LICENSED,

Aug. 25. 1669.
Roger L'Estrange.

THE ƲNEXPECTED CHOICE, A NOVEL.

BY Monsieur SCARRON.

Rendred into English, with Ad­dition and Advantage.

By JOHN DAVIES of Kid­welly, Gent.

LONDON, Printed for John Martyn, at the Sign of the Bell without Temple-Bar, 1670.

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL AND Most Accomplish'd, THOMAS STANLEY Esq

IF we may credit the di­ctates of Venerable A­strology, we are to im­pute the happy or un­happy conduct of our Lives, to the benevolence, or malig­nancy, of those Aspects, which guide our Nativities. What Pieces of the most Co­mical, [Page]and most Burlesque Monsieur SCARRON have come forth in my Dress, I fell upon under your Roof, and they had their Birth, in English, under your Patronage, and accor­dingly prov'd fortunate in the World. But since, in the production of the least Effect, there is a gene­ral concurrence of all natu­ral Causes, I am to attribute that success (besides the precedent Direction) to the just perswasions of the more ingenious, who voted something of more then or­dinary excellency, in what [Page]they saw Dedicated to so precious a name as STAN­LEY.

When the former NO­VELS came first abroad, you were acting Lord Chan­cellour among the Ancient Philosophers, assigning the several Sects, their proper Sentiments and Opinions, and, in a Decree of Two large Volumes, deciding all the differences between them. But This (if I am rightly in­form'd) will find you con­sulting the Oracles of our Municipal Laws, of which Study, since you have over­come the severity, I am [Page]only to wish you the Sweet­ness and Advantages.

It were easie for me to apologize for the smallness of the Present I now make you, by alledging, that Books, like Essences, derive not their value from Quan­tity, but Vertues, and that a little Pill, or Cordial, pre­scrib'd by a HARVEY, or SCARBOROƲGH, outvy, in esteem, all the voluminous Recipe's of the ordinary Class of Physici­ans. But I would rather let the World know, by this Address, that your Kind­nesses to me have begot this [Page] Familiarity; that they have excited in me a presumpti­on of your Acceptance, though I waited on you with the Copy of a meaner Original; and that I am, notwithstanding this Confi­dence, with the greatest sub­missions and respects,

Honoured Sir,
Your most humble, and much obliged Servant, J. DAVIES.

TO ALL INGENIOUS NOVELISTS.

Gentlemen,

PRefaces, Advertise­ments, and whatever else is preliminary to mens Works, seem to be certain Su­pererogations, whereby Au­thours would inveigle their Readers into a greater conceit thereof. The Motives to this Devotion I find to be diffe­rent, [Page]suitably to the diversity of mens humours.

Some, out of a generous in­clination, unwilling to omit any thing of ceremony or complement, when they court the publick Eye, think it but requisite, by this means, to excite a kind of previous sa­tisfaction, in those whom they would oblige to the per­usal of their Labours. O­thers, through the contagion of Example, have height­ned the Civility into an Ob­ligation, and conceit it in­cumbent on them, to usher in their Discourses, with some [Page]commendatory account there­of, as if they would represent the pleasantness of a Coun­try, by a Landskip of it. O­thers again do it, out of com­plyance with the clamorous desires of the Book-seller, who flatters himself with the hope of good success in his Adventure, upon the elabo­rateness of what is intro­ductory to his Book.

For my part, what I now do, in this kind, proceeds not strictly from any of these Mo­tives. As for my Producti­ons, they who know me, know also, that I have not been [Page]guilty of those profusions in point of advertisement, as might cajole many into a per­usal of them, but have left them, without much preoc­cupant recommendation, to stand or fall by their own me­rit: And as to the Venders of them, 'tis only to be wish'd their Civilities had born some proportion to the Advantages they have made thereby.

What then occasions the present Trouble? This; that I thought it convenient to give some account of this so late obstetrication of one Bro­ther, so long after the first, [Page]second, and third Births, in the English Tongue, of se­ven others, and that within the space of seven years.

Monsteur SCARRON, a person the most eminent of this last Age, for the hu­mour of his writing, hath betray'd therein a certain Drollery, or (if I may so ex­press it) Burlesquery of Wit, transcending all others who offer'd at any thing in that kind, and what made him the more remarkable, was, that he did it, amidst the per­petual torments of Chronical Diseases, Among others, he [Page]fell upon the subject of NO­VELS, wherein he prov'd so fortunate, that had he writ­ten Conturies of them, diver­tive Inclinations would ne­ver have complain'd of a glut. Of this there cannot be a greater demonstration, then the kind entertainment they have met with in our Language.

The first Three which came to my hands, and, by that means, into English, were communicated to me by a La­dy, who dy'd, young, the Lustre of her Age and Sex, Mrs. Catharine Philips, [Page]publish'd under the Titles of The FRUITLESSE PRECAUTION, The HYPOCRITES, The INNOCENT ADUL­TERY.

Afterwards, lighting on Monsieur SCARRON'S COMICAL RO­MANCE (since ingeni­ously Englished by another Hand) I added the four o­thers I found there; to wit, The INVISIBLE MI­STRESSE, The TRA­PANNER TRA­PANN'D, The JUDG in his own CAUSE, and, [Page] The CHASTISEMENT of AVARICE: which, put to the other Three, make up the Seven Elder Brothers, mentioned before. How this last, on which I have be­stow'd the Title of The UN­EXPECTED CHOICE, came to ly dormant so long, I cannot tell; and only think it imputable to their precipi­tancy, who printing his Works, since his death, and not having it by them, put out what Collections they could hastily make, to get the start of others, whom they suspected to be engag'd upon the same design. So that [Page]this last appeared not in any collected Edition of his Works, till that printed in the Year 1668. wherein I find it added to the three former, and so making up one Vo­lume of the six, into which all his Works are now di­vided.

Meeting with it thus, and thereupon reflecting how kindly the others had been re­deiv'd here (so as in few years to come to a third Im­pression, now sold by Tho­mas Basset, at the George in Fleet-stree) I could do no less then supply the place of [Page]a transplanting Father to this, as I had done to the rest, and to send him abroad, like another Joseph, to see how his Brethren did, yet without any presumption of his at­taining such Grandeur, as that his Elders should bow to him, and acknowledge his Supremacy.

And observing withal, that there was not any thing more, of that kind, to be had of Monsieur Scarron's (at least according to that Collection of his Works) I have ventur'd to give it what Additions I could. Whence it comes, that [Page]in the Title, I affirm it to be English'd with much Addi­tion and Advantage; which if any shall think much to credit, that is, are Sceptical as to my Sincerity; let them pursue their own satisfaction by consulting the Origi­nal.

And thus have I acquitted my self, as to what I had to say of this late publication of the present Novel. But ano­ther complaint I have to make against the Posthumous Edi­tions of Monsieur Scarron's Works, is, that I find not in any of them a perfect Cata­logue [Page]of the Pieces written by him; of which defect, I may have occasion to say more elsewhere.

And lastly, whereas it is not unusual in Prefaces, to make some promise of what else may be retriv'd, of Au­thours, whose precedent La­bours have been well re­ceiv'd; I am here to acquaint the Ingenious Novelists, and other Lovers of the Producti­ons of Monsieur Scarron, that there is yet something of his upon the Stocks, which will be ready to be launch'd out in the English Language [Page]some time the next Term, without any Proviso, upon the kind or unkind reception of this.

J. D.

THE ƲNEXPECTED CHOICE, A Novel.

By Monsieur Scarron.

THough it be the first re­quisite in the writing of a story, to begin with the circum­stance of Time, yet must I (who am a man of an humour by my self, and have always pretended to greater sincerity then any that ever employ'd themselves in writing Novels) acknowledge my self at a loss, as to this parti­cular, & can only say, that what I am going to relate happen'd [Page 2]during the time that Naples was govern'd by Kings. Under one of those named (if my instructi­ons deceive me not) Alphonso there lived one Leonard de S. Severin, Prince of Tarentum, one of the chiefest Grandees of the Kingdom, and the most eminent for Military Affairs of his time. To the great regret of all lovers of Heroick Spirits, this excellent person dies in the Summer of his Age, and noble exploits, and leaves the Principality of Taren­tum to an only Daughter, na­med Matilda, of whom I find one very pleasant remark, whereof I think it my duty to give the Reader a strict account, to wit, that the very day of her Father's death, she had been upon the Theatre of this World, just six­teen years and a half, wanting eleven weeks, and conse­quently [Page 3]that from the time that her Parents made use of the means to get her, we may ac­count much about seaventeen years. This young Princess was born, or begot (it matters not much whether) under so bene­volent a Constellation, as if a Society of Astrologers had mi­nuted either the coition or the nativity, to her advantage only, without any communication of its influences to others that might possibly come into the World at the same time. But whether we are so much oblig'd to the stars for their influences, as those Gentlemen tell us, or not, certain it is, that common fame gave it out of Matilda, that she was beautiful as an Angel, and that this beauty, lest it might dazzle such as beheld it, was surrounded by so extraor­dinary [Page 4]a mildness and sweet­ness of nature, as gave occasion to such as were unacquainted with the strangeness of her in­genuity, to suspect her being at a great distance from it.

Her Father, having no other, and out of hopes of any more Children, had long before his death promised her in marriage to Prospero, Prince of Salerna. This Prospero was a person of an insolent and very incompliant humour: and yet the pattern of mildness and serenity, Ma­tilda, by reason of her often see­ing of him, and bearing with his imperious treatment of her, had brought her self to such a custom of loving and fearing him, that there was never any slave so absolutely dependent on the disposal of a Master, as this young Princess was on that [Page 5]of old Prospero; for, in compa­rison of a person so young as Matilda, I may justly so call a man, who trebled her Age, that is, wanted not much of com­pleating a Jubilee.

The Love she bore this super­annuated Lover might well be called a certain awe and submis­sion, begot by custom, rather then the effect of any inclinati­on; and yet, however it might be called, it was so full of since­rity, as that which he bort her was of self-interest. Not but that he had a kindness and af­fection for her, and that to as high a degree as possibly he could have, and in that he did no more then what any other might have done as well, since she was the most amiable person in the World: but he was of his own nature, one that was in­capable [Page 4] [...] [Page 5] [...] [Page 6]of being amorous to any great height, and, in the per­son, to whom he directed his affections, setting a value on her merit and beauty, distinct from that due to her upon the ac­count of her wealth. According to this Character of him, his ad­dresses should have been very importunate to Matilda; and yet he was so fortunate, or ra­ther she so easily satisfy'd, that though he had not for her all the respects and complyances requisite in a person that knows how to love, he nevertheless be­came absolute Master of her af­fections, and by accustoming her to his ill humours, brought her to think them the more suppor­table. He alwayes found fault with whatever she did, and was perpetually persecuting her with those instructions, which [Page 7]grave persons are apt to give to young people, and which the latter so unkindly entertain. In a word, he must have been more troublesome to her then an ill-natur'd Governess, if she could have found any thing to quarrel at, in a person whom she truly lov'd. This indeed must be acknowledg'd, to his com­mendation, that when he was in a good humour, he entertain'd her with pleasant stories of the old Court, he play'd on the Gui­tar before her, and express'd his activity in the footing of a Sara­band. His age I gave an ac­count of before, which was, that if he had alienated his Patrimo­ny, he was within two years of his restauration, according to the Jewish Law-giver. There was little to be objected against his person; he was very neat and [Page 8]modish in his Cloaths, but above all extreamly curious in his Pe­riwiggs, a clear argument that he had but little hair of his own, what service soever he may have lost it in. Nor was he neg­ligent in ordering his teeth, for the greater beauty of them, only it might be said that time, which shortens other things, had made them somewhat longer then they were twenty or thirty years before. He also took a great deal of pains to exceed others in the whiteness and de­licacy of his hands, and suffer'd the nail of the little finger of his left hand, to grow to a very great length, which he thought the finest piece of gallantry in the World; for which I cannot imagine what reason he might have, unless it were to distin­guish him from all others. More­over, [Page 9]he was a great Artist in the disposing and intermixture of his Feathers and Ribbands; very punctual in the observance of some devotion at night; went alwayes persum'd, and his Pock­ets were never unfurnish'd with somewhat to eat, and Verses to recite; and he forgot not to bring along with him some wretched Copies of his own pro­duction. As for new Songs, and whatever were A la mode, of that kind he was as well stor'd as any man, and as cheaply; for, of those who had the repu­tation of being ingenious, he was a great lover of such only as expected nothing from him. He had a little smattering skill upon several instruments; did his exercises passably well, and above all others, that of Dan­cing. He had done some re­markable [Page 10]actions, whence he might have pretended to some repute of gallantry; but these were counterpoiz'd by a many others, not fit to come into that Class, so that they were, as a man may say, like Cherries has stily gather'd, for one ripe one, two or three that were not. In fine, to make a more perfect Anatomy of the person, I con­ceive it cannot be done any way so well, as by a certain descrip­tion, which I had occasion to make of one who thought it his shortest way to reputation, to write somewhat against me, wherein he would needs make my diseases, and the deformities of my body the subject of his Sa­tyre. As to the fame he pro­pos'd to himself, he is the more likely to obtain it; because both his writings and mine con­tribute [Page 11]to the accomplishment of his desires. And thus much of his Character suits with the person I am now to describe, and so I shall not stick to give this latter the same denominati­on, as I had done the other, which was;

The Fantastick Gallant.
HEre lies one known so well by fame,
That we need not inquire his name,
Needing no other superscription,
For his discov'ry, then this description.
He'd been a tow'rdly child and bold,
And sate a Horse at seven year old;
But alas! who would ere have thought,
He should at manhood come to nought.
To singing he a love did bear,
Though he had neither voice, nor ear;
And at a dance he would make one,
Though's dancing-days were well-nigh gone.
Yet as to this fair Quality,
Some stick not to affirm, not I;
That they are not the best to dance
Who've liv'd at Naples, or in France.
There was another great disaster,
Our Gallant was a Poetaster;
And Verses made, such as they were,
But still Minerva was not there.
He had too, but the Dev'l was in't,
A Fortnight's mind to be in print;
Yet was he at perpetual Jars,
With Printers, and with Book-sellers.
With these he had had treaties many,
But still without effect in any;
They still with charge and hazard close,
Liking Mens works to Gondoloes.
Of these some few, for state or price,
For Grandees were and Seigneuries,
Others, for many that desire
Frequent convenience, at low hire.
To neither he contribute wou'd,
parted with Coin like drops of blood;
And so the cautious crew to spight,
id all transcribe, or all recite.
Another way then came in's pate
His reputation to dilate;
Of some new Mode to be th'inventer,
His wits he stretch'd upon the Tenter.
For colours, Mottoes, and devises
To please fair Ladies of all sizes,
All came to him, sooner or later,
As to perpetual Dictator.
Of Fancies, Periwigs, and Feathers,
He had to suit all sorts of weathers;
Yet might he justly make't his boast,
That all was done with little cost.
Another humor much did haunt
This Fancy-Feather-wigg'd Gallant;
His Pedigree he would derive
As far—as any man alive.
From truth, I mean a for had he not
A Christian been, cause so begot
(However he had seaped the bryers)
The Heath'nish Gods had bin his Sires.
But Modesty a Vertue is,
Sometimes resides in Palaces;
So some well known Heroick coition
Did satisfie his great ambition.
Howere, he had no mind to wars,
Because men thence return'd with scart.
Broken pates, wounds, & many thumps.
Disorder'd limbs, and wooden stumps.
Yet would he talk of fights & sallies,
Pitch'd fields on mountains, or in vallies
Onsets, assaults, storms, and approaches,
As freely as of Balls or Coaches.
Nay such was his discourse, in fine,
Of Military Discipline,
That, to a common understander,
He seem'd to be some Alexander.
He further understood the Globe,
As Surgeon does the use of Probe,
Knew how the Stars their course did vary,
As if he'd been their Secretary.
But what did more concern mankind,
He was not in those things behind,
Wherein some men do place a glory,
Transcending all Romance or Story:
That is, he fasten'd had his claws
Of study in most Countries Laws;
Could give account of several Nations,
Their humors, policies, and fashions.
Of knowledge nothing scap'd his wit,
As if he'd been in the deep pit,
Where unexhausted Science lies,
Humane attempts to exercise.
In things also, some time he'd spent,
Of quite another Element;
For (since it was not Heav'ns command
All mischief should be done on Land.)
In Sea-affairs he was well skill'd,
To Mathematicks kindly-will'd,
And on the Chard could read a Lecture
Much better then on Architecture.
To Empires far remote, by line
In Map, their bounds he could assign;
And, by the same, account did keep
Of the vast Regions of the Deep.
Yet little maw he had to roam,
Nor seen, but once, ten miles from home
He would not trust the Seas untrue,
For all the Treasures of Peru.
Those he so hated, that he swore,
He'd rather break his neck ashore,
Then hazard drowning in the Main,
Never to be retriv'd again.
But what e're he might be, yet these
Were comprehensive Knowledges,
Such as the Owner might commend
To some Admirer, and some Friend:
But still there wanted somewhat yet
These great endowments to compleat:
In all emergencies, Mens sana,
Sincerity, and prudence, Ana.
Modest thoughts, of high perfections,
In all cuncerns, calm recollections,
Neatness, without affectation,
Constancy in inclination.
These Characters denote a mind
To all transcendent Acts inclin'd,
Which Art and Nature's joynt consent
Would raise up to accomplishment.

But what are all these advan­tages in comparison of that which out-weighs them all? One of the most amiable Prin­cesses in the World look'd on this person as the only object of her devoted Love; true it is, [Page 17]she was not full seventeen years of age; but this pitiful Prince of Salerna thought that the least of his concerns, and reflected not on the disproporti­on between them as to that par­ticular. The Princess Matilda, being beautiful and wealthy, as she was, would, no doubt, have been ador'd by divers other humble-Servants, and Gallants, if it had not been generally be­liev'd in Naples, that her match­ing with Prospero had been a bu­siness fully concluded long be­fore her Father's death. To which may be added, that the quality of this Prince was such as diverted all those, who upon the encouragement of their estates or extraction might have been his Rivals, from making any addresses to her. The greatest part therefore of these [Page 18]over-timorous, and over-cauti­ous Lovers were content to make a discovery of their in­clinations for her only by their sighs, which we may well think avail'd them little, since that is the concerns of this world, speeding ever presupposes speaking. Only one person, named Hippolito made a publick profession of being a Rival of Prospero's, and a most respectful Lover of Matilda. He was of one of the most illustrious hou­ses of Spain, descended from that great Ruis Lopez d' Avalos, who was Constable of Casteele, and in whom Fortune made the greatest demonstrations she could of her inconstancy; inso­much that having been the wealthiest and most eminent Grandee of his Country, he was scornfully forced out of it in a [Page 19]poor and wretched condition, and reduced to the extremity of accepting mony of his friends, to make his escape to Arragon, where the King took him into his protection, and assign'd him such Revenues in Naples, as to maintain him answerably to the rank of the chiefest in the King­dom. This Hippolito was one of the most accomplish'd persons of his time; and the reputation of valour which he had acquir'd in several parts of Europe, meet­ing in conjunction with that of having a clear and gallant Soul, made him remarkable above all others. He was then fallen in love with Matilda; conceiv'd little hope of his being belov'd by her, while she had any kind­ness for Prospero, and yet could not forbear loving her. He was liberal even to prodigality, [Page 20]whereas his Rival was thrifty, even to avarice. He slighted not the least occasions of ma­king discoveries of his magni­ficence towards Matilda, yet without the least advantage to himself, in regard her imperious Servant Prospero kept her from approving ought of those gal­lantries, which any other be­sides himself might have per­formed upon her account. But a violent Love defies all diffi­culties and disdains, and will act consonantly to its own inspi­rations, whatever the success may prove. He therefore often ran at the Ring before his Mi­stresses Window; entertain'd her with Serenades, appointed Turnaments, and Tiltings; in fine, he omitted no divertise­ments, whereby he might force that insensible Beauty to some [Page 21]acknowledgment of the Love he bore her. The devises, and colours of Matilda, were known and observ'd in his Liveries; and the Verses he made for her, and the Aires and Songs he got compos'd and sung in praise of her, made her the general dis­course of all in Italy, who were any way concern'd in the affairs of Love. And yet she was no more mov'd at all this, then if she had never heard any thing of it; and it happen'd many times, that by the express order of her Prince of Salerna, she must take some trivial occasion to get out of Naples, just on the very day, when the amorous Hippolito intended to divert her with a Ball, Tilting, or some such gallantry. Nay upon all occasions she disoblig'd him with so apparent an affectation, and [Page 22]behav'd her self towards him with a rigour so inconsistent with the disposition of so intel­ligent a person as she was, as gave all a just ground to charge her with cruelty, and to mur­mur against her.

But Hippolito was nothing discourag'd at all these obsta­cles; and his Love was rather enflamed to a higher pitch, then any way remitted by those visi­ble disdains of Matilda. Nay what was yet of greater consi­deration; he express'd towards Prospero, the respects he ought him not, even though he had not been his Rival, and, to shew his submissions to Matilda, had for him those deferences, which are commonly observ'd by such as converse with persons of a quality transcending their own, though only Fortune (not al­wayes [Page 23]the Patroness of Merit) made the difference between him and the Prince of Salerna. In a word, he respected his Mi­stress in his Rival, and, by an in­expressible violence in the busi­ness of Amours, forbore all a­version towards him, because he was belov'd by Matilda.

It was quite otherwise with Prospero; he had a perpetual Pique against Hippolito, talk'd of him with all the disadvantage he could, nay would have given him an ill report, could he have been perswaded any would have believ'd it. But Hippolito was the darling and delight of Naples, and his reputation was there so well setled, that all his endea­vours to blast it would have prov'd fruitless, even though the other had discontinu'd the doing of those noble acti­ons, [Page 24]whereby it had been rais'd.

Thus was Prospero the happi­est man living in his Loves, and at a small charge, assur'd of the Favours of Matilda; and that fair Princess saw him not often enough, though he visited her every day, when, by a sudden Apostacy of Fortune, she was reduc'd from the height of pro­sperity, to the extreamest point of misery. She had a Cousin-German by the Father's side, a Person, whose worth had been the more remarkable, had it not been obscur'd by his ambition and his avarice. He had had his education with the King, was much about his age, and had so far insinuated himself into his affection, that he was in a man­ner the director of all his diver­tisements, and the Alembick, [Page 25]through which all his favours to others were distill'd. This Rogero de S. Severin (so was he called) bethought himself, that the Principality of Tarentum be­long'd of right to him, and that a Daughter could not inherit, to the prejudice of an Heir­male, of the same name and fa­mily. He acquainted the King with his pretensions, who per­mitted him to make all the ad­vantages he could thereof, and promised to countenance and assist him with his authority. The business was kept secret a while, till such time as Rogero had possessed himself of Taren­tum, and put a strong garrison into it; all which was done be­fore Matilda had the least di­strust of any such design.

The poor Princess, surpriz'd with this treacherous turn of [Page 26]fortune, and never having had any cross accident before, was as it were thunder-struck at the news of it. She was forsaken by all, save only her sincere Lo­ver Hippolito, who appear'd on her behalf, in opposition to all the attempts of a Royal Favo­rite. On the contrary, Prospero who was oblig'd to her above all others, did less for her then any; whereas Hippolito did not only what he should have done but much more. He went and proffer'd her the utmost of his services, which yet she durst not accept of, fearing she might thereby displease her Prince of Salerna, who visited her not as he was wont to do, while the Principality of Tarentum was thought to be indisputably her right.

In the mean time, Hippolito [Page 27]fell into discourse, upon all oc­casions, concerning the injustice they did Matilda, and the groundless pretence of Rogero; who hearing of it, threatned him with a Guard, in case he forbore not that freedom of talking. But he being a person generally belov'd, not only in Naples, but divers other places, where he was known, had rais'd up a par­ty strong enough to put the Fa­vourite into some doubt of the success of his lewd designs. He made several attempts upon Ta­rentum, but all prov'd fruitless, by reason of the good order which Rogero had taken for the security of the place. At length, animosities growing higher and higher on all sides, and several Princes of Italy concerning themselves in the quarrel, the Pope was forc'd to interpose [Page 28]his authority therein; by whose perswasions all further Acts of hostility were prevented, and the King of Naples was prevail'd with, to appoint Judges, of known integrity, to decide the difference betwixt his Favou­rite and Matilda.

It may be easily imagine what extraordinary expences Hippolito was at in the mean time, being the head of so con­siderable a party, and of the hu­mour he was of; and it will not also be a hard matter to grant, that Matilda, though a great Princess, was soon reduc'd to very great extremities. The Favourite had got all her Estate into his possession. He had per­swaded the King that she held a correspondence with his ene­mies. Of all her former Reve­nues, she could not command [Page 29]any thing, and none would be­come Creditors to a person, whom a Favourite was resolv'd to ruine. Prospero had made an absolute breach with her, not affording her so much as the fa­vour of a visit, nor expressing the least compassion for her misfortune; yet was her affecti­on still so great towards him, that she was not so much sensible of his ingratitude, as his forget­fulness of her. Hippolito would not himself make her any proffer of mony, as being fully satis­sy'd, that she would have re­sus'd it. He bethought himself of a more generous course. He got one of his friends to present her with it, with instructions that he should not so much as mention the name of Hippolito, and engage the Princess upon her honour, never to speak of [Page 30]it, that the pleasure he did her might not procure him the ha­tred of the Favourite.

In the mean time all prepara­tions were made for the decision of the difference; the Judges met, and the cause was carryed for Matilda. The King was displeas'd with the Sentence; Rogero was enrag'd; the Court was astonish'd at it; all were glad or sorry, according to their different inclinations and concerns; but the generality admir'd and commended the in­tegrity of the Judges.

Matilda being over-joy'd that she had got the better in a suit of so great importance, sent a Gentleman express, with all the expedition she could, to give Prospero an account of the happy success of her affairs. Prospero was very much pleas'd to hear [Page 31]it, and to assure the Messenger of his gladness, he embrac'd him, and entertain'd him with much kindness, and liberally promis'd him his services, if ever any occasion should require them. Hippolito, who had no notice of it till after his Rival, presented the person, who brought him the news, with a Diamond of very great value. He prepar'd a noble treat for all of the Court, that would parti­cipate of it: he caus'd a spaci­ous place to be rail'd in, before his Mistresse's Windows, and for eight days together oppos'd all persons that came against him, at the exercise of running at the Ring. A divertisement and gallantry of that transcen­dence is not ordinarily per­form'd without much noise of it. Many Princes of Italy, most [Page 32]Relations and Friends to Ma­tilda, were concern'd in it, and were remarkable for what they did; and the King himself, who was a great Lover of that kind of exercise, honour'd it with his presence. The Favourite had such an ascendent over his Master, that he might have pre­vented his being there; but he, out of some mysterious policy, had made a seeming reconcilia­tion with Matilda, as it were out of a design to have all the World satisfy'd, that if he had not really been perswaded he had a right to the Principality of Tarentum, he would not have attempted the possession of it. The King took it kindly at his hands, that he had so readily submitted to the decision of the Judges; and to reward his complyance, and recompence [Page 33]the loss of his pretensions to Ta­rentum, bestow'd on him one of the most considerable Govern­ments in the Kingdom, additio­nally to those he had before.

Mean time, Hippolito out did all that appear'd at the exercise of tilting. Among others, Prospero would needs be his An­tagonist. He came in over-sha­dow'd with Feathers beyond all that ever us'd that ornament to vanity; but at the first carriere he got, instead of the honour he had propos'd to himself, a cruel fall, either through his own fault, or that of his Horse, and hurt himself very sore, or at least pretended it. He was car­ried into Matilda's House, who out of indignation immediately left the Balcony, and bestow'd many ill wishes on the amorous Hippolito. He came to hear of [Page 34]it, and was so extreamly trou­bled thereat, that he broke up the meeting, and went his ways, like a Desperado, to a fair house he had, about a League distant from Naples.

Prospero in the mean exaspe­rated at his fall, treated Matil­da after a strange manner, so far as to tell her in plain terms, that she had been the occasion of his disgrace, and to reproach her with being in love with Hippoli­to. The innocent Matilda, alway sweet-natur'd, always humble, and always implicitely in love with her own Tyrant, begg'd his pardon, made all the excuses she could, and in a word was as sim­ple, as he was brutish.

Hippolito had a Sister, who had been brought up at the Court of Spain, where the Queen was pleas'd to have a [Page 35]more then ordinary kindness for her, and was not long before return'd to Naples, upon some account or other, whereof I could never meet with any, and yet it might have been of great concern to the carrying on of this story. Besides her advan­tage as to beauty, which was very great, she was a person of extraordinary merit, such as might well render her worthy the vows of the chiefest in the Kingdom. At her return out of Spain, she found her Bro­ther's affairs in so bad a posture, that when he had appointed the running at the Ring, she would not by any means appear at Court, where she could not have an attendance suitable to a person of her condition, and she had confin'd her self to that fair house, which was all her Bro­ther [Page 36]had unsold. She saw that Divertisement; but, incog­nito, and having observ'd her Brother breaking up the meeting so abruptly, and de­parting from Naples, she fol­low'd him, and found him in the most deplorable condition of any man living. He had broken his Lances to pieces, torn his feathers, and his hair, nay wreak'd his indignation on his cloaths and his face; in fine, he was fallen into such a di­straction, as she could have con­ceiv'd but little hopes of his re­covery, had she not known, that a look of Matilda's, though still indifferent, nay even cruel, would make him forget a thou­sand ill treatments. She there­fore made it her only care to comfort him, gave way to his passion instead of opposing it; [Page 37]rail'd at Matilda, while he gave her ill language, and spake again as advantageously as she could of her, when, after all his trans­portations, she found him more amorous then ever he had been.

The humorous Prospero was far from having the same com­plyance for Matilda; the fall off his horse stuck in his stomack still, and he was perpetually charging her with it, as though she had been the principal occa­sion of it. It happen'd one day, that, after she had been to give her Judges thanks for their savourable decree on her be­half, she went to do the like to the King, though he had been against her; but, in Courts, for any one to speak sincerely and according to his Sentiments, ar­gues weakness of judgment, and [Page 38]want of Prudence, and to re­ceive denials otherwise then with thankful acknowledge­ments, a certain indigence of common civility. It happen'd then, one day, that being in an Outer-room at Court, adjoin­ing to the Presence-Chamber, she sees Prospero coming in. He had visited her indeed after his fall, but never left her without a reproachful Lecture, for ha­ving suffered Hippolito to run at the Ring before her door. Nay he stuck not to tell her plain­ly, that if she had not re­solutely setled her affections on his Rival, she would not have had so great a complyance for him.

But nothing could be more injurious, nothing more insuf­ferable then the impertinent complaints and expostulations [Page 39]of Prospero. It was not in Ma­tilda's power to prevent a pub­lick exercise of that kind, though it had not been done upon her account, since her Palace took up one whole side of a spacious Quadrangle, and if she could have done it, she ought not to have done so, without hazard of being defective in point of Civility or Gratitude. Only Prospero's erroneous reflections fatisfy'd him, that she had done amiss, and that she had injur'd him in a high degree, and he was so incens'd against her, that he had forborn visiting her, as if all correspondence between them were quite broken off. The poor Princess was extream­ly troubled at it, and she no sooner perceiv'd him coming, but she went and stood just in his way. He would have shun'd [Page 40]her, and with a scornful look, pass'd by. She took him by the Arm, and looking on him with an Eye able to charm any but that humorous Master, she ask'd him what occasion she had gi­ven him to shun her. ‘What occasion have you not given, replies the Prince very angrily, and what hope you ever to re­cover the reputation you have lost, in countenancing the Courtship and Gallantries of Hippolito? It is not in my power to hinder his affection towards me, nor yet to prevent the discoveries he makes of it, replies Matilda; all I have to say for my self, is, that he hath little encouragement to do ei­ther from my approbation thereof; and methinks I could not give him a greater assu­rance of my displeasure, then [Page 41]that of quitting the Balcony soon after he had begun the sports before my Window. You should have forborn com­ing into it at all, sayes Prospero; but give over dissimulation, and acknowledge, that the true reason of your departure thence, was, that you observ'd, in the looks of all that were present, how much they won­dred at your appearance there. The love of Hippolito had al­ready dispossess'd you of your judgment, and his empty gal­lantries had soon out-weigh'd, in it, all the services it was in my power to have done you.’

Matilda could not forbear tears at this harsh reproof; yet would have return'd him fome answer; but he gave her not the time to do it, besides that the indignation she per­ceiv'd [Page 42]spreading over his coun­tenance, quite startled her out of all resolution. ‘When it was doubtful whether you were Princess of Tarentun said he to her, and the King was ready to order the securing of your person, I was desirous to see what might be the fruits of your infidelity and impru­dence, and whether adversity would occasion your being guilty of a great miscarriage I forbore making any publick discoveries of my sollicitations on your behalf, as your Gal­lant did, nay I pretended my self clearly unconcern'd in what had happen'd to you. In the mean time Hippalito made much noise, and serv'd you but little, and your affairs were a long time in a desperate con­dition. You did what you [Page 43]could, to reassure your self of my affection, but still left un­done the main thing you should have minded, since your kind­ness was still the same towards Hippolito. You had your de­signs in all, and imagin'd you carried them on with much secrecy and subtilty. You be­thought your self of all the ways you could to drain that undeserving Gallant, out of a sond perswasion, that when it would be for your conveni­ence to disburthen your self of him as a superfluous and useless person, I should think it an excess of happiness, to sup­ply his place; and you made a full account that if upon the tryal of your cause you should have lost Tarentuns, the charms of your Beauty would at any time assur'd you of being Prin­cess [Page 44]of Salerna. But as soon at a favourable Decree had made a revival of your hopes, the scene of your affection was chang'd, and your maxims of Policy gave way to those of your Love. You imagin'd to your self, that a young Gen­tleman, who had ruin'd him­self by the extravagant disco­veries of his inclinations to you, was fitter for your turn then I might have been; that marrying a Prince of Salerna, you would come under the tuition of a Master authorized by Custom and the Laws, and that your dear Hippolito would have been as much your hum­ble Servant and Slave after marriage as he seem'd to be before. Ah unfortunate and imprudent Princess! durst your besotted Hippolito make such [Page 45]open professions of love to a Lady of your fortunes, had she not given him some extra­ordinary encouragement to do it? and is it possible, that, upon a weak presumption of meeting with some return to his Love, he would have been at those vast expences which have ruin'd him, and guilty of so remarkable an extrava­gance, as, by one single present, to enrich the person whom you sent to acquaint him with the good success of your cause? And after all these un­deniable discoveries of your infidelity and indiscretion, can you be so vain as to imagine I should still bear you the af­fection I sometime did? Fare­well, and, if you can, be fortu­nate with your Hippolito, and be not so fond as to imagine, [Page 46]I shall ever be unfortunate with Matilda.’

With these words, he would have left her; but the Prince stop'd him again; nay, what she had never done before, pre­sum'd to contradict him. ‘Un­grateful Prince, said she to him, it is impossible for me to give a greater assurance that still love thee, then by telling thee, that, after this most un­manly and disobliging dis­course, I have not yet an aver­sion for thee. What thou hast said is more against thy self then against me, and I can make no better use of it to thy confusion and my advantage, then by acknowledging to thee, that all is true. 'Tis true Hippolito hath express'd a great affection for me, Hippo­lito hath not been frightned [Page 47]from rendring me all the servi­ces he could, and, to do that, defy'd the malice of a Favou­rite and the displeasure of a King; He honours me with all imaginable respect, and he does what he can to please me. He was desirous to protect me, when I was forsaken by all; and it is not to be deny'd, that he has ruin'd himself upon my account. Do thou instance in any one thing thou hast done that may come into the Bal­lance with any of these: Thou wilt tell me that thou lov'st me. But canst thou have any affection for me, who art want­ing even in point of civility to­wards me; civility, I say, which I conceive due to my Sex, though thou ought'st not any to my quality? And yet what ill-natur'd, or ill-hu­mour'd [Page 48]Master ever treated a Slave more unworthily then thou hast always treated me? And who would have suffer'd it, but a person besotted with an excessive love towards thee, as I am? No, no, Prince, thou art far from having occasion to complain, and thou should'st take it the more kindly from me, that I do not. Nay, I do much more, I acknowledge, if thou wilt have me to do it, such crimes as I was never guilty of; I will never see Hippolito more, and I will be ungrateful to him, to recover thee out of thy ingratitude towards me, in a word, that I may once more gain thy heart, I shall think nothing impossible for me to do. There is nothing impossible for your fair Eyes to do, replyes the Prince, setting [Page 49]his Periwig right; they have dispell'd all my anger, and pro­vided I ever hence forward have their favourable looks, the over-fortunate Prospero will never love any but the fair Matilda.’

The amorous Princess was sa­tisfy'd with this short comple­ment from her grave Lover. Had they been in a place less publick, possibly she would have cast her self at his feet, to give him thanks that he had par­don'd her; but neither time nor place permitted her to make any further answer. The King was coming out of his Chamber; she intreated Prospero not to be far from her, while she spoke to the King; but he told her, as he was leaving her, that it was not fit they should be seen to­gether, for some reasons he [Page 50]could not then acquaint her withal. She could not hinder his departure, and read in his looks, that it proceeded from a fearful distrust of his own Courtship: but she was got so neer the King, that she had not the time to reproach Prospero with his being rather a subtle Courtier, then a sincere Lover. She presented her self to the King, rendred her respects to him, and gave him thanks. The King receiv'd her very coldly, and the answer he made her was so equivocal, that it might have been interpreted as much to her disadvantage, as to her favourt but the endearing expressions which she had so lately receiv'd from Prospero, had given her so great a satisfaction, that the last ingratitude he had express'd to­wards her, in refusing her his [Page 51]attendance to wait on the King, made no impression in her mind, no more then the slight re­ception she had from the King; so much was she over-joy'd, that she had regain'd the favour of her imperious Lover.

The very same day, she was visited by all the Ladies of qua­lity about Naples; at which meeting there was an appoint­ment made, that they should all go a-hunting the next day on Horse-back, in Country-habits, and narrow-brim'd Hats, with Plumes of Feathers in them. All the Amorous part of the Court came to see, and contri­bute to the divertisement, and so it is not to be question'd but the Prince of Salerna, the quin­tessence of all Courtship and Gallantry, was there among the rest. Nay he was at this time [Page 52]guilty of a strange profusion of kindness towards his Mistress, that is, he would needs make her a Present, which was more then ever he had done before. He writ her a Letter sweetned with all the candid expression she could imagine, and, with it, sent her one of those fine Hats; but to give the World a strict ac­count of things as they pass'd, he had himself taken the pains to order the Feathers, among which there was not so much as one new one. If my memory fail me not, I have already told you, that, in matter of Plumage, he was the most remarkable person about the Court: This was the only extravagance wherein he was expensive, yet was that charge manag'd with all the thrift imaginable. He had the knack of diversifying his Plumes, [Page 53]transplanting, and transposing them so dextrously, that though the several parts were all old, yet he made them appear as if they were new, with as much art as the most expert Master of the Profession could have done it. I am apt to believe, that for the accomplishment of the Pre­sent, he spent a good part of the night in ordering it. The Prin­cess receiv'd it, as if it had been sent her from Heaven, return'd him more thanks and comple­ments for it, then all the Fea­thers in the World were worth, and promis'd him in the Letter she return'd in answer to his, that she would look upon that miraculous Hat, as her chiefest ornament as long as she was able to wear it. I am extreamly troubled, and doubt not but my Reader will be so too, that these [Page 54]two excellent Letters are lost; by which means, my Novel, and his satisfaction, are somewhat shorter then they might have been. But grief is superfluous where there is no remedy to be had: the bald consumer of hu­man productions hath devour'd other things, which we can only bemoan among the lost; but the only curse I have for his greedy teeth at the present, is for the loss of these two Missives, of which I would have said more, but have it not.

The very reflection on this disappointment, hath put me so much out of humour, that I shall forbear giving you any ac­count of what past at the Hunt­ing; nor indeed could I ever learn the particulars. Yet this may be imagin'd, that some Hor­ses stumbled, and some fell; [Page 55]That the Ladies had this com­fort, that if they had the misfor­tune to be thrown, they wanted not assistance to help them up again; That Prospero made an insufferable oftentation of his Gallantry above all the rest, and that he out-talk'd all, though he said nothing worthy atten­tion.

The divertisement the La­dies found in this Hunting­match, rais'd in them a desire to recreate themselves some other way the day following. They made an appointment to go by Sea to Pouzzolo, where the Prin­cess Matilda was to treat them with a Collation and Musick. They dress'd themselves no less sumptuously for the diversion by water, then they had before for that by Land. The Boats wherein they were to be car­ried, [Page 56]had all the Ornaments they could have; they were hung with Tapistry, whether China or Turkey-work I know not, and there was no sitting but on rich Cushions. Prospero would needs go thither by Land, and without any Company, whe­ther out of some discontent or melancholy, is not known; for there are those who never think better of themselves then when their humours clash with those of other people. He was mount­ed on the best Horse he had; clad in his richest Country-ha­bit, and his head so beset with Feathers, as if some remote Island, where Ostriches are plentiful, had paid him an an­nual tribute of their Plumage.

Hipplito's Country-house was in the way to Pouzzolo, and not far from the Sea-side, so that the [Page 57]Prince of Salerna must needs pass by it. As soon as he came in sight of it, a slight imagina­tion of Hectorship came into his head. He knew that Hippolito was at home, and thereupon alighted at the door to speak with him. Hippolito entertain'd him with all the civility due to a person of his condition, though he had not been accosted by the other with any. Prospero broke forth into a brutish expostula­tion with him; in that he had the presumption to make such discoveries of his Courtship to a Princess, who, by the disposal of a deceas'd Father and her own inclinations, was design'd to be his Wife. Hippolito suffered his reproaches and harsh Language a good while, and answer'd him with all the meekness imagina­ble upon such an emergency, [Page 58]and told him, that he had no­reason to be so much offended at those declarations of a love without hope. But at length. Prospero's insolent carriage over­came his Patience, and he was ready to call for a Horse, to give him satisfaction at a little fur­ther distance from his own House, when news was brought them, that the Sea was very rough, and that some Boats, full of Ladies, which they perceiv'd from the shore, were in some danger of being cast away. Hip­polito made no doubt, but Ma­tilda and her Company were the Ladies in that distress, and thereupon he intreated Prospero to contribute his assistance, for the safety of their Common Mistress. He excus'd himself, alledging that he could not swim, and that he had not yet [Page 59]recover'd himself of the hurt he had receiv'd by his fall at Tilt­ing. The generous Hippolito detesting in his Soul the ingra­titude of his Rival, made all the speed he could to the water­side. His Servants follow'd him, cast themselves into the water after his example, and with the help of some Fishermen, who fortunately chanc'd to be not far off, Matilda, and the Ladies of her Company were sav'd. All the Boats ran a-ground about a hundred Paces from the shore, and being split to pieces, Naples would have been full of lamen­tations for the loss of its choicest Beauties, had it not been for this seasonable relief. Hippolito was so fortunate, as that Matil­de ought him her life. The love he bore her made him soon di­stinguish her from the many [Page 60]other Ladies, whom the Waver cast half dead upon the Rocks, along the Sea-side. While the Fishermen and his Servants in­differently reliev'd the first they met withal, he lays hold on h [...] Princess, just as she was coming above water, and taking her un­der one arm and swimming with the other, he happily got her to the shore without the assistance of any other person.

Matilda was much more dis­order'd by that unhappy acci­dent then any of the other La­dies whom they had sav'd as well as her self. They all made a shift to recover themselves after a little casting up of the Salt-wa­ter, change of Cloaths, and fright, and so were well enough to take Coach, and return to Naples. But the Princess of Ta­rentum continu'd a long time ere [Page 61]she came to her self, and gave those that were about her any assurances of life. Hippolito, and his Sister Irene, took all the care they could of her. He sent immediately to Naples for the ablest Physicians, besides him whom the Princess particularly employ'd, and left his whole House to Matilda, and such of her Servants as were come to her, upon the report of that dis­aster. He accommodated himself and his retinue the best he could at a little Village not far from his own House, whence he sent frequent Messengers to enquire how the Princess did, when he could not do it himself. As for Prospero, he, extreamly self-satis­fy'd with the discovery he had made of his resentments to Hip­polito, had recommended Ma­tilda and the other Ladies to the [Page 62]mercy of the Waves, without giving his thoughts any trouble concerning them, imagining haply, that, since he was note person likely to relieve them, it was his best course to deny his Eyes the sight of so unfortunate a spectacle, and to take his way gently back again to Naples, and there expect the doubtful event of the wrack, that he might re­joice at, or bewail it, according to their escape or miscarriage who were concern'd therein.

In the mean time, Matilda, with the assistance of her youth and the remedies prescrib'd to her, recover'd her health, and, with that, her beauty, and was extreamly satisfy'd with the kindness done her by Hippolito, and the obliging cares of his Sister Irene, who ingeniously ac­quainted her with the base in­difference [Page 63]which Prospero had express'd for the hazard she had been in. Matilda made not any discovery of her resentment of it, either in her countenance or discourse; whether it were that her Love had smother'd it, or that she had the power at that time to dissemble.

The night before she intended to leave Hippolito's House, in or­der to her return to Naples, her thoughts were so disorder'd, that she could not sleep, where­upon she call'd for a Book and a Candle, to be set by her Bed­side. Her Women were gone out of the Room, to take their re­pose, or do somewhat else, when she hears the door opening of a sudden, and perceives Prospero coming in. It may easily be imagin'd, how much she was sur­priz'd to see him at so unseason­able [Page 64]an hour, and how highly she conceiv'd her self disoblig'd by so dis-respectful a visit. Her reproaches to him upon that occasion were not without some bitterness. Prospero was little mov'd thereat, but rather grow­ing the more imperious, would needs have the Princess acknow­ledge, that she had purposely run into the hazard of losing her life, to give Hippolito the glory of being her deliverer. He charg'd her with the misfor­tune of being so neer cast away, as a slur to her reputation, and represented to her, how base and unworthy a thing it was for her, to reside in the House of a per­son in love with her, to be lodg'd in his own Chamber, and laid in his own Bed.

Matilda was somewhat asto­nish'd at these reproaches, yet [Page 65]thought it below her to make it appear to him how unjust they were, but press'd him with others that were not so easily a­voidable, for the backwardness of his assisting her, and with a Satyrical ralliery bemoan'd his want of skill in swimming, and his being still indispos'd by rea­son of his fall. This put his Spi­rits into a general commotion, so that blushing with anger and confusion, he fell a rayling at her, and told her that she should never see him more, in as much as Rogero the King's Favourite had proffer'd him his Sister, and with her all the advantages which may be expected from the alliance of a Favourite.

Matilda was not able to hold out any longer against so terri­ble a menace; her thoughts were discompos'd into a trem­bling [Page 66]astonishment; her indig­nation gave way to her love; and she who had seem'd so fierce and furious before, was by this sudden storm become submissive and suppliant. On the other side, Prospero grew more and more calm, when he saw her suf­ficiently humbled; and accord­ing to his Custom, he began to cajole her, and fell into those kind and amorous insinuations, which he might have us'd, if, in all the debates that had hap­pen'd in their Loves, he had al­ways observ'd the respect and and complyance he ought her. He renew'd his protestations of love to her, and out of eager­ness to make them over-pressing and perswasive, he made such as were ridiculous and imperti­nent; so far as to wish her all [Page 67]manner of misfortunes, that he might have a noble occasion to assure her how much he would concern himself therein. ‘Why are you not still in disgrace at Court? said he to her, with an amorous tone; Why are you not still persecuted by the ma­licious Favourite Rogero? Why are you not still unjustly dis­possess'd of your Principality of Tarentum? You should see how earnest a Sollicitor I would be on your behalf; how I would importune the King himself, though by all Artifice exasperated against you, to do you justice; with what rigour I would engage my self in your quarrel against your Enemies, and whether I would be afraid to hazard my life and fortunes, to restore you [Page 68]to what were unjustly detain'd from you. It is not decreed I hope, replyes the Princess, not is there any necessity, I should become more unfortunate the [...] I am, that you should have occasions to give me so great assurances of your generosity, nor were it just I should put your Love to such dangerous Tryals.’

They were thus seriously engag'd in discourse, when some confus'd and dreadful outcries of fire oblig'd them to run to the Windows, whence they pre­sently perceiv'd the lower part of the Lodgings where they were casting up fire and smoke; and ere they had well look'd about them, a thick Cloud of smoke intermixt with Sparks of fire was coming up, along the Stair-Case into the room, which [Page 69]put them out of all hopes of es­ [...]aping that way, which Prospero was putting himself into a po­sture to attempt. The Princess extreamly frighted, beg'd of him, that he would not forsake her in so great a danger, and minded him of making some ad­vantage of the Sheets and Hang­ings, to get out at the Windows. The Prince, as much frighted as she, told her, the danger was too heer at hand to think of any such expedient, and having al­ready measur'd with his Eyes the height of the Window, and deliberating how he might best cast himself down into the Court, he plainly told, that, in such an emergency as that was, the only resolution was, get off who could. ‘Nay if it be so, said she to him, thou shalt not escape without me, and if I run [Page 70]any hazard here, I am re­solv'd, that the most ungrate­ful and least generous of men shall participate of it with me.’

With those words she coura­geously fasten'd on Prospero, and the indignation she had con­ceiv'd against him for his cow­ardice, gave her so much strength, that, notwithstanding all his endeavours to clear him­self, he could not get from her. He fell a swearing and cursing; then rail'd at her; and at last was so much a brute, as to threaten her with beating or death (which of the two is not certainly known) and no doubt he was a person as likely as any to do it, and in all probability would have done it, if, while he was strugling with her, and that with as much earnestness and [Page 71]animosity, as if he had had to so with a detested Enemy, the generous Hippolito had not come reasonably into the room. The Princess seeing him, dis-engag'd her self from Prospero, and made towards Hippolito, who, not al­lowing her the time to speak to him, cover'd her with a wet Sheet, which he had purposely brought with him, and having taken her in his Arms, rush'd out like a Lyon with his prey, through the flames which fill'd the Stair-Case. He was so for­tunate as to bring her to a place, where she was out of all danger, and his generosity was so exces­sive, that he did the same kind­ness to his Rival. True it is, that he burnt his Cloaths, and findg'd the hair of his Head and Eye-brows in the service; but what are burnt Cloaths, and [Page 72]sindg'd Hair, to a person whose heart is enflam'd with Love?

In the mean time, while Ma­tilda is recovering her self out of the fright, and while Prospe­ro gets away with all the speed he could to Naples, without so much as returning thanks to his deliverer, his over-generous de­liverer sees his house burnt down to the ground, and with his house all the furniture of it, and his horses; in a word, all that his former profusions had left him Master of. Matilda was trou­bled at it, I will not say more than he, for he was not much, but as if she saw what she ac­counted of greatest value in the world condemn'd to destructi­on. She imagin'd her self the occasion which had brought that great misfortune upon him; and she was not mistaken. Her Cou­sin, [Page 73]the Favourite, who had not made a reconciliation with her, but out of a pernicious design to ruine her with more ease, had found out some mercenary souls among the menial servants of Hippolito, whom he had hir'd to fill the Cellars of their Master with materials easily combusti­ble, which they set on fire in the night-time, according to the in­structions they had receiv'd from Rogero. This cruel Fa­vourite made no conscience of procuring the ruine of a decay'd Cavalier, and his destruction to boot, conditionally there were involv'd in it that of a Kinswo­man, whose estate he was to in­herit; and as if he thought it not wickedness enough to com­pass her death, which was una­voidable if his design had taken effect, he bethought himself of [Page 74]a way to render her memory odious. While Hippolito's house was a burning, Rogero had ma­nag'd his treacherous plot with so much subtilty, that, by order from the King, some Officers were sent to Matilda's Palace where having broke open her Closet, it was pretended, that there were Letters found, which seem'd written to the Duke o [...] Anjou, and to convict her o [...] holding a correspondence with that dangerous Enemy to the State.

The still-unfortunate Princess receiv'd this sad news, just a she was sending to Naples for Coaches, in order to her return thither. She was extreamly [...] a loss to hear it, yet soon reassuming what courage she could in so unexpected a perplexity she and her train made a shift t [...] [Page 75]get to Naples a foot, but in so de­plorable a condition, as rais'd pity in all that saw them make their entrance into it. Hippolito would have gone along with her, but she laid her absolute com­mands upon him not to do it, as being, possibly, still in some fear of displeasing Prospero. So that the most generous, and most faithful, yet most unfortunate of all Lovers beheld her depar­ture, much more afflicted at this fresh accident which had hap­pen'd to his Mistress, and that he durst not presume to follow her, then at the loss of his House.

Matilda was no sooner come to Naples, but she was secur'd. She desir'd access to the King; it was deny'd her. She sent a Messenger to desire Prospero to come to her; he pretended in­disposition, and that he could [Page 76]not stir abroad: and so she was of a sudden forsaken of all friends, as if she had fallen sick of the Plague. The same day there was an order brought her from the King, that she should depart Naples. Her Domesticks basely left her in the height of extremities; her Creditors be­gan to persecute her, forgetting all respect to her quality; and she was reduc'd to so great mi­sery, that she could not procure a Hackney-Coach, nor any other convenience of riding, to get to I know not what Prince of Italy, who, next to Rogero, was the nearest of her Relations, and had always espoused her inte­rests, even against that unjust Favourite and bloody Kins­man.

Being thus forsaken by all he [...] friends, destitute of all things [Page 77]and reduc'd to an impossibility of complying with so rigorous an Order, she took her refuge in a Monastery, into which yet they would not receive her, till they had the King's Permission to do it, and conditionally that she should depart thence that very night. She accordingly depar­ted thence, and that so secretly, that the amorous Hippolito, not­withstanding all the Spies he had abroad, to bring him an account of her, could never get the least intelligence of what course she had taken. However, he would needs put himself to the hazard of missing her, rather then that he should be re­proach'd with a neglect of seek­ing her. While he is running after her, or thinks he does so, she little thinks of him, and Prospero as little, or less, of her. [Page 78]Nay, this humorous. Prince speaks of her as one guilty of High Treason, is punctual in his attendance about the King and the Favourite, and as different emergencies produce different designs, he seriously falls in Love with Camilla, Rogero's Sister, and intreats the King to promote his obtaining of her. The King, who thought him a very advan­tageous match for his Sister, whom, of all his Subjects, he had the greatest affection for, com­municates the proposal to the Favourite, who was content in all things to comply with the desires of his Master.

This Sister of Rogero's was one of the greatest Beauties about Naples, and what relation soever she might have to her Brother in point of Fortune, she was no way concern'd in his lewd de­signs. [Page 79]She was look'd on at Court as the most considerable Match in the Kingdom, and she look'd on Hippolito as the most accomplish'd Cavalier of his time; and possibly she lov'd him, or at least would have lov'd him, if she had not ob­serv'd his affections passionately devoted to another. Matilda's misfortune had rais'd so great a compassion in her, and she was so generous, that if she had thought her Brother's malice had occasion'd it, she would no doubt have reproach'd him with so lewd a procedure, and have been the first that should have detested it. She concern'd her self so much in the loss which Hippolito had receiv'd, that, careless of whatever might be said of it, she went to give him a visit at his burnt House, to [Page 80]present him with a sum of mony, and assure him of all it was in her power to do for him. She there met with his Sister Irene, who little expected such a visit, and much less the proffers of a kind reception, where she had any thing to command. The fair Irene thought her self ex­treamly oblig'd to Camilla, for so generous an invitation, and was content to go along with her to Naples. What less then a ready complyance to so kind a proposal could be expected from a young Lady of her quality, who was then destitute of a House, and all other requisite accommodations, in a Country, where she was not known to any but her Brother, nay where it may be said she had not him, since that, as soon as he under­stood that Matilda had left Na­ples, [Page 81]he was gone a wandring after her like a distracted per­son, not knowing which way she had taken?

It happen'd, the very day that Camilla went to Hippolito's house, to bring Irene thence to her own, the King was pleas'd to make her a visit, but the oc­casion of it was to recommend the Gallant Prince of Salerna to her affections, which he doubt­ed not to gain upon the first assault of all that force of gal­lantry he always carried about him. Camilla, whose thoughts at that time were full of Hippo­lito, entertain'd Prospero and the proffers of his services, with as much coldness and indifference, as was consistent with the satis­faction which she conceiv'd at the honour of a visit from her Prince. The disconsolate Irene [Page 82]kept her Company, and though her affliction was but too te­markable, yet did the rayes of her Beauty like lightning, so break through the Cloud of her sadness, as to enflame the young King's affection towards her. His Love was violent even at its Birth. He approach'd her with as much respect and fear, as if he had been of her quality, and she of his: he took occa­sion to fall into discourse with her upon her Beauty, and that amiable person, without being daunted, or betraying any sur­prizal at so unexpected a Court­ship, made so great discoveries of a perfect combination of In­genuity, Prudence, and Mo­desty, that he consider'd her, from that interview, as a good, which only was deficient to the compleating of his fortune.

The King made a longer stay with Camilla then he thought to have done, and the pleasure he took in entertaining Irene, was so much the more observ'd, by all that were present, the more he had seem'd before insensible to love, and behav'd himself with an indifference towards the fairest Ladies about Naples. But indeed Irene was Mistress of such charms, that it was impos­sible for Souls the least subject to that tender passion, and least able to judge of her merit, to forbear loving her. Camilla, before she was acquainted with her, had a design to serve her upon the account of her Bro­ther; but after she came to be known to her, she lov'd her wholly upon her own. She was easily inclin'd to believe the King was fallen in love with [Page 84]her, because she wish'd it so, and she was so far from envying her so great a happiness, as it might have been in some measure ex­cusable in any other amiable person, that she was extreamly satisfied therewith. She con­gratulated Irene, upon the no­ble conquest she had made, and no doubt she might have flat­ter'd the vanity and hopes of a Virgin more lowly-conceited of her self then she was; but this discreet person was firm in her perswasion, that what the King had done, was rather out of a frollick of gallantry, then Love; that he had no other design in it, but to find matter for his diver­sion; and that haply she was as soon out of his thoughts, as out of his sight. She was very much mistaken: the young King could not keep away long from her; [Page 85]and his Love was grown so vio­lent that he resolv'd to see her again the very night after his first falling in love with her. He communicated his design to the Prince of Salerna, and told him, that he would go, incognito, ac­cording to the Spanish Court­ship, to renew his addresses to Irene, under Camilla's Balcony. It may easily be imagin'd, how overjoy'd Prospero was at this admittance to the Privacy of his Master's pleasures, and to be made his companion in an amo­rous adventure. It is probable, the Favourite Rogero would have been the person pitch'd upon for this design, or at least should have made one in it: but that he had had leave of the King that very day to go to Tarentum, where some important affair re­quir'd his presence.

Night came, and the King, accompany'd by Prospero, arm'd as he was, according to the Ita­lian way, that is, with more of­fensive Arms then were requi­site for one man, took up his Post under Camilla's Balcony, who had been advertis'd of it by Prospero. She was too well vers'd in that kind of Court­ship, not to afford the King the freedom of entertaining his Mi­stress with as much privacy as might be. She thereupon with­drew, and went into another Balcony, notwithstanding all the intreaties, which Irene made, that she would stay with her. The King made some reproach­es upon that occasion, and told that fair Virgin, that she ought at least to have some comply­ance for a King, who had for her some what transcending it. ‘I [Page 87]should owe your Majesty all that lies in my power, reply'd Irene, were it not there is some­thing I owe my self, which I cannot owe any other. What can you owe your self, replies the King, beyond what you owe my Love? This, answer'd she, that I am not to believe you have any for me. Ah Irene, cries the King, can you doubt of that? assure your self, there is not any thing more certain, nor ought I am not ready to do, to satisfy your in­credulity. Could I believe your affection proportionable to the assurances you give me of it, replyes she, I should yet have more reason to be dissa­tisfy'd with your Majesty, then admit what you do for a kind­ness. That were a strange in­justice, said the King, for how [Page 88]is it possible, that a sincere love, such as mine is, should give any dissatisfaction? It would be an honour I confess, to some great Queen, reply'd Irene, but may well give peo­ple just occasion to pass harsh censures of the prudence of a person so mean as I am. 'Tis true indeed, sayes the King, that you are not a Queen, but who deserves to be such, may in time come to it. I am not guilty of so great a vanity, re­plyes Irene, as to hope for so great a change in my fortune, from the slenderness of the merit I can pretend to, and I have this opinion of your Ma­jesty's good nature, as that you will not any longer make an unfortunate person, such as I am, the subject of your diver­sion. Ah fairest Irene, said [Page 89]the Amorous Prince to her, what greater assurances, then I have done, can I make of the since­rity of my affection? Be sa­tisfy'd then, that, as to my Love to you, the most passio­nate, and most faithful Lover in the World; cannot pretend to a greater, and if my tongue hath acquainted you with what my looks and sighs could not make you comprehend soon enough, imagine not that I expect, upon the account of my quality, to be exempted from the afflictions of a long Address, or am unwilling to undergo all the services and submissions, which the most amiable Mistress may look for, from a respectful Lover. But a disease grown so violent, as mine was, requir'd a sudden remedy, and, how coy and [Page 90]scrupulous soever you may be, it may be some satisfaction to you, that a King, in the disco­very of his love to you, hath been afraid to displease you.’

He said several other things to her, more passionate even then these, which he who over­heard them, could not remem­ber, as he did what I have given you an account of; I therefore leave it to the discreet Reader to imagine them: For, to make this King of Naples speak with the tenderness he did, and not injure him in the business of complement, it would be re­quisite a man should be as amo­rous as he was, which it is now past my time to be. Irene still answer'd him with her ac­customed modesty, and without seeming over-hardly, or over-easily perswasible, she so ingeni­ously [Page 91]broke off so ticklish a con­versation, that the esteem the King had for her was thereby much heightned, and he was more in love with her at his de­parture thence, then he had been at his coming thither. From that time, no day pass'd, but he visited Camilla and Irene, nor did he miss any night his attendance at the Balcony where he employ'd all his amo­rous eloquence, to assure her how passionately he was her Servant.

It happen'd one night, that having order'd his guard not to follow him, he went up and down the streets of Naples dis­guiz'd, accompany'd only by the Prince of Salerna, and he met with so much diversion at several places, that the better part of the night was past, when [Page 92]he came to Camilla's Balcony. Looking about him more nar­rowly, he found that two men had taken up their station under it, or if not under, they were at least so near it, as to over-hear all the discourse which would have past between him and Irene. One of those men par­ted from the other, and went in­to Camilla's house, and the other continu'd still in the street. The King expected a while, to see if he would be gone and leave him the freedom of the Street; but finding that he stirr'd not from the place, no more then if he had been a Sentinel charg'd upon pain of death to keep his station, he grew out of patience, and commanded Prospero, to go and question what that fixt per­son was, and to force him to a removal thence. The Prince [Page 93]of Salerna makes towards him, but with such preparation and observance, as if he had been employ'd in some hazardous ad­venture. As he drew neerer and neerer him, the other made away before him. Prospero ani­mated by his removal from the place where he stood, endea­vour'd to come up to him, yet not with so much expedition as he might have done. The other made the more hast to get away, and perceiving Prospero still pur­su'd him, he made the best ad­vantage he could of his heels, and got into another street, the Prince of Salerna still following at a convenient distance.

Mean time, the King stirr'd not from the place where Pro­spero had left him, expecting his return, that he might send him to give notice to Camilla and [Page 94] Irene of his waiting for them under the Balcony; and it is not unlikely his imaginations were wholly fixt upon his love (for a Lover never does any thing else, when he is alone) when that person who had part­ed from him whom Prospero pur­su'd, and was gone into Camil­la's house, was coming out a­gain, and taking the King for his Camerade, ‘Here Calixtus, said he to him, take this pacquet and make haste; the Com­mander in chief at Cayetto will take order for a Vessel for thy transportation to Marseiller [...]’ The King, not making him any answer at all, receiv'd the pac­quet of Letters, which he pre­sented to him. ‘Farewel, Ca­lixtus, added the same unknown person, the rest depends on thy diligence, and thou hast now [Page 95]in thy hands the fortune of the Duke of Anjou, thy Master, and mine. How, ungrateful villain! unparallel'd Traytor! crys the King, putting his hand to his Sword, what design hast thou contriv'd against me?’ Rogero (for it was no other) ex­asperated at his being so unhap­pily mistaken, and by his de­spair becoming more wicked then before, thought of nothing but of either sacrificing his own life, or taking that of his Prince, who had lov'd him so well. The reproaches he conceiv'd might be justly made him of his ingra­titude and perfidiousness were as terrible to him, as the tortures he might have been put to. He had his Sword out as soon as the King, who charg'd him with so much rigour and fury, that Ro­gero, tormented with the re­morse [Page 96]of his crime, as he was, was forc'd to use all the art he could to defend himself. At last animated with rage, and rallying all his spirits and cou­rage, he no longer look'd on his Prince otherwise then as an enemy, whom he must either destroy, or perish, and by the efforts of a desperado which he made against his sacred person, oblig'd him also to defend him­self the best he could. But Kings, who possibly may be as valiant as other persons, are commonly assisted by a Genius transcend­ing those of other men. Rogero, though he charg'd his incens'd King with the greatest fury and despair imaginable, yet would he not haply have been able to hold out long against him, if the noise of their engagement had not brought to the place where [Page 97]it pass'd, several persons, who would soon have torn to pieces that detestable subject, that durst attempt the life of his Prince. Some of his own do­mesticks, and of those of Ca­milla were the first that came into the street with lights, much astonish'd to see their Master strugling with the King. The unfortunate Rogero was so cast down at the appearance of the light, which expos'd him to the dreadful looks of his Prince, that he was not able to endure them. His rage and valour for­sook him, and his Arms fell from him. The King, who had the satisfaction to see him wound­ed, after he had had much ado with all the assistance of his va­lour, to prevent his being so by him, seiz'd on him with his own hands, and committed him to [Page 98]the Custody of the Captain of his Guards, who had seceiv'd Orders to keep all that night about the avenues of Camilla's house, and was come in very seasonably at that time, fol­low'd by his Souldiers.

Prospero, in the mean time, was still in pursuit of his man, who running away, with all the speed he could, had unfortu­nately met full butt with the Watch, who that night, accord­ing to their custom, were taking their round about the City to prevent disorders. He disco­ver'd so great astonishment, and was at such a loss in all his ans­wers to whatever was ask'd him, that they were resolv'd to secure him, though Prospero, who pursu'd him with his Sword drawn, and made himself known to the Watch, had not com­manded [Page 99]them from the King, to take him into their Custody, and to have him ready whenere he should be call'd for. He re­turn'd to look after the King, and if he was at first sight asto­nish'd at the great number of Torches he saw in the street, and to find the King, whom he had lest all alone, so well ac­company'd, he was so much more, when he understood what had past between the King and Rogero, and to see that Favou­rite, whom all the Court adored, generally detested by all, and by the Guards conducted to Prison.

This accident prevented the King's seeing of Irene that night, or at least he forbore it, because he would avoid seeing Camilla, whom he sent Prospero to com­plement, and withall to assure, [Page 100]that he made a distinction be­tween her and her Brother, whose crime should not dero­gate ought from the esteem he had for her. Irene writ to him on Rogero's behalf, and, to ob­lige her Friend, did that which the importunate intreaties of a King passionately in love with her could not have obtain'd. The very next day Rogero was examin'd, and found guilty of High-Treason, for holding a correspondence with the Duke of Anjou, who had besides a great number of other Parti­sans in the Kingdom. He had receiv'd information by them of the insatiable ambi­tion of Rogero; upon which intelligence, having propos'd to him a match with a Prin­cess neerly related to him, with such advantages as he could not [Page 101]hope from the King his Master, that ungrateful Favourite, be­traying his Faith and Honour, was in requital to receive the French into Cayetto and Castella­mara, of which places he was Governour.

The same Judges who found him guilty of the Treason com­mitted against his Majesty, dis­cover'd also the treacherous design he had contriv'd against the Princess of Tarentum. I think I told you elsewhere how the Prince of Salerna had shunn'd this Princess and dis­claim'd her concerns, when he saw her in disgrace, and very earnestly courted Camilla, whom he saw in favour. I am now to tell you of the same Prince, that no sooner had he perceiv'd, that the King re­pented him of the ill treatments [Page 102]and misfortunes he had caus'd Matilda, through the malicious prosecutions of Rogero, and was of himself inclin'd to restore her to her former honours, and re­instate her in the possessions, which had been unjustly taken away from her, and to make considerable additions thereto, but he, the same generous Pros­pero, who had so lately so ear­nestly intreated the King to pro­mote his Addresses to Camilla, was now as earnestly desiring he might decline her, and that he would not think amiss of him, if he still pretended to the pos­session of Matilda; and in the mean time, he pray'd the King that he would order her to be sought out, and that he would give him a Commission to find her, where ever they had intel­ligence that she was, and to [Page 103]bring her back to Court. The King had his thoughts too full of Irene, that he should need a Remembrancer to put him in mind of her Brother Hippolito, and it was the greatest trouble he had, that there was no ti­dings of him. He thereupon sent Messengers into all parts of Italy, with order to find him out, while they sought after Matilda; and when they had found him, to bring him back to Naples. It was his hope, that he should give Irene an assurance thereby how neerly her con­cerns touch'd him, and how great an affliction it was to him, that she knew not what was be­come of a Brother, who was so dear to her.

This Amorous Cavalier, ha­ving spent much time and dili­gence in quest of his exil'd Prin­cess, [Page 104]without any success, not so much as the satisfaction of ha­ving any tidings of her, wan­dred from place to place, as his Horse was pleas'd to carry him, not making stay at any, but when his own Horse, & also that of his Servants, whose thoughts were not so much bent upon the retrival of the Princess of Ta­rentum, as his Masters, needed rest and refreshment. For the latter abating only the little time that sleep forc'd it self up­on him, it may be said, he took as little rest as a damned Soul, and after he had spent whole days in sighing on Horse-back, he many times trifled away the succedent Nights, in making his complaints to the Rocks and Trees of the cruelty and absence of Matilda, and in quarrelling with the innocent Stars, which [Page 105]often shin'd to his great conve­nience, since he for the most part took up his lodging in the open Fields, and had no other Canopy then that of the Hea­vens.

It happen'd one day, that, being so orepress'd with sadness, he little reflected that his Ser­vant and Horses could not feed on amorous thoughts, as he did, he was got, about Sun set to an obscure Inn, which look'd more like a Rendezvous for Bandits and Rogues, then a place of en­tertainment for Travellers Hippolito was riding on, for Lo­vers are indefatigable, when his Servant represented to him, that their Horses were not able to travel any further, by reason of weariness and want of meat, not speaking any thing of himself, who stood in no less need of re­freshment [Page 106]and rest. The despair­ing Lover was content upon this remonstrance to alight; but the Master of that wretched recep­tacle, who stood at the door, with his Wife, and another per­son of a mischievous look, and one that seem'd to be somewhat of a Souldier, came and told him bluntly, that he had no ac­commodation for him, and that both his House and Stable were full. Hippolito was nothing troubled at that disappoint­ment, and would have kept on his way, whereat his Servant was enrag'd, when the Souldier, who accompany'd the Host, after he had whisper'd him somewhat in the Ear, comes to Hippolito, and fells him in the Calabrian Lan­guage, that he might alight, that he would heartily resign his Chamber, for the entertainment [Page 107]of so noble a person as he seem'd to be; and upon the difficulty which Hippolito made of accept­ing so kind a proffer, the Host himself, who had before been so churlish, came and held the Stir­rup for him to get off his Horse, looking on him with a smiling countenance, which might have sufficiently discover'd the treacherous intentions of the person.

With these civilities is Hippo­lito conducted by the Master of the House, and the Souldier, like an Ambassador, into the Inn. He had no mind to eat any thing, and having drunk on­ly a glass of water (for Love is dry) he went out to take a walk at a place fit enough for the humouring of his Melan­choly thoughts, which he had observ'd not far from the Inn. [Page 108]His Servant in the mean time sate down to Supper with the host, his wife, and the civil Cala­brian, who had so kindly re­sign'd his Lodging to Hippolito. He fed like one that had made an escape out of a Garrison be­sieg'd to the greatest extremi­ties, and drunk so liberally, as that he had only so much dis­cretion left, as might carry him to give his Master notice of Bed­time, which he was as likely a man to forget, as could have been wish'd.

He went out to look for him among certain Rocks, where at last he found him, deploring the sad posture of his affairs and affections, and brought him back to the Inn. They carried him up to a Chamber, suitable to the house, that is, furnish'd with a couple of wretched Beds, and [Page 109]the Partitions so bad, that wind and air came in of all sides. Hippolito laid himself down with his Cloaths on, upon one of the Beds, and his Servant did the like on the other, where, ha­ving his brains and his belly full, his bones were soon at rest, and he slept so soundly, as if he had done it to give his Master an example. Hippolito slept not, that is, he would not, for it is as great a reproach for a slighted Lover to take a good night's rest, as to commit some unwor­thy action.

It was not long ere all in the Inn were laid to take their re­pose, or seem'd to be so; and that there was a general cessa­tion of all noise, but snoring, when some people on Horse­back gave a sudden Alarm, and knock'd at the doors, as persons [Page 110]who were extreamly impatient to get in. The Host, who start­ed out of his Bed upon hearing of the noise, knew them, and presently let them in. A while after, Hippolito hears the door of the Chamber next adjoining to his own open'd, and several persons going into it, whereof some came presently out again, and the others, who continu'd there, had some discourse to­gether. The particular con­cerns of Hippolito were such as left him but little curiosity to make any enquiry into those of other people, and he had not listned to those persons whom he heard talking, if, upon their speaking sometimes louder then other, they had not given him occasion to observe one voice, which he thought was not un­known to him. He therefore [Page 111]kept in his breath, and listen'd to those who were talking, but could not hear what they said, till that towards the end of their discourse, one of them spoke so distinctly, that these words teach'd his Ear. ‘'Tis even so, my Dear Julia, and I tell thee again, that few persons of my quality have been so cruelly persecuted by Fortune, as my self. She hurries me into dis­graces beyond all former ex­ample, yet how great and in­sufferable soever they may be, I am less sensible of them, then of the ingratitude, wherewith the basest and unworthiest of men, hath requited the incli­nation I had to love him, and yet I must withal acknow­ledge, that this ingratitude of his towards me is a less discon­tent to me, then that which I [Page 112]my self am guilty of towards another. This is the only re­proach which perpetually at­tends me, and the remorse it gives me is a thousand times a greater torment to my thoughts, then all the losses I have receiv'd, and all the mise­ries and misfortunes I am now reduc'd to.’

Another person, who seem'd to make her some answer, spoke so low, that Hippolito could hear only some words, without any connexion, which were many times interrupted by sighs. He thereupon got up from the Bed, and drew neer the Partition, which divided the two Rooms; but the noise he made was over­heard, by those, to whom he would have listned, and so there was a cessation of discourse, but not of the sighs of that afflicted [Page 113]person, whose voice he thought should be that of Matilda. It may well be imagin'd that he was extreamly impatient to know whether he were mista­ken or not. To be satisfy'd therefore of so important a doubt, he was preparing himself to get out of the Room, when of a sudden the door was open'd; upon which, by the light of dark Lanthorn, he perceives four men coming in to him with their Swords drawn, among whom he took notice of the Ca­labrian Souldier, and the Master of the House. If he were sur­priz'd to see those men come in­to his Chamber, which he might well think was not out of any good design, they on the other side were as much at a loss, that they found him not a sleep, as they expected to have done. [Page 114] Hippolito thereupon drawing his Sword, ask'd them what they came for to his room at that un­seasonable hour, and in that po­sture, and he no sooner observ'd them making ready to fall up­on him, instead of returning him any answer, but he charg'd them first, with so extraordina­ry rigour and dexterity, that he soon forc'd them to find out their way out of the room. His man in the mean time awak'd; run to the place where the noise call'd him, and seeing his Master set upon by so many Enemies, he reliev'd him with much valour; but ere he came in, Hippolito had wounded two of those who were engag'd against him, and lay'd the most desperate of them dead at his feet. The Rogues fought and defended themselves with such [Page 115]animosity as if they expected no Quarter, but though there had been a greater number of them then there was, they could have made no long resistance against the valiant Hippolito, seconded by a servant so couragious as his was. He afterwards dispatch'd another of his enemies, and the other two made a shift to escape. He was slightly wounded in one Arm, whereat he was so incens'd, that he would needs pursue them, and it is not unlikely he would have disburthen'd the World of those two Villains, as he had done of their Compani­ons, if, amidst the astonishment those lewd men were in, they had not bethought themselves of the only expedient they had left, which was, to make a fair jump of a whole pair of stairs, and to shut the door after them. [Page 116] Hippolito was a good while ere he could get it open, by which means the two murtherers got away, and vanish'd, so that he and his Servant made a fruitless fearch after them. At last he return'd to the Inn, and went up to the Chamber, where he thought he had heard Matilda's voice. He found it open, and empty, as were also all the other rooms in the house, which he search'd with no less exactness then disquiet. ‘Fulvio, said he to his Servant, I have heard Matilda speak, and I presently knew her by her voice, and none but a person damn'd to misfortune, as I am, would have mist her, after he had been so near her.’

He thereupon related to Ful­vio the words he had heard Ma­tilda speak, constru'd them as [Page 117]much as he could to his own ad­vantage, as he had indeed some reason to do, and instead of de­riving any comfort thence, his affliction was the rather aug­mented, out of a perswasion that Fortune had not done him the kindness to let him hear the voice of Matilda, out of any other end, then that from his not seeing her, and not knowing what was become of her, his discontent might be the greater. He thereupon went out again to make enquiry after the Princess in all the places thereabouts, and when he had done so, to as little purpose as before, he was so simple as to return back again to look for her in the Inn, where he met with an absolute soli­tude, unless it were in the Sta­ble, out of which Fulvio brought four Horses, besides his Master's and his own.

Hippolito left the Inn, the most disconsolate Person in the world; Fulvio propos'd to him the car­rying away of their Horses, who intended to have been their Mur­therers, as being lawful pillage, and represented to him, that possibly they might find Matil­da, and so they should have a convenience to mount her, and what company she might have with her. Hippolito minded not what he had said, or vouch­safed not to make him any an­swer, so much were his thoughts orewhelm'd with sorrow: Ful­vio took his Masters silence for consent, and having fasten'd the four horses one to another by the tails, drove them before him, with a design haply to make mony of them, with the first opportunity.

They rode up and down a [Page 119]good part of the day, ere Hip­polito would so much as open his mouth to make any answer to the several questions put to him by Fulvio, to divert him from his sadness. They lost their way, and were got amongst a Company of barren Rocks, which seem'd strangely shuffled together along the Sea­side, at the end whereof there was a sandy plain. Amidst these rocks, at a place where the Sea made a little encroachment [...]nto the Land more then at any other, they fell in amongst a company of Country-people, arm'd with Cudgels, Clubs, Pitch-Forks, Halberds, and what other Arms they could get. At first sight, they were somewhat surpriz'd at the sud­den appearance of two men on Horseback, and accompany'd [Page 120]by so many unmounted Horses: but seeing their number so small, and deriving a confidence from the greatness of their own, which might amount to above a hundred men; they tumul­tuously surrounded those who haply had put them into a little fright, and directed the points of their rusty Arms against them. Some cry'd out, who goes there? Others, what are you? Others, down with them. Others, whence come you? It was a hard task for Hippolito to have answer'd so many Interrogatories put to him at once, and if he could have done it, the confus'd multitude, which made a noise greater then that of a Conventicle of infernal Spirits, at the consecration of a Conjurer, would not have heard him. At length, a certain anci­ent [Page 121]and grave person, who made it appear afterwards, that he had some command over them (for then there was nothing to be seen of it) with extraordina­ry calling upon them, which oc­casion'd him a troublesome cough, as also with a few basti­nadoes bestow'd on some of them, caus'd a cessation of their talking so loud, though not of their grumbling. He comes up to Hippolito, and mildly ask'd him who he was, and what he sought in so solitary a place, and so far distant from the Road. Hippolito told him he was a Gen­tleman of Naples, and that he was going towards Ancona, but had lost his way. He thereupon ask'd the Commander in chief of that hastily-armed crue, up­on what design he had got toge­ther so great a number of peo­ple; [Page 122]and he was inform'd by him, that certain Moorish Gali­ots, which had been seen cruze­ing along the Coast had landed a considerable number of Soul­diers, who had Pillag'd some places neer the Sea-side, and up­on the little opposition which had been made against them, or rather out of a covetousness of greater booty, were impru­dently got further into the Country. He added, that most of those whom he saw in arms with him, had been plunder'd by them, and were resolv'd un­der his conduct to venture an engagement with them, as they return'd loaden with slaves and pillage, from a Village where in all likelihood they would not leave behind them, but only what they could not bring away; that they must of necessity [Page 123]fall into their hands, there being but that only passage for them to get back to the Sea-side; and that the loss of their goods did not so much animate those Pea­sants to that generous attempt, as that of their Wives and Children.

Hippolito was so mov'd at the relation of the old man, that he proffer'd to expose his life in their quarrel. They took him at his word; and the old Blade resign'd his command to him, which he accepted of, and he prevail'd with his Companions to consent thereto, who from the gallant demeanour of Hip­polito, deriv'd no small confi­dence of their good success. They mounted the four horses which the precautious Fulvio had brought away from the Inn, with four of the most likely per­sons [Page 124]among them, whereof the old Blade was one. Hippolito divided his men into three par­ties; he posted one amongst the Rocks, where they could not be descry'd by their Enemies, with order they should not come out to fight, till they saw them and the enemies engag'd: he planted another party in a narrow passage, which led to the Sea-side, to prevent the com­ing up of the Infidels that way; and he himself with his Horse march'd before the third party, exhorting his people to behave themselves valiantly, and to close with the enemies as soon as they could, so to prevent the advantage they might otherwise make of their Arrows.

He had no sooner made an end of giving out his orders, after he had appointed his peo­ple [Page 125]their several Posts, but the enemy appear'd, to the number of about a hundred and fifty men, in the midst whereof there marched several Horses loaden with booty, and follow'd by the Women and Children, whom they brought away as Slaves. The Moors, who expected not to carry off so considerable a booty without some blows, were not at all daunted to see Hippolito and his Troop march­ing up towards them, or haply slighted them by reason of the smallness of their number, nay possibly accounted them an aug­mentation of the prey. I shall not trouble my self, or Reader, with a particular description of an engagement between a party of Turkish Pirates, and a Com­pany of Country people confu­sedly shuffled together, though [Page 126]the transcendent actions which Hippolito did, upon that occa­sion, deserv'd a recommendation to Posterity. I shall therefore only tell you, that his orders were punctually executed, that the Moors were prevented ma­king any advantage of their Ar­rows, by his sudden falling in upon them; that he began their defeat, by the death of their Chief Commander, and put a period thereto by ridding out of his way, and the World, the most resolute among the Moors. The Peasants being by that time a little flesh'd with their good success, knock'd down without any mercy as well those who fought to the last Gasp, as those who laid down their Arms and cry'd Quarter, notwithstanding all the endeavours of Hippolito for a cessation of the Massacre. [Page 127]The dead were regretted, as much as the common joy would permit, and the wounded were look'd to. Hippolito receiv'd a thousand acknowledgments, and as many thanks, from those poor people, who attributed all their success to his valour and con­duct. While he was refusing the richest part of the spoils, where­of they would have made him a present, and would not do them the kindness to go along with them to refresh himself af­ter his Victory, Fulvio brought up to him two Women, in Pil­grims habit, whereof one had no sooner taken off her head a great broad-brim'd Hat, which eclipsed all her face, but he found her to be his Mistress Ma­tilda. He alighted, or rather flung himself down off his Horse, and cast himself at the [Page 128]feet of his Princess, who embrac'd him with such demonstrations of tenderness, as made him for­get all the former disobliging re­turns he bad receiv'd from her, occasion'd by the tyranny of the Prince of Salerna. This faith­ful Lover was not able to be­think himself of complements pathetical enough to express the joy and satisfaction it was to him, that he had found her: ne­ver did he discover less elo­quence in his discourse, and ne­ver could he have better per­swaded what he desir'd, then he did then by the disorder of his thoughts, and the loss he seem'd to be at, as to what he would have said.

He was in suspence a while, whether he should acquaint Ma­tilda with the pains he had ta­ken in quest of her, and the ex­cess [Page 129]of his modesty made him so reserv'd, as that he would have forborn making any ad­vantage of what he had done, though he could not well have done so without being unjust to himself. Yet at last he assum'd the confidence to give her a faithful account of all his adven­tures, ever since his departure from Naples, to look after her, and forgot not what had hap­pen'd to him at the Inn, where he thought he had heard her voice.

Matilda satisfy'd him how ex­treamly sensible she was of these fresh obligations, which he had laid upon her, and told him, that she ought him her honour and her life, since the defeat of the Moors was the effect of his va­lour and conduct. She acknow­ledg'd it was no other then her [Page 130]self, whom he had heard so near him in the Inn; promis'd to ac­quaint him by what adventure she had been brought thither, and to give him a relation of what else had befallen her, when there were a fitter opportunity to do it, and that she might do it without making others privy thereto.

The other Female in Pilgrim's habit, who accompany'd Matil­da, was one of the Women that waited on her, named Julia, who only, of all her Servants, had been so faithful to her La­dy, as to participate of her for­tunes, and bare a share of what­ever might happen to her. It is to be imagin'd that Fulvio and she consider'd that happy meet­ing as a kind of Jubilee; and for my part, I am apt to believe, that the complements upon the [Page 131]rencounter were very pleasant and witty, and (if I may presume to venture upon a new expressi­on) the subalternate discoveries of their eloquence were trans­cendent upon that occasion.

The victorious Peasants, who had observ'd Hippolito, and Matilda's taking acqualntance one with another, renew'd their proffers of entertainment to Hippolito; who then made no difficulty to accept of them, up­on account of the Princess. A­mong others, the ancient Com­mander in chief, who, as I have already told you, had brought the Peasants into the field, and commanded the ragged Regi­ment, before Hippolito came up to them, intreated him and Ma­tilda also, that he might have the honour to lodge them; which they granted him. He [Page 132]thereupon sent away one of his Sons, to take order for their re­ception, at a pretty convenient house, which he had at the next adjoyning Village.

'Twas now time to think of a departure thence, and the Victo­rious Army would have dis­banded, had it not been thought civility to wait on Hippolito to his new Quarters. Matilda and Julia were mounted on the best Horses could be found. Among the many women who had been rescu'd out of the hands of the Moors, Fulvio took notice of one whom he conceiv'd he had seen somewhere, and who would have avoided him, as if she had known him, and was unwilling to be known by him. At last he got neer her, and knew her to be the Host's Wife, who would have murther'd them at the Inn. [Page 133]He went and acquainted his Master with it, having first or­der'd some of the Peasants to take her into their Custody.

Hippolito and Matilda with their retinue were entertain'd at the old Man's who was to be their Host, with all the kindness and good looks which could be expected from persons who thought themselves infinitely oblig'd, and would make all the expressions they could of their gratitude. The Peasants who liv'd in the same Village repair'd to their own Houses, and those who liv'd at a greater distance took their way homewards, to enjoy themselves and be merry after their Victory.

Hippolito order'd to be brought before him the Host's Wife, whom Fulvio had caus'd to be secur'd; and upon the [Page 134]first threats of imprisonment, she confess'd, that their Inn was a Rendezvous of Bandits, and High-way-men; that her Hus­band held a correspondence with all such who haunted those parts, and that his refusal of en­tertainment to Hippolito at his first coming to their house pro­ceeded from his expectation, that night, of a notorious Rob­ber, Camerade to the Calabrian whom he had seen at the Inn, to confer together about a Rob­bery they intended to commit the next day. She further ac­quainted Hippolito, that the kindness which the Calabrian pretended to do in resigning him his Chamber, was only out of a design to rob and murther him that night. The Story gives no account of what was done to this woman, after she [Page 135]had discover'd to them all they would have known of her.

Supper-time drew on, and Hippolito and Matilda, the bet­ter to disguize their condition, would needs have Fulvio and Julia, the old man and all his family to sit down at table with them. After the repast (which I suppose was soon ended, be­cause they had not had time to make great provision) Matilda would not suffer Hippolito to continue any longer in the im­patience of being inform'd of her adventures, and having an account by what traverses of fortune she was brought to the Inn, and afterwards fell into the hands of the Moors.

‘After the command I had receiv'd from the King to de­part Naples, said she to him, and that through the great preva­lence [Page 136]of my enemies, I had but that very night allow'd me, to put my self into a readiness to comply with so rigorous an order, I implor'd the assistance of those about the Court, whom I thought I had oblig'd to be my Friends; but I found, to my regret, that they were only such to me proportionably to my prosperity. I had yet this greater affliction, that all my Servants forsook me, save only Julia. She had a Bro­ther married in Naples, who prov'd so generous, as to quit his family and the concerns of his profession, upon the en­treaty of his Sister, and to pre­sent his service, for my con­duct, to what place I should pitch upon for my retreat. It is to his diligence I am to attri­bute it, that though the order [Page 137]for my departure from Naples was brought me with the night, yet I was in a readiness to leave it before the next morning. Our Pilgrims ha­bits of Loretto disguiz'd us so, as that there was no notice ta­ken of us at our going out at the Gates. I travell'd that day as far as a young person of my Sex could have done, who was not wont to go much a-foot; and we continu'd our Pilgri­mage several dayes after, with­out any cross adventures. Ye­sterday, somewhat late in the Evening; we were met in a nar­row passage by three men on Horseback, whose looks as­sur'd us they were engag'd in some mischievous design. I would have shunn'd them, but did it with so much precipita­tion, and so unfortunately, that, [Page 138]my foot slipping, I fell down at their Horses feet, which forc'd them to make a sudden halt. A great hat which co­ver'd my face, fell off my head; my Head-Cloaths were loose, and my Hair, wherewith I am well stor'd, came down over my face, and some part of my body. My misfortune would have it so, that those men ob­serv'd somewhat in me which they fancied. They had some discourse together, and soon after alighted; one of them laid hold on Julia, another on me, and the third was engag'd with Julia's Brother, who had put himself into a posture to rescue us, and whom we soon saw laid on the ground, run through the body with a Sword. From all the misfor­tunes that have happen'd to [Page 139]me, and which, of a Princess in all appearance happy, have re­duc'd to the greatest miseries of any person in the World, I have reason to make this in­ference, that all humane pru­dence, and precaution cannot divert the designs of Fortune. We must let her take her own course, and assume a perswa­sion, that her inconstancy, which hath made us feel her malice, when we thought our selves most in a condition to defy it, may restore us to her friendship, when we have least occasion to expect it. Upon this reflection am I fully re­solv'd, continu'd Matilda, hum­bly to comply with Heaven's disposal of me; and according to that resolution was it, that, when I saw my self at the mercy of those unknown per­sons, [Page 140]I spar'd them the doing me any violence to get upon one of their Horses, since I doubted not but they would have done it by force; and that though I was fallen into their hands, yet death would deliver me out of them, if e­ver their insolence should con­strain me to make use of that extream remedy. Julia, who had lost her Brother in the en­counter, could not for bear la­mentations, yet suffer'd her self to be brought away in the midst of them, without any opposition. It was after night ere we got to the Inn, where you heard my voice. At the first hearing of your engage­ment with those Robbers, we were extreamly frighted; but when you had forc'd them out of the Inn, and that we heard [Page 141]no further noise, Julia and I got out of the room where we were. The solitude we met with wherever we came, in­spir'd us with a resolution to make our escape at a back door of the Garden, which hap­pen'd to be open, and the fear of being overtaken and brought back again, oblig'd us to make all the hast we could to get away. We travell'd all the remainder of that night, and a good part of the day, till the heat of the Sun and our own weariness, forc'd us to repose our selves amongst certain Rocks, not far from this place, whither we were invited by the shadiness, and where we were found fast asleep by the Moores, whom you have this day so fortunately defeated.’

Matilda concluded the rela­tion of her adventures with new protestations to Hippolito that she would never forget what he had done for her. She would not acquaint him with the place where she intended to make her retirement, nor did he press her to do it. Her de­sign'd refuge was to be at the house, or palace, of one o [...] those petty Princes of Italy, o [...] whom there is good store in that Country; for he that ha [...] money may soon be Highness there. 'Twere easie for me to create a title according to my own fancy, since the History names not him, at whose habi­tation she retir'd her self; but his name would not contribute any thing of beauty or advan­tage to my Relation. Hippo­lito proffer'd to conduct her to [Page 143]the place whither she intended to go; but she would not by any means permit him, and with as much ado was she per­swaded, at the earnest intreaties of the officious Cavalier, to take his Servant Fulvio and his Horses, to carry her and Julia.

I shall not here excite a sor­row in the compassionate Rea­der, by giving him an account how mournfully Hippolito took his leave of her. I shall, with­out giving him the trouble of any reflection of mine by the way, bring her to Ancona, where she sold some Jewels, and bring back the disconsolate Hippolito to the smoaky ruins of his burnt house, whither he got without mony, and of all his Estate ha­ving nothing he could call his own, but the Horse that was [Page 144]under him. He was hardly alighted ere he was accosted by a Gentleman of Naples, who was riding up and down at random, in quest of Matilda, as did also several others, whom the King had sent into all parts of Italy to find her out. He was in­form'd by this Gentleman, how Rogero was fallen into disgrace; how Matilda's innocence came to be known and vindicated; the orders the King had granted for the finding of her out, and whatever else had pass'd at Na­ples, since he had left it, only he made not the least mention of the violent Love which the King had for Irene, which was generally known to all, and whereof this Cavalier gave Hip­polito no information at all, ei­ther out of an excess of discre­tion, or for some other reason, [Page 145]which I know not. You may well imagine, that Hippolito, a person so generous as he was, and loving Matilda beyond himself, was extreamly glad to hear of this revolution in her concerns, though he at the same time understood that his own made nearer and nearer ap­proaches to the precipice of misfortune; the said Gentleman having assur'd him, that the King had promised the Prince of Salerna, that he and the Prin­cess of Tarentum should secure their loves by the solemnities of marriage, as soon as she were return'd to Naples.

Hippolito intended to have made his appearance at Court, but he was so thunder-struck at this last news, that he resolv'd never to see it more. Nay his very life grew a burthen to him, [Page 146]and he so shunn'd the conversa­tion of all sorts of persons, that he last of all the Kingdom knew, that his Sister was look'd on as the Beauty who had an abso­lute soveraignty over the King's inclinations.

In the mean time, Matilda could not be found, and though the Gentleman, whom Hippolito met, had been at Ancona, where he told him that he had left her, yet could he not get any tidings of her, notwithstanding all the enquiry he had made after her. There was a report spread abroad of the death of that Princess, with all the particular circumstances of it, and that report came to the Ears of Hip­polito, who took it so heavily, that he was very far in his way after her. But at length he re­cover'd of the sickness it had [Page 147]put him into, and the indisposi­tion of his mind abated pro­portionably to the reassumption of his strength and Spirits.

He sometimes went abroad to take the air on Horseback along the Sea-side, and it was in one of those disconsolate diver­sions of his thoughts, that, after several reflections made on the misfortunes of his life, he re­solv'd to give it a period in the War, which some of the Greci­an Princes were then engag'd in against the Turks, who out of Asia began to make their incur­sions into Europe. But Matilda was at last found out, and Hip­polito was so overjoy'd thereat, that he bestow'd his Horse, that is, all he had left him, on the person who brought him the news of it.

The same day, his Servant [Page 148] Fulvio came and found him out, and was much astonish'd to see his Master so extreamly cast down, and in very ill equipage, at a time when there was no other talk all over Italy, then of the great influence which his Sister Irene had over the King, and the affection he had for her. He acquainted Hippolito with the name of that Prince, at whose house Matilda had re­tir'd her self; how that Pros­pero was come thither from the King, with order to bring her back to Naples; and according to the commendable custom of Servants, of being over-hasty to tell their Masters bad news, he represented, to his, the joy which Matilda express'd at the sight of Prospero, much greater then it was, and insisted parti­cularly on the assurances of af­fection [Page 149]which she gave him. ‘Nay, the expressions of her love towards him, added this indiscreet Servant, were so re­markable, that she would a­dorn her self with the old Hat, of which Prospero had some­time made her a present, which he had so often reproach'd her with, as an extravagance of his generosity, and which was so well known in Naples by the drollery it occasion'd about the Court. I know not what De­vil she had entrusted with the keeping of it, that it could be found so of a sudden against Prospero's coming thither, which I believe was little ex­pected; but it may well be imagin'd she had a great esteem for it.’

With that honest Fulvio broke out into down-right rail­ing [Page 150]at the Princess of Tarentum, and that with so much invecti­on and bitterness, that Hippolito was forc'd to command him to be silent, and possibly would have bang'd him, had he conti­nued any longer speaking of her, without observance of that respect which he ought her. Fulvio told his Master further, that the Princess intreated him to meet her in the way to Na­ples. ‘How! cryes out Hippo­lito, is it not a sufficient afflicti­on to me, that she loves me not, but she must adde to that af­fliction, by obliging me to be an Eye-witness how much she loves another? Must I needs be present at her caresles of Prospero, purposely that he may have the satisfaction to see me dy with grief, as if there wanted nothing but my death [Page 151]to compleat their felicity? But — she must be obey'd, though it were only to see, to what extremity she can be un­just.’

He was in as good an humour to bemoan himself as man could be, and it is likely he would have acquitted himself of it propor­tionably to the occasion he had to do it, when he observes com­ing up towards him a considera­ble party of Horse, which Ful­vio assur'd him was that which conducted the Princess of Ta­rentum, who out of a design to see Hippolito, had taken her way by his house, where she was in hopes to meet with him. And for that reason, though the King had sent some of his Coaches to meet her, yet was she resolv'd to make her entrance into Naples on Horseback.

Prospero looking on himself as the best mounted, priding in his Plumes, as if he had been some Indian Emperour, thought it his place to ride next Matilda, who was not a little importun'd with his old expressions of Court­ship. But if the persecution had ended with them, her pati­ence had not been so much ex­ercis'd; she must also lend her attention, or pretend it, to some amorous Songs, and the relati­on of what remarkable things had happen'd at Naples since her departure thence, and what new Plays had been acted, and how they took.

On the other side, Hippolito, melancholy to extremity, and making a discontented compa­rison, between his former mag­nificent appearances, and the mean equipage he was then in, [Page 153]would gladly have shunn'd the sight of Matilda and his Rival, especially being attended as they were by so great a con­course of people. But Matilda, who had him in her Eye at a great distance, and knew him, haply by reason of Fulvio, who had left her but a little while before, rode up to him, which oblig'd Prospero and the rest of the Company to do the like.

Matilda could not but ob­serve how much Hippolito was surpriz'd at her coming, yet, to make one further tryal of his constancy, by reproaching him with a neglect in coming to meet her, and to congratulate that happy reverse of her con­dition. ‘How! said she to him, is this Hippolito, the ge­nerous Hippolito, the best of [Page 154]my Friends, the noble rescuer of my Life and Honour, and not give me the meeting upon this strange turn of my desti­ny? How much am I the more oblig'd to these noble persons, who though they were invisi­ble during the eclipse of my fortunes, yet have come so far to express their joy at the re­covery of my former lustre? if I am not to consider their civilities as rendred rather to the Prince of Salerna, then my self. I have been so persecu­ted by the Goddess who rides not in the Chariot, but is turn'd about with the Wheels of it, that I do not think my self yet so far out of the reach of mis­fortune, as that I may not stand in need of an Hippolito, when I have the least hope or thought of his assistance.’

Hippolito had no answer to make, but to assure her by Oaths and protestations, that he had but just then heard of her happy return, adding with­al, that if he had had intelli­gence of it sooner, he should have forborn meeting her, out of a fear, that a person so irre­coverably unfortunate, as he was, might have interrupted the publick joy. This respectful reply begat a compassion in Matilda towards that faithful Lover, and that oblig'd her to assure him, that it would have much disturb'd her particular satisfaction, if she had not meet with him. She thereupon de­sir'd him to participate of her good fortune, since he had shewn himself the most con­cern'd in her adversities; telling, him, that being now fully re­solv'd [Page 156]to dispose of her self in marriage, as having found by woful experiences, that a young Princess, destitute of Relations, stood in need of a Husband to vindicate and direct her; and that having already cast her Eye on him, whom she would make Prince of Tarentum, it was her desire, he would honour her with his presence at the Nup­tials, which she would be very unwilling to have celebrated without him.

Prospero imagining himself the person principally concern'd in that affair, added his intreaties to those of the Princess, and, contrary to his custom, spoke with much civility to his Rival, accompany'd with greater ca­resses then ever would have been expected from him. An unfortunate person, who des­pairs [Page 157]of seeing any period of his misery, explicates all things to his own disadvantage, as one desperately sick turns all manner of good aliment into poison, Hippolito entertain'd all these civilities and expressions of Ma­tilda as new cruelties, which she would exercise upon him. He was not able to comprehend, how her heart could be so far petrify'd towards him, as to de­sire he would be a Spectator of the ceremonies of her Nuptials. He was absolutely at a loss what answer to make her, and could only look on her with a certain amazement. His faithful Ser­vant Fulvio was as much scan­daliz'd at it, as he. He stood behind his Master venting his indignation in bitter curses, and wishes, that they had rather fal­len by the hands of the Mur­therers, [Page 158]or the Moors, then be reduc'd to the extremities they were then in, and at last he pre­sum'd to whisper his Master in the Ear with an execrable Oath, that he should not go, and that Matilda was a person irrecove­rably lost to all shame, to in­vite him to her Nuptials with Prospero.

In the mean time, Hippolito could give no great attention to the advice of his Man, in regard Matilda reiterated her intrea­ties, and with so much impor­tunity, that he could not deny her. She would have him im­mediately mount a Horse, which she had purposely order'd to be brought for him, and it may be, he was not then so well accou­tred as to have his Boots on. Thus was Hippolito with many sair words courted a Horse back, [Page 159]but extreamly out of counte­nance, and humour, riding of one side of Matilda, who on the other had the Prince of Salerna. The Princess satisfy'd that she had prosecuted her design so as to get his Company, made him the only subject of her discourse. She took occasion to discover how infinitely she was oblig'd to him, and gave all those, who were neer enough to hear her, a particular relation of all the gallant actions perform'd by Hippolito, as well against the Robbers who intended to mur­ther him at the Inn, as against the Moors, whom he defeated afterwards, with a small party of Peasants little acquainted with the business of fighting, though the former had very much the advantage as to num­ber.

This discourse was perfect discord to the Ears of Prospero, and therefore to interrupt her, he must needs, how imperti­nently it matters not, bring in the story of his atchievements, the night that Rogero was taken, and tell them, with what speed he had pursu'd that Calixtus, of whom we have elsewhere spo­ken, as one privy to the corres­pondence which that pernicious Minister held with the Enemies of his Prince. Matilda gave him no great attention, and still directed her discourse to Hippo­lito, though he made little an­swer to any thing she said to him. But Prospero, upon the least occasion, falling afresh up­on the same discourse, would be heard, though with the dissatis­faction of those from whom he expected audience; and not­withstanding [Page 161]whatever others had to say, yet would he not have any thing heeded, but his insisting still on the important service he had done the State and Matilda, in running after that Calixtus, so great a privi­ledge of talking did he assume to himself.

He would have mortify'd the Company much longer with an account of that noble exploit, if the King had not appear'd, attended by all the gallantry of both Sexes about Court and City. Prospero express'd much joy at the King's advance, as conceiving, the accomplishment of his happiness neer at hand; Matilda and the Company look'd on it as a welcom deli­verance from his impertinent talk. He rode up to the King, not knowing why he did it, and [Page 162]soon after return'd again to Ma­tilda, then to the King again, till at last, like a Muscovian In­terpreter at the reception of a Forreign Ambassador upon the Frontiers, both parties were got so near, that he thought it time to present Matilda to his Ma­jesty, though there was no ne­cessity of his taking that trouble upon him. She was receiv'd by the King as kindly as she could have wish'd. He made his ex­cuses to her, as to the violence and injustice had been done her; charg'd Rogero with all, and for reparation of the injuries she had receiv'd through the mali­cious contrivances of that dis­grac'd Favourite, he bestow'd on her one of the most conside­rable Counties in the Kingdom. Prospero, thinking himself ob­lig'd to make acknowledgments [Page 163]of that Princely boon no less then Matilda, would needs pre­vent her in the doing of it, but in the midst of his complement brought in his adventure of run­ing after Calixtus, as if the King had done it as much out of a consideration of that service of his, as the sufferings of Matilda. But Matilda, taking her turn to express her gratitude to his Ma­jesty, acquitted her self so well, that the Audience were at a loss whether more to admire her humility, or her wit. I shall not here undertake to make a recital of the excellent expres­sions, whereby she discover'd her resentments of the King's innocence as to all the disasters she had weather'd out, and those of her own gratitude upon this unexpected liberality. I shall only tell you they had the [Page 164]general applause of all that were present, as I have been assur'd by creditable testimonies. Prospero observing that Matilda had done speaking to the King, who was casting his Eye about to see what other persons he might take no­tice of, would have added something to what she had said; but mistrusting it was more likely he would have come off with disgrace, he wisely for­bore it.

While the King, the Prince of Salerna, and Matilda were thus engag'd, Irene was gone to Hippolito, whom her eye had singled out, though he stood behind several other persons; and perceiving she was out of the King's sight, she cast her self about the neck of that dear Brother, for whom she had shed so many tears, and could not [Page 165]even then forbear the doing of it. Hippolito who lov'd Irene no less then a Sister so amiable and obliging could deserve, en­tertain'd her with such demon­strations of affection and kind­ness, as might have rais'd a sym­pathy in those among the spe­ctators whose hearts were most petrify'd into an insensibility of passion, so strangely was his, as it were, dissolv'd, at that hap­py interview. The King, ha­ving disengag'd himself from Prospero, look'd about for Irene, for he could not be long with­out her, and having perceiv'd her with her Brother, his amo­rous impatience was such, that he would needs ride up to her. He treated not Hippolito as a simple Subject, when she pre­sented him to his Majesty. Ma­tilda, Camilla, Prospero, and [Page 166]what other persons of quality were got neer the King, might easily observe that he spoke to Hippolito after such a manner, as argu'd that Cavalier was in a fair way to rise at Court. But all the King's kind expressions and looks were not powerful enough to dispel from his coun­tenance, that cloud of sadness, wherewith it was overcast, by the serenity observable in that of his Rival, whose satisfaction seem'd so great, that all others were dissatisfied thereat.

In the mean time, the Sun darting his perpendicular rayes on that Courtly Assembly, grew too warm for some heads among them, especially such as were most inclin'd to bald­ness, of whom such as wore Periwigs had then the ad­vantage. All the Gnats, whose [Page 167]habitations are much about the Sea-side; the flies that sported themselves about the adjacent places; those which waited on their Horses, who waited on the King from Naples; those also which had taken a greater Pro­gress with those persons who ac­company'd Matilda; in fine, all those wing'd Insects, which we may call the Parasites of the Air, seem'd to have appointed a Rendezvous at the place where these great persons met, with a design to torment both Horse and Man, as much as lay in their little power, and of those Hor­ses, the most expos'd to the ani­mosity of the flies were such as had shortest tails. The Um­brelloes indeed did in some measure secure, such as had them, against the heat of the Sun, but not against the rever­beration [Page 168]of the scorch'd earth, and the Clouds of dust, which the Sistole and Diastole of the Lungs, commonly called Respi­ration, forc'd into the throats of most there, even of the King himself. In a word, the place was not maintainable any long­er; but, to the greater perse­cution of those, who were most unmercifully treated by the Sun and the Flies, the King thought no time long to be where Irene was, nor had he yet disbur­then'd himself of all he had to say to Matilda. He therefore spoke to her, loud enough to be heard by those who were within any convenient distance of him, in these terms; for I have the relation of this pas­sage, verbatim, as I may say, from one who took what the King said, word for word, by [Page 169]the Art of Memory, the time and place being very unfit for the doing of it by Cha­racters.

‘Fair Princess of Tarentum, said he to her, the persecutions you have suffer'd under my Reign, and, as I have already acknowledg'd, in some mea­sure by my orders, I must con­fess have been very great; and the reparation I have made you argues how far I am satis­fy'd of the injustice of your sufferings; yet shall I not think my self fully acquitted, till I have endeavour'd, to the ut­most of my power, to contri­bute as much to your future felicity, as I have done to your past misfortunes. It is not therefore enough, in my ap­prehension, that I have de­clar'd you innocent, that I [Page 170]have re-instated you, in all that had been unjustly detain'd from you, and that I have made an unexpected augmen­tation thereof, if I gain not your concurrence with the in­clinations which the Prince of Salerna hath to join with you in Matrimony. It is by the re­commendation I make you of this Prince, that I hope to can­cel some part of my obligations towards you, and it is by your acceptance of him, that I make account to recompence him, for the important services he hath done this State.’

‘Ah! my Liege, reply'd Ma­tilda, be pleas'd to be so cauti­ous in your desires of being just to Matilda, as that you be not unjust to Prospero. Acknow­ledgments may have their ex­cesses as well as ingratitude. [Page 171]You would not reward the Prince of Salerna proportio­nably to his merit, by only be­stowing on him the Princess of Tarentum; and by making me a present to that great Prince, you would bestow on me more then I have deserv'd. I am satisfy'd with your Majesty as far as it is possible I should be, and these last demonstrations of your munificence, where­with you have honour'd me, upon a consideration of my misfortunes, are so dear to me, that they will henceforward be the most pleasing object of my reflections. If therefore, your Majesty be so conscienti­ous in making satisfaction where you conceive your self oblig'd, and since Subjects ought to regulate their actions according to the examples gi­ven [Page 172]them by their Prince, will not your Majesty give me leave, now that I am in condi­tion and ability to acquit my self, to do it without any fur­ther delay, and to make my satisfaction proportionable to the services which have been done me? Approach then, brave and generous Hippolito, said she to that Cavalier, turn­ing her self towards him, and make your acknowledgments of my gratitude, after you have so long had cause to com­plain of my want of it. You have oblig'd me, by a love of many years standing, a love so violent, that all the traverses of my fortune, all the disasters that have happen'd to me, nay all my disdains have not been able to check into any remis­sion. I am indebted to you, [Page 173]besides the vast expences which that constant passion put you upon, besides the greatest part of your estate spent in the vin­dication of my quarrel, for your fair House, which was burnt upon my account. I am further to acknowledge that I owe you my honour and my life, which were in danger a­mongst Robbers and Moors; and I owe you also the life, which you hazarded to rescue me out of their hands. I am as desirous, generous Hippolito, to acquit my self of all these obligations, as I have been wil­ling to acknowledge them: but those which I have receiv'd from Prospero, as being the more ancient, are more pres­sing upon me, and may justly claim precedence of yours.’

Hippolito grew pale at these [Page 174]last words of Matilda; but pre­sently, that paleness dislodg'd, and a sudden Scene of blushing succeeded, as if he had summon'd all his blood and Spirits into his face. Prospero look'd on him with a smiling countenance, but whether it proceeded from pity or a secret insultation, none had the time to guess at: and com­posing his countenance into an amorous posture to look on Ma­tilda, he receiv'd her thoughts of him, and his pretensions to her, in these terms.

‘Prince of Salerna! you have taken much trouble upon you to induce me to a perswasion that you lov'd me from my Childhood; I am convinc'd, and have found, that you have always treated me like a Child, You always made it your busi­ness to keep her in awe, whom [Page 175]you call'd your little Mistress, and you have perpetually amus'd her with trifling Sto­ries and Songs, or persecuted her with your checks and re­proaches, and this at a time, when she expected more impor­tant services from you. In a word, the greatest demonstra­tion of Love you ever thought fit to make her, amounted on­ly to a plume of old Feathers, worn by you, haply ere she was born, which she promis'd you to keep, and now makes it ap­pear, that you cannot charge her with any breach of her word.’ With that, she took off her Head the Hat, where­with the Prince of Salerna had sometime presented her, and making him a return of the same present, she put this period to her discourse. ‘Dreadful [Page 176]Prince of Salerna! the no­ble expressions of your Love, Words, and Feathers, I here requite, by giving you a re­turn of the like; they may prove more fortunate in your future Addresses to some other Beauty then they have done to me, who thus disengag'd from you, bestow my self on Hippo­lito, and, by that ƲNEX­PECTED CHOICE, make him Prince of Tarentum, and account all I have little enough to satisfy my obligations to him, whom of all men I have found the most generous.’ She thereupon gave the Prince of Salerna his own fatal Hat, with one hand, and with the other fasten'd on that of the despair­ing Hippolito, who thencefor­ward ceas'd to be such and as little look'd for that unexpected [Page 177]happiness, as Prospero did for his Hat and Feathers.

The King and all there pre­sent were not a little surpris'd at this strange turn; but when he consider'd how much Irene was concern'd in that fortunate advancement of her Brother Hippolito, and the justice which was remarkable in the action of Matilda, he could not forbear approving it: And the com­mendation he thereupon gave that Princess, for her generous choice, kept the Prince of Sa­lerna from falling into those im­pertinences, which possibly his passion might otherwise make him guilty of. For no question but this Satyrical discarding of him by Matilda, when he so lit­tle imagin'd any such disaster neer him, and before so eminent a concourse of noble persons, [Page 178]struck him so to the heart, that he knew not which way to turn himself, such a conflict of shame, confusion, and distracted thoughts was there apparent in his very countenance. Nay he was so exasperated against Ma­tilda, that he would have vent­ed his indignation in railing at her, according to his magisteri­al custom of treating her, if the fear of displeasing his Prince, and the concern of his estate had not check'd his natural in­solence. His disturbance was so observable, that the King took pity on him, and presenting Ca­milla to him, after he had had some private discourse with her and Irene, he told Prospero, that so beautiful a Lady as she was, with all the estate and advantages, which her Brother Rogero had some [Page 179]time been possess'd of, might in some measure make him repa­ration for the loss of Matilda.

While the King was obliging the Prince of Salerna by this new overture, the whole Court was got about Matilda and Hip­polito, wishing them all the joys consequent to the just choice she had made of that faithful Lover. They were both of them put to the extremities of their eloquence to make returns answerable to the complements they receiv'd upon that occa­sion; and no question, at the long run, they would have been forc'd to repetitions: but the King came up very seasonably to their relief. ‘Fair Princess of Tarentum, said he to Ma­tilda, I am now convinc'd, that nothing argues a juster desert of greatness, then the imitati­on [Page 180]of great examples. Such have you given me in your choice of Hippolito, and requi­tal of those services of his, whereof he hardly imagin'd that you had any remem­brance. Irene is a person I conceive my self infinitely ob­lig'd to, upon the account of her beauty and that of her ver­tue; and, according to your ex­ample, I make her the greatest acknowledgments I can there­of, by making her this day Queen of Naples.’

This so unexpected a decla­ration of the King had such an effect on that noble Assem­bly, as it is more easie to imagine then express; and they were all more surpriz'd at it, then at that of Matilda. Irene, falling down at the King's feet, ex­press'd her humility and resig­nation, [Page 181]by her respects and si­lence. The King took her up, contenting himself then only with a kiss of her hand, and from that time treated her no otherwise then if she had been the greatest Queen in the World. They took their way towards Naples, where all hands and wits were set on work about the preparatives for the King's Nuptials, who order'd a short prorogation of those of Hippo­lito and Matilda, Prospero and Camilla, that one and the same day might be remarkable in all subsequent computations of time, for the solemnization of those three illustrious marria­ges. The King never had the least occasion to repent him of the choice he had made of Irene. Matilda, who was of so amorous a disposition, as to have [Page 182]lov'd the Prince of Salerna, much beyond what he deserv'd, and that upon no other ac­count then that he had been the first who had presented himself to be lov'd by her, had an af­fection for Hippolito consonant to the seasonable services he had done her, and the sincere Love whereby he was animated to the performance of them. On the other side, Hippolito could make no greater acknowledg­ments of that Unexpected Choice, which, of the most dis­consolate, had made him the most fortunate of all Lovers, then by loving her as entirely, now that he was her Husband, as he had done whilst a Gallant. Only Camilla was unfortunate in her match with Prospero: she durst not refuse him, out of a fear of incurring the King's dis­pleasure, [Page 183]who had promis'd Irene, that he would inflict no other punishment on Rogero, then that of a departure out of his territories. And so, to save her Brother's life, she made her own unhappy, by marrying an impertinent and a jealous Prince, who was thought ridi­culous enough before his Ad­dresses to Matilda, but, after her discarding him, with so re­markable an affront, became the scorn and derision of the Nea­politan Court.

FINIS.
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this EEBO-TCP Phase II text, in whole or in part.