Adventure the first.

IN the middle of the VVinter, and of the moneth of January, a season in which the Nights are a great deal longer than the Dayes, and so cold, that the most fiery completions are ready to freeze if they chance to be abroad: Don Diego being weary of sitting at home all alone, resolv'd about eleven of the Clock at Night to take a turn in the Streets of Madrid; he took his Guittar, and in his way playing some Sarabands, and some­times singing to it, had gone through a great many Lanes and By-places, when at last being come to a very solitary quar­ter of the Town, he stop'd a little to con­sider where he was, and looking up heard a Casement open, and a Voice call him with the inviting noise of ist, ist: He whose heart was alwayes enclined to new dis­coveries in Nocturn Adventures, drew near and heard a whispering Voice say these VVords: If it be you that left this place last Night, with so many marks of an en­tire satisfaction, why come you again to Night so late? Don Diego was a little surprized at [Page 8]so pleasant a question; but immediately recollecting himself, answered;'Tis I, I am the same Man, open the door; as soon as he had spoke, the door was opened, and he heard some body bid him tread very softly; he obeys, and following a person that led him by the hand, did begin already to thank his genius, for prompting him to the quick acceptance of the good fortune which he thought attended him within. After he had passed two or three Doors, and as many Entries, he came at last in­to a Room, at the entrance of which, instead of the amorous Embraces which he expected, he found himself seized by three or four strong Men, borne down to the ground, and disarmed; The place where he was, was a Parlour; on the table were two lights, and at the further end of the Room he perceived an old Man, of a venerable aspect, sitting in a Chair, who rising up as he drew near, (led by his Jaylors) broke forth into these words, which he proffer'd with a hoarse Voice and a threatning Countenance. VVhy, said he, (speaking to those that held him) have you brought him alive into my presence, and why did not you Strangle him with­out? [Page 9]Then, looking upon the Prisoner; Barbarous wretch, said he, for I cannot believe thou wer't ever issued of that noble Blood which thy Ancestors have owned; VVhat had my weak old age offended thee in, that thou couldst not let my re­putation live, but must needs ravish my Honour upon the brink of my Graved? Infamous Cheat, could'st thou choose no other way of being wicked to a dying Man, than in killing that Honour which alone ought to be Immortal? Go, thy sensual pleasure has done me that wrong, which the loss of thy Life cannot repair, and thy Death will rather be an Example to other perfidious Traitors, than a repara­tion to me; away then, dispatch him, cut his Throat, and pull out that deceiving Heart of his: No, stay, first call that mad and unfortunate Creature, that we may make a Marriage and a Burial of them both at the same time.

Just as the old Man made an end of these words, a young Lady of incompa­rable Beauty, though much dejected and with tears in her Eyes, came into the Room; the sight of her, and of those un­expressible Charms which were her in­separable [Page 10]separable Companions, did begin to de­face the image of Death, which had al­ready taken possession of Don Diego's coun­tenance, and to place some signs of joy and admiration in its room; when the Lady much more surpriz'd to find a Stranger, and an unknown Gentleman, in the hands of her Brothers and Father, could not chuse but blush so extraordinari­ly, that though it added a new lustre to her Beauty, yet did it not a little puzzle her Relations, who expected a more steady conduct from her. Let us leave him a little in this perplexity, to ease the Reader of his, and tell him whence it proceeded.

A Gentleman whose name was Don Frederick, who by all the advantages of Nature, Fortune, and Education, might justly challenge the title of very Ac­complished, had been long in love with Fenicia, the Lady whom we have descri­bed; she on her side, though her Beauty did every day adde some new conquest to her Empire, thought none worth owning and requiting but the happy Don Fre­derick's addresses.

Their intrigue was carried so closely, that their Parents of neither side were aware of [Page 11]it, and though Finicia's Father and Mo­ther were very diligent in watching their Daughters actions, yet they found it im­possible at last to preserve a thing, which the owner it self endeavours every mo­ment to lose; so that after a long per­severance, and the specious shew of an im­moderate passion, Don Frederick obtained under a verbal promise of Marriage, those favours which should have followed that sacred Union. As soon as Fenicia had thus put her Lover in possession of that which was most precious to her, and that by the richness of those hidden Treasures, he had been repayed all the expence of tears and sighs which he had been at, he let her see to her infinite grief, that he should henceforth despise her as impove­rished and plundered of her virtue. She soon perceived her errour by his coldness ere they parted, but his impatience to be gone not giving her time enough to re­flect entirely upon her fault, she only seal­ed his depart with a few Kisses, and de­sired him to come again to her at the same hour the following Night. In the mean time, considering with confusion the greatness of her fault, and the probability [Page 12]of Don Frederick's inconstancy, she saw no other remedy against that sea of miseries ready to break in upon her, than by oppo­sing to them the authority of her Father and Brothers: It was with much ado that she brought her self to this resolution; and with more terrour that she execu­ted it.

Upon this declaration the Father and Brothers were struck with amazement, and inflamed with revenge; they knew the quality of Don Frederick, but had never seen his person; therefore seeing there was no other remedy, they projected to execute upon Don Frederick the following Night, all that which poor Don Diego in his room had already undergone, having been drawn in by his own curiosity, and Fenicia's inviting Voice; their design was to fright him into an accomplishment of his word, or to wash away the stain of their reputation with his blood; but to the end that he might not for ever after make their Sister an object of sorrow, by a cruel return of hard usage, they resolved that she should feign, that she had reveal­ed nothing of their secret Loves, and should in order of rescuing him from their [Page 13]hands, affirm that they were mistaken in the person, and that it was not he who had abused her credulity.

But Fenicia seeing their real mistake, was forced to lay aside her designed arti­fices, and use sincerity; Brothers, said she, you are in an errour, this Gentleman whom ye have thus ill treated, is not the Traytor Don Frederick: Oh Heavens! how great is my misfortune, first to for­get my self so far, then unluckily to have my shame, and that of my family, published before a Stranger! Her Brothers seemed to be amazed at her words, but still ta­king them for counterfeit, could not choose but say to one another, look how rarely she dissembles, would not one swear she said true? She perceiving the double errour they were in, was forced to have recourse to Oaths and Protestations, to free them from it, in so much that at last she brought them to look with amazement upon one another, not knowing how to unriddle this mysterious intrigue. Don Diego on the other side did confirm all Fenicia's words, by telling of them his name, his quality, his profession of a Church-man, incapable by consequent of Marriage. The old [Page 14]Man at last perceiving the mistake they were in, fell into a great passion against his Daughter, as being the cause of all these unfortunate accidents, by her lewd prostitution: Upon that Don Diego be­gan to be a little at ease, hoping that now he should be released; but Fortune, who had resolved to try his Courage, assaulted him afresh, with the prospect of a more desperate danger. For Fenicia's Brothers angry at their errour, and perplexed to see the repute of their Family fallen into the hands and discretion of a Stranger, whom they had offended and ill treated, went aside a little to think of a remedy in so great a distraction; and after a short de­liberation, it was resolved by them to lead him out of their House, and in some by­place while it was yet dark, dispatch him, for fear he should reveal their infamy. In the mean time Lucifugne said nothing, hoping still that if he could once get out of that cursed house, either his feet or his hands should protect him. Their design thus resolved upon, was communicated be­fore execution to their old Father; but he being generous, and an enemy of bloody actions, rose up, and coming to Don Diego [Page 15]with a chearful countenance, Sir, said he, I have a greater confidence in your dis­cretion, than my Children have in the security of your death; I only desire you to have compassion of an honourable Fa­mily, whose shame has been lay'd open to you, and pray let our infamy be buried in the secret and silence of your generous Courage. This said, he presented him with his Sword again, restoring also his Guittar, then waiting upon him to the Street-door, offered to have him escorded wheresoever he pleased: Don Diego having thanked him, and reiterated his protestati­ons of an eternal silence, as to what he had seen and heard, took his leaves; as soon as he was in the Street, and saw himself free from so imminent a danger, he made a thou­sand vowes and resolutions against all idle curiosities, all which he broke as easily as he made them. Having gone a part of his way home, and finding a great emotion in his spirits from the fright he had been in, he resolved to settle them by the Art of Musick; therefore taking his Guittar, he played and sung to it.

Just as he made an end of his Song, he found himself to be near his Lodging, [Page 16]and as he was going to open his door, a Person who had dogged him all the way from Fenicia's house, steps between him and it, and bids him stand; Don Diego a little surprized, guessed immediately that it might be one of her Brothers, who violating his Fathers Commands, was come to seek his revenge, or rather the assurance of his silence in his death; thereupon he goes back a little, and taking his Sword in his hand, though still in his scabbard, comes up to him again to know his design; the Stranger without further delay, draws, and with some injurious words, provoking Don Diego to the like, was answered with as sharp effects; for Diego after a little while, being very skilfull at his Weapon, made two such home-thrusts upon the Stranger, that he fell, crying out, that he was a dead Man; after which he lay speech­less. Lucifugne who was as generous as valiant, having raised his Servants and got some Light, came to him, and finding by his adversaries rich apparel, that he was a person of quality, had him taken up, and carried into that apartment which he alwayes reserved for his Friends; there by the care that was taken of him, he came [Page 17]to himself, and permitted his Wounds to be dressed; after which he told Don Diego, that his Name was Don Frederick, the same that had triumphed over the in­nocent affections of Fenicia; that having been hindered by an important affair, from keeping exactly to the hour, appointed by her the Night before, he did come to the door just as Don Diego was let out; that the singularity of the Adventure having moved his curtosity to know who it was, that did already share with him in those joyes of which he thought himself the only possessor, had prompted him to follow him to his Lodging, and that' there his impatient jealousie had forced him to attaque him. Don Lucifugne having heard him out, very generously and franckly praised his courage and resolution, but withall desiring to clear all his suspicions of Fenicia's chastity, related to him all his Adventure, and at the same time took an occasion to press home to him the great­ness of the indignity he had offered an in­nocent Maid, who was only betrayed by the Love she bare him; entreating him by the principles of Honour, which he professed as a Gentleman, and those of [Page 18]Conscience, which he owned as a Christi­an, and which in his present condition ought to be most prevalent, that he would do the injured Lady right, and free her desolate Relations from the op­probrious reflection of their Daughters in­famy. Don Frederick was moved by his reasons, and his own Conscience, and sending for a Priest, declared in his pre­sence and before all the Company, that he would accomplish his prormise of Mar­riage to Fenicia, as soon as by his re­covery he should be in a condition to do it.

His just Vow was receiv'd and ap­prov'd of in Heaven, and from that ve­ry moment his wounds began to mend; so in a few dayes, he was in a conditi­on requisite for the accomplishment of his design; to this end, he entreated: Don Diego, with whom he had contracted a most intimate friendship, to go and visit Fenicia from him, and to give her these new assurances of his fidelity; entreating him withall, not to speak of their Com­bate, for fear frighting her: She all this while, poor Lady, was infinitely afflicted, not hearing any news at all of Don Frede­rick, [Page 19]in so much that the grief of her mind, prevailing upon her body, had brought her to keep her bed in a most languishing condition. In the mean time, her four Brothers raging for the affront put upon their Family, and having in vain sought the Author of it in Madrid, thought he had absented himself, and thereupon dividing, every one had took a different way to find him out, and take a bloody vengeance of this Murderer of their Sisters Honour.

One day as Fenicia and her desolate Father were talking of their misfortunes, which they did begin to think beyond a remedy, Don Diego came in to visit them; we need not ask if they were surprized at his sight, being not able to guess at the occasion of his coming to them; but Lucifugne unwilling to keep them long in expectation of such joyfull tidings, gave them so many assurances of the truth of what he said, that Fenicia and her Fa­ther were like to have found their joy as fatal to them as their grief, so great was the transport they were in; they re­ceived Diego like an Angel from Hea­ven giving him a thousand thanks for [Page 20]his generous proceeding towards them; Fenicia soon recovered her decayed Beau­ty, and her Lover being perfectly cured, came himself with Don Diego to con­firm the reality of his intentions; there now remained nothing to compleat their joy, but the presence of the four Brothers; messengers were dispatched to them on all hands, who having luckily found them out, made them haste to see the hap­piness of their Family: Don Fredericks Friends were all invited to the Wedding, which was kept with great Solemnity, and amongst all the Assembly, Don Diego Lucifugne was the Person most respected and Honourable, as having been the main instrument of bringing all the intrigue to end in so happy a success.

Adventure the second.

THe memory of these past accidents, might have been the Subject of a very profitable Meditation for Don Diego, if he had pleased; but it being a very hard matter to regulate the inor­dinate motions of a wilde Nature, by any consideration whatsoever, that of so imminent a danger avoided was not powerfull enough to make him refrain from is extravagant Night-Exercises. He had with him a Friend, whose name was Almen­zor, one who had loved him from his ten­der years, for the vivacity of his Wit, and the generousness of his Courage, but who was much against the irregular course of his life, and could not but with grief see those seeds of virtue choaked in debau­chery, which else would have bore such fair fruit of true Honour: He had often endeavoured by his perswasions to re­duce this rebellious Nature, to submit to the Laws of prudence and moderation, and now thinking this a very fair oppor­tunity to strike the nail home to the [Page 22]head, he came to him, and very seriously harangu'd him in this manner.

I should never have thought, Sir, that you could have been so unjust to me, and so cruel to your self, as to my great grief I now find you are: Must all the years and pains which I have spent in en­deavouring to polish your mind, and elevate your Soul, be not only lost, but rewarded with that shame and reproach which cannot but reflect upon me, from the perversity of your conversation? And must I, that alwayes reckoned to reap in the applause given to your virtues, the re­compence of my pains, be now frustrated of all my designs? Sure you cannot be so ill natur'd, or if my interest alone can­not move you, adde your own to the ballance, and see if it will not then weigh down all the fondness of youthly plea­sures: are you that have so much wit, not endowed with judgement enough to distinguish between the lightness of your Camerades applause, and the solid value of the graver sort of Men? But setting all that aside, is not the health of your Bo­dy, the welfare of your Soul, nay your Life it self endangered every moment in [Page 23]these bizarr sallies, which you make con­tinually in the dark? you have but lately escaped a most prodigious danger, and yet cannot this prevail with you to for­bear a course of Life, which must cer­tainly be very fatal both to your Life and Honour, one of these Nights; What I say, Seignor Don Diego, is out of pure af­fection to you, and to shew you the little self-love I am guided by; I have hitherto enjoyed the benefit of your For­tune, but if I should continue so to do, I should think my self little less than ac­cessary to your Misfortunes; I will there­fore by your leave retire, and rather feed upon the Bread of labour and industry, than that of sorrow, which I must expect if I stay with you. These words of Almanzor, were accompanied with a like action, for steping towards the door, he made as if he would have gone away; but Don Diego getting hold of him, en­treated him not to forsake him, pro­mising to endeavour an amendment; and to begin, he pull'd off his Sword, and layd it by, and for two whole dayes lived a very regular life, that is, making ufe of the Night and the Day according to [Page 24]their Natural institution: But his inclina­tion being all this while violented, upon the third Evening he began to detest Almanzors severity, and calling him pe­dantick Tyrant of his Natural liberty, was resolv'd to shake off the Fetters of his imperious Councels; when he heard the noise of a Coach in the Street, it being a by-place, was seldom troubled with this sort of noise, which made Don Diego the more attentive to its motions: It stopped a little short of his Window, and presently a Voice, which seemed to be that of a Woman, Sung divinely well to a Lute, which she touched as harmo­niously; but the sweetness of her Musick, could not abate the sharpness of her Song, which was so satyrical and biting upon a Lady of pleasure that lived hard by the House, and as it were under the pro­tection of our Adventurer, that he had scarce the patience to hear it out; He got on his Doublet and Breeches, and taking his Sword in his hand, run down as fast as he could; the Coach was gone before he came into the Street, and all that he could do, was by following it at a distance, to observe the House it went into.

[Page 25]But to avoid confusion, let us give these Ladies their Names, and relate their Adventure. She whom Don Diego pro­tected, was called Carcelia, and the other who had thus provoked her, went by the name of Faustina, both of quality and life so like, that the praise and dis­praise of the one, might without injury be adopted to the other: whereupon Don Diego having got a copy of those verses, transpos'd their names, and found that the attributes did still sute; wherefore he first resolved to have them sung over again at Faustinaes Window; but that being but a simple retaliation, he accompanied it with the interludes of a new inventi­on, which was thus contrived and exe­cuted.

Don Diego invited to Supper one Night, five or six of the wildest young Men of his acquaintance, and having in the middle of their Mirth, layed open to them his resolution of being revenged upon Faustina, asked their opinion: They all answered to the affirmative, and one proposing one thing, another another, at last these Articles were resolved upon.

• [Page 26]1. That there should be a Serenade given, with all sorts of ridiculous Instru­ments, viz. two Sow-gelders Horns, two broken Bells, two Guittars, and two Viols out of Tune, and four Ket­tles of a different bigness.
• 2. That there should be composed a Dialogue in Verse, to be recited by two young Men of the company, whereof one should represent Faustina, and the other Popaa her Sister; that the Sub­ject of the Dialogue should be some quarreling expostulations between the two Sisters, which should divulge the infamy of their life and profession.
• 3. That Don Diego should prepare a kind of triumphal Chariot, which should be attended with a good number of lighted Torches, and that the said Cha­riot should be the Stage of their action; that it should stop just before Faustinaes Window, which should be opened by force, if she did not do it voluntarily.

This being resolv'd nemine contradicente, the best Poet was charged with the com­posing of the Dialogue; and when it came to be learned by Heart, there were a great many meeting Dinners, Sup­pers, [Page 27]Collations at Don Diego's, to en­courage the Actors, and perfect them in their parts; and at last, the day be­fore it was acted, Carcelia was invited to give her censure, and see what was to be added to, or taken away from this impu­dent piece of revenge. This last repeti­tion having very much pleased all the company, it was decreed, that it should be acted for good and all the following Night, for fear least it might take vent, and be countermined by the in­dustry of the concerned parties, who could in a need muster good Auxiliaries among the young Gallants of the Town.

Midnight being come, they set forth in great State from Don Diego's Lodg­ings, having in a readiness all the in­struments for their most infernal Sere­nade, yet not touching on them till they should come to Faustinaes Street, being re­solved to wake no body, but those who should be so unlucky as to have so ill Neighbours as these two Sisters were: The Chariot beginning to move, in so­lemn dump, in the silence of the Night, and being environ'd round with Torches, its self filled with antick Persons, and [Page 28]followed by others in a Mascarade dress, might have been a spectacle worthy the loss of some sleep. It got at last, with much ado, being drawn by 8. Coursiers called Porters, to the entrance of Fausti­naes Street, where they had subject to think all their labour lost, for the passage was strongly barricadoed; the business was, that a person of very great Quality being fallen sick in it, had obtain'd leave of the Magistrate, to plant some posts across the Street, to hinder Coaches and Carts from passing and interrupting that little rest which his distemper would allow him to take. Don Lucifugne having called a Council, it was resolved not to go back, but to force through this obstacle: there­upon the posts were attaqu'd, and in a trice thrown down, every one having put to a helping hand; the breach being wide enough, the Machine entered, and being come under Faustinaes Win­dows, first gave her a Salve of the Se­renade, to prepare her attention to the rest; but this so Diabolick a noise, having put all the sick Lords house in an uproar, out came his Master of the Horse, to know what the matter was, and to desire them [Page 29]to be gone; Don Diego met him, and with good words having a little quieted him, promising to withdraw, as soon as he had turned his back, commanded the Dialogue to be begun; but by this time the Lords family had by his Command taken Arms, and the Coachmen, Grooms, Cooks, and Scullions, issued out with their re­spective Weapons, Pitch-forks, Spits, Tonges, &c. and seeing that Chariot there still, came furiously on to overthrow it and the Actors; but on the other side, Don Diego and his Camerades, with Link­boys and Porters interposing, there began a fray, in which many a head was broke, as well as the Peace, on each side; and at last, after a pretty smart conflict, each party well satisfied with their bang­ings, retired, carrying off their wounded Friends.

Faustina and Popaea, who were come to their Windows, and had perceived that all this tintamarr was for them, had an exceeding joy to see it disappointed, with an addition of revenge upon the Actors which they could never have hoped for; but their transports were soon at an end, for the next day the Lord their Neigh­bour [Page 30]being informed, that they were the cause of these Night scandals, caused them to be banished Madrid: Some of the Com­batants on each side were clapt up, and came off for small fines; Don Diego for his part, got clear of the Lords pursuit, by pleading his priviledge of being judg­ed by an Ecclesiastical Court, having also found favour in the Kings; for bating his Nocturn Extravagancies, he was a Man of most excellent Convensation, and very VVitty Company.

Adventure the third.

Almanzor weary of Don Diego's extra­vagancies, and almost out of Charity with himself, for his indulgency in enduring them, seeing him at last delivered from the pursuit of the Law, and all its evil consequences, resolved also to free him­self from all the terrours and fears he was continually in, for his Friends safety: VVhereupon he told Don Diego, that the greatest part of the blame of his in­ordinate life, lighting upon him, as one who had the greatest share in his educati­on, he could do no less than let the World see by his retreat, that he did entirely dissent from all vicious courses, and that not being able to hinder them, he was at least resolved not to countenance them any longer. Don Diego having heard him out, answered very fairly, that he was sorry things were come to that pitch, as to necessitate a Rupture between them, but that since his life was of so little con­formity to his Friends inclinations, it was best for them both to separate: Almanzor [Page 32]was a little surprized to see himself taken at his word, for it was not his intention to withdraw; but did only hope by the se­vere reiteration of his admonitions, and de­monstrations to leave Don Diego, so to perplex him, as either to better his own condition in staying, or make him re­solve to live more regularly: but how­ever, being thus answered, he thought he could do no less for his honour, than effectuate his parole, which accordingly he did, and retired into a private Lodging in the Town; but at the end of a few dayes, he found that his huffing, cost him pretty dear; for having never before had the ex­perience of the trouble of living at his own charges, he soon began to compare it with the pleasure of living cost-free upon anothers purse, and found a vast difference between those two things; but the value of things is never so well understood, as when the enjoyment of them is past: being weary of the inconveniencies of his new life, he got some persons of Quality to inter­pose towards Don Diego, and to mediate his return to him; they found him well in­clined, in regard of their ancient friend­ship; but to put an invincible obstacle to [Page 33]all future fallings out, Don Diego fastned these Articles upon the favour of his re­admittance.

• 1. That all authority of a Governour should be suppressed.
• 2. That each of them should live ac­cording to his own fancy, taking no no­tice of one anothers comportments.
• 3. That for the better execution of this agreement, Almanzor should live in that apartment which Don Diego did use to keep for his Friends.

This was accordingly executed, and Don Diego vexy well pleased to see, that he had at last shaken off the yoke of Alman­zors pedantick jurisdiction; the natural disposition which Don Diego had to play upon divers instruments, and sing to them, being followed with so great an excellency in that Art, that most Masters did ad­mire him, made him very inquisitive af­ter all that excelled that way; so that at last he came to hear of a young Lady, who was said to have attained so great a per­fection in the same thing, that she was talked of by all Madrid for her skill, both in Composing, Playing, and Sing­ing. This was a great incitement to our [Page 34]Adventurer to be acquainted with her; but her Beauty, which was more Charming, having at the first sight he had of her' made deeper impressions in his Soul, he never gave over till he got an opportunity of seeing her at a Kinswomans house; there he omitted no sort of Courtship to win her inclinations, but could not bring her to any greater condescendencies, than such civilities and modest favours as might have been granted to indifferent Persons.

The Ladies Name was Sirena, and she was Married to a person of quality, but prodigiously jealous of her; a great jour­ney which he had made towards the re­motest parts of Spain, had given Don Diego all these opportunities of making his ap­proaches, and it may be inspired the La­dy too with more resistance, than the tyrannical conduct of a jealous Husband would have let her use at another time; for 'tis a most certain rule, that restraint in Ladies encreases the desire of liberty, which once obtain'd or freely given, is more moderately made use of. The Husband being at last come home, and a greater restraint put upon Sirenas liberty, she gave Don Diego notice of it, desiring [Page 35]him to forbear to give any publick signs of his passion, for fear her Husband should be alarmed by them; but with­all, appointed him a Rendezvous the fol­lowing Night, at the same Kinswomans house, and that he should meet with a Per­son before the door, who should introduce: Don Diego received this Message with an unexpressible joy, hoping that now he had at last attain'd to the top of all his wishies, since Sirena upon her own move­ment, did take care of the continuation of their Amours: The hour came, he dressed himself to his best advantage, and carry­ing besides good Arms against all un­lucky accidents, he set forth with an ar­dent desire not to be the last at the place of assignation. Being come to the House, he found no body walking there to at­tend him, whereupon supposing that his Amorous impatience might have made him be too diligent, he stayed in a shop hard by; after a delay of an hour, and just as he begun to lose patience, a Maid of Sirena's beckon'd to him from the door, to go a little farther off from the House; She then following him, told him, that her Mistress was gone to take the Air with [Page 36]her Master, in some Garden about the Town, but that she would hardly stay above two hours, at the end of which he might return, and be sure to meet her: This disappointment, though very sen­sible, was a little sweetned by the hopes of having a greater liberty of enjoying Sirena, when she should be rid of her fond old Husband, to whose fresh arrival, he judged, she had been forc'd to sacrifice some of those moments, which she had de­signed for him. The better to divert his unquiet impatience, till the happy hour should come, he resolv'd to take a turn in the Prado of Madrid, the place where the Coaches take the Air; the evening be­ing somewhat cold, and the Skie a little overcast, had driven the Coaches and all the Company away betimes; so that though it were not much past ten a clock when Don Diego came thither, he found as great a solitude in the Prado, as if it had been some remote Desart: he walked twice from one end to the other, enter­taining at liberty the variety of his thoughts, till he thought it was almost time to go back to his assignation; but just as he was going out at one end, he heard [Page 37]not far off the moaning voice of a Wo­man, and easily distinguish'd these words; Is it possible, dear Husband, that so trea­cherous a design can come into your mind, as to resolve to kill one, who loves you so dearly? and have you brought me hi­ther only to murder me so barbarously? Don Diego mov'd with compassion, went immediately towards the place whence the voice proceeded, desirous to deliver a Person brought to so great a distress: he had not gone twenty steps, but he found a Coach drawn by two Horses, close shut on one side, and open on the other; and a little further, he dis­cern'd a Man on foot, with his Sword drawn in his hand, and a Lady upon her knees before him. The Man hearing some body draw near, came towards Don Diego, and bid him stand; stand thy self, replyed our Adventurer, and know that I come hither to punish thee, for thy bloody attempt upon that poor Ladies life, whose tears I see cannot soften thy hard and ig­noble Breast. At this the other seeing himself offended in his honour, made no other repartie but with his Sword; Don Diego parr'd the thrust, and being very [Page 38]adroit, gave him two wounds, one upon the other, insomuch that he fell, crying, Jesus, I am dead: At this deadly cry the Lady fell into a swoun; Don Diego hast­ning to her, found her lying upon the ground without sence or motion; he pre­sently took her in his arms, and having put her into the Coach, and fastned close the boot, he got up into the box, there be­ing no Coach-man, and drave straight to his own Lodging; he soon knock'd up Almanzor, and making him come out without any light, for fear of making his Neighbours spectators of what he de­sired to conceal, they two carryed in the Lady, who was not yet come to her self: Then he told Almanzor succinctly, that she was a Lady that he did not know; that he had rescu'd her from a barbarous Husband, who was going to attempt upon her life; that he desired him to have a singular care of her, till he should return, being now forc'd to go out again upon urgent busi­ness: This said, he departed, and getting up again upon the Coach-box, he drave till he came before the Windows of a Church­man, who had a great reputation of Pie­ty and Charity; him he called by his [Page 39]Name, and having obliged him to look out, told him▪ that the Coach he then was upon, was a stray Coach which he had met with in the Street, without any body to own or drive it; and that he thought it could not be disposed into better hands than his, whose Charity he knew would be solicitous to discover the right owner, and restore it to him: Thus said, he leaped off the box, and ran away as fast as he could: he took his way towards Sirenas house, much perplexed with himself, and concluding that he had let slip, the time of his assignation; but when he came near, he met the Maid, who told him that her Mistress was not yet come home; and that she believed that she and her Husband were gone to see her Mo­ther, who was a very rich Widdow, whom they both courted, as expecting to be well remembred in her Will; that if it were so, it would be in vain to expect het home that Night: This long discourse cast some suspicious thoughts into Don Diego's breast, that the Maid was not so true to him as he could wish, taking all this story for an invented lye; whereup­on desirous to be better informed, he re­solv'd [Page 40]not to stir very far from Sirenaes house, till towards Morning; he walked a­way a little, and having been absent about a quarter of an hour, came back, and was not a little astonished to see lights at almost all the windows, and to find Sirenaes house full of Serjeants, and other Officers of Justice, with a great multitude of People; he draws near, and having enquired of some body what the matter was, was told, that Don Leander, Sirenaes Husband, was brought home wounded, and that it was yet un­known how and by whom so unlucky an accident had befallen him; Don Diego upon this withdrew, judging well that if he should betaken notice of, as one that had courted Leanders VVife, and be found besides with; Fire-arms about him, he might be laid hold of upon suspicion, which would bring him into a great deal of trouble, though according to his own o­pinion, he thought himself far from ha­ving a hand in the matter.

But now let us return to Sirena, whom we had left in Almanzors hands; he ha­ving lighted a Candle, and poured some drops of a Cordial down the Ladies throat, had with much ado brought her [Page 41]to her self again: as soon as she opened her eyes, she was strangely surprized to finde her self in an unknown place, in the power of a Stranger; but still supposing that he was the Man who had preserved her from be­ing killed: Sir, said she, having already the obligation of my life to your valour, I cannot expect lesse than the preservation of my honour from your generosity, and therefore without informing your self far­ther who I am, I desire you to cause me to be led to St. Jeroms Church door, and there to be left to my own liberty; alas, the Gentleman you killed was my Husband, and though he was even then preparing to make me breath my last, yet can I not but be concerned at his misfortune, and be­moan my destiny, which could find no other way to deliver my innocency from his bloody attempt.

The astonishment of Almanzor, was not inferiour to the surprize of the fair Lady; but judging immediately that Don Diego was he who had killed her Husband, he thought fit by all means to conceal from her the Author of her misfortunes; and thereupon answering the Lady with great civility, told her, that her request should [Page 42]be granted, provided she would conde­scend to one of his, which was, to give him leave to blind her eyes with a handker­chief, and promise not to go about to un­blind her self, till he should leave her to her self before St Jeroms Church.

The Lady seeing her self at his mercy, was forced to rely upon his discretion, and give her self up to his conduct; immedi­ately Almanzor made a Cupid of this Ve­nus, and taking her by the hand, led her out of the House; at every step he made, he would look behind him, imagining still that the Officers of Justice were rea­dy to seise upon him: In these apprehen­sions he came before St. Jeroms Convent, there taking leave of her, he ran away as fast as his legs would carry him, thinking himself very happy when once he had re­covered Don Diego's house. The Lady perceiving her self at liberty, unblinded her eyes, and finding her self before St. Je­roms Convent, took her refuge in her Mo­thers house, which was hard by.

Don Diego in the mean time came home, almost as soon as Almanzor, and finding him quite out of breath, and scare able to speak, by reason of his hasty course, [Page 43]he could not choose but ask him the cause of the great alteration he saw in him; the cause, answered Almanzor grumbling, is your inconsiderate and rash conduct, which brings all those which concern themselves for your Life and Honour, into eternal perplexities: Thereupon he told him all that had passed between himself and the Lady, and how he had conveyed her away with her eyes blinded, for fear she should know the place she had been in, and by consequent her Husbands murtherer, whom she might, it may be, in a fit of vain-glo­ry, accuse before the Judges, to pur­chase the reputation of an Heroick courage, in loving her Husband so far, as to prose­cute him for killing him, even one that had saved her own life.

Don Diego could not choose but ad­mire his Friends prudence, in the carri­age of this so ticklish a business, and gave him a thousand thanks, and as many em­braces for his friendly proceeding; af­ter this he related to him his love for Si­rena, and how he had been disappointed of his assignation. Almanzor gave him prudent advice to desist from his passion, lest it might bring him into some incon­veniency [Page 44]worse than any he had hitherto undergone; after this, it being almost day, they both retired and went to sleep.

They had not rested above two hours, when they were both awakned by a very loud knocking at the Street door; at first, the desire they had to enjoy some repose, made them neglect the noise, but it re­doubling, caused Don Diego at last to rise, thinking it might be some Officers who had made a discovery of the last Nights Ad­ventures; but coming to the door, he found it was no body but a Boy, who pre­sented him with a Letter from Sirena; the sound of that pleasing Name, infused tran­quility into his troubled Spirits: he made the Messenger come in, and opening his Letter, found it contained these words.

At every period of this Letter, Don Diego, and Almanzor who had likewise rise and was come to him, could not choose but look upon one another, and stand astonished like two statues, to see the sin­gularity of the Adventure. Don Diego on his side was inconsolable, when he reflect­ed, that he had had in his power the ob­ject of all his wishes, without being able to make use of so lucky an occasion; and did begin to detest Almanzors timorous conduct, which had deprived him of the joyes of his life. But those Chymerical reflections, were interrupted by the wiser consideration of Almanzor, who made it appear, that Sirenas staying with them, must needs have ended in some tragical event for them all; that therefore the fre­quentation of such company was dange­rous, and absolutely to be laid aside; that however, he did not disapprove of a visit to the distressed Lady, now she was in the Monastery; but lest all this should be a trap laid by the waiting VVoman, to dis­cover [Page 48]the author of Leanders murther, he offered to go first and discover what reality there was in the business.

Don Diego was ruled by him for this once, and Almanzor finding Sirenas re­lation true, and her Person in the Nun­nery, came and fetched Don Diego to her: there they had a great conference, and discovered to one another all the circumstances of the action, by which Sirena found her self obliged to Don Diego for her life; she thanked him, and promised not to bring him into any trouble upon her Husbands account.

Leander in the mean time, was in the hands of the Officers of Justice, and of the Chirurgions, in unexpressible torments of minde and body; he had voluntarily con­fessed the intended murther of his Wife, and was therefore a Prisoner till it should be known what was become of her: every body that heard of the story, was passionate to know the name of the Gentleman, that had so couragiously rescued and preserv'd Sirena; but Don Lucifugne rather chose to lose the fruit of his valour, for fear lest the sweetness of the glory of it, should be spoil'd by the bitterness of the forma­lities [Page 49]of the Law; a little after the news of Leanders death was brought to him, he having rather died of the torment of his mind, and those wounds which his rash conduct had inflicted upon his own re­putation, than of those which Don Diego had given his Body. Sirena afflict­ed for his loss, forsook the World, and turned Nun, resolving to do penance for all the errours of her life. Don Diego struck with an extream displeasure at the news of it, fell sick, and had almost fol­lowed Leander to the other VVorld.

Adventure the fourth.

LOng was Don Diego's sickness, but the tediousness of it was much eased, by the continual assistance of Almanzor; for he did not only endeavour himself to divert his Friend with pleasing discourses, but did also procure him many visits from divers others, who were better acquainted with the news of the Town and Court: by these helps he got upon his Legs again, [Page 50]and by his carriage at first, let every body presume that he was as well cured of the ill customs of his mind, as of the bad ha­bit of his Body; for during some dayes, he payed and received visits in the day time: but the Carnaval, which is a season of Debauch, being come, he presently fell into his old extravagancies, declaring a new VVar against day-light, and making a so­lemn league with the hours of the Night. Upon the evening of Shrove-tuesday, he was invited by some of his Friends to a great Supper, to take their leave of Flesh; the Supper done, finding that the Company instead of diverting themselves with some ingenious frolick, were fallen to drinking, and to slandering their Neighbours, he stole secretly away, with a design to go to another assembly, where he knew there would be more innocent mirth: he had scarce gone half the way he intended, when he found himself before the great Gate of a House, which was wide open; his curiosity would not let him go by with­out going in. He takes his Sword in his hand, and entring by the Gate, went through a long dark Ally, which brought him into a great wide open place, where he [Page 51]could see nothing neither; this stop'd him a while, and made him reflect, that it might be great temerity to go on; yet thinking it Cowardice to go back, he grop'd along the Walls, till he found a door half open, which as he endeavoured to thrust wider open, he fell into a trap, which made him tumble headlong into a place fourteen or fifteen foot under ground, re­ceiving as good luck would have it, no other mischief in his fall, than the loss of his Sword, which he had been forc'd to let go to endeavour to catch hold of some­thing to save himself: At the same time he heard a Voice, which seemed to come from a remote place, which asked, Who goes there? Don Diego a little stun'd with his fall, was not so ready to answer, but that the Voice redoubled again in a threat­ning tone, Who goes there? our Adventurer being afraid lest some body should attaque him, to his great disadvantage, before he had found his Sword, which he was groping for, was forc'd to say, 'tis a Man all alone: If it be a Man, answered the Volce, let him come in hither. At these words, Don Lucifugne began to resent his bold at­tempt; but there being no going back, he [Page 52]drew near to a door, through which there came a little glimmering or light; as soon as he passed it, he came into a great Hall, at the four corners of which were hung four lamps, which yielded so weak and pale a light, that they did but just aug­ment the native horrour of the place; he goes on, and at one end perceives the figures of two Men, all in deep mourning, each of them sitting in a great elbow Chair, the one leaning upon his hand, as if he had been asleep, and the other wa­king; they both seem'd to attend a dead Body, which lay stretched at their feet, and wraped up in a winding-sheet.

At this most horrid sight, Don Diego was a little mov'd with fear, when on a sudden, the sleeping Man starting up, be­gan joyntly with the other to put these questions to our Adventurer. Art not thou the Man whom the VVorld calls Seignor Don Diego? Yes, replyed he, trembling, but how came you by my Name? Trouble not thy self about that, replyed the Voices conjoyntly, but only answer to our interrogations, for upon thy answer depend many things which we have to do this Night. At these words [Page 53]he would fain have been somewhere else, but there being no remedy, he replyed boldly, I am Don Diego; and what are you, Devils? I believe he knows us, says one to the other; he will the better obey our Commands, replyed the other: first, con­tinued they, thou must stay here and keep this body, while we go to execute the Commands of a Superiour Power; stir not from hence, as thou tenderest thy safe­ty: Immediately, without slaying for his answer, they rose up, and going out at the door, shut it after them upon our Adven­turer. Don Diego seeing himself left alone with a dead Man, began to recom­mend himself to the protection of God Almighty, and all his Saints, covering himself with signs of the Cross from top to toe.

The two Mourners had not been gone above a quarter of an hour, when he be­gan to hear horrid groanes, and the noise of iron Chains, with such rumbling as if the House had been falling down; this having produced in him a strange terrour, he went towards the door, with a design to get out, if possible; but as he was almost at it, he heard a fearfull Voice behind him, [Page 54]which in a sad tone cried to him, stay Don Diego, do not think to flie from me; thou hast not yet leave to depart, come back, or I'le follow thee. At these words, looking back, he perceiv'd the dead Man a rising up, and found that the Voice came from him; who continued thus, Know that I am he whom thou didst deprive of this life a few daies ago, without ha­ving received any injury from me: Barba­rous Man, canst thou hope to avoid the vengeance of Heaven? 'tis by its order that thou art brought hither to hear my just complaints, draw near therefore, that I may reproach thee with all thy crimes.

This discourse put Don Diego into a mortal Trance; he certainly believed, that it was the Ghost of dead Leander, come from another World to torment him; ne­vertheless he drew nearer, not daring to do otherwise, and the dead Man pursued thus. I must confess, that thou didst kill me in the Field, and fighting bravely with me; but because I had not learned in my Youth to fence, thou hadst an easie victory over me; but now thou shalt do me reason, come let us wrastle, body to bo­dy, [Page 55]upon condition, that if thou dost give me a fair fall, my death shall be forgiven thee, and neither I nor any of my Came­rades shall ever disquiet thee more. But if I overcome thee, thou shalt be bound to come every Year, upon the day of my death, and passe the Night upon my Grave in the Church-yard where I am buried. Don Diego seeing that the match was like to be very unequal, desired in sub­missive Language to be excused, as not being able to Cope with a Spirit; but the Ghost not consenting, and being ready to fall upon him whether he would or no, Don Diego put himself into as strong a po­sture as his fear would let him; immediate­ly the dead Man rose up, and shew'd him­self to be much above the stature of an ordinary Man; at the same instant, the four Lamps that lighted the room fell down with a horrid noise, and the Ghost lancing himself upon frighted Don Diego, struck him down, and left him in a swoun, out of which he recovered not till about two hours after; As soon as his Spirits were come again, he opened his eyes, and not knowing in what World he was, looked about him, and found that it [Page 56]was day: He considers the place where he was, sees nothing but four bare dead Walls; he rises, and endeavours to find some footsteps of those horrid apparitions, but could not so much as find the Lamps he had seen fall to the ground.

The day breaking in upon him, gave him courage enough to visit the rest of this dismal house, which he did every where, but found nothing but his Sword; he took it and went away, being asham'd to be seen in such a place, though he would fain have informed himself of the Neighbours, whose house it was, and how it came to stand thus uninhabited.

Being come to his own door, he went in, and immediately put himself to bed, to refresh his wearied Limbs, and comfort his affrighted Spirits. The little sleep he took, was disturbed with frightfull dreams, and at last quite interrupted by a very great knocking at his door; Almanzor, who came to him upon the noise, talked with him a great while, and heard from him the narration of his whole Adventure, before he would stir to let in those, who by their re­iterated knocks did seem to be in great im­patience; at last to be delivered of their [Page 57]opportunity, he went to the gate; he that had stayed all this while, was one Don Antonio, an intimate Friend of Diegos, and a very merry Companion: Having saluted our Adventurer, he asked him, how he had passed his Carnaval? having had some slight answer, For my part, said he, strock­ing his Munchadoes, I failed last night of trepanning a fellow, for whom I had prepared a most ingenious trap: 'Tis one that you know, 'tis the Cordouan Gentle­man that we call Don Diego, but I shall have him in one time or another: Why, what is the matter between you? replyed Luci­fugne: the matter is, answered Don An­tonio, that he has vanity enough to be my rival, and to court a rich Lawyers Daugh­ter, whom a Friend of mine long designed for his Wife.

Now you must know, that this Ladies Windows look directly upon a certain Church-yard, which gave a pretty hint to my Friend to be revenged of his Cordouan, and put an obstacle to all those walks which he takes on Nights, about her house; having heard that Don Diego was no very valiant Man, he told him one day in my presence, that of late there [Page 58]had been buried in that Church-yard, a Man of a notorious ill life, who did alwayes walk there about three of the Clock in the Morning, making fearfull groans, and a dreadfull noise of Chains, insomuch that many of the Inhabitants were ready to for­sake their Houses; that therefore he did advise him as his Friend, though his Rival, to retire betimes, for fear of some ill ren­counter with the dead Mans Ghost. I joyned my perswasions with his, and en­deavoured to increase his terrour, by exagerating the honour of the apparition: But here our Gentleman was proof against our Plot, for though he made as if he had believed all we said, yet he continued every Night to walk in the same place, and give his Mistress Serenados, without fear of being interrupted by the dead Mans groans.

Our design being thus averted, I be­thought my self of another, in which I used a much more terrible apparatus: I have of late, you must know, a house thrown up­on my hands; it stands in a by-street, and a solitary part of the Town; and though di­vers have offered to take it of me, yet I have still deferred letting it, in hopes to [Page 59]make it the Theatre of a piece of revenge, which I had meditated for my Friend up­on Don Diego the Cordouan, and no later than last Night it should have been executed, had not a most unlucky accident prevented it.

I had obliged three Scholars, newly come from the University, and full of wag­gish tricks, to undertake the business; up­on a false pretext, telling them that I had a mind to try the Courage of one of my Friends, who seemed to defie all appari­tions of Spirits, and Nocturnal Visions: Thus instructed, I led them to my house about mid-night, there in a Hall designed for the piece, I apparelled two of them like Mourners; the third was a young Stripling almost the head and shoulders higher than the ordinary seize of Men, very strong and active; him I dressed in a Winding-sheet, and made him lie down like a dead Man, at the feet of the others, who were sitting in two Chairs; the Hall was hung with four Lamps, one at each corner, which yielded a certain gloo­my light, more horrid than darkness it self: Things being thus disposed, I told them that I would presently send them the [Page 60]Man I intended to fright, and that as soon as he should come in, they should ask him, whether or no his Name were not Don Diego? that then they should leave him alone with the dead Man, who was to represent some body that he had killed, (for I had often heard him brag of the Duels he had fought) and to desire satis­faction for his death, by wrastling against him: Besides all this, I left them all free­dom of invention, and to adde any thing that the occasion should suggest, to terrifie our Gentleman the more; this done, I went out, intending to meet Don Diego, for I knew where he was, and to lay a wa­ger against him, that he durst not go into my house; but unluckily I was disappoint­ed of my end, for not far from my House, I heard the clashing of Swords, and com­ing up, I perceived two of my Friends desperately engaged with half a dozen Algouatils, who would have taken them; I presently drew in their behalf, and with much ado got them off, but we were so warmly pursu'd, that it was all we could do by taking by-lanes and turnings to es­cape: Before our fray was well ended, and we in a place of surety, it was day, and so [Page 61]by consequent too late to seek out Don Diego; so that I believe my three Scho­lars have sufficiently cursed me, for ma­king them sit all Night in that mimical dresse and posture.

While Antonio related this story, Don Diego did by little and little come to know the cause of the misfortune happen­ed to him by his own curiosity, and the equivocal names of Don Diego; having a little admired the singularity of the ren­counter, he could not chuse but tell Don Antonio, smiling, that he had hindred the Scholars from cursing him, and that he could assure him Don Diego had been there by his means, and that they had perform­ed their parts rarely, and almost frighted him out of his Wits: Antonio transported with joy, asked him, how he came to know any thing of the Plot? whereupon Don Diego related to him all his Adven­ture, word for word; Don Antonio, after he had given great signs of his astonish­ment, could not chuse but laugh, though he were sorry that the effect of a Pagean­try design'd for another, had fallen up­on his own intimate Friend: But Lucifug­ne easily forgave him, as being himself [Page 62]very glad to see that apparition to be but a fiction, which he had taken for a rea­lity.

After some further mirth, Antonio in­vited his Friend to Supper, resolving like­wise to send for the three Scholars; but when he came home, he was met by two of them, who came to give him an ac­count of their success; and to tell him withall, that the third verily believing that the Man he had frighted was dead with fear, had taken Sanctuary in an Am­bassadors house, to protect himself against all pursuits of the Law: Immediately they sent him word, that he might free­ly come out, and that if he had a mind to be very merry, he should come and Sup with them, where he should hear a plea­sant story: he came accordingly, and they were all as jovial, as they had been sad the Night before. The Supper ended, Don Diego went home betimes, to the great content of Almanzor, who did begin to hope for a through reformation, seeing such good beginnings.

Adventure the fifth.

THe Feasting and publick Solemnities of the Carnaval being over, Lent made its solemn entry, with an ugly aspect to those, who from the excesses of the week before, found themselves reduced to pickl'd Herrings and Ling. Don Diego, contrary to Almanzor's expectations, was not much troubled at its coming, and whe­ther it were that he was pleased with the variety of the Season, or that he did really intend a reform, helived very civilly and modestly the first weeks of Lent; but per­severance, the greatest of Virtues and that which Crowns them all, was not at this time given to our Adventurer: For no sooner did Easter draw near and the Spring begin to warm the Earth, but Diego's blood receiving a new motion from this ac­cession of heat, made him seek out his old Camerades. He soon found them, and began again by little and little to anti­cipate upon the Night, till at last he was come to the old passe, and did seldom retire till Aurora with her tears had [Page 64]treated him like the Flowers, and all bedewed him.

One day then, or rather one Night, about ten of the Clock, taking his Sword he walked out into the Prado or Hide­park of Madrid; every body knows that it is Venus Market, and the Fair where the great trade of Love is driven, between the Gallants and Ladies of Madrid. Don Diego was just come into the Prado, when he espyed a Coach, which drave extream softly, and in as great state as if it had been a Queens▪ in the boot was a young Page, who Sung very ill, to a worse tuned Guittar: The Coach stop [...]d in a circle of Gentlemen and Ladies, who were sitting round a fountain; and immediately the Page, by his Masters order, began to regale the company with an Atre, but was inter­rupted with so many railleries, that he was glad to hold his Tongue, and his Master to make room for a Coach which follow­ed: In it was a young Lady of exceeding Beauty, with another old one, and she was singing divinely well to a Guittar, which she touched as sweetly: all the Company drew near at this so pleasant an Harmony, and immediately the Coach was invironed [Page 65]by most of the Gallants of the Prado; amongst them there was one, who con­fidently leaning upon the boot, took more liberty than any of the rest, neither did either of the Ladies seem to take it ill; there were by a great many others, who would fain have done as much, but wanting confidence durst not attempt it: While they were all thus attentive to the Ladies Voice, up comes one, almost out of breath, having followed the Coach from his Lodg­ing; he draws near, and taking notice of the Ladies familiarity with the Gentleman that leaned upon the boot, presently grew jealous of him, and resolv'd to quarrel with him; as he was thinking of a pretext, up comes Don Diego to him in hast, being acquainted with him, and desires him to keep his Guittar for him, while he follow­ed two of his Friends, who by their words and actions did seem to him to be gone to fight: Our Gentleman, whose eyes were fixed upon the Lady in the Coach, took only so much notice of Don Diego's words and actions, as to take his Guittar, and so let him go; he had no sooner Don Diego's instrument in his hand, but a string of that on which the Lady played broke; [Page 66]immediately he advances very civilly, to present the Lady with his, that the Com­pany might lose nothing of so fine a diver­sion; but as he drew near to present it, he was push'd back with scorn by him that leaned upon the boot: immediately Don Diego's Friend, resolving to chastise his in­solencies, replies with all his might with the Guittar upon the favourites head, which was bare, and before he could put himself in de­fence, had redoubled the blow, & broke the Guittar into a thousand pieces, as well as the Head in some places which run down with blood; immediately they both drew, and all the Company too: The Serjeants, who do ordinarily walk upon the Prado, expect­ing some such fray, came in: at their ap­pearance Don Diego's Friend slip'd away in the Croud; the Coach for fear of being seized upon, drave away as fast as four Mules could draw it, and there remained no body there but the wounded Gentleman, and the bruis'd Guittar.

In this very instant back comes Don Diego, who had parted his Friends, and was much astonished to find such a solitude, where a little before he had left so great a croud; he walks up and down, and endea­vours [Page 67]to find out his Friend the depositary of his Guittar: but seeing it was in vain, retires very disconsolate for the losse of his dear instrument, which had been his faithfull Companion in most of his Adven­tures; being come home, he sends to the Gentlemans Lodging; but answer was made, that he was gone into the Country, and that they did not know when he would come back.

The losse of the Guittar was the cause of Don Diego's keeping his Chamber for some dayes, where we will leave him, and see what became of the wounded favourite. Whether it were the disgrace of having been beaten before his Mistress, or really the hurts he had received that made him so ill, is unknown to this day: but so much we have, that he grew worse and worse every day, and fell at last into a very violent feaver, insomuch that the Physitians and Chirurgions did scarce hope for life: in the mean time the criminal Judge did use all possible means to discover the person that had brought him into this case; and to that end had consign'd the broken Guittar in­to one of his Catchpoles hands, who never left poring upon it till he had by putting [Page 68]all the pieces together, discovered at last the name of the workman that made it; presently thinking he had made a happy discovery, he goes to him, and asks him if he knew that Guittar; he answered, yes, and that he had made it for a Gentleman called Don Diego; the Serjeant not con­tent with his naked testimony, asks his journeymen; who confirming their Masters words, he summons them all immediate­ly to come and depose the same upon Oath before the Judge: They not daring to refuse, go and justifie what they had said to be true; the Judge forbids them as they would answer it at their perill, to give any notice of their deposition to Don Diego: But no sooner were they out of his sight, but re­flecting upon the injury they had unwarily done to a Gentleman their customer, they went unanimously and gave him informa­tion of the danger he was in. Don Diego, who was very innocent, fell into a great rage against the malicious Catchpole; he by the advice of Almanzor, immediately se­cured all his goods in an Ambassadours House hard by his, having got acquainted before with his Secretary; then he retired thither himself, and kept close for a matter [Page 69]of three weeks or thereabouts; during that time, the great care that was taken of the sick man, who was a person of condition, had good success, and he recovered so well as to be out of danger; upon that, some propositions of agreement, and tender of sa­tisfaction were made, which by the media­tion of the Lady, for whom the quarrel had hapned, were after some dispute accept­ed, and the Gentleman Don Diego's Friend came back and shewed himself again; he presented Don Diego with a very fine new Guittar, and all was well.

But Don Diego, who was of a very vindicative nature, being not at all satis­fied that the malicious Catchpole, who had laid him up so long, should go away Scot-free, at last never left contriving till he had bethought himself of some piece of revenge, where neither he nor his Friends might run any hazard; and at last after much study and labour he was delivered of the following design.

During his stay at the Ambassadours House, he had got acquaintance with some witty young Men, who had taken shelter there as well as himself: One day then he invited them to Supper, where be [Page 70]spared no cost to put them in good hu­mour. The first health they drank was the Ambassadours, who afforded them the protection of his House; the second was the magnificent Don Diego's, at whose cost and charges they were then so merry; the third was the Lawyers and Attornies, who did protect them with their eloquence and shifts, against the severity of the Law; the fourth was to the Brokers, who did buy of them, and so industriously alter the Cloaks they did use to nim in the Night; the fifth was to the Vintners, who did of­ten give them credit, and by that means afforded them the occasion of bubling a young Whelp; thus they went on till they were all pretty well gone.

Then Don Diego having proposed to them his intention, they all consented to it, and four of the most determined amongst them undertook it: They cloath­ed themselves in black Serge from top to toe, putting upon their heads great horns, and behind them great tails of two yards long, which Don Diego had pro­vided; in this equipage, as like Devils as they could make themselves, they march­ed out, and getting over the wall of the [Page 71]yard where the Sergeants house stood, they broke into it, and with a horrid noise running up Stairs, dragged him out of his bed from his Wife; there they whipped him so long, till they had used all the bun­dels of rods they had brought with them, and drawn so much blood of him, as cast the poor man into a Swoun; but they resol­ved to leave him in his senses, that he might remember his punishment, and so con­tinued on clawing of him, till out of the extremity of pain they brought him to himself again; the first word he said when he opened his eyes, was, Jesus; at the sound of that Name, they all forsook him, and vanishing immediately, confirmed him and his Wife in the opinion, that they were true Devils: The Sergeant lay upon the floor of his House a long time, while his dismayed Wife was hid in the sheets, and all in a could sweat, so that it was day be­fore he got to bed again, and then he was so sore with the stripes he had recei­ved, that he was hardly well in a fort­night.

The noise of this so strange an accident, was in the mean time spread all the Town over, and every body had a curiosi­ty [Page 72]to see the Catchpole, that had been chastised by the Devils themselves, so that he durst not stir out when he was well, for fear of being pointed at in the Streets. Don Diego hearing all this, thought himself well revenged, and imme­diately retired to his own House, where for two dayes he lived modestly, and then be­gan his Night-walks again.

Adventure the sixth.

THe harbingers of sleep, weariness and yawning, did begin to summon the Sun to retire to his bed in the Sea, which is justly reserved for him alone, (for being of so fiery and dry a complexion, few be­sides himself can like a Couch so wet and so cold) when our generous Don Diego, a ve­ry ill Disciple of his own experiences, re­solved to seek out new dangers, or rather to meet them half way, for they seldom avoided him: The Night was quite blind, and had not so much as the glimmering of a few Stars to light its Friends, and there­fore the more welcome to Don Diego; but before we enter any further into the Ad­venture, we must make a little degressi­on.

There was at Sevill a Man of a lofty mean, who wore good Cloaths and passed for a Gentleman, but was indeed a Shark; his Name was Don Diego, and most of his tricks be plaied in the Night; he was sir­named the Nocturne, so that there appear­ed in the World two Don Diegos of the [Page 74]same Name, ours being called sometimes Lueifugne, and sometimes Nocturne: Our Sevilian seeing that his life was discove­red at Sevill, and that the many robberies he had committed, would in the end lodge him in a place of perpetual darkness, re­solv'd rather to be eclipsed for a while, and to steal away; he gave out cunningly, that he was going for Madrid, but the day that he absented himself from Sevill, he took Grenada road, hoping to be very welcome in that place, which affords ordinarily a favourable access to Strangers.

The report of his journey to Madrid be­ing published, and come to the ears of a Merchant, whom he had cheated of some Rings, the Merchant without more ado gets up, and to the no small loss of his skin, which the Mules hard trot and saddle did sufficiently wear away, came to Madrid; there having sent a note to all the Gold­smiths, to apprehend the Man if he should come to sell the said Jewels, he endea­voured besides to strike into most wilde Companies, hoping to discover his Gentle­man in some such gang.

The second Night after the coming of the Jeweler, our primitive Don Diego set [Page 75]out again upon the quest of some new Ad­venture: He had got acquaintance with a young Solicitours Wife, a very pretty Woman, who had the reputation of a great deal of Wit, and much of subtilty; the glory of over-reaching all her cunning, and gaining with ease one who was so well fortified against the attaques of all others, had engaged Don Diego in this Siege, and in it he had been so fortunate, that with the loss of very little time, but by the help of an industrious old Woman, he had sub­tilly undermined the place, and brought it to capitulate; the articles were, that it should be delivered up to him that Night between twelve and one of the Clock, but that he should not fail to bring along with him two rings of good value, which the La­dy had seen upon his fingers, to be as it were hostages of good behaviour on his part. Diego promised he would, and though he had set a greater value upon the Rings, because they had been his Mothers, yet being accustomed to sacrifice all things to his sensuality, he yielded to that article; the next was, that he should lay by all the signs of a Gentleman, viz. his Cloaths and his Guittar, and come disguised like a Ser­ving [Page 76]man, to the end that if he were by chance met either coming in or going out, the Lady might say that he was a fellow come from her Mothers in the Country, and to that end, she put into his hands one of her Mothers Letters, which she had new sealed up; lastly, that he should climb over an old Wall, and so by the Garden, of the door of which she gave him a key, come into a little summer­house, where he should find the Lady dis­posed to receive and content him: Don Diego having signed all these articles, set out from his own House about the hour of assignation; as he came into the Street where his Mistress house stood, he heard in passing by a door a very great noise, as of people in a tumult; thereupon he steps in, the door being open, and sees a Man wri­ting upon the bottom of a Barrel, and ano­ther who lighted him with a Candle in a Lanthorn, for fear the Wind should blow it out: Round about them stood a great many others, some without Stockings, others without Doublets, and others in their Shirts with their Cloaks over, ha­ving almost all Swords under their Arms. Oar Adventurer stood a pretty while be­hind [Page 77]them, to hearken to what they were saying, without being perceived, and found that some body had been rob'd in the Neighbourhood, and knew the Man who was writing for the Clark of criminal Causes, who was taking the deposition of the Witnesses; having thus contented his curiosity, he thought fit to retire; but as ill luck would have it, he was surprised with a fit of sneezing, which he could not Master; the noise made the others face about, and ask, Who's there? Don Diego not willing to be taken notice of in his disguise, began to hasten away, ho­ping to avoid their pursuit at the next turn­ing: But his haste increasing the others suspicion, they ran after him with a full cry, stop thief, stop thief; Our Friend, who could not endure any offence in his humour, turns back upon those words, and with (you lye, you dogs) cuts the foremost over the pate, and laies him at his feet; the others exasperated by the blow, fell upon him, and in spight of his resistance did dis­arm him, and carry him before the Clark of the criminal Causes.

There was nothing in his person, that might not in some sort serve to convict [Page 78]him, for his mean and his Cloaths were not all suitable; besides, having searched him, they found in his pocket a little box, wherein were the two Rings, the Letter, and a Key, which was that of his Mistresses Garden door; the Clark divided the spoil very equally, taking for himself the two Rings, and giving the Catchpole his assistant the Letter and the Key; that done, he sent Don Diego to Prison, notwith­standing all his protestations, that he was a Gentleman, and a Person of Quality; who would make them repent their insolency; they dragg'd him along, and the Jaylor for his welcome put him into the Dungeon to two true thieves, that had been taken in the very act of that robbery: They hearing him talk much of his quality and Friends, resolv'd as soon as they should be confronted to him, to say that he was one of their complices, to the end that by his Friends means they might be all ab­solv'd: Whereupon the next, they charg­ed him home with all the robbery, and put him into a most violent rage against their knavery, but all to no other purpose, than to make the noise of him seem more guilty.

In the morning as soon as this capture [Page 79]and imprisonment of Thieves was abroad, divers of Don Diego's Friends came to be bail for his appearance, but he had not so much liberty granted him as to speak with them, so that they were fain to return, and expect the event of the business by the Law.

In the mean time the report growing publick, came to the ear of our Sevilian Jeweler; who hearing of Jewels seised in the Pocket of one Don Diego, made no doubt but it was the Man he hunted after, and came in great haste first to the Clarks to seise and claim the Rings, then to the Prison, to charge the Prisoner with new crimes; he imployed in the pursuit of his business the Solicitour, husband to the fair Lady who was to have granted Don Diego a better Nights lodging, than that which his hard Fortune had provided for him; he coming to inform himself more particularly of the business, found the Letter directed to his Wife, and the Key of one of his Doors; upon that he sus­pected that there had been a design to rob his house too, and immediately put in a new charge upon the Prisoner, desiring he might be interrogated upon it.

[Page 80]The process being in this condition, Don Diego could do no lesse than give private notice to the Lady, to desire her to cause her husband to desist from his violent pursuit, or else that he should be forced in his own defence to discover all the intrigue; but she being a perfect coquet, was already en­gaged in other Amours, and little minded Diego's advertisement; this being related to Don Diego again by his old Ambassadress, he resolv'd to clear himself of the infamy and oppression he lay under; and therefore sent for one of his intimate Friends, who was likewise familiar with the Judge, and laid open to him all the mystery: he told the Judge of it, who told him, that Don Diego must prove what he said; thereupon the old Woman was heard, who discovered the assignation: The Letter was produced, and the Sevilian Jeweler being brought be­fore Don Diego, confessed to his great a­mazement, that he was not the Man that he looked for; thereupon the Judge set him at liberty; ordered the Rings to be re­stored to him; to the Solicitour the Keys of his Door, and to his Wife the Letter. After the pronouncing of this just Sen­tence, the Merchant and the Solicitour [Page 81]stood amaz'd, and looking upon one ano­ther; and at last went away, both with three inches of nose, and the Solicitour with a famous pair of horns, which with much eare and industry he had planted up­on his own head: Don Diego retired, smiling to see their dejected countenance, and was very glad that the accident had hindred him from going to the assignation, where infallibly he had parted with his Rings; Thus ending this Adventure, we may conclude with the proverb, That ill luck is good for something.

Adventure the seventh.

THough our incomparable Don Diego were come off with flying Colours from this last engagement with his ill fortune, being absolv'd from all the crimes which had been laid to his charge; yet he resolved to inflict a voluntary punishment upon himself, and for a while to leave Ma­drid. 'Tis true, that his banishment could not be very rigorous, fince one of the main motives of his journey, was to receive two thousand Ducats, which were due to him at Salamanca: In this City is the Univer­sity of Spain, and ordinarily a very great concourse of Scholars, to partake in the fertility of all the Sciences, which seem there to have chosen their seat. Don Diego had to do with such good pay-ma­sters, that no sooner did they hear of his arrival, but they brought him his money to his Lodging: Neverthelesse he re­solv'd not to go back so soon, but spent some time in the conversation of the most learned and ingenious of the Professors and Scholars, to his very great advantage: [Page 83]At last, doubly enriched, he returned to Madrid, and locked up his Ducats very carefully, as resolving to inspire them with something of his humour, and to let them see day as seldom as he could; the two first Nights were devoted to the rest of his wearied Person, but the third he resolv'd to walk out, for fear of being guilty of violating his own freedom and natural Pri­viledges; but he was prevented from exe­cuting his design, by divers visits of his Friends, and amongst others there came a certain Person whom the World call'd the Knight of Wonders, because that with­out any visible revenue or income, he ap­pear'd very handsomly at Court, wearing as good Cloathes as any body, and keep­ing as handsome a Retinue; this did make many suspect, that he had some flight of hand, to convey other peoples money invisibly to his own purse: Don Diego gave him an ample recital of his journey, and the happy success of it; shewing him withall his Ducats, to con­firm what he said; the Knight congra­tulated his happy return, and having given him an account of the Town, and all the News, took his leave, though [Page 84] Don Diego would have made him stay Sup­per.

It was past mid-night before our Ad­venturer could get clear of two or three visits more, but at last the visitants being all gone, he took his Sword and walked out; his first reflections were upon the imprudent action he had done, in shewing his Ducats to the Knight of Wonders, be­ing much troubled lest he should conspire against the quiet which he had propo­sed to himself in the enjoyment of them: In this thought he resolves to go back, and to hide them in another place, that at least he might disappoint the aim of such as should endeavour to get them from him. As he was going back, he took his way through a Church-yard, which was hard by his House, and heard a Voice, which was mingled with sighs and groans, and which did seem to come from a House where they had laid up the dead Mens bones; he stops at that, and hears it again; imme­diately considering that it was an occasi­on of shewing his Courage, and such a one as would make him pass for a Heroes if he came off well, he resolv'd to go on towards the Voice: Drawing near, he per­ceived [Page 85]a very weak light, which did break through a separation of Boards, which divi­ded the House from the rest of the Church­yard; that guided him to the door, which a little about, and just as he was going in, was he trod upon a dead Mans rib, which brea­king under him, had like to have given him a fall; at the noise, a mans voice cried, Who goes there? and immediately Don Diego saw a Person of a noble mean come towards him, having his Sword drawn in one hand, and a dark Lanthorn in the other; at the sight of the naked Sword, Don Diego immediately drew, and was putting himself in a posture of defence, when he heard himself named, and knew the Voice to be that of the Knight of Wonders: Diego full of admiration, asks him, What he did there? Alas! my dear Friend, answered the Knight, you find me here in the greatest perplexity imagi­nable; a young Lady of quality, whom I have privately married, without the con­sent of her Friends, is here just now de­livered; for you must know, that having lived in her Fathers House all the time since our marriage, she let me know this morning, that, she did begin to feel [Page 86]some symptoms of her labour, and beg'd of me that I would convey her away from her Friends, fearing a hard usage from her Father, who is a most passionate Man: I not knowing in so short a time whither to carry her; was resolved to have brought her to your house, as knowing your frank­ness and generosity to distressed Persons; but by the way she was so overcome with her pains, that we were glad to get into this Charner-house, where she is just now delivered: At that they drew near, and Diego saw with amazement a young per­son of admirable beauty, lying in a weak condition upon a heap of dead Mens bones, and a Childe newly born by her, which by its cries seem'd to bemoan its destiny in be­ing born in the very Empire of Death: In this confusion, the Father takes the Childe, and wrapping it in his Cloak went away, recommending the mother to Don Diego s care, who remained there all alone with a Lanthorn in his hand, comforting the poor disconsolate Lady. But for an increase of misfortune, the wax-candle which was in the Lanthorn was at an end, so that going out, it left him & the Lady all alone in the dark, the terrour of which was [Page 87]much augmented by the native horrour of the place.

In the mean time, while our Charitable Adventurer was thus employed, one of the subtlest thieves in all Madrid had set spies upon his Ducats, and having advice that he had forsook the guard of them that night, made haste to use the happy occa­sion; he picked all the locks of the House, and took the money, divers jewels, and two very good sutes of Cloathes: he makes a bundle of all this, and wing'd with speed and fear, gets away safe into the Street. He had not gone above a Streets length, when he heard the Watch coming that way; whereupon being well acquaint­ed with all by-passages, he slips cunning­ly into the Church-yard hard by, and coming into the Charner-house where Don Diego and his Lady were, throws down by them his bundle: The Lady was frighted, and Don Diego immediately with his Sword drawn, goes towards him, be­ing very ignorant of the Present which for­tune did make him of his own goods: The thief hearing some body walk upon the dead mens bones, and frighted besides with his own guilty Conscience, runs away as [Page 88]hard as he can drive; just coming out of the Church-yard, he meets the Watch, who went about to lay hold on him, as a sus­pected Person; but the imagination of be­ing pursued by a Ghost, gave him courage enough to force his way through them with a quarter-staff, which he understood the use of very well.

Don Diego hearing no more noise, thought it not discretion to follow any further, and leave the distressed Lady alone; he therefore went back to her, and found that she had recovered a little strength; whereupon he proposed to her, to lead her to one of his servants Houses, who was married and lived there hard by; she con­sented, & they were very courteously recei­ved when the people of the house saw their master Don Diego; as soon as lights were brought, and that Don Diego could freely contemplate the face of the Person he had done so good an office to, it was all he could do to refrain from falling at her knees, so admirable was her beauty; and certainly, had not the concern for his Ducats, and his usual trueness to his Friend, been his Antidotes, he could ne­ver have kept the Poyson of Love from [Page 89]killing all his reason. Immediately a Mid-wife was sent for to tend the Lady, who was put into an excellent bed: There let us leave her, and see what became in the mean time of her lover the Knight of Wonders.

He having found a Nurse with much trouble, and being yet desirous to stay a little to see the Childe tended, it being somewhat ill, desired the Nurses Hus­band to go and excuse his delay to Don Diego and his Lady, and intreat him to dis­pose of her somewhere, where she might receive help and assistance; when this Man came to the Church-yard, Don Diego was already gone; the man coming in, finds no body there, whereupon he makes haste to get out of so horrid a place, and as he was near the door, sets his foot upon the bundle which the thief had thrown there; finding it yield under him, he thought it was some dead mans body, and giving a great shreek, was ready to run a­way, when by the favour of his Lanthorn he perceived his errour; he views the bundle, and seeing the outside pretty rich, begins to deliberate, whether or no he should carry it away: He easily concluded to the [Page 90]affirmative, thinking it no small favour of his fortune to meet with such ap­parel in a place where every body comes naked.

Don Diego all this while, having seen the Lady well disposed of, thought that how he might pay a visit to his Ducats, which had run in his mind ever since his going out; he comes to his House, goes streight up to the Chamber where his Cabinet stood, and finds the doors of it open, and his Money gone, as well as his Jewels and Cloathes; immediately not knowing whom to accuse, he suspects the Knight of Wonders to be the author of this feat, and that he had taken the time to do it, while he was busie in conducting the sick Lady to a place of safety and re­freshment. This thought having trans­ported him with anger, he immediately went out, resolving to go straight to the Church-yard, whither it was probable that the Knight would come, that he might seem lesse guilty.

As good luck was, Don Diego came in­to the Church-yard, just as the man whom the Knight of Wonders had sent to him, was getting up his bundle, and going away [Page 91]with it; suddenly Don Diego blinded with rage, falls upon him, taking him for the Knight, and not only made him loose his hold, but threatned to have him hang­ed: At that very instant a Catchpole who had in vain wandered all Night in hopes of a prey, comes in at the noise, and see­ing two Men strugling about a bundle, commands them in the Kings Name to keep the Peace, and answer his interro­gations; and in Spain every petty offi­cer of Justice being much respected, he was presently obeyed. The day was just then breaking, and Don Diego's anger be­ing a little evaporated in the scuffle, gave him leave to consider the man he had at­taqu'd, and to perceive his mistake; on the other side, the man seeing that no body did lay hold on him, and being afraid lest being found seised of an unknown bundle, he might be called in question for stealing of it, slunk away very diligently, lea­ving Don Diego to answer the Catch pole: Just as he was beginning his examination, in comes the true thief, who had stayed till it was day, to come and fetch from the dead the Packet of which he had made them receivers; he perceives Don Diego [Page 92]and the Serjeant disputing together, he draws near, and being a very bold fellow, and of a present Wit, comes to them with his hat in his hand, as if he had been some ordinary person drawn thither by his curiosity; the Serjeant after some dispute, having touched Don Diego with his wand, and commanded him to follow, bids this thief, the stander by, to take up the bundle, and come along with them to the Judge: As they went, the cunning rogue takes the first turning, and slips away; a little after, Diego looking about, misses him, and tells the Catchpole angerly, that he should be responsible to him for that bundle; the Catchpole taking him to have been of the confederacy with the other, and vexed to see such a trick put upon himself, answers very sawcily, in so much that our Adven­turer not able to endure it, draws and cuts him over the pate; at the Catchpoles out-cry, the Neighbours came out, and Don Diego is seised and carried before a Magistrate, who having learned his quality, and the nature of the business, was con­tent to give him his own house for Pri­son, and two Serjeants to guard him.

The Knight of Wonders in the interim, [Page 93]impatient to hear from his dear Lady, goes to the Church-yard, and from thence, finding no body there, runs to Don Diego's house, at which place he heard of his being robb'd, but could get no account of his distressed Wife; not knowing whither to go next, he resolv'd to see whither his Nurses Hus­band was come back again or no; but he was in a strange perplexity, when com­ing to the house he found the Woman in such a fright, that all her milk was gone, and so the poor infant in danger of being famished: the business was, that her Husband had come to her almost out of breath, and told her, that he must run away for fear of being apprehended for a certain bundle of Cloathes, of which he had been found seised, and which were stollen goods: At this new accident the Knight of Wonders was extreamly troubled, and all that he could do in order to the preservation of the Childs life, was presently to hire a Coach, and taking the infant with him, carry it to a little vil­lage within a League of Madrid, where people used to put their Children out to Nurse. The true thief did no sooner see himself at liberty, but without any more [Page 94]delay, for fear of some new accident, he resolv'd to leave Madrid, which he did ac­cordingly, hoping to enjoy his prey in quiet. The sick Lady was infinitely tor­mented to see her self forsaken by her lo­ver. Don Diego was almost mad to find himself a prisoner, and so hindred from pro­secuting the Knight of Wonders; and in a word, there was a general confusion amongst all these Persons; but Provi­dence at last unridled all these mysteries, and gave a quiet calm, instead of these storms.

The Knight of Wonders being come to Checafé, for so was the Village called, made such diligence that in lesse than an hour he found a Nurse, and was with the like haste getting up into his Coach to return to Madrid, when he heard a very great noise in the Inn where he was, and going in, found a Man who had seised another, and was ready to strangle him; crying, traytor, rogue, I am the Man thou didst rob about a year ago at Toledo, and I will now have thy life for my satis­faction; at this mans out-cries the people came in, and the Knight of Wonders draw­ing near, and putting some questions to the [Page 95]other about the bundle he saw there with him, began to suspect that he might be Don Diego's thief; immediately the Judge of the place was sent for, in whose pre­sence the bundle was open'd, and an In­ventory made of all that was found, to which the Knight of Wonders laied claim for his Friend. The thief was clap'd up, and the Knight went back post to Ma­drid, to carry Don Diego these glad ti­dings; who to requite his favour, carried him to see his distressed Wife, who was drowned in tears for his absence; there by the Ladys own confession Don Diego learned, that it was by her means, who was the only Daughter of a rich Man, that the Knight of Wonders did subsist so hand­somely; whereupon he was very sorry that he had harboured so ill an opinion of his Friend, but yet very glad there was no ground for it. Leaving the two Lovers to their mutual enjoyment, he went to the Judge, who had given him his house for Prison, and having acquainted him with the business, easily obtained a Commissary to go and fetch the thief, and his thieft. The one was hanged, and the other re­stored to Don Diego, not without some [Page 96]diminution, as having past through the hands of the Officers of Justice: Being once again in possession of his Ducats, he resolved to keep them with more care hereafter, and in the mean time for an ac­knowledgement of their recovery, he thought himself bound to assist the Knight of Wonders his Friend, in appeasing and softning the angry Parents of his Wife; who when they should come to the know­ledge of their Daughters action, whom they now lamented as lost, would certain­ly disinherit her: he by the assistance of a great many people of quality, his intimate Friends, laboured so effectually in the busi­ness, that at last the Father and Mother seeing there was no remedy, and being in­formed that the Knight of Wonders was of an ancient Family, though poor, con­sented to the match; the more to solem­nize this happy success, there was a great meeting of kindred and Friends, where the VVedding was kept in great state.

Don Diego much pleased at his Friends good Fortune, made a new League of Friendship with him, and one would have thought, that having so many times tried the fickleness of fortune, he should at last [Page 97]have been content to take her and marry her, while she was in a good fit, rather than be exposed to court once more in his adversity; but success makes men impru­dent, and so it did our Adventurer, who expos'd himself to new dangers, as we shall see in the following Adventure.

Adventure the eighth.

DOn Diego having experienced a suf­ficient variety of accidents in the Streets of Madrid, did begin to be afraid lest at last he should be forced to give over his extravagant Life, for want of novelty in his Adventures; while he was in this concern, he learned that the Cha­riots which passe that Sea of durt in Win­ter, and clouds of dust in Summer, which is between Madrid and Toledo, did go in the night time for coolness sake: Upon that consideration, he thought that a little Country air would do him no hurt, par­ticularly since he could take it without [Page 98]seeing the Sun, with whose beams he was at feud; he takes up a place, and was not a little pleased in his imagination, to think what a pleasure it would be to him to hear discourse of the meaner sort of people, who ordinarily take that con­venience. The Company was composed of four Clowns, a poor Fryer, and Don Diego; as soon as they were out of Town, every one began to relate his Ad­ventures; the one b [...]aging how he had made his Camerade drunk, and left him be­hind; the other how he had pick'd his Fathers Pocket the Night before, to get as much money as would defray him to Toledo, and make him merry by the way; and a third relating how he had not taken his leave of any body, lest some who were his Creditors should have desired him to stay a little longer than would have been convenient for him, and that in an ugly house, called a Prison: All these confessions came freely out, and almost all speaking together, so that the noise was so great, that had Don Diego had a mind to put in, there had been no room for a word of his; with this odd entertain­ment they came to Illescas; as soon as [Page 99]they stop'd at the Inn, and were ready to light, one of the Company miss'd his bag, and presently charged the Coach-man with it; he denying that he ever saw it, from words they fell to blows, and the Plain­tiff Clown being assisted by the rest of his gang, proved too hard for the Coach-man Defendant, insomuch that they left him upon the stones for dead; at the noise the Inn-keeper, solicited by his daughter, who had commiserated the fall of her poor Phaeton, came out with his servants, and then the fray begun anew, though the Fryer on one hand, and Don Diego on the other, did use very peaceable interpositions and exhortations. The rumour continuing, brought the Judge and his Officers upon them, who began with seising the Chariot and its Mules, then fell on the parties, and had in his general capture comprehended our Friend Don Diego, for all his modera­tion, if some Country Gentlemen coming in had not known him, and answered for his appearance, if need were; and indeed he had so disguised himself in conformity to his Company, that it was no wonder he was like to suffer with them; whereby a Man may learn, that it is no ill maxim [Page 100]to wear good Cloathes, when you are in a place where few people know who you are, for then they speak for you, and recom­mend you to people of quality. Our Ad­venturer having met in the Inn a very pretty Lady of pleasure, staied at Illescas for her sake five or six daies, she having given him certain liberties, which had made him loose his own to her for a while; the cure of this his Amorous disease, was not performed without some bleeding from his Purse, which is a sort of evacuation which to many people is more painfull than that of their Veins: As soon as he was well, he took leave of his Doctor, who would willingly have continued on to pre­scribe, and hired a Mule; passing thus from one Mounture to another, and finding little difference in the hardship of their trots, but much in their vigour, for this last was almost starved, and so weary that it did threaten him with a fall at every step; ha­ving for about a League gone very softly, and yet perpetually tottering, he resolv'd to try what effect his spurs would produce, and clapping them to the Beasts side, made it in an endeavour to advance tumble head over heels with our Don Diego, who had [Page 101]enough to do to free himself from his stirrops, being sufficiently mauled with his fall; he got up, and choosing rather to go a foot, than try his fate again upon such a ruinous Creature, was well content to lead it by the bridle, and so crawl to the next Inn, where he arrived about break of day, having according to his custom be­gun his journey in the night; he got a very good Breakfast, or rather a good Supper, for with him the evening was Dinner, and the morning Supper time; and then he went to bed, sleeping like one that nei­ther cares of mind, nor indisposition of bo­dy did afflict.

About four of the Clock in the after­noon he was waked with the sound of a Post-boys horn, and looking out of his window, perceived that it was an Alguasil riding post; he came into the Inn and let the Master know, that he had a Commis­sion from the high Counsell to search all publick houses along the road for certain thieves, who had committed a very great robbery at Madrid; the choise that had been made of his person for such an inquiry, being grounded on the singular skill he had in making such discoveries, in which [Page 102]he often went snips with the thieves them­selves, as being the greatest of them all: The Master at the sight of his order, caused all his guests to come forth and appear, and Don Diego had been certainly se­cured for the sake of his ill Cloaths, had not the Alguasil by chance knew him.

The Officer having made a very diligent perquisition to no purpose, was about to continue on his way, when Don Diego and he walking out at the gate, perceived a good way off, at the entry of the Village, a Funeral coming; it was a Bier carried by two lustyMules, and attended with four Mourners, and four Monks, all in black: the Monks stop'd at the coming in to the Village, and calling the people about them, desired them to joyn in prayer for the dead Man whom they conveyed, and there­upon began to sing the office for the dead; the Alguasil and Don Diego, not to seem irreligious, drew near, and after their short Commemoration was ended, having cast some holy Water upon the Body, asked one of the Monks, if they had not met people in such and such habits; he an­swering no, the other asked them, if they [Page 103]had not heard of a great robbery commit­ted in Madrid; yes, sayes the Fryer, and here with us is the thieft which a great thief has boldly achieved; where is it, said the Alguasil, very much concerned; Alas, Sir, said the Monk, the thieft is in the Bier, and the thief is death; come Sir, said he, taking the Alguasil by the hand, and pul­ling him towards the Bier, come and see to what poor mortals are subject; the Alguasil who hated any thing that did put him in mind of dying, drew back, and getting loose from the Monk, pray Fa­ther, said he, let me alone, I am not here to controle the actions of death, neither do I delight in seeing such spectacles; after this he made haste to get up and away.

The Officer being gone, Don Diego took up with the conveyers of the dead body; they unloaded their Mules un­der a great porch, and caused a table to be covered hard by the Bier, from which they stirred not all the time; they had bespoke an excellent Supper, and seeing Don Diego all alone, invited him to take part of it; he who was not at all ceremonious, and be­sides very inquisitive naturally into con­versations [Page 104]of all sorts of people, accepted their kind offer; they were very merry, and not at all sparing of the delicious li­quor, drinking their healths and inclina­tions round; the Mistress of the house see­ing the mourners and the Monks, who pretended to so much mortification, use so little, even when they had an example of death before their eyes, told them mer­rily, that they did well to make good chear and rejoyce, for, said she, I am cer­tain there are enough that lament and take on for that poor person which you con­vey: Truly Madam, answer'd the chief, who sat at the upper end of the table, you have said a thing which is most certain; for without doubt there is at this present a very great affliction in the House out of which this rich body came, and not a poor body as you call it; and that which most grieves the family, is the considera­tion of his sudden death; alas! he dyed in my arms, and I my self wraped him up in his winding sheet: Be not therefore scandalized to see us take our refection with some jollity, for besides our share of grief for his loss, that of labour and toil in going thus a foot to convoy him to his [Page 105]Sepulchre, is very great: Saying this, he filled a glass of Wine, and drank to Don Diego the Mistress health; at last by this carousing, one of the Company having a weaker brain than the rest, grew very sick, and having vomited under the table, fell a sleep in the same place, keeping time with his snooring, to the noise the others made with their talking.

About ten a clock at Night, they that had most of their Wits about them, thought it was time to be marching, it be­ing far from their design to lie in the Vil­lage all Night; whereupon they loaded their Mules, and payed their hostess very well, recommending to her care their drun­ken Companion; and having first taken from him his mourning gown, they were solicitous with her to get them another man in his room, to help to guide their Mules, promising to content him very well. Don Diego immediately, tempted by his own devilish curiosity, and desirous to know to what place it was that they car­ried the body, offered to supply the room of him whom wine and sleep had dis­abled: They received him very gladly, and immediately set out, singing a requiem [Page 106]aeternam to the health of the dead mans soul; as soon as they were out of the Vil­lage instead of following the road, they took their way through by-paths and lanes, and sometimes over the fields, where there was no way at all; this gave an occa­sion of thinking to our new mourner: they marched thus about two hours, at the end of which they came to a very high moun­tain, where there was nothing but woods and precipices, a fit receptacle for none but Bears and Wolves; being entred into the wildest and most secret place of it, the chief turning to his fellows, said with a loud voice, It is now time, Brethren, that we dismember this body; I, I, said another, this is the fittest place in the World for such an operation: our Adventurer was ex­treamly astonished to hear such a sentence pronounced, and could not guess to what end they had resolv'd to treat the poor Corps so ill; yet seeing they did not ex­plain themselves any further to him, he withdrew a little, to see what the effect of such a barbarous resolution would be: He had but just gone aside, when he per­ceived by their looks and words, that they did not agree about the division of the bo­dy, [Page 107]and it was not long before from words they came to blows; immediately they all drew short Swords, which they had hid un­der their gowns, (as well the venerable Monks as the rest) and with them Pis­tols, and being very much animated with their Wine and interest, began a very bloody fight. At the noise of the Pis­tols going off, the Mules were so frighted that they run away, snoring and starting as if they had been mad. Den Diego, who was not provided for such Company, thought it his best course to follow the Mules, and endeavour to stop them; but they having already got into a narrow lane, hedged in on both sides, and but just wide enough for them and their burden, made it impossible for our Adventurer to get be­fore them; all that he could do therefore, was to follow them in a very uneven way, stumbling ever and anon, and sometimes falling; having besides his imagination full of all the horrours of death, and altoge­ther taken up with the strange Metamor­phosis of his Mourners and Monks, into Souldiers, and of their Breviaries and Beads, into Swords and Pistols; he could not suffi­ciently wonder at their inhumanity, to [Page 108]go about to dismember a person of quality, and one whom they were to convey to an honourable rest; and could not guess what new mysteries in burials they would introduce, such as these being far from the ordinary rites of Christian Religi­on.

Having run about two Leagues, making of such reflections, just as the day began to break, he found he was near a shep­herds little Cottage, where the Mules had stop'd of themselves; the shepherd and his boy, warned by the barking of their dogs, came out, and were at the first sight frighted to see a man all in black, near a hearse covered with the same stuff; but Don Diego having approached them, with kind words told them succinctly, that he did convey a dead body, and had lost his way in the Night, desiring to be led to the next Village, and promising them something for their pains: They imme­diately contented his desire, and brought him into a Village hard by, where he met with a venerable Curate, a man of a very good mean, who had formerly liv'd very handsomly in the World, and was now by fortunes injustice, or indeed rather by her [Page 109]kindness, reduced to live in this solitary place, where he passed his time in study­ing and praying, to the great tranquility of his mind; he received Don Diego civilly, and afforded him a lodging in his house, as well as his dead man one in his Church: It was a great happiness for our Adventurer to meet with such an host, who could so con­veniently lodge both the living and the dead; as soon as he was alone with the Curate, he related to him all the particu­lars of his Adventure: The Priest could not choose but admire the singularity of it, but was no way able to unriddle the my­stery; he treated Don Diego very hand­somly, with good Wine and sweet Meats, and then put him to bed, where he slept till dinner time, and made the Germans leap from the bed to the table; there in the midst of their good chear, the Priest discovering that Don Diego had a great deal of wit, was charmed with his conversation, and desired him to stay one day more, during which time it may be some body would come and enquire after the dead bo­dy: Don Diego, who knew when he was well, easily granted his request, and af­ter dinner they walked out together, ta­king [Page 110]an extream delight in each others company; but our Adventurer soon obser­ving, that the Curate had a carriage with him which he had never acquired amongst his peasants, took occasion to intreat his host to let him know by what accident he was brought into so solitary a place; the Parson, who was of a very com­plaisant humour, without many intrea­ties, made him the following relati­on.

The Story of the Curate.

SEvil was the place of my birth, my Father was a Gentleman, more re­nowned by his Virtue than for his Riches, and his principal care of me, was to have me instructed in all sort of learning, that in that at least he might leave me a lasting inheritance; The fame of my capacity in all Sciences, and particularly in the Law, being great, divers very good families de­sired my alliance, and offered me their Daughters with considerable Fortunes, and no less endowments of Beauty and Virtue; but I not being then of a humour to in­gage my self, refused all their kind prof­fers, and liv'd so long a Batchelor, that most people thought I had contracted some secret aversion against the whole sex; but I was not so happy, as to be pro­vided with so strong an Antidote against that passion, which was to Poyson the happiness of my life; a Lady of incompa­rable Beauty and Virtue was at last the object of my desires, in which I proved so successfull, that she did me the honour to [Page 112]prefer me in her choice to a great many, whose fortune and quality might have justly attracted her consent; we were mar­ried, and I lived two years with her, in a most happy union and perfect intelligence: but alas! a most horrid storm interrup­ted this blessed calm, which considering the inconstancy of all this here below, may have been said to have lasted a great while.

My dear Wife had a Brother, who from a little youthful wildness, allowable e­nough in one of his age, became at last the most debauched and loose man of all Sevil; his diversions being come to crimes, he fell often into the hands of Justice, from whence my industry and Money did often reprive him; but he was so accustom­ed to disorders of a vicious life, that he could not be without falling into them so often, that at last he wearied my patience as well as his Sisters, and we both resolv'd to forbid him my house, and leave him to the conduct, or rather giddiness of his own brain; but alas! my Wife, who had only consented to use her Brother thus out of complaisance to me, could not continue to perform her part, did secretly admit him [Page 113]when I was away, and relieve him in his necessity, her good nature not being able to see her Brother in distress, though by his own fault; often coming home on a sud­den, I would so surprize them, that having no better invention, he would hide himself behind the hangings, hard by the bed-side where we both lay; and because this in­vention had often succeeded, they did free­ly use it, whensoever my unexpected ar­rival did not give him leave to retire. One Night coming home pretty late, I came up staires so softly, that they had not heard me, and just as I was coming into the Chamber, my Wifes Brother endeavouring to get to his hiding place, entangled his foot in the hangings, and fell with a great noise; immediately a furious jealousie taking possession of my breast, I flew upon him before he could get up, and unluckily lighting with one hand upon a dagger, which he wore at his girdle, drew it in my passion, and struck it deeply into him three or four times▪ his Voice at the wounds he had received, made him known to me, whereupon frighted with the horrour of my fact, I let him rise, and he having yet strength [Page 114]enough, and desirous of revenge, drew his Sword, and in a precipitant manner, not dis­cerning objects in the dark, made a thrust which pierced my Wife through the heart, just as his out-cry had brought her to his assistance; they both fell bleeding out their souls, and to say truth he did as much re­venge himself in killing his Sister, as if he had effected his design upon me, for I lived more in her than in my self; my peo­ple upon the dismalness of our noise, com­ing in with lights, exposed to my view the person that I loved above all the World, just fetching her last groan; at that, seised with a most violent grief, and resolving to dye, but not without making satisfaction for the enormity of my crime, I ran out of my House, and going to the Judge of Criminal Causes, rendred my self his Pri­soner, desiring him to prosecute the Law against me. This was the last act of my reason, for a little after I ran mad out of the extremity of sorrow; upon that the Law ceased its pursuit against me, and I was put into Bedlam, where for seven years together I was the object of scorn and derision of every body who came to see the place: At the end of that [Page 115]time, by a singular providence, I came to my self again, and my Friends with much ado, and more money, got my pardon from Court, and my liberty; but I found my self without any estate, it having all been squan­dred during my distraction; much about that time an antient Uncle of mine enjoyed this small Benefice you see here, and hear­ing of my condition, resign [...]d it to me a little before his death; I for my part ha­ving alwaies had an inclination to Books and learning, imbraced voluntarily this so­litary innocent sort of life, passing with tranquility the rest of those dayes, the be­ginning of which have been troubled with so great storms.

Just as the Priest made an end of his re­lation, the Sun took leave of the Earth, and made them do the like of the fountain, and retire to the Village; as soon as they came near the Church, they found it open, which being something extraordinary, the Curate went in, followed by Don Diego, and found in it a great number of mourners, who had just then brought thither the dead body of the Lord of the Mannor; and they were in great contest with the Vicar, because they had found in the [Page 116]Chauncell a strange body, it being a place which belonged only to the Lord of the Mannor: the Curate appeased them, and Don Diego coming up, and being somewhat concerned that his dead man should not be able to find rest any where, bethought himself of a stratagem to hinder their throwing him out of the Church, and de­sired they would give him some dayes time, in which he hoped to prove, that his dead body had a relation to that of their Lord; he did this only because he supposed the mourners would be gone the next day, and so leave him the liberty of burying the Corps: In the mean time, the Parson ha­ving enquired into the cause of the sudden death of his Patron, was told that it had proceeded from a great grief, which he took for the loss of two thousand Ducats, which some thieves at Madrid had rob'd him of in the Night, four dayes ago: This was the same robbery for the discovering of which the Alguasil, which Don Diego had met with in his Inn, was going post; and indeed the diligence of the dead Lords Heirs was such, that ha­ving dispatched people on all hands upon the inquiry, some of them at last met at [Page 117]the entry of a Wood with a fellow, whom for his suspicious looks they seised upon and searched; they found his pockets full of pick-locks, and such other instruments, whereupon they immediately brought him before the Judge of the Village where Don Diego was; there for fear of being rack'd, he confessed all as followeth.

That he had been with seven more assistant at a great robbery committed at Madrid; that to transport their prey the more securely, they had disguised them­selves like Monks and Mourners, and had buried their prize in a hearse, which they had loaded upon two Mules, and attended it as if it had been a dead body; that by the help of this invention, they had pas­sed all Guards, and avoided all searches; that they had rested themselves at a Vil­lage, where he had unluckily taken too much Wine, and was left a sleep by his Camerades, who had taken his Mourning and given it to another, whom they had hired; that as soon as he was awake, know­ing the place they were going to, he had followed them, and that he was much sur­prized at his arrival to find two of them dead, and the rest lye wounded upon the [Page 118]ground, in little hopes of life; that all that he could get from them was, that during their conflict the Stranger whom they had hired was run away with their Mules, and their booty; and that he was taken by them, as he was endeavouring to find out the trace of the Mules.

By this ample declaration, the Judge came to know that that was the robbery which had precipitated the old Lord in to his Grave, and immediately sent for the Curate and Don Diego, to acquaint them with it; great was their admiration, they go immediately to the Chauncell, where were the two bodies, the one of the Lord, and the other of his treasure; it was opened in presence of witnesses, and found entire; they sent post to the Heir, who came transported with joy to view the truth of so good tidings; he forgave the poor thief who had revealed, & made the Jaylor let him make his escape. The next effect of his gratitude, was to Don Diego, whom he would have presented very handsomly; but he who was noble and generous, re­fused all other testimonies of his kindness, besides the honour of his Frindship: Af­ter that he presented his Curate with the [Page 119]two Mules, and so took leave, carrying along with him the richest of the two dead bodies.

Don Diego after this would have ta­ken leave of the Curate, but could not get away; his intreaties to stay being so cordial, and his conversation so good, he stayed with him eight day es, discoursing with him of the vanities of the World, and the Soveraign happiness, or summum bo­num of mankind, which they setled in a tranquil contempt for the pleasures of this life.

The day of his depart came at last, and though he would have excused himself with many Complements, from taking one of the Mules which the Curate offer­ed him, it was not in his power to do it, but engaged in requital to keep a perpe­tual correspondency with this honest Par­son, and divert his solitude sometimes with the news of the Court: Our Adven­turer having thus taken his leave, was spurr'd with a desire of being at Madrid, which made him infuse the like passion in­to his Mule, whose legs were better than those of that other, whose weariness had brought him into all this Adventure.

Adventure the ninth.

IT would have been very necessary for Don Diego, to have stayed a little long­er with this venerable Church-man, for it may be his conversation in time might have reformed something of the extrava­gancy of his customs: As soon as ever he came to Madrid, he sent word of his ar­rival to all his Camerades, desiring them to meet him at the old Club, which was at a Tavern where the best Wine was sold: Eight of this mad gang failed not at the as­signation, and there having renewed their acquaintance, and confirmed their League by some Bachuick Ceremonies, they all walked out with their Guittars; after some Serenades given to their respective Mis­tresses, they stopped before an Apotheca­ries door, whom they resolved to make the subject of that Nights entertainment: It was Don Diego that did bear him a spight, ever since the great disease he had when Leander dyed, and his Wife turned Nun; for this Apothecary being Diego's Neighbour, had out of malice seeing that [Page 121]our Adventurer did not make use of him, caused his Prentices to make such a dam­nable noise upon two brass Mortars all day long, that it was impossible for Don Diego to sleep; his intreaties and prayers had sig­nified nothing towards the silencing of the Mortars, for he was still answered, that he must follow his Trade, and that Seigni­or Don Diego would not keep him and his family, if they should neglect their voca­tion to let him enjoy his rest; so that at last he was fain to fine for silence for a fortnight, at a pretty round rate, and that at the end of his disease too, having suf­fered much before by that troublesome chiming. All this considered, and by our Adventurer related to the Company, inflamed them, who were already heated with Wine, to a desire of revenge; but Diego who was chiefly concerned, resolved also to be the main actor, and advancing to the door, bounced at it as if he would have beat it down; the Apothecary who was just got to bed, was loath to rise, but answering from his bed, began the fol­lowing Dialogue with Don Diego, affect­ing still a little Latin in it, to shew he had enough to understand the Doctors bill.

[Page 122]The Apothecary.

Who's that that knocks so hastily ad Portam meam? either they are insipid fel­lows, or worshipfull Constable, for none else durst be so bold at this time of the Night.

Don Diego.

Pray Sir does not there live hereabouts a certain half Doctor, otherwise an Apo­thecary, called Mr. Robert?

The Apothecary.

Master Robert he may be Doctor Robert omnino I hope for you; 'tis here he lives, and speaks to you in propria persona; speak without prolixity, what would you have?

Don Diego.

Alas Sir, is it you? I beg your pardon; pray Sir do not abuse me, if it be you open the door quickly, for I am in great haste, my poor Friend is a dead Man if you do not assist him at this very in­stant.

The Apothecary.

I know you not, neither will I open my door at this time of the Night.

Don Diego.

Good Sir do not neglect the Gentle­man; [Page 123]the Physitian told us he had left his Prescription here, I hope you have not forgot to make what he order­ed.

The Apothecary.

Oh! now, Deo gratias, I begin to un­derstand you; Is it not for the Neapolitan Gentleman you mean, who has so great a pain in his Stomach?

Don Diego.

I, I, 'tis for him.

The Apothecary.

Why is he in such haste? my Man told me the Physitian had ordered only for Thursday, which is dies crastinus.

Don Diego.

For Thursday! Alas Sir your Man was mistaken, and it was for to day; if you fail to send it, the Gentleman will go near to dye for want of it.

The Apothecary.

Friend do not take snuff, but have pa­tience a little and I'le rise, and within a quarter of an hour the Composition shall be ready.

Don Diego.

Pray Sir make haste, you know the Gentleman will recompence you well; but [Page 124]pray have a care of a mistake; in the mean time I'le go let him know that you are coming.

At these words making as if he had gone away, he only retired to the rest of the Company, and then drawing softly near the Apothecaries door, he heard him call his man, and gave him these orders: Ho, James, where is that purge which we made last week for the sick Lawyer, that dyed as I was carrying it to him? take it and carry it to this Neapolitan, it will do as well, his distemper is the same: At these words Diego was fain to retreat, not being able to keep himself from laughing, and having acquainted his Camerades with it, mov'd in them the same passion; but withall they gave him a thousand curses for his damned Composition, taking from him a strong aversion against that poy­soning Trade, which is a Plague greater than any Pestilence, as killing continually all the year round, and that with privi­ledge and protection too.

To see what this would end in, they resolv'd to stop at the end of the Street, and dog the Apothecary to the place and person who was to be so unfortunate as [Page 125]to be poysoned for their mirth; they had not stayed above half a quarter of an hour, when out comes the Apothecary semi-Doctor with a glass in his hand; they fol­low him one by one, and saw him go in to a Neapolitan Gentlemans house; after a great deal of stay he was forc'd to make at the door, for God knows they did not sit up for him, the Gentleman was one of those crazy people who are al­wayes drenching themselves, and making an Apothecaries Shop of their belly; as for him, though he were really infirm, yet having a false opinion of his distem­pers, he did continually increase them, by fancying them greater than indeed they were; he was very superstitious in obser­ving punctually his Physitians orders, and it seems they had ordered him to be purg'd within two or three dayes; he had a Valet de Chambre, upon whose care he extream­ly relyed for the administration of his Medicaments, leaving to him to know the hours, the seasons, the quantities, and all the other little circumstances upon which sick people of quality think that all the effect of the remedy depends: The Valet hid taken the last prescription from [Page 126]the Physitians, and sent it to the Apothe­cary, but finding by it that his Master was to take nothing till within two dayes, took that time to go and visit a young Wench he was in love with; and it fell out unluckily, that our Apothecary brought his admirable Composition just as the Valet de Chambre was gone out; upon that the Master believing the Apothecary, who said that some body of the house had been at his Shop, and ordered him to bring immediately this laxative potion, swallowed without more ado this dange­rous draught.

In the mean time our Adventurer and his company, having been very merry at the pleasant effect that their drollery was like to produce, thought they had done enough for this Night, and resolved to retire to their Lodging, and put off to the next day to enquire into the success of the Physick which Don Diego had prescrib'd the Neapolitan: As they were going home, they perceiv'd they were but seven, and that one of the Company was missing; en­quiring for him, another who knew his se­crets, told them he was gone about some business in which he needed no Com­panion; [Page 127]but to satisfie the Reader he must know,

That Robert the Apothecary had a ve­ry pretty daughter, but so proud that she despised all the young Shop-keepers in their quarter, and would receive courtship from none but young Gentlemen of qua­lity, whom nevertheless she made to keep their distance, by the Empire of her beauty; Riodan, who was this Camerade of Don Diego's that was missing, had long been a passionate Servant to her, and now at last by means of the Maid, whom he had corrupted with gifts, had got an assigna­tion from the Mistress, being promised to be introduced into her Chamber, when her Father and Mother should be asleep. He happening that evening to be in the Company of Don Diego at Supper, had continued with them, after seeing that they went that way whither he himself was designed; but he was infinitely plea­sed when he saw the success of Diego's fro­lick, as being the luckiest thing he could wish for; immediately as they followed the Father, he stole to the door, and upon his signal was let in by the Maid: She led him softly to Dorothaeas Lodging, which was [Page 128]upon the same floor with her ancient Mothers chamber, and only divided by a Wainscote separation; As soon as he came into the room, she rose up as it were surpriz'd, and being half undressed, dis­covered to the passionate Riodan such love­ly breasts, and so fine a skin, that he could no longer keep the respect he was wont to have for her, but embracing her in his arms, began to pass on to a further privacy; the Lady, who was no fool, knowing the consequence of such an action, thrust him back with a kind of coldness, and told him he was mistaken if he thought to enjoy her otherwise than his Wife. Riodan could do no other than approve of her virtuous resolution, and offered to give any assuran­ces of his fidelity, that such a time and oc­casion would admit of; that if she would be content with a promise of Marriage under his hand, he would give it her immediate­ly: Dorothaea who had a kindness for him, thought that a sufficient engage­ment from a person of quality, and bid her Maid give him paper and pen and ink to write it: She did, and he having writ a very fair one, and shewed it to Dorothaea, was going to sign it, when unluckly [Page 129]with his elbow he overthrew the standish, which was a great leaden one, and stood upon the end of the Table; it fell upon a brass Mortar, and made such a noise, that Dorothaea's Mother started up out of her sleep, and cryed, who's there? not be­ing answered by the two Lovers, who were as it were thunder-struck, she with much ado crawled out of her bed, and was coming to her Daughters chamber, in which she saw a light: Dorothaea mistrust­ing some such thing, and not knowing where to hide Riodan, had with much ado prevailed upon him to go away, and was just thrusting him hastily out of her chamber, as her Mother was in the entry coming into it; they both met full butt, and the old Woman being weak, fell down with the knock, crying murder, murder, while Riodan stumbling over her got away; the Daughter mightily fright­ed with her Mothers outcry, and not knowing what to do, nor how to shelter her self from her Fathers anger, when he should come home, ran after Riodan, and having overtaken him in the Street, desi­red him to carry her away and protect her, relying entirely upon his generosity: The [Page 130]Maid who had been the mediatrix of their loves, leaving her old Mistress upon the ground calling out for help, follow­ed the two Lovers; at last at the old Wo­mans desolate cries, some Neighbours heard her, and came in; they searched all the house, but found no body.

In the mean time Dorothaea's Father, ha­ing left his damnable Medicine in the Nea­politan Gentlemans body, comes home, and finds all in desolation; his Wife almost dead, his Daughter run away, and no body able to tell why, or with whom: Great was his amazement, but greater his rage, when he came to himself; but let us leave him a little, and see what effect the Physick wrought.

The Potion being old, made of ill Drugs, and given out of time, and upon a full Stomach, the Gentleman having Supp'd a little before, it made him most horrid sick, giving him gripes which made him often cry, oime questo cane tra­ditore ma amazzato: He passed a whole Night in these pangs, and in the morning his Valet de Chambre being come in, he reproached him with being the cause of his death, in bidding the Apothecary give [Page 131]him Physick so out of season; the Valet very innocent, swears and protests that he never was there, and that the disorder did proceed either from the ignorance or malice of the Apothecary, who he be­lieved had done this of his own head, ac­cording to their pragmatical custom; im­mediately he runs to the Physitian, and brings him along with him to see his Ma­ster; the Physitian being come, and ha­ving felt the sick mans pulse, grew very angry, saying, the Apothecary was a Knave; immediately he gave the Patient some excellent Cordials, which were a pretty good Antidote against the venom of this Poyson: That done, he has the Apothecary cited before the Faculty of Physitians, to answer for his sawciness and ignorance, in giving Physick of his own head. Now let us return to him. Having a little asswaged his passion, the first thing he resolved, was to bestirr himself gene­rously for the reparation of his honour, and to be revenged of him that had thus affronted him: Having long considered and ruminated with himself, who it might be that had carried away his Daughter, he could find his conjectures upon none [Page 132]more probably as he thought, than upon Agrimont, the Neapolitan Gentlemans Valet de Chambre; he was a spruce young idle fellow, that used alwayes when he came to his house, to be saying some oblig­ing thing or other to his Daughter; to which she answering merrily, he thought might have obliged him to have framed this en­terprise; and that the better to effect it, he had made him rise and carry the Medicine, employing on that errand some other of his fellow servants, while he himself was got in to his Daughter. Thus prepossess'd, he goes to the Criminal Judge, and up­on his complaint, gets a Warrant and Officers to arrest and imprison Agrimont for a rape: Master Robert having this, made such diligence, and feed so well the Catch­poles, that they seised my Valet de Cham­bre in a few hours, and hurried him away to Prison: But almost at the same time, by an order from the Faculty of Physitians, he was arrested, and brought before them, to give an account for his giving the Nea­politan Physick without order; out of which difficulty not being able to dis­intangle himself, and taking it to be only a trick of the Neapolitan, to hinder the pursuit [Page 133]against his Valet de Chambre, he was so perplex'd that he fell sick of a very violent burning Feaver. Agrimont in the mean time, seeing himself clapped up upon a false accusation, for having ra­vished a young Woman whom he had not seen, was in a great rage at the Apothe­cary, and did by Letters incite his Ma­ster, who loved him, to take a signal re­venge upon poor Robert; they were four whole dayes in these perplexities and con­fusions, like to dye, or run mad: By that time Riordan, the true Paris of this Hele­na, had very generously Married her at a little Village, about two Leagues off; and being advertised by a Friend of the horrid disorder that was amongst so many peo­ple for his sake, came to the Town with his Wife, and having first writ a comple­ment to the Apothecary, in which he cal­led him Father, promising him to love his Daughter as his Wife, he went to see him; great was the joy of our poor Master Robert, at this good news; he embraced his Son-in-Law, made a great satisfaction and reparation to Agrimont, for the injury he had done him; and as for the Potion gi­ven out of time, his Son-in-Law having [Page 134]been one of that Club, told him all thestory of it, confirming the like to the Physitians, who else were ready to have fined him.

The Apothecary would fain have had an action against Don Diego, but Riodan being unwilling to see his Friend in trouble, hindred Roberts pursuit against our Ad­venturer; yet the Judge coming to hear the story, and having besides a relation given him of Don Diego's extravagant life, sent for him, and by publick sentence com­manded him to live as other people did, binding him in a good sum of Money to retire to his lodging by ten of the Clock in Summer, and by nine in Winter, at the latest.

He was forced to submit, to his great re­gret, and observes to this day that severe order, which put an end to all his Adven­tures, as it must (Reader) to your curiosi­ry, till he break it, and give us matter to make a second volume of his Life.