joy in him who find, himself to have the Advantages and the Dolor, and the Anger of it, in him who feels his Forces di­minish. Behold, Shepherd, when he can no more, his passages are no less just, though they're more frequent; the sweetness of his Voice changeth it self, and he sings no more but by Despair; I discern through the traverse of these leaves, his Feet can no more embrace the Branch that upholds him, and I see him fall with despight, and in falling he yet murmurs some lan­guishing Notes, and he had almost rather lose his life then his voice. Behold, Shepherd the only Ambi­tion of our Campaigns, and compare it (I conjure you) wi [...]h that at Rome: Though the condition of this poor Bird be worthy of Pit­ty, I avow 'tis better that Ambiti­on make Nightingals dye, than that it should Reverse Thrones and Empires. In summ Shepherd, It is [Page 23]not only in the Spring, the Sum­mer, and the Autumne, that we have the advantage of the City; the Win­ter as dreadful, and as Horrid as it is deciph'red, hath something a­midst its Rigors, of fine and mag­nificent, in our Campaigns; The Snow which in the City loses all its Whiteness as it falls, and conceives it there only on the tops of the Houses; It makes here Rich Plumes with with the Branches of our Cypress, of our Cedars and of our Firs; These Trees (I say) of whom the leaves fall not, mingles their verdure, with its Whiteness, and, makes without doubt such an agreeable object, as the Summer cannot show us: and when the Ice, and sharpness of our Frosts have con­verted all our Rivers, into Chry­stal, we see all our Trees Loaden with Diamonds; But you'll say to me perhaps that these Dia­monds enrich us not, and that the Sun takes from us, what the Cold [Page 24]hath given us: But Shepherds if these Diamonds, enrich us not, at least they do not make us Criminals, we cannot suborn the fidelity of any person with 'em, neither can they be employed to so many sor­did uses, as (you know) they do theirs at Rome. There is yet one thing in the City, which seemeth to me insupportable, it is that they say there, that there is but one season in the year, for those who inhabit in't: They see always the same things, they have always the same employments, their Houses are always alike, their Pleasures change not, and unless they have Cold, and Heat, according to the divers temperature of the Air, there arrives no change in their Life: On the Contrary with us, to whom Nature renews the year four times, giving us several em­ploys, very different: The Spring with her Chaplet of Flowers, calls us to the care of our Medows [Page 25]and our Flocks; The Summer Crowned with Wheat-Ears, ob­liges us to the care of our Har­vests: The Autumn with her Gar­land of Vine-Branches, would not that we should leave our Grapes to be spoiled by passengers: The Winter covered with Ice, would have us render to the Earth, that Tribute that each one owes her, to the end that at another time, she may restore with Usury, the Grain that we have Sown in her bosome, O! Shepherd how inno­cent is this Usury? and how unlike to that which is practised in the Ci­ty? we impoverish no person to enrich our selves, of this sort; we need not hide the gain that is got in this manner, they can nei­ther envy nor reproach us, neither accuse us of any Crime: For as much as the more careful we are, the more we are praised. In the other, all their cares are blame­able, if they are not blam'd, they [Page 26]have more pain, and less trouble, and which they acquire by inju­stice, they cannot possess but with inquietude: They fear the envious, their Enemies, and Thieves: But for us, we have neither Enviors, Enemies, nor we fear no other Thieves, then the poor Birds, which Robus of some of our Fruits, however we would not banish from our Campaigns, these innocent Cri­minals, for the diversion they give us in other incounters. But to make you see that maugre the Magnificent Structure of your Temples and of your Palaces, that notwithstanding the Mar­ble, the Jasper, the Porphyry, that make all their Ornaments: and maugre your Aquaeducts, your Statutes, and triumphant Arches; we are the more veritable possessors of all the fairest gifts of Nature you have not. But to remark, that Rome Adorns not her self, but with that which the [Page 27]Earth shuts in her Bosome, and of that which she hides from the Eyes of men: Here we rejoyce of of all that, with which she Adorns her self, and of all which she sends forth to the view of the Universe. No Shepherd, these are not her Treasures, these Mettalls, which are at this Day, the Tirants of Spirits, and the Corrupters of the most Sage; If they were her riches, we should see our Trees loaden with Gold, Pearls, and Jewels, she would adorn her self, with her fairest Ornaments and not leave imper­fect, that which you call her chief­est Works; we should not need Lapidaries, to Cut and Embe­lish our Diamonds, nor Refiners to purifie Gold, nor Artists to polish our Pearls, all these things would be finisht before they are seen and produced, in perfection, as are our Flowers, our Woods, and our Fountains. Cease then Shepherd, Cease to remember, [Page 28]that the Abode of Rome is finer than that of our Campaigns, and prepare you at last to make the magnificence of your diversions at Rome, to give place to the In­nocence of ours: Of all the pub­lique Feasts with which you have entertained me, those of the Triumphs, and those of the com­bates of your Gladiators, are the most Celebrated. But O! Tytirus, these Feasts, and these Joys, have somewhat of Tyranique, and fu­nest; and it is difficult, for Ra­tional persons to rejoyce, in see­ing so many infortunates. That which is called Delight, ought not to be mingled with Bitterness; Tears and Laughter, ought not to be seen together: And Blood shed­ing ought not to please, even in Battles; much less in Diversions. Nevertheless the most agreeable that they have at Rome, are to see Kings in Chains, and four thousand Gladiators killing one [Page 29]another, to please the Roman people: O! Shepherd what are those people who divert them­selves in seeing Rivers of Blood, and Mountains of the Dead. For us, we afflict our selves when one of our Lambs are Sick; and we are far from rejoyceing to see the miserable dye cruelly: neither does it satisfie us, to behold Kings, or Princes loaden with Chains: For me, Shepherd; if I see such a spectacle I have more compassi­on for the vanquisht, than esteem for the Victors. And in fine (to speak to you as I think) I see no Innocent pleasure at Rome. They insult there upon the infortunate, and there they make their unhap­py slaves perish: They lead thither in Chains Captive Kings, after they have Usurped their King­doms: And they hear there, and behold, not only without horror, but with satisfaction, the last plaints and actions of the dying. [Page 30] Caesar (as they say) wept after the Battle of Pharsaliae, over the great number of the slain, that he saw lying there, without life and motion. But at Rome they Laugh at that which made Him weep; And they call that a Feast of rejoyceing, which ought ra­ther to be named a publique mourning. Behold then Shepherd (I conjure you) if we are cruel, or innocent in our joys: And if in making you remember it, you avow not, that if we have less Pompe, we have more Ingenuity, and more Address, more Equity, and more pleasure: Recall then to your imagination one of the general Feasts of our Hamlets, or one of the Sacrifices that we make to the Gods, after the ingather­ing of our Harvests: is there any thing more agreeable then to see not Kings loaden with Fetters; not Gladiators covered with Blood and Wounds; But an innumerable [Page 31]company of Shepherds, and Shep­herdesses Crown'd with Chaplets of Flowers with a joy in their Vis­ages which communicates its self to all those that behold 'em: Some with Flagelets, others, with Shalms, some lead the Victims, others bring the Consecrated Vases, some raise the Altar of Turfe, others put fire to it: And almost all have their Crooks enriched with Devices, Cyphers and Ri­bands, and the propriety of their Habits, serves to render them more aimable: It is not gorgious, but it is graceful, and although nei­ther Purple, nor Precious-Stones glitter in them; yet their white­ness, and the beautiful variety of the Jewels that the Spring, Sum­mer, and Autumn gives us, suf­ficiently repairs that defect. In summ Shepherd, the beauty of my Companions (if I deceive not my self) ought not to yeild to that of the Roman Dames. You will answer [Page 32]perhaps, if it be true that they have as fine features, and an Air as agreeable, yet I cannot deny, but that the Sun-burning in the Country, spoils their complexi­ons, and destroys much of its freshness; But besides that the thickness of our Shades, defends us from that Enemy; I have yet to say that Tanning is better then Painting, and a native beauty is more charming, than that which is Artificial. For us, Shepherd, we appear such as we are; we have no other mirors, than our Fountains, nor other Paint then the Dew: Nevertheless there are maids found amongst us, in our Woods, whose complexions are so marvelous that they surpass the Lillies, in whiteness and the fair­est incarnate of the Roses. The modesty of their Actions, the sin­cerity of their discourses, and the serenity which appears in their Eyes are things which are are not [Page 33]found but in our Campaigns, else­where they are but faint and Ar­tificial: They regard, but to be regarded, they make no Con­quests without design; and that is not fine which appears so: And they sometimes deceive the discreet­est persons. But to return Shep­herd, to this fair Assembly, where our sage Pastors, are the Witnes­ses, and the Judges of our Di­versions, who have prepared the Prize for the Victors, (in this Feast) you know well by the simplicity of their Matter, that it is no sentiment of avarice, that gives 'em the desire to gain 'em, since that are destined for Shep­herds, (as you know better than I) are but Panniers of Reeds, Sheep-hooks, Flagalets, Shalms and Darts: And for the Shep­herdesses, Baskets of Rush, Crowns of Flowers, Nosegays and Ribands: Nevertheless we have as much care to vanquish, [Page 34]as if we acted to Conquer all the Earth. But Shepherd, we need no Arms to carry this Vi­ctory; we shed no Blood to de­feat our Enemies: They lead not in triumph, those who have had the disadvantage; on the contra­ry, instead of inchaining them, they embrace 'em, and they say to 'em, that they are the most expert, tho' they are not the most fortunate: And lastly they seek to comfort 'em of this little dis­grace; (and if I am not very much deceived) Races, Lutes, Dancing, Musick and Poetry, give more diversion than all the Combates of the Gladiators; He then that Runs the Swiftest: He who Plays well on the Lute: He that Dances agreeably: He who makes the finest Verse: And he who Sings most skilfully, gives, without doubt, more satisfaction than the Combates of Panthers and Tigers, whereof you make [Page 35]so much discourse. Think Shep­herd, think well: If you had not rather see the Shepherdess Gala­thea Dance, or the fair Lycoris Sing; than to see a Lyon devour a Tiger, or an Elephant overthrow a Rhinorceros: Yes you like it better, I remark enough upon your Visage that you accord with what I say, and I think also that you love better to see these two fair Maids tho' they have hereto­fore enthralled you, than to be the spectator of the most magnifi­cent Triumph, that Rome hath ever made you see, when Augu­stus himself was Victorious. Blush not Shepherd at this little re­proach that I make you, nor re­pent of so many Verses that you have composed for their Glory; neither be ashamed of having car­ryed the prize so often at our exercises, from the expert Melibe­us, from the active Coridon, from the hardy Menalcus, and from the [Page 36]ingenious Daphnies, in the sight of our most knowing Shepherds. But if from our publick Feasts, you will pass to those innocent Wars, which make some of our greatest pleasures, I would say Fishing, and Hunting, you will be constrained to avow, that Rome knows not all that which is capa­ble to please, since she cannot give these agreeable diversions, to those which inhabit in her: Nevertheless it is certain that one cannot find any thing more likely to please, than to see many Shep­herdesses, with their Lines in their hands, keeping all a most profound silence, for fear lest by the noise they should make the Fish that they would take, goe from 'em, and hide themselves in the bottom of the Waters: The one makes her Fish-hooks ready upon the Banks: Another cast her Line into the River, and is so attentive to what she does, [Page 37]that she appears to be her own sta­tue, & by an action as subtil as plea­sant, lifts up her Arms, draws the Line, and overjoyed with her prize, casts the Fish on the Banks, which after bowing, raising, and divers boundings, makes the emraulds of the Medow, shine with his Sil­ver Scales. Another hoping to have the same success as her com­panion, draws her Line without catching any thing; wherewith others hold themselves comforted, in having the same destiny. But that which is most diverting, is to see our Shepherds loaden with Nets, go to Fish a Pond; it is there that when they are happy, they make to be seen, in drawing their Net, a living wave as it comes upon the shore, by the multitude and diversity of the Fish, that, they have taken: some leap above the Nets, others Break 'em, some bound above the Vase; others more happy save themselves, and [Page 38]others intangle themselves more in seeking to be disengaged, and all of 'em make their efforts to save their lives, and to escape from that which retains 'em: But 'tis in vain that they strive, and beat themselves, for they have chang­ed their element, and they must dye, the coolness of the Grass is not for them, like that of the Water. This diversion tho' very simple is not always so; since Queens as well as Shepherdesses, have sometimes imployed them­selves in't: And Cleopatra who had the Glory to take, in her Nets, the Hearts of Caesar and An­thony, affected to go a Fishing, and to cast the Line, and made it one of her most ordinary Gallan­tries. But Shepherd, if there be some pleasure in deceiving the in­nocence of Fishes, there is no less in deceiving that of the Birds, As soon as they have hid that which is to take 'em, under the [Page 39]heaps of Corn, that they have cast 'em to the end that in search­ing for somewhat to live, they find wherewith to dye; some­times they Shoot 'em, sometimes they are surprised upon the Trees where they use to go, the Branch­es thereof being full of some kind of Bird-lime, which retains 'em so fast by the Wings, that the more they endeavour to fly from 'em, the more they are intangled in these dangerours Branches. Af­ter these innocent exercises, be it Fishing or Hunting, you shall see the one, and the other, re­turning charged with their priz­es; the Shepherds carrying great Panniers of Reed, full of Fish; the Shepherdesses bringing Cages of Rush, where they have con­served alive some Birds, that have pleased 'em; and altogether with­out abandoning the care of their Flocks, retake the way of their Cabanes. Those that have been [Page 40]happy, tho' charged with their booty, leave not to sing some Eglogue, or to play on their Shalms; all their Flocks following their Masters or their Mistresses: The Dogs by their fidelity, take heed that neither Ewe, nor Lambe go a stray; and the Bulls by their long cries; and by their Bellow­ings, advertise those of the Ham­let, that the Hunting or the Fishing is ended; and they come with all imaginable impressions of joy, to know the success. It is too much Shepherd, it is too much, that I speak of this innocent Warr, although (if I be not de­ceived) it ought to be preferred to that which has made to be erected, the most superb Trophies and wherewith the Victors, have obtained their most magnificent Triumphs. Come then if you please to somwhat more solid, and let us compare the Vices of Rome, to the Vertues that are [Page 41]to be seen amongst us. In the first place Rome is replenisht with Flatterers, and we scarce know what Flatterie is: At Rome Lying and Wickedness Reigns, and in our Woods there always appears Verity: They are never wanting to praise that which meriteth to be praised: At Rome all men are slaves, either to their ambition, or to their avarice, and in our Campaigns, we possess more Gods then we desire to have, and are avaricious but of time only, which we would always employ well. There men found at Rome, which make the greatest poisons in Nature, their greatest treasures, with which they would destroy their Enemies, (or themselves if it happen that they are to be punisht for their offences) Amongst us we make salutary herbs our dearest treasures, which can heal the sting­ing, and biteing of Serpents. At Rome they think but of their own interest, here we think but of our [Page 42]pleasure, provided it be innocent: At Rome all those that inhabit there, seek how they may Ren­der themselves acceptable to the Prince: In our Woods we seek but our Equals: At Rome they will not be free, but love to kiss the hand which enchains 'em: in our Hamlets we pay obedience to our Old Pastors, with as much affection as freedom. At Rome those who make the Laws, deride and break 'em; with us the most sage Shepherds instruct us rather by their example, than by their words; yes we do rather what they do, than what they say; and we know not amongst us, those that break either Laws, or Cu­stoms. At Rome riches only make the difference between men; with us 'tis vertue and merit, make the distinction. At Rome all are bu­sied either to deceive others, or to hinder themselves from being deceived; in the place where we [Page 43]are, we seek but the occasion to serve one another; if it hap­pen at any time, that one of our Shepherdesses lose a Sheep from her Flock, that she loves better than the rest, all our Shep­herds are in pain till she recover that which she hath lost; They inform themselves with care, and they tell to all they meet, all the marks of this aimable Animal, to the end to know whether they have seen it; they describe its Whiteness, its Marks, the Flowers and the Ribands, which are tied to its Horns, and forget nothing of all that which may serve to their design; and if they are hap­py enough to retrive it, they re­turn with as much joy as one of your Consuls when they have gained a Battail. It is true that we ardently love to serve, not only our friends, but all those that have any need of us. At Rome it is not so, for all the world there, [Page 44]rejoyces at the misfortunes of ano­ther: Those whom the Prince looketh not on with a good Eye, are abandoned of those that they have the most obliged; whatever vertue they have on the contra­ry, those that he favoureth, tho' they should be the most vicious, and the most imperfect of men, are found to have not only friends, but also Idolaters and Slaves. It goes not in this manner in our Campaigns; we see nothing above us but the Heavens: We have no Princes, nor favorites to fear or seek for; we live with Equali­ty, we love those which love us, and we hate no person. In summ, I have always heard say, that Shep­hards were the Image of Sove­raigns, and that they ought to govern their People, as we go­vern our Flocks, and that the Scepter and Sheep-hook ought to have the same resemblance. Ne­vertheless of the Fashion that these [Page 45]things are recounted, there is a notable difference between 'em, or to say better, they have no re­semblance, we love our Flock with tenderness, we have no o­ther care but this to render them happy, we chuse the freshest Grass for 'em, and the clearest Water, we give 'em a faithful and couragious Guard, which are our Dogs, and we defend 'em our selves at the hazard of our Lives, when the Woolves attaque 'em, and we take care not only to nou­rish and defend 'em, but to hin­der 'em from the extremities, of Cold and Heat, in the Winter we leave 'em in the Sheep-folds when the Frost has Iced the Grass. In the Scorching Heat of Summer, we seek umbrages in our Groves for 'em and defend 'em from all sorts of inconveniencies: when they are sick we seek remedies which are proper for 'em; when they are well, we deck them with [Page 47]Flowers, and Ribands; it is not not so With some of these Princes who ought to be Pastors, they do not love their Flock, nor care to be loved of 'em, provided that they be feared, they serve them­selves more of the Crook to fear 'em than to reassemble or defend 'em; instead of chusing their Grass and their Waters, they would have their Flock serve only to their magnificence and profit; in­stead of keeping 'em as we do, they reverse the order, and 'tis the Flock which keep the Pastors; in leiv (I say) of defending 'em, from all sorts of incommodities, 'tis these that cause it every way, when they are sick they are so far from seeking remedies, that they augment their Evils, by their tyranies; and when they are well, they are so far from adorning them, that they spoil them of their natural ornaments: we would have our Flocks always Fat, and [Page 46]they would have theirs Lean and Feeble. Shepherd we content us to take from 'em their Wool to make afterwards Purple wherewith to make their most Rich Habits, they pluck it from theirs with violence, and I dare say, that the Purple that covers them, ra­ther Borrows its Color from the Blood of their Flock, than from the industry of the most excel­lent Artists, of whom they boast so at Rome. Ah Shepherd, if we had such Pastors amongst us, we would banish 'em from our Cam­pagns, and we would esteem 'em worse than Wolves, who are the declared enemies of our Flocks: we would degrade 'em from this noble employ, and take a way their Sheep-hooks, Pipes, Scrips, Shalms, and all the Glorious marks of our innocent profession. Tity­rus I must tell you 'tis a dan­gerous thing, when a Soveraign is no good Pastor, and it were [Page 48]better to make a faithful Pastor, a King, than to have a King, which cannot be a good Pastor: I know what you will say to me, that there is to be found, at this time, a Prince who has so much sweetness, clemency and bounty, that he rather merits the name of a good Pastor, than that of a Ty­rant: And that Augustus, after having brought back his Troops, is one of the best Pastors that ever carried Sheep-hook: But tell me in a few words, how ma­ny Sheepcotes hath he destroyed, and desolated to inrich his Flock? how much Blood hath he shed? how many Pastors hath he kil­led? how many Tigers, Panthers, and Wolves, have served him, to make Desart the fairest Medow of the Empire? and how many innocent Lambs, have felt his fu­ry, before they found his Cle­mency? Speak Shepherd I conjure you, and answer me precisely. [Page 49]No no, I see well by your silence, that you cannot contradict me, and that you are constrained to avow, that there are more Pa­stors to be found, who would make good Princes, than Princes, capable to be good Pastors. In effect, the felicity of a Compaign life, is not so very much un­known at Rome, but that it hath been embraced with fervor, by her most illustrious Heroes; yes those who after having gain'd Battails, (as you know better than I) have Cultivated the Earth with their own hands, they have also, in the pressing affairs of the publick, been recalled from holding the Plow to guide the Reigns of the Empire, and from the Coulter, to the head of an Army; and from Solitude to Court. Nevertheless these men, af­ter they have done these great and fair Actions there, have never been more praised, than when af­ter [Page 50]having governed the repub­lique, carried Cities with force, gained Battails, recovered the Bounds of Roman Puissance, and meritted the Honors of Triumph, they were seen to refuse these Ho­nors, to return to the govern­ment of the Plow, from the head of an Army to the Campaign life, and from the Court to solitude. After this Shepherd, complain not of your destiny, and have not the injustice, to find nothing sweet but the magnificences of Rome, since our simplicity is bet­ter than her Artifice; and if from general manners, we pass to particular passions, you shall find that all those which have been accustomed, to cause the greatest disorders, are not known amongst us, to produce any other than agreeable effects. First ambition torments us not, we are but the Children of Shepherds, and we would be no more; our desire [Page 51]having no other object, we de­sire nothing else, we live with­out pride, and without inquie­tude; we see nothing above our heads, but the Heavens, nor nothing under us: We are with­out insolence, and without cha­grin, and we would not change our Sheep-hooks, for all the Scep­ters of the universe. It is easy to Judge that if we are not Ambi­tious, we know neither envy, nor avarice, since these two pas­sions, are almost inseperable one from another: wrath is unknown to us, and hatred can have no entrance in a Country where all is worthy to be loved: but you'll say to me what then is this passion, which hath been accustomed to produce such strange disorders in the City, and of which you'll make but agreeable effects to be seen in your Campaigns? As for me there is so long a time since I dwelt there, that I have almost lost the [Page 52]Remembrance on't. It is Tityrus the most noble, and the most puissant of all others, it is that which made Hercules Spin, which Burnt Troy, and which hath over­thrown so many Empires; which hath caused so many Ruins, through all the Corners of the Earth; which hath made so ma­ny Wars; which hath given An­thony to Cleopatra, Augustus to Livia: It is, in fine, this passion, which hath its birth amongst the delicacies of Flowers, of Groves, of Fountains, of Medows, of Shep­herds, and Shepherdesses, with more innocence and less bitter­ness, than upon the Throne, and in the Palaces of great Kings, it is in those elevated places, that this Passion called Love, is al­most always dangerous: a lover which gives Laws to all the World, is no less apt to receive it of his Mistress: He wills what [Page 53]He desires more ardently, and obstinately, than others, and when He finds any obstacle in his designs, this Crowned slave, that hath not been accustomed to obey, and who hath always been accustom­ed to be obeyed by all those who approach him; This slave (I say) quits his Chains and re­volts, remounts upon the Throne, and becomes the Tyrant of her, of whom he called himself the Captive, and often makes her prove the most funest adventures. But on the contrary amongst us, this little God, whose puissance hath no bounds, never appears in our Woods, without the Graces of his Mother, he inspires not into the hearts of Shepherds, none but reasonable sentiments, we see 'em kiss their Fetters, even then when the Rigor of their Mistresses, makes 'em seem heaviest, They receive favors with Transport, and when that they are ill treated, their [Page 54]discretion and their patience, ob­liges 'em, to support this misfor­tune with respect; and with submission: They are always our Slaves and by consequence they are never our Tyrants: we have some rigorous Shepherdesses, but we have no indiscreet Shepherds: They are in pain but to discover their plaints upon their Pipes, and their Shalms: their Verse, their Song, and their discourse, are all full of our praises; all our Trees are graven with then Cha­racters, and ours mingled toge­ther, and by all their Actions, they give us dayly new marks of their esteem, or Love. Constancy, that vertue which so few men practice in Cities, is incountred almost every where amongst us: the equality of our Conditions, and of our Riches, make the most feeble to continue constant. There is here neither Scepters, Gold, or Diamonds, which may Blind or [Page 55]Suborne us; the wisest amongst us despise 'em and others know 'em not. You cannot see here a Husband repudiate many Wives, as at Rome; here the Lover con­tinues his passion after Mariage; he would not acquire us, but to esteem us the more. Here they take care of the conquests that they have made and make it their Glory to carry but one Chain in all their life. Our Shep­herdesses are no less faithful, their freedome and their innocence, make 'em so candid, that they disguise not their sentiments: They are modest and sincere, and if a little Jealousie, maugre so ma­ny vertues, which ought to hin­der its birth, trouble not the tranquillity of our Woods, all our Roses would be without Thorns, and our pleasures without any mixture of Bitterness: However this Passion acts not here as at Rome, they have there recourse [Page 56]to violence, they put in use Poy­sons, Poniards, and they serve 'em equally against the Rival, and the Mistress. But here the greatest evil which can arrive to us, is to see the complexion of our fair maids become a little Pale. The flocks or our Shepherds resent the inquietudes of their masters, who pass their trouble in the darkest Groves, abandon­ing them, to the care of one of their friends: This retreat how­ever lets us see but few Tragical events, and ordinarily some Com­plaint, some Song, and some Verse make the Revenge and the accommodation of the most Jealous. If it is the Shepherdess which is irritated, they bring back her Lover to her feet, sorrowful and changed as he is, She hears him, receives his justification; and if he be innocent she pardons him, and if he be culpable, provided that he repent himself, and that [Page 57]he demand his Pardon with a good grace; but if, on the contrary, 'tis she that is in the wrong, we condemn her to make him a Chap­let of Flowers, with her own hand, and somtimes we consent that he Rob her of a Bracelet of her Hair; after that their felicity is more solidly founded than be­fore, and the Innocence of their lives justifies all their pleasures, and they continue the most hap­py of any in the World; the Shepherd takes care of his Mistres­ses Flock, and they are almost al­ways upon the same heaths as his, they seek the same shades, their Sheep-hooks are engraven with the same Characters, their baskets are tied with the same Ri­bans, their Sheep deck'd with the same colors, and even their Dogs seem to have contracted together some particular amity. This happy state considered as it ought to be; is it not true Shep­herd, [Page 58]that the love at Rome, ought to be painted of another manner than our's? he ought to be represented as a Fury, and he ought to have more of the Bow, and more of the Flambo (given him) to see the disorders that he hath caused, and he ought to bear a Syth as well as Saturn, and as death, since that he destroys as many, as Time and Death Destroy. He reverseth all as well as they, he never carries Love into a Heart, but Hate, Jealousie, and Choller, soon follow after it: He ought then to be depainted as a Monster, he produceth so ma­ny different things in the same moment. But for him who in­habits, with us, he ought never to be seen but upon a Bank of Flowers; He ought to have his Wings of the same Colors as the Rain-Bow; and his Scarf, of the delicatest Silk, his Shafts and Qui­ver adorned with Roses and Jas­min: [Page 59]His complexion white and incarnate, that Laughter never abandon him, and that his Inno­cence appear in all his Actions, and that his Flambo seem rather to light us than to trouble us. Judge then (after all I have said to you) if the abode at Rome, ought to be preferred to that of the Campaign? we have our habi­tations in the finest places in Nature; we injoy all the inno­cent pleasures, and are the pos­sessors of all veritable Riches, and we are not very far from the most solid vertue: our customs are equitable, and we have no Ambition, and we see nothing above us that we can desire, and what can I say more? Render you then Shepherd, render you then to reason, to my prayers, and to my persuations, and to your self; for without doubt you would not indure, that I should give you [Page 60]the Name of a Shep-herd, if you did not esteem it glorious. So many Eglogues as you have made justifie (much better then I) the advan­tages of a Campaign life. Remember you no more than not to be per­swaded of this that I desire, It shall suffice one day to remember that Tityrus after having Sung the Acts of Aeneas (as he hath a design) hath not disdain'd to accord his Pipe, and his Shalms, with those of our ex­pert Shepherds: Remember not (I say) the Sunbeams to be as illustrious as I have depainted 'em; Nor our Rivers whose waves are Argent; Nor the aimable obscurity of our Grots: Nor the Emraulds of our Medows: Nor our high Mountains, of whom the sight is so delightfull: Nor our Torrents, the fall of whom tho' they are somewhat dreadful, are nevertheless diverting: Nor the Shades of our Forrests: Nor of the Ponds covered with Swans: Nor our little Hills: Nor our Valleys: [Page 61]Nor the aimable diversity of our Flowers: Nor our Woods: Nor the Musick of our Nightingal: Nor the advantages that we have of the City in all the seasons of the year: Forget also if you can the Beauty of our Shepherdesses: Lose the memo­mory of our Feasts, of our Sacrifices, of our Huntings, of our Fishings: The innocence of our manners, and of Amarillis her self: But Remem­ber at least to say nothing against a Campaign life. But go forth out of Rome and be as you were be­fore: You have been a Shepherd, you have carryed the Sheep-hook and the Basket, with the same hand wherewith you have written the praises of a Trojan Prince, and the Complaints of Dido: You have writ the Plaints of Tityrus, to the Shepherdess Galatea, and the praises of a Campaign Life.

TIS not that I think my self a competent Judge, even of the smallest matters, that are Transacted, that I adventure to declare my thoughts on this excel­lent Subject, (which deserves a much better Pen) but only to intimate to my friends (to whom I am apt to scrible my thoughts) how great an inclination I have for this ingenious diversion; of which ('thas been always pre­sum'd,) a good use may be made, by intelligent persons, who make reflections on what they either See or Read; for if they be inclina­ble [Page 66]to vertue, 'tis magnified upon the Theatre, and they incourag­ed in't if to vice; 'tis there severe­ly reprehended, and they may, if they will, be deter'd from it, by observing the punishment thereof in real, as well as feigned exam­ples: (for usually the Historical part of Tragedy is authentick.) And since I have begun to say somewhat of this kind of Poetry, I can't, without infinite ingrati­tude to the Memory of those ex­cellent persons, omit the first Fa­mous Masters in't, of our Nation, Venerable Shakespear and the great Ben Johnson: I have had a parti­cular kindness always for most of Sakespear's Tragedies, and for ma­ny of his Comedies, and I can't but say that I can never enough admire his Stile (considering the time he writ in) and the great alteration that has been in the Re­fineing of our Language since) for he has expressed himself so very [Page 67]well in't, that 'tis generally ap­prov'd of still; and for maintaining of the Characters of the persons, design'd, I think none ever ex­ceeded him; I shall say no more of Johnson, but that his Catiline Sejanus, and Alchymist, will stand as eternal Monuments of his ex­cellent abilities this way; but yet I confess I have a greater in­clination for the incomparable of their time, Beavmont and Fletcher, and chiefly, of all theirs, for the Maid's Tragedy, King and no King, the Faithful Shepherdess, and Philaster, (notwithstanding some faults found in them,) Philip Messenger had also the happiness to be the Author of some good Plays, Sir John Suckling's Aglau­ra, Sir John Denham's Sophie, are very well Writ; Sir William Da­venant's, and Sir Robert Howard's Plays are generally good; but I am full of the great obligation we all owe (that love this innocent [Page 68]diversion) to my Lord Orrory, and to Mr. Dryden, for those they have favour'd us, and adorn'd this Age with; for they have both equaled (in my opinion) the very best Authors in their's most excellent: And Mr. Dryden has much exceeded any of his Pre­decessors, in the number of good Plays; And 'tis well for his re­pose, that I have bid adeiu to the Muses (and humor of Verse) or else I should have been troublesome unto him up­on this occasion, In telling him how very fond I am of his Plays, and how much they ought to be celebrated: And tho' Mr. Lee, (who I must name for Sophonis­ba's sake) and some other per­sons, have Writ divers Good ones; Yet Mr. Dryden will be allowed to keep the Garland (without competitors, I think) both for the Excellency, and number of good Plays: And [Page 69]I foresee, without the assistance of Astrology (or Spirit of Prophe­cy) that his Dramatick Poetry will be always the Sun in that Firmament; and himself the most illustrious Poet of this Na­tion, in that kind.

IT is from you, O Illustrious Orator, that I expect the im­mortality of Mausolus; it is in you to give life to the Sta­tue that I have erected to him; it is in you to make him a monu­ment, which the Revolution of time, can never destroy, and which will eternize it for ever: think not that I believe that either time or fortune, respect Gold, Mar­ble, Jasper, Porphyry, or Oriental [Page 73]Alablaster, which I have imployed to build this superb structure: No, I know that these three hundred Columns, of whom all the Orders are observed with care, and the Bas­es are so well fixt, and the Chapiters are so magnificent, and whereof the workmanship exceeds the materials, shall be one day but pitiful ruins, and at last reduced to little or no­thing, and all the imbossed Images which make and adorne the four fronts of this Sepulchre, shall be successively defaced, by the very injury of the season and not with­out difficulty hereafter, shall there be some imperfect Figures perceived of all that which we do admire at this day. These obelisks, who seem to defie the Tempests, shall be per­haps struck with Lightning, and by it reduced to Ashes; these Vases smoaking with incense, these ex­tinguisht Flamboes, these Trophies of Armes, and all the ornaments whereof Architecture is capable, [Page 74]cannot hinder the distruction of this Work. In fine Isocrates, when I have employed all my Treasures, on't, when by the skilful hands of Scopus, of Brixis, of Timothus, and of Lo­chares, I have put it into an Estate, to pass for one of the marvails of the World, if, after all that, some one do not take care to conserve it in memory, by his writings, the Sta­tues of Gold that I have erected, the Marble, Jasper, Porphyry, Ala­blaster, the Columns, the Images, the Obelisks, the Vases, the Flamboes and all the ornaments of Archite­cture, which appear in this work, hinder not, I say, that Mausolus his Tombe, his Architects, his Sculp­tures, and Artemisia her self be bu­ried in oblivion, and be as unknown to the ages afar off, as if they had never been: It is then in you Iso­crates; it is then in you O Theopom­pus, to give this edifice its most so­lid foundation: It is in you, to ani­mate these Marbles, by magnificent [Page 75]inscriptions; it is in you, to resusci­tate Mausolus; It is in you to make me live eternally, altho I feel that I shall dye very soon; I demand not of you Isocrates, that you give me the praises of Helen, or the Eulo­gy of Busires, (tho' perhaps they have somtimes had their Penegy­ricks.) I shall give you a more easie and a more illustrious Theam; the vertues of Mausolus and the con­jugal affection of Artemisia; this is a more noble subject, than the in­humanity of Busires, and the Light­ness of Helen; your Eloquence shall have no crimes to disguise: All the Artifices that Rhetorick teaches, to impose deceits, and render 'em like truth, shall not serve you, but to persuade verity, and without bor­rowing any thing of the Sophists, it shall suffice that you write as an O­rator, as a Philosopher, and as an Historian altogether. Eloquence, that Gift that the Gods have grant­ed to men, as a Ray of their own [Page 76]divinity, ought never to be im­ployed, but to protect the innocent, or to eternize vertue; those who made a Godess of Persuasi­on, never designed to render her a slave to the capricio's of men; and they knew without doubt (bet­ter than I) that Eloquence is a gift of Heaven, that they ought ne­ver to profane the power that she hath either of exciting, or appeasing the most violent passions, to move the hearts of the most perverse, to persuade the most incredulous, to force the most obstinate, and to con­strain 'em to their wills; and to make us oppose our selves, and quit our own opinions to follow those of another: All these advantages I say, have not been given to men, to serve themselves of 'em to unjust purposes; on the contrary it is she whom the Gods have chosen to make vertue appear to the World, as Fair as she is, and to make new conquests daily for her: It is by her that those [Page 77]that possess her, acquire immorta­lity, and immortalize others; it is she who maugre the times, and the vicissitute of things, conserves the memory of fair actions; it is she who maugre the devastation of Kingdoms, and Empires, continues the remembrance of Kings, and Emperors; and when that their Ashes themselves are no more in their Tombs, when their Palaces, are destroyed; when their most fa­mous Cities are deserted, when their Statues are reversed, and when their Realms themselves have chang­ed their Names, makes yet to be seen to all the Earth, an Image of their vertue; yes many ages af­ter they have ceased to live, they live still amongst men; they have yet friends and subjects, they are consulted for the good conduct of life, their good qualities are imi­tated, they make 'em New Elogies; envy doth not Tarnish their glory, they give 'em all the praises they [Page 78]merit, the veneration that they have for 'em is so much that it carries them with a great deal of reverence to the places where they have in­habited; and if there continues but some old ruins of their buildings, they respect that which time hath not respected; they look on 'em with pleasure, and prefer 'em a­bove all the magnificence of the modern and most famous Painters, adorn their Tables with these illu­strious Ruins, and eternize their memory after 'em. Isocrates won­der not then if I desire so passion­ately that your Eloquence, make a Panegyrick, for my dear Lord; I know in what esteem it is in all Greece, and I foresee with certi­tude, that it will do him justice: In future Ages, all the writings which carry the name of Isocrates and Theo­pompus shall be be revered of time, of fortune, and of all men; and that they shall pass through all Na­tions, and through all Ages, without [Page 79]doing 'em an injury (unless they be outraged) and they shall bring with 'em the reputation of those of whom they have spoken; and per­haps there will be found some illu­strious persons, who, by the esteem that they make of your works, shall make 'em speak Tongues not yet invented, who by the light of your glory; will believe they encrease their own, by publishing yours. Speak then, Theopompus, Speak then Isocrates, of the vertues of Mauso­lus, and of the love of Artemisia, to the end that all men may speak af­ter you: But imagine not that I mingle any sentiment of vanity in the prayer that I make you: No Isocrates, I will not that you seek, in my person, or in my life, wherewith to make me a magnifi­cent Elogy; I will not that you speak of my Illustrious Birth; I will not that you say, that I was Born to the Crown of Halycarnassus; I will not have you say that tho' a [Page 80]Woman, I have known the art to Reign, I will not that you tell posterity, of the extraordinary esteem that the Great Xerxes, had for me; I will not have you say that I made the Voyage into Greece with him; I will not that you make known, that I had the first place in his Council, and that my opini­on was always followed; I will not have you speak of the Exploits that I did in that War, no more than of the excessive price that the Athenians promised to those that would put me into their hands. But I would only have you say that Artemisia, was Queen of Caria, because she was espoused to Mauso­lus who was the King thereof. That Artemisia above all other vertues, hath always loved that which is the most necessary to her Sex; that she hath never had other passion, than that of perfectly loving her Husband, and that after having lost him, she hath lost the desire of life, [Page 81]and in fine that after this misfor­tune, Artemesia hath had no other care, than to illustrate his memory, but after you have said all these things, and have praised Mausolus as much as he merited, and after you have depainted my dolour or (to say better) my despair, as great as it is, forget not to learn posterity that having made to be built, the most superb Monument, that hath ever been seen; I have not been able to find an Urn, that I thought worthy to conserve his Ashes in. Chrystal, Alablaster, and all the Precious Stones that nature hath ever produced, have not seemed sufficient to witness my affection, although it be magnificent and li­beral, to give him an Urn of Gold cover'd with Diamonds, (but to give him a heart for an Urn) it must be only Artemesia that would do it, it is there Isocrates, that I shall inclose the Ashes, of my dear Lord; It is there Theopompus, that I shall [Page 82]put in depositum these dear reliques of my Lord; & I expect with impati­ence till this Tombe be in an Estate to receive this living Urn, that I have given him. It is truly my heart which ought only to serve for an Urn to the Allies of my Mausolus, and it seemeth to me that I shall give 'em a new life by putting 'em there: it seemeth to me also, that they communicate to me, the mortal coldness that I find therein; and, 'tis but just that Mausolus, having been alway in my heart, as long as he liv­ed, that he should be there after his death. Perhaps if I had put his Ashes in this Urn of Gold, covered with Precious Stones, perhaps I say, some unjust Conquerour, might come and open his Tombe, and with Profane and Sacrilegious hands carry away the Urn, and scatter his Ashes in the Wind, and so se­perate mine from Mausolus's; but of the fashion that I use 'em we shall be inseperable: there is no Tyrant [Page 83]which can trouble my repose, since it is not he, who can divide me from my dear Lord: Behold Isocrates, that which you ought to say, see Theopompus that which I would have you say of me; but for my dear Lord, forget nothing of all that which may be glorious to him, nor of all that which was effectually in him. Say that he was redoubted of his Enemies, loved of his Subjects, and in veneration with all his Neigh­bour Princes: Speak of all the great Qualities of his Soul, as well as of the graces that he had received from Nature: Praise his Valour in the War, his Sweetness in Peace, and his Justice, and Clemency, to all the World: In fine, form you the Idea of an accomplisht Prince, and you shall make the true Pourtrait of Mausolus. But after all the things that you have said of this Illustrious Husband, speak with fervour of the love that he had for me: decipher this passion, so strong, so pure, and [Page 84]so faithful as it was, undeceive those that believe that Crimes are the on­ly nourishment of love, and who think a lawful passion, can either be long, strong, or so agreeable; tell 'em that Mausolus, and I, have given 'em an example which de­stroys all their reasonings and their experiences to the contrary, since that our love had so much of In­nocence, and no less fervour, and that it continued even unto death, to be infinitly agreeable. Speak then with Elogy, of this sacred bond, which forced two vertuous persons, to love one another eter­nally. But as much as is possible hasten to satisfie me, and imploy even all your Eloquence, to all those who work on this Tombe, to use their utmost diligence to finish it, as soon as they can, for I find my work is almost consummated, for the lit­tle Ashes of my dear Mausolus which remains, will be quickly consumed, and then I have no more to do in [Page 85]the world; all that which is on the earth besides, cannot touch my spirit, I am insensible to every thing else, except dolour, and the only desire that I have in my Soul, is to be rejoyned to my dear Mauso­lus, and to know certainly, that you take care of his glorie: and that of yours ought to oblige you thereunto, and also compassion ought to carry you to it; And if it were permitted, to propose other rewards, to Philosophers, than the only pleasure of well doing, I might desire you to consider what charge I have been at, in raising this magnificent Tombe; and pray you to judge from thence, that she who disposed of so much Treasure on mute Marble, will not be ungrateful to you, when you speak of the glory of her dear Mausolus; but use what speed you can to put an end to your works; for neither the Architects, nor you, can so soon end yours, as I [Page 86]shall mine: for if I am not much deceived, I shall dye soon enough, to permit you to illustrate the Pa­negyrick of Mausolus, by the death of Artemesia.