LONDON, Printed by H. H. for Jonathan Edwin, at the Sign of the Three Roses on Ludgatehill. 1678.



An Historical Novel.
The First Part.

IT was about the Time when the War which had continued for so many Ages between the English and Welsh, seemed to be put to an end; and that these latter were believed for ever unable to retrive their losses, or defend their pretensi­sions; That Owen Tudor, one of their [Page 4] Princes, and whose Lineage they de­duced from Cadwalladar an ancient British King, endeavoured to mount the Throne. He found it no difficult matter to perswade the Welsh to rise in Arms; and that people dissatisfied with their new Masters, were ready to shed the last drop of their Blood in attempting to shake off that Yoke. Tudor was glad to find them so well inclined to the Execution of his de­sires; but their Aid seeming too weak fully to support his hopes, he betook himself to the Protection of the Kings of France and Scotland, who resolved to second him in his enterprises.

Henry the Fourth, newly Crown­ed King of England, no sooner un­derstood of the powerfull League that was formed against him; but that he on his part prepared vigo­rously for War; and having raised an Army of Forty thousand men, he marched towards Scotland at the [Page 5] head of it, where he met the enemy drawn up on the Borders. He offe­red them Battel, which was acce­pted; but the Scots had the worst of the day; Tudor was fain to flie for it; and the Earl of Doughlas, who commanded the Scots, was made Prisoner by Henry. The loss of that Battel put the Affairs of the Welsh Prince into a bad condition; and finding no other support but in the friendship of Charles the Sixth King of France; he retreated into his Dominions: where that Monarch received him more favourably than he could have expected in his adver­sity. The Grandee's of the King­dom imitated their Prince, and had so great respect for the merit of Tu­dor, that their civilities were suffi­cient to have made him forget all his losses, if he had proposed to him­self any thing but Glory. But it is very hard for such Souls as are born to command, to find satisfaction any [Page 6] other way than in the submission and obedience of Provinces; and that Prince would have willingly prefer­red the Crown of Wales, to all the Favours and Civilities which he received at the Court of Charles. Wherefore, he did all he could to procure from him assistance: But France was not at that time what before it had been; and after the unlucky accident which befell their King, and is mentioned in History, the Kingdom was so rent by the dif­ferent interests of the Princes of the Blood, that it had enough to do to maintain it self.

Tudor thus crossed in his designs, bore his misfortune, but not with­out much impatience; yet that was not all: Fate had new troubles in reserve for him; and he had never been sensible of the utmost effects of ill fortune, if he had not felt the pains which commonly attend a great but hopeless Love.

[Page 7] Charles had several Children by his Queen Isabell of Bavaria; and Catharine his youngest Daughter was justly esteemed one of the great­est Beauties, and most lovely persons that hath ever been. The Lustre of her presence surprized all that be­held her; and her Actions were ac­companied with so many Charms, that no heart was proof against her merit: Her Body was not inferiour to the Beauties of her Countenance; and in a word, she seemed to have been framed on purpose to inspire into Hearts the tenderest of Passi­ons.

Tudor at first beheld her with ad­miration; but seeing his Fortune had no Conformity with high designs, his reason at that time retained its authority; and that Princes thoughts were taken up as much at least with the sense of his Calamities, as with the Consideration of the perfections of Catharine. However he had a Heart [Page 8] like other Men; and he must needs have been of a very savage dispositi­on; if seeing daily the Princess, he had not been affected by her Beauty. He began to be a little more Melan­cholick than he used to be; or to say better, he changed his Melan­choly into a sweet and restless pen­siveness, and such as men common­ly fall into when a great passion be­gins to seize them. He well per­cieved in himself this change of hu­mour, and was displeased thereat; yet not so much as he would have been, had he fully known the cause of it. However he made some re­flexions on the complaisance that he had for the Princess; and seemed in­deed to have touched the right string, when he helped to beguile himself: In effect, after so many marks of goodness as Catharine had shewed him, he thought there could be no great danger in those little offices which he rendred her; and [Page 9] which he believed to be rather testi­monies of Gratitude than Love; but the effects which great obligations produce, are easily known; and though they make deep impression on gene­rous Souls, yet all things have their limits; and it is no hard matter to distinguish that which flows from Love, from the effects of a Heart that is only grateful. Neither did Tudor long continue in his error; and the earnest desire he had to be in all places where Catharine was, convinced him that civility did not commonly lead men so far; but that some extraordinary matter must needs have invaded his thoughts. That consideration made him afraid; so that endeavouring to prevent the troublesome consequences that might ensue from it, He employed all means to stifle his Affection in the Birth; and proposed to his own I­magination every thing that might represent to him the fatal effects of [Page 10] that attempt. But none, but such as have never been in Love, can think that from such like enterprises any success is to be expected; and expe­rience does too plainly evince, that Love is like to those snares, wherein the more men strive to get out, the more they entangle themselves.

Tudor had the same Fate as others have had; and all his reasonings ser­ved only to render him more Amo­rous. The Charms of Catharine presenting themselves in vast num­bers to his memory, he conceived so agreeable an Idea of the Prin­cesses perfections, as suddenly got the absolute Victory over his weak­ness. He found a Thousand delights in the conversation of that fair one; and in her Company he so much for­got the thoughts os all his misfor­tunes, that his greatest care was how he might appear agreeable to her Eyes. He was no more Tudor whom ambition tormented Day and Night; [Page 11] and that Passion which had so cruelly racked his Heart, since the first time that he had given way to it, gave place to those Sentiments, which to tender and affectionate Souls have far greater charms than the most glorious and magnificent Crowns. But how, said that Prince sometimes to himself: Dost thou consider, Tu­dor, what thou art about to do? what course is this thou art like to follow? Do Conquerours propose to thee this way to subdue thine ene­mies? what a shame is it for a Prince continued he, to give way to his pleasures, when his chief care should be to remount the Throne; and what a Joy will it be to Henry, when he shall understand that Tudor delights in servitude, at the same time when all his endeavours should be to shake off his Fetters. But thou art mi­staken, Owen! replied he immedi­ately; thy desires are not to be con­demned; and may not there be as [Page 12] much Policy as weakness in them; if they be rightly considered? is it not natural to implore the assistance of Neighbours when strength is wanting at home? and where canst thou imagine to find greater sup­port than in an Alliance with Charles, if thou couldst be so happy as to ob­tain it?

But these thoughts were not so well confirmed in his mind, as to banish all his troubles and distrust. He began to reflect on the greatness of Catharine, and his own misery; and was not so blinded with self­love, but that he knew very well that such a Princess as she was, merited all that he could pretend to, though he had been actually possessed of Ten Provinces; each of them as great as that for which he had taken Arms. He resolved therefore to suffer with­out speaking: and as there is nothing so bitter as desires without hopes, so it is not easie to conceive the [Page 13] pitiful estate to which he was redu­ced. He resolved oftner than once to retire from Court; but having cast his Eyes upon all the places whither he might convey his wretch­ed Fortune, he found every where so little security for his person, that necessity obliged him to remain where he was.

It was soon perceived that his sadness was extraordinary; but eve­ry one knew the condition of his Affairs: and they were desperate e­nough to hinder any from suspect­ing other grounds of his discontents, than what were visible to all men. All made it their business to com­fort him; and Catharine her self, who felt a kind of affectionate pitie for that Prince, which she had ne­ver before felt for any, told him, that one should not be so much de­jected at the accidents of Fortune; seeing daily experience made appear, that nothing was more fickle and [Page 14] unconstant, and that he should be perswaded, that she often heaped her favours on him whom she had im­mediately before oppressed with af­flictions.

Tudor answered as he ought to that obliging Discourse of the Prin­cess; but being resolved not to dis­cover to her the secrets of his heart, thought it enough to hint to her in the general, that his troubles were far different from what she believed; and that the greater ambition one had for high matters, the more la­mentable it was to see ones self out of hopes of attaining to them.

Their conversation was not very long; but as it served to poyson the wounds of Tudor, so it began to work strange effects in the Heart of Catharine: for seeing pitie does in­sensibly accustom us to tender Sen­timents, that Princess did habituate her self to a gentle compassion for Tudor; and thought her self only af­fected [Page 15] with his misfortunes, when she became sensible of his merit. That Prince was indeed endowed with most engaging qualities; for besides the excellent Beauty and Comeliness of Body, he possessed a gentile and pleasant Wit, which easily insinuates, and contributes as much to the Conquest of Hearts, as all the sparkling Lustre of the World. The Princess on her part fell likewise in­to a kind of pensiveness; and if Tu­dor had taken that opportunity to speak to her of his Love, she would certainly have heard him with plea­sure; and that wretched Prince would have found some comfort to his mi­series, in the kind usage that he might have received from her. But he flattered not himself so much, as to venture on speaking; and thought it enough to give evidence of his passion by his Assiduities and Servi­ces. In the mean while the Princess took particular notice of his deport­ment; [Page 16] and I cannot tell whether Tu­dor were more amorous, or Catharine more grateful. But their procedure added more than one half to their affliction: and they had long felt all the pains of Love, without tast­ing of it's sweetness, if the death of the King of England had not given them occasion, by that which hap­pened afterward, to make known to one another their mutual Senti­ments.

After the death of that Prince, his Son Henry the Fifth succeeded to the Crown. He set himself at first to the procuring of his Subjects quiet; and having ordered all things at home, resolved to make War, or else to e­stablish a good and solid peace with France. He sent Ambassadors to Charles, with propositions of some accommodation betwixt them, con­cerning the differences that his Fa­ther had always had with him du­ring his Reign; and at the same time [Page 17] demanded the Princess Catharine his Daughter in Marriage.

The Ambassadors were no sooner arrived at Paris, but that all people knew the cause of their coming. Tudor took the alarm very hot; and the Princess was so troubled at the overture, that she could not forbear to make appear her aversion to the Marriage. She was observed to weep incessantly; and one day when Tudor went to pay her a visit, he found her upon the Bed, overwhelmed with such grief as could not be matched. He sa­luted her with much respect; and drawing near, What is the reason, Ma­dam, said he, of so great dejection? and do these lovely Eyes think it time to look sad, when they ought to sparkle with the glory of their Conquests? It is true, continued he, all the Crowns of the Earth have nothing that comes near your me­rit: Nevertheless there are Charms in a Diadem; and a Princess may rest [Page 18] satisfied with the Crown of England, without fear of being suspected to want a noble Ambition? Were I like Tudor, answered she coldly, I know very well that I should sacrifice all other interests to Ambition; and that the concerns which one ought to have for Relations should not much perplex me: But seeing my temper is different from his; neither can I agree with him in opinion; and per­haps Mine—Ah, how are you mistaken, Madam! in thinking so, said the Prince interrupting her; and how little do you know Tudor, if you think that the desire of Reign­ing is all his Passion? I confess, continued he, the time has been, when I was only ambitious; but there happen many changes in ones life; and it is very hard amidst the Beauties which are to be found at the Court of France, to entertain no o­ther desires but for glory; or rather it is very difficult not to forget it ab­solutely, [Page 19] when one begins to feel an inclination for a lovely Lady. You do indeed surprise me, answer­ed the Princess; and I should never have suspected that you were in love. One is often mistaken, replied Tudor; but I intend to undeceive you, and make you acknowledg that I am much more to be pitied than you think of. You know, Madam, continued the Prince, that the misfortune of War having obliged me to flie for refuge to the Court of the King your Fa­ther; I was no sooner arrived here, but that I found what I had never seen elsewhere. The men appeared to me extreamly civil and well bred; and the Ladies (to my Fancie) per­formed all they set about with so good Air, that I thought other Countries destitute of the Politeness which was to be found in France. I made it my work to observe things more narrowly, that I might from them frame to my self a pattern for [Page 20] my conduct; but how dangerous is it so attentively to consider objects of great worth! I saw a lovely Brown, who ravished me with her charms, and robbed me of my Heart: Pardon me, Madam, if I tell you not all her A­miable qualities; for it is above my power: and nothing but my Heart is able to tell it self, how many are her charming perfections. I will only assure you by the by, that ne­ver was Lady more Beautiful, nor Witty; and that as there is none in the World so accomplished, so ne­ver was Passion more respectful and sincere than the Love I have for her.

With these words the Prince held his peace; and the Princess, who had Love enough for him to make her conceive some jealousie by that Di­scourse, being desirous to discover who that Rival was: I perceive said she, Tudor, you are discreet in your Amours; for having told us the per­fections [Page 21] of your Mistress; you are pleased to conceal from us her name, and your own happiness. It is not for the reason that you imagine, Madam, answered Tudor, that I tell you no more. I understand my self; and that was enough to keep me from having farther proceeded with the person of whom I spake. In effect, so great is the difference be­twixt her merit and the defects of Tudor, that I think he will never so much mistake himself as to dare speak to her of his passion. That Lady must needs be of great quali­ty, replied Catharine, (being desi­rous to engage him to declare him­self) that a Prince stands in so great awe of her; and for my part, I know none that should oblige him to so great a reserve. I am not of your opinion, Madam, replied Tudor; and to my grief, I know one who deserves that one should do greater matters for her. But what do you mean by [Page 22] that? replyed the Princess. I mean, Madam, answered Tudor, that my actions should make her sensible of my Love rather than my words; and my satisfaction would be great, if by all the ways of respect and sub­mission, I might ever engage that fair one to pitie me.

The Princess who imagined not before, that Tudor designed her by his Discourse, began now to suspect it; and being willing to inform her self: Prince, said she; this way of reasoning is not just; if I were in your place, I should take another course; and a Lover that by his si­lence can work upon his Mistress, never disobliges her by declaring his Love, when he does it with all civility and respect. In this, Madam, answered the Prince, I have some doubts of your sincerity; and per­haps you would be the first to take it ill, if such a thing happened.

These words confirmed the Prin­cess [Page 23] more and more in her suspicion; she was desirous to have no more ground of doubting; and speaking again: Tudor, said she, I perceive you know me not; I never speak but what I think; and the aversion that I have made appear to the Mar­riage lately proposed to the King my Father, ought to convince you that I am an Enemy to all kind of dissimulation. That Discourse made Tudor change his design of conceal­ing his Love; he found that he could never meet with so fair an occasion of declaring himself; and laying hold of the opportunity offered him by Fortune, Well then, Madam, re­plied he, I must believe you; for in­deed it would be too hard for me to keep my self longer under con­straint; and it is my duty to acknow­ledg my rashness, in declaring that I adore you; and that none but the Princess Catharine could ever touch the Heart of the Prince of Wales. [Page 24] Believe it, Madam, this Heart is im­moveable to all but your self; and it is my Fate that a King of England should strip me of all my felicities: but let him freely enjoy the fruits of my overthrow, provided he suffer me to enjoy the sight of my dearest Princess.

Tudor said no more; but made appear to Catharine so much Love in his Looks, that she could no lon­ger listen to the residue of an expi­ring stateliness, which would have obliged her to disguise her Senti­ments. She made known to him, by a Glance, the Flame that was in her Heart; and at length overcom­ing her own humour: Alas! why did you not speak sooner, said she; and why have you delayed so long to discover to me a matter which at another time would have pleased me so well? Believe it, Prince, conti­nued she, I would willingly have heard you; and perhaps had I ne­ver [Page 25] known you I should not have had so great an Aversion to match with England. But after so free a confession, entertain no sinister Judgment of me; make use of it on­ly to break off my Marriage: consult your Friends, and so manage Affairs that there may be a stop put to an Alliance, which if it take effect, will cost me the quiet of my whole Life. Ah! Madam, answered Tudor; how happy do you make me, by the good­ness which you shew me! but how short will this happiness prove by the obstacles I foresee therein! For in a word, what can I do in this con­juncture? you know that the House of Orleans has at present the advan­tage of that of Burgundy, to which I have addicted my self; and that I have no authority with those that determine Affairs of that nature. But have you your self no power left, continued he, to oppose that which thwarts your inclinations: and must [Page 26] you demand assistance from one who expects his relief from you? What would you have me do, replyed the Princess; and are you so ignorant of the duty of Persons of my Quality, as not to know my Inability? No, Tudor, expect no more from me; I have an esteem, and perhaps some­thing more for you; but I shall suf­fer my self to be led to the Sacrifice, if it be so resolved; and I had ra­ther have it said, that Catharine is Unfortunate; than that she should be accused of failing in her duty. Well then, Madam, replied Tudor, it is your pleasure that I die; I must obey you; and that is indeed the on­ly ease I find in my calamities. Op­press me no more, replied the Prin­cess; it is not well done to encrease my sorrows: Bestir your self rather, if you Love me. Love has many se­cret ways of succeeding in enterpri­ses, and there is nothing impossible to those who truly feel it.

[Page 27] Here ended the Conversation of those two Amorous Persons; they parted fully satisfied with one ano­ther; but with small hopes of a bet­ter Fortune. In the mean time Tu­dor spread reports at Court, that the Marriage of Henry and Catharine, was no wayes advantageous for France, That that Prince was but the Son of an Usurper; that the House of York, which was disposses­sed of the Crown, was still strong enough to regain the Scepter; and that in Fine the last words of the dying King to his Son, should make him rather think of giving back what he had gotten, than of demand­ing such ridiculous matters as were proposed by his Ambassadours. I cannot tell whether these rumours that were in every bodies mouth, made any impression on the Coun­sel; or that the pretensions of the King of England seemed not very reasonable. But in a word, his Mi­nisters [Page 28] returned without effectuating any thing. It is hard to imagine how great the joy of our Lovers was; but they failed not to make it known to one another in its full extent; and by mutual assurances of Love began to forget their past troubles, when of a sudden they found them­selves more than ever exposed to the cruelty of Fortune.

Henry incensed at the refusal of giving him Catharine in Marriage, leavied a powerful Army. He land­ed in Normandy, where he put all to Fire and Sword; and having ta­ken some places by the way, he marched towards Callis. He fought a great Battel at Agincourt, and ob­tained the Victory: afterward he wasted all Picardy; laid Siege to the Citie of Roan; and there was no doubt but that he would have car­ried it, had not they who had the Administration of the Affairs of France, being surprized at so many [Page 29] Conquests, endeavoured in good earnest to find means to put a stop to that Victorious Prince. And find­ing no more ready remedy for the Calamities that threatned their Country, than to appease the Rage of the Conquerour; Ambassadours were sent to his Camp to beg Peace of him, and to offer him Ca­tharine.

This was a cruel Blow for our Lovers; and the sorrow that appear­ed on their Countenance, gave signs enough, if it had been observed, that both were extreamly troubled. Well then, Princess, said Tudor one day to Catharine, now is the time come that I must lose you; and Fate has only given me a little Re­prieve to let me know the great­ness of that felicitie which it had appointed for another? Why have you not been altogether Cruel? Con­tinued he; or rather why are you but kind by halves; and how can it [Page 30] be that one tenderly Loves, as you profess, and in the mean time re­solves to forsake the beloved object? Ah! Tudor, be sparing in your cen­sures, replied the Princess; my affli­ctions are too great that I should need other pressures; and your re­proaches are too unjust that I should suffer them, and survive my grief. Let us be unhappy, if Heaven hath so decreed; but let us not contri­bute any thing that may make us lose the esteem which we have for one another: You in giving me Counsels that go against my Repu­tation; and I in listening to them. I am already but too much enclined to believe you, continued she, to make me distrust my strength; and I have so often represented to my self the pleasure that I might have had in living with you, that I am much afraid I shall project to my self nothing but horrours with all besides your self: if you still persist [Page 31] to bring them to my mind. Help me rather to overcome my self; and believe, Prince, that this is the occasion wherein one really de­serves pity; seeing, after all the ef­fects of my Virtue, I stand in need still of assistance to overcome my weakness. I confess, Madam, an­swered the Prince, I must admire you for these Sentiments, and grant them to proceed from the most ge­nerous Princess that ever was; but grant me likewise, that if I have not so great a Soul, yet I have per­haps more tenderness than you have. I am in the wrong, added he, to press you so much; and it is misbe­coming a Prince who has no other Fortune but in his hopes, to desire to snatch from a Princess a Crown which is in her offer: it has certain­ly more charms than one is aware of; and it must needs be of small value, if it were to be forsaken for the forlorn estate of Tudor.

[Page 32] These words which he uttered with some sullenness, made the Prin­cess sensible he was jealous; she was willing to cure him of that fa­tal passion; and looking on him with an obliging Aspect, What is it, Prince, said she, that you suspect me of; and what signs of Ambition have I given you, that you should think me so much inclined to it, as you make me to be? Banish such thoughts far from you, if you love your own repose; and if you will give your self any trouble for mine, hinder the success of that Treaty which is to be set on foot at the in­terview of the two Kings. You may do somewhat in that matter; and you are in so good terms with the House of Burgundy, which is now again restored to the Government of the State, that with the help of that Family you may hope to suc­ceed in your undertaking. These words reassured the Prince, who [Page 33] casting himself at her feet, Pardon, Madam, said he, an Unfortunate Lover, who knows not whom to blame for his Calamities; and con­sider that it is very difficult to be deeply in Love, and not to be a little jealous. Believe me, my dear Princess, I shall employ all the Friends I have to hinder that fatal Marriage: and I have so great in­terest in it, as may, I think, make you believe that I shall omit no­thing which may contribute to it's repture.

At the same time he took leave of her, and went straight to the Palace of the Duke of Burgundy; where he found that Prince more afflicted for the Calamities of France than he expected; and perceiving him resolved to employ his utmost endeavours to hinder its ruin, I re­joyce, my Lord, said he, at your good intentions; and doubt not of the Kingdoms safety, now that you [Page 34] make it your care: But remember that there depends much on dili­gence in preventing a disadvantage­ous Treaty, to which the weakness of the King will it may be oblige him; and which will not be easily remedied if once concluded. You have reason, Prince, answered the Duke of Burgundy; but there are many things to be done before I can be in a condition to act as I should. What greater matters are to be done then, replied Tudor; and if you were reconciled with the Dolphin, might ye not Unite your Forces, and make head against the common Enemy of your Country? Yes, answered the Duke; but the difficulty will be, to bring us to good terms together: I shall en­deavour it, if you please, replied Tudor; and am perswaded that I shall not meet with so many Lets in it as you imagine. You will thereby oblige me, replied the Duke, [Page 35] and I shall be always ready to do all that my honour and duty can allow.

Tudor thereupon left him that he might go to the Dolphin; and ha­ving found him in the same dispo­sition that he had left the Duke of Burgundy in, he made them Friends in appearance, and retard­ed for some time at least his own misfortune.

The reconciliation of these two Princes put France in some hopes again: Yet it hindered not but that the two Kings upon a cessation of Arms, attended by the chief of their Court, met in the Park of Meulan; where they resolved to have a con­ference for facilitating the peace. The Queen followed after, and car­ried the Princess with her. The English beheld her with admirati­on; and there were but few of them that found not by experience how dangerous it is too narrowly to con­sider [Page 36] an amiable person. But a­mongst all those who admired her Beauty, no man was certainly more sensibly smitten than the Duke of Glocester; that Prince, who was Bro­ther to the King of England, and, by his Rank and Quality at Court, had the greatest share in the ma­nagement of Affairs, no sooner view­ed Catharine, but was charmed by her perfections. He resolved at first to acquaint her with the Sentiments he entertained for her; and seeing the marriage of the Princess was to be one of the first Articles of the Treaty then in agitation, he thought he had no time to lose in taking a good resolution. And therefore having rendred a visit to the Queen, he discoursed with Ca­tharine in a place where their con­versation could not be overheard. It is so hard, Madam, said he to her, to see you, and not to feel some particular emotion; that I think I [Page 37] shall not much surprise you, when I tell you, that you have before you a Prince who is absolutely at your dispo­sal. It is not, added he, by the multi­tude of words that I pretend to make good what I say; my actions shall far better make known to you my Senti­ments, than all the discourses that I can make. Consider only, Madam, wherein you think fit to employ me; and believe that I have so much au­thority in the Conference that is held to day, as to sway matters to what side I shall incline.

The Princess was surprised at that Compliment; and having expe­cted no such thing, nor well under­stood the meaning of it, she was for some time put to a plunge, what answer to make to the Duke: But having at length paused upon it a little, Really Prince, said she, you are the most obliging person alive. It is seldom found that enemies offer to turn their arms against themselves; [Page 38] however you run no Risk on this oc­casion, I am none of those that will, to your cost, make advantage of your ci­vilities, and study the interest of my Country by an action which would somewhat diminish your glory. I per­ceive, Madam, answered the Duke, that I have not expressed my self so as to be understood. It is not in fa­vour of the King your Father, that I have offered you my Services in this place; and I am less concerned for the Interests of my Princes Crown, than for those of his heart. It is needless, I think, to explain my self more clearly: consult about that which may affect yours; and if the designs which Henry hath on your person, have nothing in them that can flat­ter you; I make no difficulty, Madam, to tell you, I know how to satisfie you; and a Prince who would give his life to contribute in the least to your content, will not find great difficulty to divert the blow which may render [Page 39] you unhappy. I am still more obliged to you than I thought, replied the Princess; since you confine to me a­lone the Sentiments which I extend­ed to others. But in fine, Prince, though my inclinations were contrary to the Alliance that is in agitation to day, you know that it would be un­decent for me to discover them, and that a Princess of my quality ought with pleasure sacrifice her self to the publick good. Have a care, Madam, of being mistaken, replyed the Prince, and embrace not the shadow of vir­tue, for virtue it self. I know very well, added he, that when one hath once made a choice, all pains are to be endured rather than to give any mark of repentance; but the case is not a like in a matter that is not as yet concluded: and untill it be finally ended, we may forbear such things as would cost us the repose of our Life, if we did them contrary to our incli­nation. There is nothing, Sir, an­answered [Page 40] Catharine, which is incon­sistent with the inclination of a Prin­cess; and the hearts of Persons of that quality should be of the nature of Wax, whereon Princes may stamp all that they judge advantageous for the grandure of their Crowns. These are indeed brave Sentiments, Ma­dam, replied the Duke of Glocester; but Destiny sometimes opposes so great generosity; and seeing it inspires into us Love and Aversion, according as it pleases, we find often in our selves hatred for that which is appointed for us; and have often also an incli­nation for the thing we are denied. It were far better, Madam, added he, to render your self Mistress of your own fortune, and without seem­ing to affect any thing in particular, as you may do to day; to make use of the assistance that is offered you, that you may perhaps thereby prevent your own misfortune. How Prince, replied Catharine; have I nothing [Page 41] but appearances to answer for; and can a Princess be satisfied with her self, when she can upbraid her self with such an escape? In fine, Madam, answered the Duke, I see you are not to be convinced by my reasons; and that it is as easie for you to o­vercome me in conversation, as it was to triumph on my heart: but consider a little what I have said to you, and think not that so small a matter, from which you are to expect all the hap­piness or misery of your Life.

As he made an end of these words, he rose; and having made a low reverence, retired to the Camp, and left Catharine in a musing fit; into which the discourse of that Prince had cast her. She bethought her self what it might be that could make him speak in that manner; and making no doubt but that it was some small esteem, that he had for her, She found her self in great perplexity what course to take in [Page 42] that conjuncture: For on the one hand, she would not have been ve­xed, if there had been no progress made in the Conference; and on the other, she would have been glad to have had no obligation to the Duke; and not to have been expo­sed to a complaisance which he would certainly have expected from her; if he had once found himself in a condition of doing her service. She would not trust her own Judg­ment, as to the resolution which she ought to take concerning that; but writ an account to Tudor, who was obliged to stay at Paris, of the conference she had had with the Duke. Though that Lover had ground to praise the carriage of Catharine, yet he could not for­bear at first to fall into some jea­lousie: But giving way at length to his Reason over his Chimerical Fancies, he not only advised the Princess to make use of the Dukes [Page 43] offers, but prayed her likewise not to spare her prayers, (if there was need of them) to incline him to break up that Conference which put him into despair. Catharine having had the consent of Tudor, made no more scruple; and was resolved to make her thoughts known to the Duke, the next visit that he should be pleased to render her.

However that Prince was not so fully determined what to do, as the Princess was; and though she had given him no ground of diving into her thoughts, yet he judged that glory was more the cause of the resistance she testified, than any in­clination she had for the King his Brother. And deliberating after­ward if it would be more to his advantage, that she should Marry that young Prince, or that he should start difficulties to obstruct the Alli­ance; he at first resolved to suffer the matter to take its course: And [Page 44] thought it his interest rather to see Catharine Queen to his Brother, than to leave her in France, and be for ever deprived of the sight of her; but seeing men commonly are not apt to renounce their hopes so long as they have any ground to entertain them; the Duke of Glo­cester took suddenly a resolution quite contrary to the intention he seemed to be in a little before. He considered with himself that he was not far from the Crown; and back­ing a great deal of Love with a little Ambition, he imagined that he might hope to enjoy himself, what he was about to abandon to another, if he suffered the Confe­rence to proceed too far. That consideration was enough to make him play his part; but though in that he had a greater respect to his own than the interests of the Prin­cess, yet he was willing to give her the honour of it; and having [Page 45] rendred her a Visit: Well, Madam, said he, (after the usual Ceremo­nies that pass between persons of that quality,) Do you still conti­nue in the opinion you were in the other day; and do you believe that one is obliged in Ceremonie to do the quite contrary of what they de­sire? You have had time, added he, to think on't; and considering your natural perspicacity, Give me leave to tell you that, it would be a head-strong obstinacy, still to con­tinue in the same thoughts. You press me too hard, replied the Prin­cess; and cannot you permit, Sir, that people should satisfie their du­ty, without putting of them in mind what it may cost them. I was willing to follow mine with­out looking back, if you had not stopt me in my Career; and Catha­rine had not known what it is to declare her will, if a civil and ob­liging Prince had not perswaded her [Page 46] that it is necessary for her repose once in her Life to do so. Yes, Madam, I tell you once more, an­swered the Duke; and I thank Hea­ven that, in so important an action as this in agitation, your eyes are opened. Reflect a little upon the Crosses you were about to expose your self to, by affecting a false virtue; and how many times you would have accused your self of being the cause of your own pains. How much is a Princess of your disposition to be pitied, when she is constrained to put on the Fetters that Policie hath made; and how much do I blame, as to that, the actions of the greatest men in the world, who without minding their own inclination, daily sacrifice them­selves to a weak reason of state. How dear do they buy, added he, that vain glory, which they are willing to purchase at the cost of their heart; and how often do they [Page 47] blame themselves for having depri­ved their own satisfaction of the delights that are to be tasted in an happy Union. Ah! Madam, con­tinued the Duke, is there any thing more sensible than these secret re­bukes that men give themselves: and when Persons have a right frame of Spirit, and Discretion, should they not pursue that sole pleasure which is to be found in a sincere and affectionate engagement? Ah! Sir, replied the Princess, let us not, I beseech you, condescend on so many particulars; I am afraid, for a reason that concerns my self, that I shall come off with trouble; though there were not a great ma­ny more that might make me con­demn my conduct; which proba­bly I may be the first my self to dislike. We should not too much reflect on things, to which our in­clination rather than duty moves us; and the way to make us again [Page 48] embrace them, is to be convinced that we have unseasonably forsaken them. I distrust not, Madam, the Justice of my Cause, replied the Duke; and I can maintain it against all men living: but I shall say no more. For your part, Madam, I only beg of you to consider that in the way of procedure that I intend to follow in respect of my King, I ought not to be so much blamed as I shall quickly be, because the Rules of Duty, and Interest of Blood are of no value, when a Man is smitten with so lovely Eyes as yours. Believe it, Madam, the Intrigue of the Conference proceeds from them; and if the Duke of Glocester had never seen them, he would have had no other thoughts but to faci­litate a good accommodation, and to hinder the streams of Blood that will flow from this Rupture. Ah! Good God, Sir, cried the Princess, let matters continue as they are, [Page 49] rather than I should be the cause of so many Calamities. The dis­orders that will follow, Madam, are not to be imputed to you, said the Duke; for the Duke of Gloce­ster has the greatest hand in them. It is his affection that will sudden­ly be the cause of that which shall be seen by all Europe; and his Love is so great, as that of himself he would have produced these great effects, though you had never given your consent to it. I recall it, Sir, replied the Princess; and I had ra­ther spend my dayes in Sorrow, than suffer so many people to be­come miserable for the Love of me. Would to God, Madam! answered the Prince, you had as much com­passion for the Duke of Glocester, as you have for those you know not; and that what I really suffer might move you to as much pity, as an Evil which is no where as yet but in the Imagination. How [Page 50] willingly should I expose my self to troubles, and how well should I be rewarded for it, if the Princess Catharine might be one day heard say, It is for my sake that the Duke of Glocester hath sacrificed his Coun­try, and he would have alwayes con­sidered the Interests of his Prince as his own, if he had never loved me; But I am in the wrong, added he, Madam, to desire rewards, seeing as yet I have deserved none; and I should be inexcusable, were it not that, by an anticipating Idea, all the Services I intend to render you, are so conspicuous and present in my Imagination, that I flatter my self to have already obliged you to some kind of acknowledgment.

Having so said, he held his peace; and the Princess by his silence being put to a plunge, knew not what to answer, till after some little force that she put upon her self; at length she spake to him in these terms. [Page 51] It is needless, Sir, to render me all the services whereof you speak, to engage me to that which I owe you; and considering the way how you have behaved your self towards me, I must needs be very ungrate­ful if I acknowledged not my obli­gations to you. Time will afford me means to give you Testimonies of my gratitude: In the mean time believe it, Prince, I have no such inclinations as can move me to for­get the favours I have received. The Duke thanked the Princess for the Marks she gave him of her goodness; and having told her a thousand things concerning his pas­sion, he took his leave, that he might go and bestir himself about the matters he had promised. He omitted nothing; and wrought so well upon the minds of those with whom he had to do, that the En­glish having added new demands to those which they had already made [Page 52] in the beginning of the conference; it was finally broken up. After­ward both parties prepared them­selves for all the Acts of Hostility that War can admit of; and the Duke of Glocester having seen the Princess, and given her new prote­stations of Love, followed the English Camp.

Our Lovers being thus deliver­ed from the disquiets into which these long Negotiations had put them, consulted what measures to take for their future security; and af­ter much deliberation, they thought that to set them above fear, they should Essay all means to make their designs approved; and then agreed betwixt themselves about the course they should take to accomplish what they projected: So that at length it was resolved, that Tudor should use his utmost endeavours to get into favour with Madam de Giack, who was one that had the ascen­dant [Page 53] upon the Duke of Burgundy, and whose friendship the Dolphin courted also secretly. Tudor found no difficulty in gaining the good Opinion of that Lady; but she thought it not convenient to speak of his Love as yet; the times seem­ed unfit for Marriages, whilst all the Kingdom was in Confusion. And she had reason indeed; for what ground was there to give new oc­casions of fury to the King of Eng­land. Would not that have been to have put all France in Fire, which was but already too much Haras­sed, by giving Catharine in Mar­riage, after she had been refused to a Prince, whose Love had perhaps contributed as much to the War, as his Ambition? Madam de Giack brought Tudor to consent to her O­pinion; and promised to him that so long as she had any credit with the great men, there should be no­thing [Page 54] done in prejudice of his inte­rests.

These Assurances gave the Prince some comfort; who acquainted Ca­tharine with the success he had had with that Lady. They rested both satisfied, finding that it was impos­sible for them to do better; but the small tranquillity which they enjoyed, was shortly disturbed by great troubles. Tudor who persi­sted in rendering Visits to Madam de Giack, and in the prospect of his Affairs, omitted nothing that might oblige her; did suddenly, in the Opinion of Catharine, do too much. To encrease the Jealousie of the Princess, she was told also that the Prince was in Love with that Lady; but that he lost no la­bour, and that she had at least as great a kindness for him as he could have for her. These reports wrought the effect that one may [Page 55] expect; and seeing the Princess had a tender Love for Tudor, she re­sented cruelly his pretended infide­lity. He quickly percieved that something troubled her mind; and being conscious to himself of no Disloyalty, he accosted her with a Countenance that spake the Inte­grity of his proceedings. How, Madam, said he; are not we cros­sed enough by Fortune? And must we, during this small Interval of Tranquility, create to our selves troubles and afflictions? Whence a­rises this change that I observe in the Looks of my Princess; and knows she not that the least sign of melancholy that Tudor percieves there, is enough to embitter the greatest felicity of his Life? He said no more; nor expected a­ny thing less than reproaches, when the Princess with a fierce aspect; Do you still pretend, said she, to abuse me? and do you think that [Page 56] I am so ill informed of your treacheries as to believe your words? How, Madam, replied Tudor; does my Princess accuse me; and can she suspect me guilty of any thing con­trary to my Love? Ah! Madam, continued he, then is all my com­fort gone; and it is enough that I have once displeased you, to de­prive me of all Joy for the rest of my Life. These words which he feelingly uttered, put Catharine in­to some trouble; and seeing she earnestly desired that he might Ju­stifie himself, she was willing to give him the occasion; so that re­suming her Discourse, How, Prince, said she, I am in the wrong then; and do you take it to be a great sign of Love, to forsake me for Ma­dam de Giack? Is not she the cause that you have almost forgot a Prin­cess, who (had it been at her own choice) would have left all to have followed you? There is neverthe­less, [Page 57] I think, a great difference be­tween her and me; and the most indifferent heart would make di­stinction betwixt a Frisking Lady, and a Princess who knows not what cunning is.

Tudor had much ado to forbear interrupting the Princess; but per­ceiving that she had ended her Di­scourse, How, Madam, said he, all in surprise; do I Love Madam de Giack then? Upon what ground, I pray you, have you conceived such a suspicion? Have I so much as a thought but for my Princess? and the indifference which is observed in me for the rest of Woman­kind, makes it not sufficiently ap­pear that you are the sole Mistress of my Soul? You know, Madam, continued he, that you obliged me to Visit Madam de Giack; and though you were not in my Eyes the Loveliest Princess that ever was, Do you believe that I could be smit­ten [Page 58] with a Lady who is known to be otherwayes engaged; and that Tudor is not so ambitious as to de­spise a Heart which he must share with the Duke of Burgundy. A great deal of Policy with a little Love, replied Catharine, are many times ingredients in the Actions of Princes; and you shall see one that appears in the Eyes of many to be very passionate, who at the Heart is only filled with ambition. Ba­nish that Opinion, answered Tudor; no body can answer that Article better than my self. I know all your greatness; but if I suspected that you gave Ear to any one who might speak of Love to you, I should value you no more; and in the lowness of your Soul should find enough to make me forget the perfections of your person. Why then, replied the Princess, do you blame me; if I take it ill to see you entertain commerce with two [Page 59] Women at one and the same time, and may not I be as nice as you are? Ah! Madam, answered the Prince; are you afraid that the Wound you have given me is not dangerous enough, unless you open it afresh? I have already told you that I should never have wait­ed on Madam de Giack, but by your order; and if you had not, as well as I, thought it convenient for our Affairs, it should never have enter­ed into my thoughts to have ren­dered her a Visit. But since, upon so weak a pretext as that, you take occasion to break up with people, you shall Judge by the Consequen­ces what concerns I had with that Lady. I desire not to break with you, replied immediately the Prin­cess; and, so far from wishing you were guilty, I shall never have greater Joy than to find you inno­cent.

They told one another besides a [Page 60] Thousand tender and passionate things; but at length came to an Accommodation, and parted after­ward in as good intelligence as ever they were. However the Prince would not Visit any more the Lady who had been the cause of their falling out; and he refused so long to do it, that it seemed he foresaw the mischief which he was to meet with on her account. But the Princess began quickly to regret that she had broken a commerce which was so necessary to their designs. She was the first that pray­ed Tudor to renew it; and it was only for fear of another misunder­standing, that the Prince conde­scended to Visit Madam de Giack again. Two dayes after he rende­red her a Visit; and needed not much time to regain the place that he had had in her esteem. She re­posed even greater confidence in him, than she had ever done before; [Page 61] and seeing he had concealed nothing from her of what most affected his Heart, She resolved to do the like with him; and imparted to him the secret Love that she had for the Duke of Burgundy. Tudor was ravished to be intrusted with that secret; and believed it might prove a means to oblige these two Lovers to concern themselves the more in his Affairs. He did them many times great Services in some little Janglings they had together; and the Duke of Burgundy to repay his friends kindness, had a special care also to do him good offices with Catharine; and took all occasions to perswade the Princess that he would employ all his power, that nothing might be done to the pre­judice of their Love.

They lived all with content e­nough, when that accursed passion which had already wrought so much trouble to our Lovers, compleatly [Page 62] ruined their hopes. Madam de Giack was passionately in Love with the Duke; and as it is the property of Jealousie to take Umbrage at eve­ry thing, That Lady believed that this Prince had a Passion for the Countess of Foix; and she inter­preted the marks of Civility which he rendered her, to be Testimonies of Affection. She began even to think him indifferent as to her; and it cannot be expressed what ha­vock these thoughts made in her Soul. She fell at length into a fu­rious Jealousie; and thinking that the Duke ought to sacrifice all things to her, she carried towards him with so much haughtiness, that having taken him up very briskly on several occasions; the unhappy Lover was fain to leave off visiting her, without being ever able to know the cause of his mis­fortune.

Tudor was no sooner acquainted [Page 63] with these transactions, but that he laboured earnestly to reconcile them; but he found all things so festered on both sides, that when he spake of it to the Duke, he could draw no other reason from him, but that Madam de Giack was an ungrateful Lady; nor had he bet­ter success with that Lady, for all the answer she gave him was, that he knew not his friend, and that he was a very Traitor. He en­deavoured to mitigate her anger, but without effect; and was obli­ged to retire without other infor­mation, but that he knew them to be at extream variance. How­ever he was not much surprised at all this; and being acquainted with the ways of Lovers, he thought that a few dayes would make them friends again; and that all that was to be done was to give them time that themselves might rub up again the affection that they had [Page 64] mutually for each other. He fail­ed not to visit them daily; but spoke not a word to them of their Quarrels, believing that an inter­view would be more proper to re­concile them, than all that he could say.

In the mean time matters con­tinued as they were; and Tudor be­ginning to be apprehensive that their differences might prove hard­er to be adjusted, than he had ima­gined; thought it not fit to suffer these Lovers to accustom themselves to Indifference, and took the reso­lution the sooner, because he knew that the Duke and he were that very day to depart upon a little Journey. He went to Madam de Giack; and accosting her with a Countenance full of heaviness: And why, Madam, said he, will you still keep your friends in so much trouble? and though you had no esteem for them, can you see a [Page 65] Prince whom your cruelty brings to despair, suffer any longer? The Duke of Burgundy is no more him­self; and it is to no purpose for him to affect a counterfit Serenity; all the Sentiments of his Heart are to be seen through his constraints; and it is no hard matter to Judge that he can have no content in his Life, if you take not quickly other measures with him. You are mis­taken, Sir, answered Madam de Gi­ack; the Duke is not so passionate as you think: Observe if, after that he hath cruelly offended me, he hath made the least step to appease my anger; and what would you say if you were in the place of a Lover, who upon the point of haughtiness should find that one stood it out with you? I would say, Madam, replied Tudor, that such a Lover were passionately in Love with me; and being out of all pa­tience that I should have wrong­fully [Page 66] accused him: he was unwil­ling to come to Justifications, which are an usual sign of guilt. You lose time, Sir, answered Madam de Giack; and what pains soever you take to excuse your friend, you shall never perswade me that he Loves me; seeing after that he gave me his promise to see Madam de Foix no more, he still continues his pretensions to her with greater assiduity than ever. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor, is that all the hurt that the Duke has done you? how can you think that he can deny the civilities which the quality of Ma­dam de Foix requires? and is not he also obliged to that, upon the ac­count that that Ladies Husband has alwaies stuck to his interests? And does he owe nothing to me, an­swered Madam de Giack; and which of the two Houses, that of Foix or mine, hath done most for him? Monsieur and Madam de Foix, ad­ded [Page 67] she, have adhered to the Duke of Burgundy, because they found it to their advantage; and I have re­nounced the friendship of my Hus­band, and the duty that I owed my self; only that I might follow his person. I know, Madam, replied Tudor, that the Duke is obliged to you; but I am likewise assured that he is not wanting in his acknow­ledgments; and if you came to a clearing, you would be the first to confess that you have taken the Al­larm without ground. Only make a Trial, continued he, if I speak Truth; and you will see that you shall have no sooner made one step, but that the Duke shall make ano­ther. How, answered Madam de Giack; must I advance first then? Really, Prince, hitherto I took you for my friend; but I know not what to think on't now; and you give me a Counsel that makes me doubt of it extreamly. I have told you, Ma­dam, [Page 68] replied the Prince coldly; what I would do, if I were in your place: you know that those who would entertain a Commerce toge­ther, must condescend and accom­modate themselves to humours: You know the Duke of Burgundy well enough, not to be ignorant that he can hardly yield, when he thinks he has no reason; he is per­swaded that you are in the wrong on this occasion, and that it is your part to redress it.

How cruel a thing it is to be in Love! answered Madam de Giack; and must our Wills be forced for a few pleasures which consist only in Fancie? Well then, Prince, I must believe you; and shall disown no­thing which you shall tell the Duke in my name, as you are together upon your Journey. That is not e­nough, replied Tudor; you should write to him; a Lover believes not always all that his friend tells him [Page 69] of his Mistress: and in the matter of Janglings, every thing that comes that way is suspected; he often imagines that his friend would dis­guise his misfortune; and all the cir­cumstances that can be alleadged, if not backed by a Letter, perswade him far more of the friendship of him that speaks, than of the since­rity of her that puts him into de­spair. You desire too much, Prince, said Madam de Giack; and that I may use your own words, conde­scend to people, and consider that it is enough on a Ladies part to do as I do. I grant it, answered Tudor; but seeing you have already won so much ground upon your self, boggle not at the rest, Ma­dam, which is but a trifle; and give that satisfaction to the Duke of Burgundy who adores you. There need no more words, Prince, re­plied Madam de Giack; and you should require no more of your [Page 70] friends; they have done enough, if people be reasonable; and it is according to their conduct alone, that they may expect other marks of my complaisance.

Tudor made some more attempts to bring her to what he desired; but seeing all was to no purpose, he took his leave of her, praying her to consider seriously what he had said. He was no sooner out of her House, but that she began to muse upon it, and quickly re­pented her haughtiness; thinking with her self that Princes expect not to be treated as those that are inferiour to them; and that there are no Intrigues to be managed with such persons, unless one have a design to be subjected to a thou­sand little things which may be a­voided in other engagements.

These thoughts had greater in­fluence upon her mind, than all the Conversation that she had had [Page 71] with Tudor; she called for Paper and Ink; and had already closed her Letter, when the Gentleman of that Princes Horses, hearing that his Master was at her House, came to inquire for him. Madam de Gi­ack by chance looked out at the Window at that very instant; she asked who the Gentleman was; and being informed that he belonged to Tudor, she gave orders to invite him up; and it being her desire that the Prince might have the Letter, she gave it to the Gentle­man to be delivered to him.

He presently returned to his Ma­sters Lodgings; and not finding him there, he thought he might hear News of him at the Princess apart­ment; he found her just going to take Coach, and was about to re­tire again, when she knowing him to be one of Tudors retinue, and having percieved that he looked for some body, caused him to [Page 72] be called, and asked him who he desired to speak with.

The Gentleman frankly confest that he had somewhat to say to his Master; and a Letter for him from Madam de Giack. These last words pierced the Princess to the Heart; she found at that minute all the jealousie which that Lady had formerly occasioned her, revi­ved a fresh; and being desirous to know if she had good ground for it or not, Leave that Letter with me, said she to the Gentleman. Tu­dor is not here; he is just now gone with the Duke of Burgundy: but I shall take care that the Let­ter be sent to him by a Post, who is to be dispatched to them by and by. There it is, Madam, said the Gentleman, putting it into her hand; it will ease me of a great trouble, seeing I could not carry it my self, without delaying a Journey that he has ordered me to make about his [Page 73] Affairs. The Princess gave no signs of that which troubled her mind; she would not so much as return in­to her Chamber, least that Letter should give occasion of some suspi­cion; but having performed a short Devotion in the Church whither she was going, she returned to her Lodgings: And as soon as she was come, shut her self up in her Closet, where she took the fatal Letter out of her Pocket, and having open­ed it, found it conceived in these terms.


IF extream jealousie be a sign of an infinite Love, nothing certainly can come near my pas­sion; but who can arm themselves against suspicion, when they [Page 75] have as much ground for it as you have given me? and what Lady could forgive the pretensi­ons you make to another? pre­tend not to reassure me by reasons of Policy wherewith you have al­ready endeavoured to satisfie me; that is not current Coyn with a Lover so sharp sighted as I am.

The End of the First Part.

An Historical Novel.
The Second Part.

THat Letter which had no di­rection, had almost killed the tender and affectionate Princess with grief. She made no doubt, but that it was ad­dressed to Tudor; and lying under the lashes of Jealousie, How, Trai­tour, cried she immediately, is this [Page 78] the way that you repay the sincere friendship that I had for you? and were the Testimonies of Love, which with so much solicitude you gave me, but Artifices then, to impose upon me with greater severity? Are these, Villain, the effects of the promises you have made to me? and what is become of the Oaths which in this I thought so plea­sant, that they gave me the Assu­rances of a constant and perpetual Love? I ask not of you, unthank­ful Man, added she, that you should have a regard to these Obligations which any else in your place would have thought himself bound in to me: I will only convince you by the tenderness of my heart; and that tender heart which you have now deceived, will make appear to you that your carriage denotes a Cheat beyond the usual Knavery of Men. She said no more; but in her Countenance there appeared [Page 79] so great signs of sadness, that it was easie to be perceived, that her grief was not in the least a­bated. She pretended some little distemper, that she might not be interrupted in her thoughts, and then renewed her complaints against Unfortunate Tudor.

But if that Letter made so great an impression on the Heart of that tender Princess; yet she alone suffe­red not all the cruel effects of it. Madam de Giack, who knew not what was become of her Letter, expected daily an answer; and the least Noise that was made in her Anti-chamber seemed to her to be a Messenger from the Duke of Bur­gundy. It was long before she could think that he had forgot her; but at length hearing no News from him, she began to be perswaded of his Inconstancy; and was so con­firmed in her suspicions, that she fully abandoned her self to Jealou­sie. [Page 80] She broke forth in as many complaints at least against the Duke, as the Princess had made against her Lover: but she stopt not there; and seeing she thought that she had extraordinary cause to complain of him, to which she added the re­sentment of the slight which in this last occasion she imagined he gave her; she fell into thoughts altoge­ther contrary to the Character of a Woman that is in Love; and en­tertaining them with more pleasure than she ought, she quickly hatch­ed strange designs to obtain the re­venge which she resolved. It is true, that the Love which she had had for that Prince came often in­to her mind, and it seemed that sometimes she upbraided her self for the fatal resolution that she took against him; but these considerati­ons at length wrought no great ef­fect, and the memory of these last offences carrying greater sway with [Page 81] her, than the remains of an al­most extinct passion; she listened to nothing but her own Resent­ment.

In the mean time the Dolphin had notice of the misunderstanding that was between these Lovers, and was willing to make advan­tage of their quarrels; upon which design he managed some secret in­terviews with Madam de Giack. They fell both quickly into one Opinion; and seeing the Dolphin thought he had reason to be ill sa­tisfied with the Duke, and that his too great power gave him some Umbrage; he frankly declared him­self to Madam de Giack, and made appear to her what pleasure he would have if he could ever meet with an opportunity of being reven­ged on him.

The Sympathy of humour begot a strict Union betwixt them; so that they suddenly resolved the ruin [Page 82] of that Prince, and busied their thoughts only about the means to accomplish their design with great­er facility: that put them for some time into a puzle; but at length the Duke himself gave them the occasion. He was as much in Love with Madam de Giack as he had ever been; and being impatient to live any longer without seeing her, he thought himself obliged to pass by all that she had done to him. He wrote her a Letter wherein he expressed so much passion, as might have changed the Mind of any o­ther; but Madam de Giack was still so possessed with the Opinion of that Princes Inconstancy, that she had not the least regard to all that had passed between the Duke and her. She read the Letter however that she had received from him two or three times over; and stopping at that place where he prayed her to come to him: Yes, yes, Traitor, [Page 83] said she, I shall come to thee as thou desirest; but it shall be with a design to imitate thee, and to re­venge my self on thy Treachery. She sent immediately to intreat the Dolphin to come to the place where they used to meet when they had any thing to Communicate to one another. The Prince failed not; and Madam de Giack putting into his hands the Letter which she had recieved from the Duke, the occa­sion, Sir, is fair, said she, to catch that Traitour; he must be satisfied, and I'le go to him; I have cun­ning enough to use him as he has dealt by me. Believe it, Prince, I shall strain my humour so that he shall suspect nothing of my designs; and it is your part, while this com­merce lasts, to find some pretext to draw him into what snare you please. I shall so order matters that he himself shall run his head into the Noose; and though he had a [Page 84] thousand suspicions of what may befall him, I know how to remove them; and without much trouble I shall give you an occasion to free your self from the anxiety that he may put you into. That Treason at first seemed horrible to the Dol­phin: he had indeed a Pique against the Duke of Burgundy, but he thought that way of revenge too base; and it is certain he would never have embraced it, had no bo­dy but that Lady perswaded him. But she got those whom she knew to have greatest influence upon him to back her proposal. They spake to him of the Dukes Ambition, and of his design that he had al­ways had of Supremacy: Afterward they put him in Mind of the Mur­ther of the Duke of Orleans, and the carrying away of the Queen, when she was at Tours; and per­swading him that all these Actions had no other aim but the Crown, [Page 85] they so far prevailed upon him, that he condescended to all they desired.

It was resolved then that whilst Madam de Giack was with the Duke, the Dolphin should cause an interview be proposed to him un­der pretext of Affairs of State; and that they should take that occasi­on to dispatch him: As soon as the Plot was laid, that Lady went to him. He received her with much Affection, and, without any clutter of Reproaches, admitted her to the same place that she had for­merly held in his Heart. Madam de Giack desired not to come to Justifications, and, unhappily for the Duke, she said not a word of the Letter which she thought he had received from Tudor; for there was no appearance that she would have persisted in her cruel resolution, had she been convinced that he had not done her that last indignity [Page 86] which filled her Heart with so much rage. Two days after came a Courier from the Dolphin to the Prince, as it was agreed upon. The Duke opened the Pacquet; and find­ing that he desired a Conference at Montereau, he found himself in some perplexity how to make him an answer: For though he was suffi­ciently disposed to grant what he desired, in prospect that it might tend to the good of the State; yet some just fears made him cau­tious, seeing he was not ignorant that he had given him cause oft­ner than once not to be well plea­sed with him. He thought it then unsafe to trust that Prince; but Madam de Giack came in purpose­ly to dissipate all his apprehensions. She gave him to understand, that he would be accountable for all the Evils that might happen to France, if upon idle apprehensions he refu­sed an Interview, which would be [Page 87] of great advantage to the publick; and that in fine, he did wrong to distrust the Dolphins word, who being reconciled to him in good earnest, might probably break off again; when he percieved that he had to do with a Jealous and diffi­dent Prince. These words wrought more upon him than all the Coun­sels that his friends gave him to shun the Resentment of that Prince. He sent him a Courier by whom he gave him advice that he would not fail to come to Montereau-faut­yonne the day prefixed; in effect it was his destiny which he could not avoid, and with some Guards he took his Journey; but it was sadly fatal to him, for he was kil­led by some of the Dolphins Ser­vants just as he alighted to Salute that Prince, who waited for him on thc Bridge.

All France was surprised at the death of the Duke of Burgundy; [Page 88] for which the Dolphin was gene­rally blamed by all, and by the great disturbances that upon that occasion happened shortly after; he well percieved how dear it cost him, for having followed so bad Counsels. Madam de Giack was ravished to hear that her revenge had so well succeeded; but Unfor­tunate Tudor, who foresaw the con­sequences of that accident, was no sooner informed of it but that it struck him to the Heart; he had not left the Duke of Burgundy un­till he went to Montereau, and he took that time to go see the Prin­cess; to whom he had written twice without receiving any answer. He could not Imagine the reason of that silence; and desiring to know the cause of it, he went to her Apart­ment so soon as he came to Troyes where the Court was then. He found the Princess alone in her Closet, and expected his usual Re­ception; [Page 89] when Catharine, looking fiercely on him with eyes that dart­ed out the anger that she was in; Begone, Traitour, said she, and go take your advantage of the death of the Duke of Burgundy: He will no more now interrupt your A­morous engagements, and I am much afraid that the hinderance he gave to your pleasures, has cost him his Life. It is impossible to express the effect that these words had on the Soul of Unfortunate Tudor: He was long without know­ing where he was, or what was become of him; but coming a lit­tle to himself again, he desired to know of the Princess what she had to lay to his charge; but she gave him no time to ask the question; for, rising from her Couch, Once more begone, said she, and know that I will reason the Case no more with you. At the instant she open­ed the Door, and that passionate [Page 90] Lover, seeing himself thus banish­ed by his Mistress, was obliged to obey her, without being able to perswade her to hear one word for his Justification. The truth is, the sad condition that he was in spoke enough to have convinced the Princess of his Innocence, had she not been prepossessed with an Opinion of his Infidelity; but she had by her that which was enough to overcome all the Scruples that she might have had on that mat­ter; and on a time when she was a little too much urged by him, she pulled out of her Pocket the fatal Letter that we have spoken of; and casting her Eyes upon it: All this, said she, is written to my sincere Lover; and at the same time that he gives me the greatest Protestations of kindness, he en­deavours to perswade another, that all his Carriage with me is but a design of Policy. No, no, Traitour, [Page 91] you shall deceive me no more; and least I may be again surprised by your Artifices, I know I should di­strust my own weakness; and that the surest way to Guard against it, is to break off all farther commerce with thee.

Whilst the Princess persisted in such like Discourses, and Tudor gave way to despair, Philip Duke of Burgundy, who succeeded his Fa­ther, contrived a terrible revenge against the Dolphin. He called to­gether all that he thought favoured him, and having taken Counsel of the most judicious, he sent one of his confidents to the King of Eng­land, to negotiate the League with him; which put France within a Fingers breadth of utter ruin.

Most of the Grandees sided that way, and were the more easily inclin­ed to it; in that the Duke made use of the Kings name to autho­rise his actions. The truth is, he [Page 92] disposed of that Prince according to his pleasure; and made it very well appear by what he undertook, and accomplished sometime after: For he not only concluded the Mar­riage of Henry with Catharine; but was likewise the cause that the King declared the Dolphin incapable of succeeding to the Crown: and to compleat the Dukes revenge, that King banished his own Son, by a Decree of Parliament, and acknow­ledged the King of England for his lawful Heir.

After these astonishing and furi­ous proceedings, Henry came to Troyes, where the Court was; he took upon him the Government; made sure of Paris and the chief Cities of the Kingdom; and after­ward prepared for the Marriage of the Princess, who procured him so much grandure. Tudor sometime before was advertised by the Duke of Burgundy of all that passed; and [Page 93] knowing how little power he had to hinder it, he desired to be com­prehended in the Treatie; and see­ing as he lost the hopes of his Love, he set no value upon all the advantages of Fortune; he chose rather to remit his pretensions, than to see himself obliged to leave those places where he might still hope to enjoy the sight of his Lovely Prin­cess.

He led as sorrowful a Life as can be imagined; but when he himself was a witness of the Marriage of Henry and Catharine at Troyes, no despair was like to his; and all that I can say of it would be far short of the severity of his suffe­rings. He was almost dead for grief; and he had never out-lived his affliction, if it were not evi­dent by daily experience, that the greatest Crosses have indeed power enough to over-burthen us, but sel­dome the force to end our days.

[Page 94] In the mean time Catharine was in as bad a Condition as Tudor; and though she was haughty e­nough to Curb the Sentiments that she still entertained for him, yet she could not look upon him when they met, without speaking many things in his favour. Yea, and sometimes she thought that she had done a­miss in judging him guilty; and to her it seemed that the Melan­choly he was in, since the time that she had used him so ill, might serve far more to justifie him, than the Letter we have spoken of was able to condemn him. But she was much more confirmed in her thoughts, when she saw that that Prince con­tinued no more commerce with Madam de Giack; and that so far from retaining any esteem for her, he could not hear her named but with horrour. All these considera­tions put her many times in trouble: but virtue at length triumphs over [Page 95] weakness; and at least it contributed to make her reject her resolutions which sometimes she had to listen to a clear information.

In the mean time Unfortunate Tudor found by degrees that his Crosses were too hard for him; and there is nothing truer than that at length they would have ended his days, had not an accident hap­pened which revived in him some small hopes: For some Moneths there had been at Court an Italian called Pavini, who ventured at Fortune-telling, and whose Reputa­tion was in so much Vogue by ma­ny surprising things he had told to most part of the Nobility, that he was lookt upon as a person of ex­traordinary knowledge. He cast the Horoscope of the King of Eng­gland; but that Prince had no cause to be pleased with it; and that I may not trouble you with all the accidents of his Fortune, it is e­nough [Page 96] I tell you, that he assured him his Life would prove short, his death extraordinary; and that though he should not be killed, yet he should have thousands of enemies to fight with, who should never leave him till they put him in his Grave.

The Duke of Florence, Brother to the King, had the same curiosity as his Brother had had, and his Fate was not more happy than Henry's; he was to lose his Life in the first Battel that he should fight. These Princes were not well pleased with such fatal predictions: But as the Prophecy of the Italian concerning the Kings death seem­ed foolish, so they were not much troubled thereat; and they had no great apprehensions, but when they considered that most of the things which he had foretold others were fulfilled.

But in a short time Pavini was [Page 97] fully believed; for the Duke of Cla­rence▪ was killed in an engagement which happened in Anjou between his Forces and the Troops of the Dolphin commanded by the Earl of Buchan, whom that Prince had made Constable of France.

That accident made the know­ledg of the Italian to be admired; all people consulted him, and Tu­dor who had slighted him was one of the first that heard him with greatest confidence. This man en­creased the confidence that Prince Tudor had in him, by some parti­cular things which he told him; for being together in a Chamber, and he having cast his figures, and done all that his art required: Seig­neur, said he, I know not what to think of this figure; you must needs be naturally inconstant, and Fortune is pleased to treat you accor­ding to the disposition of your tem­per: For I find that at this very in­stant [Page 98] there is a considerable Cross which puts you into despair; and I see that you forget it immedi­ately, though no extraordinary al­teration happen in your Affairs; but there is an odder thing still that I must tell you, you are be­trayed by a person who loves you, and who is so far from forsaking your concerns, that that person cleaves as close to them as ever. Pavini made some pawse afterward before he spake again; but then re­newing his Discourse, Here is a thing, Seigneur, said he, which much abates my wonder; you have lately had a great Cross, and yet not from your enemies; for the person that is the cause of it takes it as ill as you do. Unriddle this your self, added he, if you can; for I confess for my part, I understand nothing of it; all that I can tell you plainly, is, that you are much in Love with some thing, [Page 99] and that though you have lost all hopes of possessing it, yet you shall, though you expect no such matter: But by that you are in danger of shortning your Life, and have a care also that your death be not fatal.

Pavini told Tudor no more, but what he said was enough to make him ponder matters; for who could not be surprised; and setting aside the point of Treason, was not the rest so conform to that which had already happened, that it might be easily understood? He began then to promise himself better Fortune, and that faint beam of hope find­ing a place in his mind, it was quickly percieved that he had lost one half of his Melancholy. Queen Catharine took notice of it as well as the rest; She would needs know the cause thereof, and having in­formation that Pavini told all peo­ple that he had no more Skill in [Page 100] the Stars, and that he lost all his measures in the Case of Tudor; the Queen was curious to know what he had told that Prince, thinking that it must of necessity be from that that he had taken comfort. She sent for Pavini when she was all alone, and having commanded him to inform her of that Princes Fortune; he frankly confessed that it put him to a puzle, and that he found great difficulty to conceive the meaning of the Figure he had cast for him. He told her likewise all that he had said to Tudor; and she could have interpreted a great part of it her self, if she had plea­sed; but she discovered not her thoughts to him, and having em­ployed him in something upon her own account, she dismissed him.

Her Conversation with Pavini gave her occasion to reflect on his great Skill; and perswading her self that he was infallible, She found [Page 101] her self divided between discontent of having unjustly accused that Prince, and Joy of knowing that he was not to be always Unfor­tunate. But there were a great many things that suddenly thwart­ed that weak satisfaction: She cal­led to mind the Letter which she had, and finding therein more ap­pearance than in all the Skill of Pavini, she reckoned his art some­time foppery, and many times ac­cused her self of too much credu­lity. However she was in danger of taking the Princes part, before she could wholly Sacrifice him to her suspicions; if her virtue had not come to her Assistance, and had not made her somewhat scrupulous in all that concerned him. That thought alone made her absolutely condemn Tudor; she was willing for her own Repose to think him guilty, and for that bout she resisted all temptations that she [Page 102] had, to come to a clearing with him.

But Pavini gave her suddenly oc­casion of obtaining another Victo­ry over her self: He cast the Ho­roscope of that Princess, as she had ordered him; he had a Mind to discourse with her, and taking his opportunity for an audience with­out interruption, Madam, said he to her, if I was amazed at the strange accidents that I found in the Fortune of Tudor, I must free­ly tell you, that I know not what to say of the things I have obser­ved in yours; for every thing in it appears to me more extraordinary than another. But who would not be surprised as well as I, when I see the greatest Princess in the World unhappy amidst her Gran­dures. Yet that is nothing, con­tinued he; and there are so many others who, in a Condition not far from that you are in, have had the [Page 103] like thoughts, that I should not much trouble my self with that Circumstance; if it were not ac­companied with many others, which seem to me directly opposite to common sense: For who will not blame you, Madam, for contribu­ting alone more to your own Cros­ses, than all others that are con­concerned in them? Yet after all that you endeavour not your own ease; and I percieve that you op­pose the means which might give you satisfaction. Yet you will not be alwayes in the same opinion; and one day or other you will leave off to be cruel to your self; but as it is fatal to you to do evil to that which affects you most, you shall be the cause of the death of the only person whom you passionate­ly Love; and which puts me in a­mazement without recovery, you shall not have the least trouble at it.

[Page 104] The Queen would hear him no longer, she retired into her Closet; and there was she forced to struggle with her humour that she might stifle a Thousand thoughts which declared in favour of Tudor. All that Pavini had told her seemed to furnish her with weapons against her self; but at length she conque­red her own weakness, and began to taste the quiet that she had ac­quired by her virtue, when she found her troubles again renewed by a superveening accident.

The King her Husband made War vigorously against the Dolphin, he took from him the Towns of Meaux and Compiegne; and was go­ing to the relief of Cosne which was Besieged by the Army of that Prince, when he was taken sick at Melun, and was forced to stop. But his Disease rather encreasing than abateing, he went to the Castle of Vincennes, where he was hardly [Page 105] arrived, but that his distemper ful­filled the prediction of Pavini, and carried him out of this World. So terrible a death occasioned certain­ly much grief to the Queen; but it is not to be thought that she was so much afflicted, as she would have been, had she married that Prince for Love.

In the mean time Tudor was not in the least sorry for it; on the contrary he thought that by that means his troubles might come to an end; and trusting as much to the prediction of Pavini as to his own Innocence, he flattered him­self with the hopes that the Queen would reflect on his Love, and that at length after so many Cros­ses, she would perhaps reward him for all the pains that she had made him unjustly suffer. He was not altogether mistaken; for that Prin­cess who had nothing now to ob­ject against the passion which she [Page 106] felt for him, suffered her self gent­ly to listen to every thing that spake in his favour; and if she desired some little clearing, it was only because she Judged it neces­sary to convince that Prince that she had reason to treat him as she had done.

Matters being so well disposed on either side, the Queen went to England; Tudor followed her: and these Lovers began then to look on one another with so passionate Eyes, that it was easie for them to percieve that their reconciliation would not be difficult. But though Tudor knew that the Queen was all sweetness, yet he could not so far prevail upon himself as to speak his mind: And he had already found many occasions to discourse to her of his Love, without being so bold as to venture on it; yea, and he had long pined away un­der the pain of a bashful and con­strained [Page 107] passion, if that Princess had not afforded him the means of disburdening his Heart: On a day when he was alone with her, and after a long discourse concern­ing the State of the War, I be­lieve, said that Princess to him, that when all is done we shall ve­ry shortly lose the hope of preser­ving the Kingdom of France; and the Fortune of War is so favourable for the Dolphin, that there is but little appearance we can long re­sist his progresses. I daily hear that those who Espoused the Interest of the Late King my Husband, for­forsake us, and I see nothing but Treachery on all hands. There is no Trust to be given now adays, Madam, answered Tudor; but to such as we know perfectly well; and yet we see that for most part the very same fail in their promi­ses as well as others; and there is so little sincerity in the World, [Page 108] that they who make most Prote­stations are commonly the people who least mind their word. You are well acquainted with some of that Character, replied the Queen; but though you seem to disapprove their procedure, yet I am confi­dent you are too much a friend to them to wish them any punish­ment. You have reason, answer­ed Tudor, with a sigh; and for all the Crosses I have met with yet, I find that my Heart is so tender as to adore those who have cruelly used me. That is to say, replied the Queen, that you have so good an Opinion of your own Conduct, as not to be willing to Condemn your self. It is to say, Madam, answered Tudor, that notwith­standing your Rigour, you are in my Eyes still the same as you were when you were no more but Princess Catharine; and that then I might have flattered my [Page 109] self that to her I was not altoge­ther a thing indifferent. Put me not in mind, replied the Queen, of the ground you gave me to be displeased with you; and none but one of my goodness would look upon you after all that you have done to me. Say rather, Madam, answered Tudor, that none but one of so much cruelty as your self, would punish people with so great severity, and still conceal from them the Pretext which you take to ren­der them miserable. Pretexts are never used, replied the Queen, but when reasons are wanting; and it is to no purpose to invent when one hath so good proofs as you have furnished me with. Ah! Ma­dam, replied Tudor, not to offend you; I have not the gift of know­ing thoughts, and I ought indeed to be guilty to find out the cause that makes you accuse me. I know, answered the Queen, that Tudor [Page 110] will not be convinced without evi­dence; The must be satisfied, and here it is, continued she, giving him the Letter that we have spoken of; what can he object against this? the Prince took the Letter; and having read it all over: Well then, Madam, replied he; and what is this to me? How, Prince, said the Queen; should you ask me that question: and is it not your part to declare to me how far your In­trigues went with Madam de Gi­ack; if you think fit that I should know any thing of it? I am not at all concerned, Madam, said he, in what you see; nor can I give you any account of it: And you know better than I, added he, giving her back the Letter, that this con­cerns the Affair that the Duke of Burgundy had with that Lady.

However she wrote that Letter to you, answered the Princess; and I had it from the Gentleman of [Page 111] your Horse. The Gentleman of my Horse had no Letter for me, replied Tudor; and when, I pray, did he give it you Madam? Imme­diately after you went away upon your Journey with the Duke of Burgundy, answered the Queen. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor after a little musing, that may very well be; I just left that Lady when I came to take my leave of you, and I urged her so much to write to that poor Prince, with whom she had quar­relled, as to incline her to write that note. Why did she not give it to your self before you left her? answered the Princess. She would do nothing, Madam, replied Tudor; and she thought perhaps better on it after that I was gone out of her House. But what does she mean, said the Princess, by that Jealousie she speaks of; and explain to me what she intends by these reasons of Policy.

[Page 112] It is no hard matter to satisfie you Madam, answered Tudor; She was Jealous of Madam de Foix, and she was so far from hearing any reason as to that matter, that she would never give ear to what I told her concerning the Civilities which the Duke was obliged to shew that Lady. These are the Politick reasons whereof she com­plains; and wherewith she says that he would have satisfied her: and that is also the passage which hath made me suffer so much, said the Queen; and which would have cre­ated you much trouble, if it be true that you have an esteem for me still; but seeing you knew your self to be innocent, Why did you not undeceive me? and is that the way to Love, to leave people to those disquiets which rob them of their repose. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor; it is I, if you please, who have cause to complain; and to [Page 113] ask you, if that be the way to e­steem one, to banish him as you banished me out of your Closet? I thought you guilty, answered the Queen; and could I give you great­er evidence that you were dear to me, than by testifying the resent­ment that I had of your inconstan­cy? And could I, replied Tudor, make appear the respect that I had for you any better way, than by obeying your commands. Ah! Tu­dor, answered the Princess; who is she that would not have dealt as cruelly as I, upon the Ground that I had to be displeased with you? No, Madam, replied Tudor; ano­ther who had Loved better would not have been so ready to condemn me: She would have reflected on her own Sentiments, and finding that she had no passion but for her Lover, she would have likewise thought that he could have Loved none but her. But what could one [Page 114] think, answered the Queen, when there were so many appearances a­gainst you? But what should be­come of me, Madam, replied Tu­dor, did I but listen to all that makes against you? You have no­thing to say against me, said the Queen, of equal force to that Let­ter. You cannot reproach me, an­swered Tudor, with any Marriage that gives a sign of ambition. Ah! Tudor, replied the Princess, how can you urge me on that account: and though there had been no mis­understanding betwixt you and me, had I right to oppose my self to a thing that was concluded by my Father, and on which depended all the peace and quiet of the State? You were always, Madam, answe­red Tudor, in a Condition of speak­ing one word to me; and though nothing can give comfort in adver­sities of that nature; yet it is no small matter for a Lover to have [Page 115] some cause of being flattered that nothing but the Interests of a Crown would have out-voted his Love. Could not you have told your self that, replied the Queen; and did not I on Thousands of occasions give sufficient signs of tenderness to make you Judge that I could e­steem no Man besides your self. It is hard, Madam, said Tudor, to believe things which we see visibly overthrown by other matters so re­pugnant to them: And Imagine not that I give much credit yet to these marks of goodness which now you are pleased to shew me, if you pretend they should be at­tended with so fatal a destiny as that wherewith you have already tried me. No, no, Tudor, answer­ed the Queen; you have nothing now to fear upon that account, I have payed my duty to my Coun­try, by the Sacrifice that I made to it of my Heart; and it is enough [Page 116] that once I have Married against my Will; now I think I have rea­son to please my self: Since I have found you Innocent, I have again placed all my affection on you; and if you continue in the same Senti­ments that heretofore you were in, it shall be your own fault if I give you not ground to lay aside all doubts of my real esteem for you. Ah! Madam, replied Tudor, cast­ing himself at her Feet; how little should I value the evils that I have suffered for so good a Princess: and how shall I ever be able to make appear how much I adore her? No, Madam, continued he, that is not to be exprest; and if you knew the State of my Heart at this very hour, you would not in the least doubt but that it is more tender and affectionate than ever.

I not only accept of the favour you bestow upon me, said he; but I accept of it with Resentments [Page 117] made up of Joy and Respect; and if you would have me to be the happiest of men, hasten only the day wherein I may enjoy so great a Blessing. Then shall I make ap­pear, Madam, that I have all that I can desire, by the possession of my Amiable Princess; and that with such a Happiness, I would not change Fortune with the greatest Princes in the World. I am glad, answered the Queen, to find you in that Opinion, and be perswa­ded that it shall be none of my fault if you be not very shortly sa­tisfied.

Tudor, as duty obliged him, thank­ed the Queen; and these two Lo­vers parted so fully content with one another, that they thought no more upon all those Evils which by their own fault they had endu­red.

Tudor found his Fortune at that Pitch, to which nothing could be [Page 118] added, or more desired; and the Queen thought that People should be satisfied when they are assured of the Affection of those whom they intimately Love. Neverthe­less she found her Joy somewhat troubled, when she reflected on what Pavini had told her; and she could not comfort her self when she considered that the kindness which she had for Tudor, must cost him his Life.

She discovered sometimes her fears to her passionate Lover; but he endeavoured still to reassure her, and used all Arguments to perswade her that such kind of Blades did more frequently miss than hit the Mark; and that they were indebt­ed to meer chance when they find their predictions verified. On a day when they had entertained di­scourse on that Subject, Mind me, said the Queen to him; I cannot but give credit to the sayings of [Page 119] Pavini, and all that he hath said is fulfilled so plainly according to his predictions, that I am extream­ly apprehensive of what he hath spoken as to you. It were far bet­ter, added she, that we should still [...]ain the fame mutual affection for one another, without proceed­ing farther; and that I should by that means preserve one who is dear unto me, and not expose him to the destiny wherewith he is threatned by my embraces. Ah! Madam, replied the Prince; if any of the two ought to tremble, it should only be Tudor, and he it is that must die: but he sets no such value on Life, as to refuse to give it, if it be by that Sacrifice alone that he can deserve so great a Bles­sing as that which you have pro­mised him; and I should not pay enough for that I prise, though I should end my days an hour after that you had given me real proofs [Page 120] of your kindness. Ah! Tudor, an­swered the Queen, put me not in mind that I am to lose you; that is a thing that represents it self so cruelly to me, that I cannot but at present feel the sensible effects of it; and can one be separated from what they Love, and survive their grief? Have you still these thoughts, Madam; and do you believe the predictions of Pavini? replied Tu­dor: Do you not remember that you are not to be the least troubled at my death: I am not so unjust to my Princess as to believe it; and considering the goodness she has been pleased to testifie to me, I am perswaded on the contrary, that her Fate would depend on mine; and that, if she should not die by the same blow that sent me to my grave, she would at least lye under so great affliction and sorrow, that such a Life as she would afterward lead, should be [Page 121] reckoned a real death. You do me right, Tudor, answered the Queen, and what you have now said to me fully confirms me. No, Pavini is Dim-sighted as to the future, and the Prince of Wales cannot meet with the least misfortune; but that I shall resent it as bitterly as he. Let us compleat what Destiny in­tends for us, and let us endeavour to render our Fortune happy, by preventing those things which may replunge us into Crosses, such as those that we have lately past.

Whilst the Queen was so well disposed for Tudor, Fortune prepa­red new impediments to their Love. The Duke of Glocester who was still taken up in the Wars since the conference at Meulan, was cho­sen for the Command and Govern­ment of Affairs in England, during the minority of Henry the Sixth, his Nephew, who was but as yet [Page 122] an Infant in the Cradle. That Prince accepted the Commission with Joy; and the more willingly inclined to the Journey, in that he retained still for the Queen the same Sentiments that he felt at first sight of her. In effect, he no soon­er saw her again, but that his flames were powerfully revived in his Breast: She seemed more beau­tiful to him than all that ever he had seen; and seeing his quality of Regent obliged him to speak frequently with her, these many Conversations made him quickly passionately in Love.

He prevented that Princess in granting all that he thought she might desire; and became in a word so civil and obliging, that it was very hard not to entertain an e­steem for him. Nevertheless, the Queen was so far from being plea­sed with that complaisance, that [Page 123] she was much troubled at it so soon as she discovered the cause; and she observed such a Conduct with him, that she always endeavoured to a­void the occasions which he sought to discourse to her of his Love. But all that Circumspection was unprofitable; and on a day when they had had a conference concern­ing some matters of State, where­in the Queen told the Duke that he had very well discharged his duty: You give me, said he, Ma­dam, praises which are not due to me; and I have contributed far less than you, to the success of what I have told you. The Queen not knowing what to make of that; How Prince, replied she, unfold to me that Riddle: and what hand can I have had in a matter where­of I did not so much as know? That hindered not, Madam, answer­ed the Duke, but that you wished [Page 124] that it might succeed as it did; and it was enough for the Duke of Glocester, knowing your intentions, fully to comply with them. I am much obliged to you, replied the Queen; but I shall refer all that, if you please, to the Zeal which you have for the Service of the King, and I shall like it as well. You are in the wrong, Madam, answered the Duke, not to take it as done for your sake alone; and you should believe that Love will be always more powerful in my Heart, than all the Sentiments of Nature and Duty. I am forced to tell you, continued he, that I am nothing changed from what you saw me at Meulan: But be not a­larmed at this, Madam, I have no thoughts that may give you cause of complaint; and I know very well that that which hath happen­ed since my fatal departure, hin­ders [Page 125] me from having any thing to pretend to more. However I Love you not with less Sincerity than if I had ground to believe that you would one day render me happy. Pitie so wretched a Lo­ver, Madam, who though his Passion be so violent, yet is still so re­spectful as to conceive nothing con­trary to the virtue of a Princess whom I shall adore with such Sen­timents as long as I live. These words gave the Queen some com­fort; and having considered a little what answer she should give him, she at length in this manner broke her silence. You ought not to doubt, Sir, but that the knowledg you give me of your passion causes me much trouble; and you oblige me to have so great an esteem for you, that I cannot forbear to wish you a better Fortune than that to which you expose your self: Con­sider [Page 126] what it is to Love without hope; and I am assured that if you reflect upon it as you ought, you will ease your self of a great many troubles that you are about to create both to your self and me; if you persist in that unhap­py passion. I am not now, Ma­dam, replied the Duke, to make that reflection; I have used all arguments with my self to over­come my own weakness: But, to be short, it is too hard for me; and after a Thousand attempts, all that I can gain upon my self, is to admire you as a Lover full of tender affection; and to speak to you as a man who is hindered by sacred ties to tell you all he thinks. Believe it, Madam, I can reconcile most respectful words, with most languishing looks; and nothing but my Eyes shall ever testifie to my Princess, that the Unfortunate Duke [Page 127] of Glocester is born to love her with extream Passion. Ah! Prince, answered the Queen, banish those Sentiments which abuse you; and do you not percieve that you al­ready begin a discourse contrary to the resolution you have taken; and that you declare your Love at the same time you promise me never to speak more of it. I had not been aware of it, Madam, re­plied the Duke, if you had not given me notice; but I shall for the future be more punctual in keeping my word. I shall not so much as complain of your cruelty, how severe soever you may be to me; and I know but one thing that may make me lose the mea­sures which I intend to observe in so tender and respectful a Love. Ah! Prince, have a care, said the Queen; your Passion wants the re­spect you speak of, if you think [Page 128] that you can ever dispense with the silence to which you oblige your self; it is that promise alone which makes me to day suffer a Conversation that is so contrary to the duty I owe my self, and which renewed once more, would make me lose all the esteem that your civil carriage hath gained from me. These Sentiments, Madam, where­with you flatter me are too pre­cious, than that I should not pre­serve them at what expence soever; and if the Duke of Glocester never find that you intend to make some Man else happy, whilst he suffers so much, he shall perhaps convince you by his carriage, that he deser­ved the blessing himself; if a Bro­ther had not been before possessed of that happiness, and had not for ever deprived him of the hopes of it.

These words made the Queen [Page 129] conceive how great difficulty she was like to meet with in the de­sign she had for Tudor. She was troubled on this consideration; but being willing to dismiss the Duke before she gave her self wholly to these thoughts: Prince, said she, either think of putting in executi­on what you have promised, or resolve never to see me more; for, to be short, I find my self too much to be blamed for entertain­ing such discourses with you; and it is not enough to have good in­tentions, we must likewise do our duty. It is true, Madam, replied the Duke; and I know that as well as you: Wherefore my whole study shall be to satisfie you; and I'le tell you no more that I Love you, because you are displeased with such discourses. However, I pray you believe that my passion shall neither be more nor less, what [Page 130] countenance soever I put on; and the Fate of the Duke of Glocester indispensably obliges him to the Service of the most lovely Queen in the World.

So soon as he had said so, he withdrew and left the Queen in an inconceivable trouble. Tudor came in at the same instant, and finding that Princess in a condition that suffered none to doubt of her grief, What hath befallen you, Madam, said he presently; and has destiny still new Crosses in reserve for me? Yes, Tudor, replied the Queen; Fate is ready again to make me suffer; and the Duke of Glocester opposes my happiness and the sa­tisfaction I intended to give you. At the same time she told him of the Conversation she had had with him, and then renewing her dis­course: Consider, Prince, said she, to what I expose you; if I follow [Page 131] my Inclination which bids me con­tent you; and is not that the way to make Pavini's word true, so to deliver you up to the rage of a des­pised Lover? What can he do, Ma­dam, replied Tudor; and besides does he not give evidence of so much virtue, as that we need not fear he will dishonour himself by any base Act. Ah Tudor, answer­ed the Queen; that shadow of vir­tue which beguiles you, does not so much deceive me; I have dived into the very heart of the Duke through all his disguises, and he puts on that counterfeit Cloak of Civility, that he may only fetch his first blow, and wheedle me, if I may so say, to listen to the dis­course of his passion. Consider what is to be expected from one who thinks himself slighted, and whose power in this place can accomplish what ever he intends. What hath [Page 132] my Princess then resolved to do? replied Tudor; to Love you as long as I live, answered the Queen; but rather to die a Thousand times than to be to you the cause of those calamities, whereof the very thought chills me with horrour. But is it not, Madam, said he, to ex­pose me to the most cruel of pains, always to delay that which might render me happy; and what more can I expect from the wrath of the Duke of Glocester? Good God, Tu­dor, replied the Queen; urge me no more to that: You know my weakness, but your preservation will be far dearer to me than all my pleasures; let us joyn both to­gether, if it may be done, answer­ed Tudor; and seeing you have so much goodness as to have so great care of my life; let us find out a remedy to cure you of these ob­liging fears, and which may at the [Page 133] same time afford me the satisfacti­on that I should meet with in the accomplishment of your promises. That is impossible, replied the Queen; not so much as you think, Madam, answered the Prince; and if an expedient could be found, would you be against it? No, Tu­dor, replied the Queen; and so far from refusing it, I would consent to it with all my Heart. Consider then, Madam, if you can resolve to marry me secretly.

There is no necessity that peo­ple should have so many witnesses of their happiness; and we may find some so faithful, as we need not fear that they will publish our secret unless we give them leave. But are there no consequences to be feared, said the Queen? and were there no other but the effects of Marriage; have not I reason to be circumspect? Can we want per­sons [Page 134] to whom we may trust, an­swered Tudor; and can so small a matter as that make you scrupu­lous? the Queen stood sometime speechless; but shortly after speak­ing again, I perceive at length, Tudor, said she, that I must grant your desires; and indeed it is im­possible for me to deny you; but remember what I do for you. The Prince cast himself immediately at her feet; and being as sensibly af­fected as one could be, he told the Queen all that a strong passion, and extream gratitude can suggest to a tender, faithful and generous Lo­ver.

The Princess put forth her hand to raise him; and that happy Lover falling on that fair hand, kissed it with such Transports of delight, that it might be easily Judged how great pleasures he was to taste in the possession of so [Page 135] Lovely a Princess. In effect no Man was so happy as Tudor, some few days after; and in the Marri­age of that great Queen, he found matter enough of Comfort for all the Evils that he had suffered so long.

That Lovely union which was Ushered in by so many Crosses, was attended with all the Con­tents that this Life can afford; and difficulty, which seasons plea­sures, made these Lovers find a Thousand charms in the secret of their Marriage; which perhaps they had not met with, if they had enjoyed one another publick­ly, and without Intrigue. Their Commerce lasted long before it was perceived; and the Queen so well concealed her Big-belly, that she was Brought to Bed oftner than once before the matter came pub­lickly to be known. But as it is [Page 136] hard always to decieve a Lover, and a Lover that is Unfortunate; the Duke began to suspect that Tu­dor had a greater share than he in the favours of the Queen; and though that Prince knew nothing but what his suspicions made him conjecture, yet he grew fearfully Jealous.

He never met Tudor but that he beheld him with threatning looks; and at length he observed so few measures in his Resentment, that our Lovers easily percieving it, re­doubled their Circumspection to conceal their Marriage. But For­tune which delights in Inconstan­cy, was weary of showring her Fa­vours on them, and resolved to make them feel her cruelty; after that she had Crowned them with her kindness.

The Duke of Glocester enter­tained many spies in the Coun­trey; [Page 137] and these Blades who ob­served all things with great care, could not hitherto find any thing that might confirm their Master in his thoughts. Sometimes he upbraided them with Carelesness, sometimes with Treachery; and that they conspired with the Queen to deceive him.

In the mean time all these Re­proaches being unprofitable; he re­solved to set to Work himself, and laboured to corrupt the Loy­alty of those whom he knew to be most Privie to the Secrets of the Queen: But he found them all so firm to their duty, that he be­gan to lose hopes of succeeding in his designs; when Fate alone in a Trice compleated that which the Duke could not perform with the Assistance of all whom he had em­ployed.

The Queen made use of one of [Page 138] the Chamberlains of her House, to send her Letters by to Tudor; she had intrusted him to carry one to him; and that faithful Servant who was glad punctually to dis­charge what he was ordered to do by the Queen, waited till Night, that he might go securely to the House of Tudor, and so soon as it grew Duskish he took his Journey that he might perform his Message.

He was not far from the House, when he found himself set upon by Six Robbers: He defended him­self as well as he could; but the Foot-man that was with him ha­ving forsaken him, he received suddenly several wounds, which made him fall dead upon the place.

In the mean time that murther was committed with much Ru­mour; and the Lackey who fled [Page 139] called together a great many for his Masters Assistance, with whom he came back, but too late; for the Murtherers had already saved themselves. Some went in pursuit of them, and the rest carried the Body of the Gentleman into the next House, where making an In­ventory, according to the good Custome of some, of all that the dead Man had about him, they found there the Letter which he carried to Tudor.

They presently knew the Queens Signet; and seeing the Letter had no address, and that they doubt­ed not but that it was of conse­quence, The Constable took the charge of it, and went instantly with it to the Regent, to whom he told what had happened.

The Duke presently dismissed him; and having looked upon that [Page 140] Letter Three or Four times, with­out daring to open it, at length he broke it up and found these words in it.


ALL that can be done is done to discover if I love you; and there is nothing omit­ted to draw from my Servants a Confession of what they might know of our Secrets: but they have not falsified the Opinion that I had of their fidelity, and our Jealous observer shall [Page 142] keep watch long in vain, if I mistake not. At present I find some abatement of my fears; come as soon as you can, my Dear, and make your advan­tage of the Serenity we now en­joy, and I shall give my Dear Tudor proofs, that I Love him more than my self.

[Page 143] THe Duke grew stark staring mad upon reading of that Letter; he was sometime before he would resolve what to do: but at length having uttered great threats against these two Unfortunate Lo­vers, he resolved to shew them what a slight was able to produce in the Breast of a Man prepos­sessed with a strong passion. He imagined every thing that might animate him to revenge; and when he found that some remains of Af­fection put a stop to his rage, Is it for that infamous Princess then, that thou dost solicite me; and art thou still so base as to be wil­ling to observe measures with one who, not content to put me into despair, stains likewise the honour of the Royal Family by a shame­full Commerce which she holds with a Prince so far beneath her. [Page 144] Ah! too happy Tudor, cried he immediately afterward, thy death must expiate the Crimes that thou committest against the Memory of thy Prince; and the Duke of Glo­cester shall revenge him at the same time that he resents the Indignity that you offer to his Love. He was at least an hour in making such useless complaints; and think­ing that he would receive great ease if he might utter in the Queens presence what he had been saying all alone, he went to her appart­ment. The Queen was surprised to see him at that time; but she had far greater reason to be so, when that Prince, after a terrible look, I am not at all amazed, Madam, said he to her, at the trouble I put you in; when one expects to see a Lover, and finds a furious man, one has reason to change co­lour; but I shall be exceedingly [Page 145] changed my self, if I produce not shortly more surprising revolutions, and I hope that the deceitful Eyes which I behold, shall shortly weep for the same things that have hi­therto made them laugh. What do you mean, Prince, replied the Queen half angry at that discourse; and half shaking for fear. I mean, Madam, answered the Duke, that to see you, one would never have believed that you could Joyn such modest looks with so bad and Ir­regular a Conduct. But I know your secret practices; and it is no time to dissemble when I have so good proofs to confound you. Here is the thing, continued he; (show­ing her the Letter that we have mentioned) that will put you out of your measures; and ought you not to blush at these shameless words whereby you express your passion?

If the Queen was astonished at [Page 146] the Dukes discourse; ye may Judge what case she was in when she saw her Letter in his hand. She stood sometime speechless; but finding that it was no longer time to dis­semble, By what means, Prince, said she, have you come by my Letter? I see not what right you have to censure my actions; and may not I write to my Husband what I think good, but that the Duke of Glocester must find fault with it? Tudor your Husband! Madam, said the Duke, immediate­ly interrupting her. Yes, Prince, replied the Queen; Tudor is my Husband: and I would have you know besides, that I have Three Children by him. These words al­most killed the Duke with despair, and renewing his discourse after he had made some reflexion on what the Queen had told him, A Queen of England, said he, Daughter of [Page 147] a King of France, has Married Tu­dor, and has Three Children by him! Ah! Madam, added he; think not by that Pretext to abuse me; it will be to no purpose for you to think to stop my revenge; and let it be as you will have it, that too happy Tudor shall die; and he shall pay for the freakishness of Fortune, that appoints some to so much happiness, whilest others wrestle with the Torments of a wretched life. He presently went out with the Mine and Gate of a Man who was to be feared. The Queen could not behold him in that condition without Trembling for Tudor; and at this instant she felt a shivering that never left her till she died.

In the mean time the Duke of Glocester sent some of the Guards to apprehend that Prince; but they narrowly miss'd him, for he was [Page 148] gone a little before to wait upon the Queen, upon the news he had received that their Confident was Assassinated. He entered her apart­ment unseen of any; and finding the Princess in a Posture that might have drawn Tears from the most obdured hearts, it was long be­fore he gave any sign of sorrow by words; but instead of that, he made appear in his Countenance the ut­most effects of extream affliction. Afterward he looked tenderly on that amiable Princess, and speaking to her fully as much with his Eyes as Mouth, What is the news then, said he, my dear Queen? and what should I think of the cruel con­dition wherein I see you? Ah! Prince, we are undone, answered the Queen, and the Duke of Glo­cester has discovered our secret; he hath intercepted a Letter which I sent you to day by my Chamber­lain, [Page 149] and in a word, we are betray­ed. That faithful Servant is dead, Madam, replied Tudor; and was murthered hard by my house. I am come purposely hither to pay my duty to my Princess, and to know of her, if she had heard of that fatal accident. Alas! no, an­swered the Queen, and I began al­most to suspect him of Treache­ry; but at length I am convinced of his innocence, and who have been his murtherers: There is no doubt but the Duke has commit­ted that crime; and not satisfied; with the death of that Wretch, he threatens also the Life of my dear Tudor. At the same time she told him all that had passed between the Duke and her; and had no strength to speak any more: about the end of her discourse she faint­ed away, and came not to her self a­gain till half an hour after; but was [Page 150] feised on with so burning a Feaver, that she alarmed all that were with her.

In the mean time Tudor was in no better condition; and he could not behold these sad Marks of kind­ness which his, Princess shewed him without the bitterest Agonies of grief; but he had shortly occasion to be overwhelmed with sorrow: For the Queen understanding that the Duke of Glocester's Guards had been at the Princes house to appre­hend him, and that he was sought after in all places; she thought him utterly undone, and that nothing could save him from his rage. She obliged him to suffer himself to be shut up in a Closet behind her Bed; but that circumspection deli­vered her not from her fears, and her Feaver got immediately up in­to her Brain and made her Light­headed; which in two days time [Page 151] brought her to the last extremity. It is hard to tell the sufferings of Tudor when he saw the Queen in that condition; nor can I even tell which of the two was most to be pitied; he looked upon her with all imaginable tenderness, and had no other way to express his grief but by a flood of Tears which streamed from his Eyes.

The Queen was sensibly affected at his pains; and striving against her distemper, that she might again speak to him, Prince, said she, if you would oblige me, be not so much afflicted; consider you have Children, and that for them you owe your preservation: Take no care of the Mother; and reserve for these dear pledges which I leave to you of my kindness, the Testi­monies that now you give me of your Love. Having so said, she embraced Tudor; and mingling to­gether [Page 152] the Memorie of his pains and Love, breathed out her last be­tween his Arms, leaving all in an uncertainty whether she died for Joy or Grief.

The Unfortunate Tudor melting in Tears, stretched himself upon the Body, which he endeavored to warm again by his embraces; but find­ing it cold and past all sense, he was at length convinced of his mi­sery. He continued long in a fear­ful extasie; but so soon as he came to himself, he resigned all his con­tents to despair. Ah! Pavini, cried he, your knowledg is great; and you have to the least circumstances foretold my unhappiness. My Queen will not now be troubled at my death, seeing that Illustrious Prin­cess is gone. He said no more; but leaving the Chamber, went streight to the Duke of Glocester. He accost­ed that Duke with the resolution [Page 153] of a Man that fears not death; and having cast a disdainful look upon him, Make an end, barbarous man, said he, of the Tragedy you have so well begun; and seeing my love­ly Princess is by your cruelties now expired, why are you so slow to make me feel the same measure of Injustice, and to reunite above what was so well Joyned here below. The Queen is dead! replied the Duke in a great surprise; is it possible, good God! do I hear that fatal news, and do not I die for grief? With that he fetched several sighs, and turning to Tudor in the height of rage: Yes, yes, Traitour, said he, I shall speedily grant your desire, and your blood shall supply the Tears that you have made me shed. He called his Guards immediately, and having ordered them to carry him to Prison, he lockt himself up in his Chamber, where he mourn­fully [Page 154] lamented his destiny. But he quickly changed his Love into fury; for within a few days he caused a Scaffold to be erected, where he com­manded Tudor to be put to death. The poor Prince was led to Execu­tion as if he had been guilty; but instead of complaining of the Dukes cruelty, he prayed a certain friend to thank him in his name, for the favour he did him, because by his means he hoped shortly to see his lovely Queen again. He laid down his head to the Executioner; who having by one blow divided it from his Body, shewed the Spe­ctators by that Memorable Cata­strophe, how little there is between the highest bliss and the lowest mi­sery.


A Catalogue of some Books Printed for, and Sold by Jonathan Edwin, at the Three Roses in Ludgate­street.

THe Commentaries of C. Julius Cesar, of his Wars in Gallia, and the Civil Wars betwixt him and Pompey, Translated in­to English, with many excellent and ju­dicious Observations thereupon; as also the Art of our Modern Training, or Tactick Practice; by Cle­ment Edmunds Esquire, Remembrancer of the City of London. Whereunto is adjoyned the Eighth Com­mentary of the Wars in Gallia, with some short Observations upon it, together with the Life of Caesar, and an account of his Medals: Revised, Cor­rected and Enlarged, in Fol.

The History of the Reigns of Henry the VII. Henry the VIII. Edward the VI. and Queen Mary, the first Written by the Right Honourable Francis Lord Ve­rulam, Viscount St. Alban, the other Three, by the Right Honourable, and Right Reverend Father in God Francis Godwyn, Lord Bishop of Hereford, in Fol.

The Countess of Pembrokes Arcadia, written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight, the Thirteenth Editi­on, with his Life and Death; a brief Table of the principal Heads, and some other new Additions, in Fol.

The French way of Exercising their Infantry, as it is now used in the Armies of his Most Christian Majesty, in Fol. stitcht.

[Page] Parthenissa, that most Fam'd Romance, the Six Volumes compleat, composed by the Right Honorable the Earl of Orrory, in Fol.

Roman Forgeries, or a true Account of false Re­cords, Discovering the Impostures and Counterfeit Antiquities of the Church of Rome, in Octav.

The Comparison of Plato and Aristotle, with the Opinions of the Fathers on their Doctrines, and some Christian Reflections; together with judg­ment on Alexander and Caesar, as also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius, in Octav.

Observations on the Poems of Homer and Virgil: A discourse representing the Excellencies of those works; and the perfections in general of all Heroick Actions, in Octav.

The Causes and Remedies of the Distempers of the Times, in certain Discourses of Obedience and Disobedience, in Octav.

Songs and Poems, by Thomas Flatman, the Second Edition, in Octav.

Gallantry A-la-Mode, a Satyrical Poem in Three, parts representing the Vanities of several humors of this present Age, in Octav.

Wit at a Venture, or Clio's Privy Garden, con­taining Songs and Poems, never before in Print, in Octav.

The Mercury Gallant, containing many true and pleasant relations of what hath passed at Paris, from the first of January 1672. till the Kings departure thence, in Octav.

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