LOVE could no longer brook this inte­fering Business in the Court of Albion; for seeing with Indignation, how Ambi­tion daily had intrench'd on his Prero­gative, he reassumes his long neglected Darts, and vows severe Revenge on his Rebellious Subjects. And now Messalina's haughty Heart, which vast aspiring Hopes had long engaged, softens again in Gentleness and Love: She had seen the Languets of her Charming Count, and heard his gentle Murmurs with Compassion; she knew the great restraint he forc'd upon his Heart, when by reason of her numerous Atten­dants, and Visitours, he had not opportunity to breath his Love; sometimes a Wink, an Amorous Look, or Sigh, she would by stealth return; or otherwise, in some Am­biguous Words, she would discover her Concern and Care, for his endearing Passion; but in such dumb shows alone, as there were more than Three Weeks spent, e're she could possibly engage, or speak with him alone. Du­ring which time, her Beauty, with the Satisfaction of her Mind, was much improved; and that forc'd Abstinence, which her pretended Child-bearing had made her under­go, conduc'd as well to carry on the Cheat, as to revive some fading Glories in her Face, caus'd by the Fears and Apprehensions of Miscarrying. Now, in Triumphant Wise, she'd Walk, and Look, and with Disdainful Jests,[Page 6]among her Confidents, Laugh at the weak dull Christi­ans of the Court. Come Dear Aspasia, would she say, let us no longer doubt of good Success; let's every Year bring forth a Son, and stock the Kingdom with a Race of Pagan Prin­ces; shall my aspiring lofty Soul, stoop to the nice Destructive Rules of their insipid Morals? One flight of Pagan Fancy quite out-strips their heavy tedious Motions; and till now, our Fears alone have been our Bugbear Apparitions: With how much ease, did we Contrive and Finish, what some faint puny hearted Creatures thought impossible? Oh how I am pleased to think how naturally I manag'd the Intreague: Didst thou observe, how gravely some would sland; and when my feigned Groans and Cries, would reach their Ears, how then Officiously they'd shake their Heads, devoutly lifting up their Hands, and pray for my Delivery? Then, when my seeming Pains would make me faintis [...], with what Concern they'd Sigh and Whisper, while I would gently grasp, and turn to thee, and smile at the Success of our Invention. Come, Come, let's see this Darling of our Hopes, this Ground-work of our Everlasting Joy; long Live, and Live to Reign, my little blooming Life, and Live to be the Scourge of our Curst Christian Foes; I'll swear thee, like another Hambal, their Mortal Foe; each drop of Milk thou suck'st, shall breed an Age of Malice in thy Heart; A Christian's Name shall grate upon thy Soul, and thou shalt prove the Plague of their Pro­fession; I'll breath my Spirit through thy tender Pores, and make thy hatred of them Everlasting; Down, down ye Pa­gans, to your Great Deliverer; Adore your Mighty Prince, and your Redeemer: See how the base dejected Christians shrink; see how they Tremble at his Awful Frown: Albion is once again Redeemed, Aspasia, and now my Crown sits firm and easie on my Head. Thus in Vain Raptures would the Queen break out, and boast her Promises to be Prophe­tical; but soon, alas, she found her self deceived, and all her Glorious Promises vanish of a sudden. Anaxi­mander, and the Princess Artemisia, while Licogenes, and[Page 7]his Pagan Councellors, continued only to make some small Encroachments, and Breaches on the Laws of Al­bion, seemingly designing, for no more than a small To­leration of the Pagan Religion in Albion, kept them­selves within all bounds of Modesty and Submission, to the King their Father; only in some small Remonstran­ces, they did Declare their Unwillingness to appear Par­ties in the Annulling, or Dispensing with those Laws, made purely for the Security of the Christian Religion, against the Practices and Contrivances of the Pagans; but when they plainly saw, their Own, and the Kingdoms Interest, resolved to be made a Sacrifice to the Ambi­tion, and Covetousness of a small Party, that by the known Laws of the Land, were declared the irreconcile­able Enemies of the Christians; they thought it then high time to look about them, and though they paid all the Reverence imaginable to the King, their Father; yet they could not resolve to yield their Rights and Inheri­tance, and hold precariously their Estates, at the Dis­cretion of an Anti-Christian pack'd Councel; besides, by several Remonstrances and Petitions from the Chief of the Nobility and Gentry, they had been solicited to take them into their Protection, and to endeavour a Re­dress of their Grievances, and heavy Oppressions▪ Anaxi­mander, being a Prince of a Vast and Generous Spirit, was easily induc'd to condescend to their Relief; for, besides his proper Interest in the Crown of Albion, which by the common Principles of Nature, he was obliged to Main­tain and Defend; he often would revolve on the Glory of the Action, and how Heroick and God-like it would shew, to appear the Great and Glorious Champion of the Christian Religion, which by a Secret League, between Polydorus King of the Gauls, and the King Licogenes, was resolved to be wholly Extirpated, and Routed out of Europe. Upon these Considerations, the Prince Anaxi­mander immediately imparts his Desires and Resolutions [Page 8]to the High and Mighty Lords and States of the Low-Lands, desireing their Lordships Advice and Assistance in a Matter of that Importance, to the Security of them­selves, as well as all other Christians; which upon due Considerations, they with all Alacrity imaginable Grant: And now the Prince having a Gallant, though small Fleet, equipp'd with all the speed that could be, makes for the West of Albion, and with such prudent Secrecy were all things managed, that Lycogenes had not the least Intima­tion in the World of his Designs, till his Fleet was rea­dy to Sail. Messalina had, that Night the satal News ar­rived, assign'd Count Davila to meet her at St. Jaques, and the Marchioness de Tomazo in the Absence especially of Aspasia (who a while before was gone over to her Husband Latroon, Governour of Iberia) being her chief Confident, was order'd to attend. The Count, who had once or twice been Tardy in the Hour appointed, thought now by early Diligence to make amends, so that by Twi­light he was gotten up into the Bed-Chamber, being a private Retirement for Messalina, during the King's Ab­sence at any Time, or her Indisposition; where sitting down near the Bed, he waited with Impatience for the Queen; and in the mean time, was contemplating on the Happiness of his Enjoyments; by this time, Darkness had o'er-spread the Earth, and the Marchioness being to give the Orders for the Candles of that private Apartment, especially at that season, the Count found himself for some time very solitary, and without Light, and being about to make to the Door, he heard some stirring and breathing on the Bed, when drawing the Curtain softly, he could just perceive by her Cloaths, it was a Lady fast asleep; the Count was mightily amaz'd at first, but re­collecting himself, he thought it doubtless was the Queen, who had retired thither before the Hour appointed, and had prevented even his Dilligence in coming; so with­out scruple, throwing himself on the Bed, he clasps[Page 9]the supposed Messalina in his Arms, and having in his first Transports run with his curious Hand o'er all the private Recesses of her Charms, he was just preparing to attack the Fort, mingling with his Kifles, his short Amorous Sighs, foretelling Transports, Extasies and Dyings; when Messalina hastily comes in with a small Taper in her Hand, and calls: Tomazo, is not my Dear Count yet come, Tomazo? The Marchioness at the very Instant, whether the Amorous bustling of the Count had operated on her waking Fancy, or whether by the Im­pression of some pleasing Dream, she was thereto incited, Cryed passionately out, ‘"Make haste my Dear Antonio, make haste, the Marquess will be here and Ruine us.’ The Queen who had heard her speak those last Words, by this Time had opened the Curtain, and there disco­vered the Count, raised on his Knees between Tomazo's Leggs, and in a posture which plainly discovered the drift of his Intentions; never were Three Persons (for by this Time the Marchiones had wak'd) so severally a­stonished and confounded; the Queen with Shame had shown her Face glowing Red, and then with Anger straigt grown Pale; the Count, though in that awkward Posture, was so much confounded, he could not move himself, nor had the Sense to cover the Marchioness, or his own Nakedness; but between Wonder, Anger and Fear, was wholly bereft of even Sense or Motion: The Marchioness, whose Age and Experience had rendered her familiar with the same or the like Adventures, was not so much Ashamed of being seen in that Condition and Posture, as Apprehensive of the Queen's Resentments, if, as was probable, she should suppose any Amour be­tween her and the Count, her Lover, and whom she had but that Night appointed, and design'd for her own Use and Service. In such distracted Thoughts and Manner, did they for a great while stand and gaze, and wonder at one another, without one Word between them, till[Page 10]at last the Queen, whether heightend in her Fancy, with the pleasing sight and intended Action of the Count, or upon due consideration, believing and judging, by the Words she had heard the Marchioness utter, that it was wholly a mistake on all sides, burst out in Laugh­ter, and turning her Face a little, told the Count in Drollery, the Weather began to be Cold, and there­fore he would do well to take care and cover his Mi­stress and himself. The Count with this short repri­mand was thoroughly wak'd out of his Trance, and slip­ping off the farther side of the Bed, was bustling a long time to put himself in order, while the Marchioness, half distracted, rises and pulls the Curtains close about her; which the Queen seeing, She calls out to her: What Tomazo! You are resolved then to keep the Count to your Self this Night; and making to the Bed, She threw the Curtains again open, and discovered Tomazo in a fresh Confusion: By this time the Count had gathered a little more assurance, and coming from behind the Bed, he strait threw himself at Messalina's Feet, humbly ask'd her Pardon, and told her, he hop'd she was not insen­sible of the fatal mistake he had like to have fallen in; and consequently, he doubted not of her favourable In­terpretation; he was sorry he had first appeared in so indecent a Posture, and his continuance therein, She could not but believe the consequence of his Astonish­ment. The Queen, who upon a just consideration of the Circumstances, was sufficiently satisfied of his Inno­cence, was so [...]ar from being angry or disturb'd, that after two or three fits of Laughter, She threw her de­licious Arms about his Neck, and with Ten Thousand Kisses Seal'd his Pardon: then turning to her dear To­mazo, She would Laugh, and say, Make hast my Dear Antonio, make haste; O Dear, my Husband comes! Alas, What shall we do? we are ruin'd Dear Antonio. Thus did She Droll on the poor Marchioness, 'till the Count [Page 11]putting her in mind of the time of the Night, they were retiring to the Closet to Converse, when a Mes­senger from Alba Regalis, comes in haste, to give an account of an Express, Lycogenes had receiv'd from the Belgian Lowlands, giving an Account of the Preparations and Designs of the Prince Anaximander, to come and re­dress the Grievances of the poor Christians of Albion: the Queen (who was no otherwise read in the Politicks and Affairs of State, than as Father Pedro, the Count, or some other of her Priests upon particular occasions had Instructed her) was not at first so apprehensive of the Danger as the Count, who was so vehemently start­led at the News, that without any more Complement than Bowing to the Queen, he descends and takes Coach for Alba Regalis; where he was no sooner Ar­rived, but he found the whole Court Alarm'd; and Ly­cogenes in Solemn Council was gone to Debate the Bu­siness: The next Day the News was confirmed by ano­ther Express, and then all was in an Uproar; Lycogenes in a great Fright comes to Council, tells them his ap­prehensions of Anaximanders Design, requires their best and speedy Advice, puts them in Mind of all the Brea­ches he had made in the Laws for their Sakes; and that now, without speedy Assistance, he was likely to be ru­in'd, and the Pagans Hopes throughout Albion to be ut­terly lost. Such dreadful Words as these, and coming from a Prince that had been in every Panegyrick cry'd up and applauded for his Constancy of Mind, and In­vincible Courage, did so amaze and terrifie his Coun­sellors, that they could not in a long time set their Hearts on any serious Consultation; some of them with­drew, then in again; presently others that had been absent, came Posting to understand and enquire into the Business; some would relate it as terrible as their Fears, and represent the numbers of the Princes Ships and Men double; here you should see a haughty Stiff­necked[Page 12]Priest, come humbly fawning to a Christian Noble, as if confessing past Mis-carriages and Crimes, he wish'd for good Conditions: Some would be pack­ing up their Goods and Treasure, their guilty boading Consciences fore-telling their forc'd Flight and Ruine▪ But Pedro and Poliorchetes, the Chancellour, who were sensible they were likely to share the sum and substance of all unhappy Revolutions, thought it now no longer time to dally, or spend the precious Minutes in useless idle Fears, but to apply the most healing Medicines, that the present bleeding Wound would bear; and ac­cordingly perswade Lycogenes to re-call several Edicts, that by their Instigation and Council had been pro­mulg'd against the Interest and Safety of his Christian Subjects: And Father Pedro calling a Convocation of his Inferiour Priests, makes them Dis-robe, and in disguise to mingle among the Christian Assemblies, in the Forum, Burse, Temples, and other publick Meeting-Places, and there with Confidence to utter false Re­ports, to lessen the Strength of Anaximander, to cry up the miseries of a Civil War, to Extol the Loyalty of the King's Christian Subjects, to make comparison between young Perkin's Expedition and this, and thence to conclude positively of the like success: The Court party also of Renegado Christian Divines, were order­ed to Preach up the necessity of Obedience and Loyal­ty, to withstand the Prince in his Attempts, and to brand his Expedition with the horrible Title of Inva­sion. These, and many other Arts were used to take off the Edge of Anaximander's Sword; sometimes they'd Brand His Royal Person with base and ignominious Names; other times they would think to terrifie the Rebels (as they would call all that should assist him) with the Exemplary Punishments, inflicted by the Chancellour Polyorchetes, in his bloody Western Cam­paigne: But all would not do, the Christians knew the[Page 13] Pagan Punick Faith, as well as Inhumane Cruelty, they saw their Laws, their Liberties, and Lives at Stake; and that now was the only time to assert and recover them; the Pagan Priests had often mock'd the King out of his most Solemn Promises, and Messalina had endeavoured to entail their Slavery upon them to all Posterity. Nothing therefore could stagger their for­mer Resolutions, but like the Adder, they were Deaf to all their treacherous Charms, and false Insinuations: Notwithstanding, Messalina's dauntless Pride could not 'till the Princes Landing stoop to the apprehension of any material Danger; she'd often chalk out time and place to see the fond weak Prince brought bound to Troynovant; She'd Laugh and Jeer at his few puny For­ces, and would in every Table Talk defeat his whole Battalions; sometimes She'd call her Melancholy Lov­er, whose deeper apprehensions, now had chang'd his usual Mirth; sometimes, I say, She'd call him to her, and reproach his needless Fears: What? would She say, Can Davila suspect or fear, when Messalina's Heart is free? Can thy so much applauded Courage stoop to what a poor weak Womans Soul can stand? Stand did I say? By all that's good, this Hand shall how the Neck of that poor Spirited Prince, that weak presumptuous Wretch, that dare Invade my Husbands losty Crown: What my Dear Da­vila, canst thou lament? Hast thou a Diadem to loose, a Throne to be pull'd down, Subjects and Slaves to be destroy­ed before thy Face? These may create a Monarchs doubts and fears: What then should thy Eyes swell with needless Tears? Remit, remit, alas, thy useless apprehensions! I sure am the Center of thy Thoughts: In me thy utmost Wishes are determined; while then I stand secure, What need'st thou fear? Chear up, chear up, my dear lov'd Count; let us not lose our present happy Minutes, for vain weak doubts of future Cares and Sorrows.

[Page 14]The Count both wondred and rejoyced at the great Heroick Heart of his beloved Royal Mistress; and tho' he knew, and was perfectly sensible that her words were rather the effect of her dauntless Spirit, than of a solid Consideration; yet he saw so much Love express'd in her frequent concernment for him, that he could not but in common Gratitude and Honour, make her the same, or suitable returns; he therefore told her Majesty, That his apprehension of being separated from her, was with­out doubt, a sensible affliction to him; but above all he deplor'd his great unhappiness, in not being able to afford more than his own personal assistance, to repell her own, and their great Prophet's Enemies; that he cordially wish'd the Prince Anaximander's undertakings might prove as frivilous and ineffectual, as she had de­clared them; that his great care of her Majesty's Safe­ty and Honour, was the only Foundation of his Fear; that he did indeed object the worst to himself, but did not believe he had yet any reason to dispair of the best; that he was sensible her super-eminent Me­rit had render'd her Obnoxious to the Slanderous re­proaches and envy of the Wicked Christian Albionites; that the King her Husband's Zeal, in a good and pious Cause, had incurred the wicked Malice of his rebellious Subjects; and that if his Affairs (which Heaven sor­bid) should happen to fail, it would be the total ru­ine and destruction of his Life and happiness, to think she should fall into the Hands of her Enemies, or be lessened in her Fortune or high Station; that there­fore it was his humble and hearty request, that she would suffer himself, and some other select Friends to consult and lay before her such measures for the security of her Person and Honour, as should appear to be most convenient; that providing against the worst would be no hindrance of her enjoyment of the best; but above all, that she would give him her resolution and firm[Page 15]promise to let himself accompany and wait on her in all, and every Misfortune that possibly could befal her. Mes­salina was ravish'd with this so zealous and tender de­monstration of her Dear Counts Love, and in a loving transport catching his Hand and Arm, she pull'd him to her on a Couch whereon she sate, where with unspeak­able Raptures she would Circle her Snowy Arms and Hands, about his Neck and Wast; Oh! how she'd such his Amorous ruddy Lipps and Cheeks, and with her Balmy melting Hand stroak, and press, and play with his Manly Neck, and Face, ‘"Oh! could'st thou think Dear Cruel Heart, said she, that e're my Panting Soul could yield to part with thee, the Dearest, blest Foun­tain of it's joy; Fortune, indeed with rude or Imparti­al hands may catch and grasp my Shaken, Tottering Crown; but sure my Heart and Will, are still my own; and being mine, who Dare Pretend to Stop, or Claim what I resolve to Share, to Give, to Keep for only Thee.’ No, no, my Life, my Davila, continued she: ‘"If Fate or Curst Inconstant Fortune have decreed my Seperation from this Ill-bred Isle, Thou like my better Genius shalt attend me, thou like my happy Star shal't lead the Way: where e're we come we'll be each others Heaven, and in thy Bosome will I place my Land of Joy, and Rest.’ With these last words they fell together on the Couch, and tir'd with busie Love and Rapture, soon dropt into a gentle Slumber. Faithful Tomaso, in the mean time was hovering about the Out-Guards to prevent surprize, and to diver the access of any suspitious Persons: She had waited half an hour or little more, when comes a Messenger from King Lycogenes to Messalina, which brought account, the Prince was now at Sea, and with a numerous Fleet was making all the Sail he could for Albion: the Marchioness receives the Message, and all in Tears repairs with open Mouth to the Queens Closet: the Queen waking abruptly at the [Page 16]Noise she made, starts up, and with a sudden Shriek alarm's the Count; Anaximander comes, Dread Soveraign cries the Marchioness, he comes with Speed and Power and Swears to Unravel all? O Mighty Operations! the Count who had hardly yet recovered himself, was look­ing about when he had heard the Marchioness declare he was come, and putting himself on his Guard, swore he'd Defend his Royal Mistress to the last; Oh! that his Single Fate, Cries Mesalina, were to be oppos'd to thine: Inspir'd by Love and my auspicious Prayers, how would'st thou crush his Puny Soul. Soon should'st thou nip these daring Christians hopes, and with one happy blow se­cure our Pagan Friends and Interest for ever. In the mean time Lycogenes in late and early Councels, was con­triving how to stop this overflowing Current of the Princes designs; he had observ'd an unusual blithness in all his Christian Nobles Faces, and was sensible that the Prince Anaximander could not presume to attack the Al­hionites, without very good Incouragement from the Gran­dee's: however, with all his industry he was not able to learn out who were Anaximanders Abettors in this hold designe; Father Pedro and others of his Anti-Christian Councel were advising him to lay hold on, and secure all that he could but in the least suspect; but this being controverted was found too Violent, and more than the present Circumstances of affairs could bear; others sugge­sting the doubtful Loyalty of the great City of Troynovant, 'twas thought advisable to secure the Citadel, in some Peculiar trusty hands, and thereby to scare that Populous and Powerful Place into a just Obedience: this was found good and Feazable, and strait a new Commander is or­dain'd, with secret orders how to manage things to the best advantage. In the mean time, the Prince Anaximan­der, steers away, and without any lett or hindrance, in a few days arrives safe at a convenient Haven, in the West of Albion; and now the Thread of Poor Lycogenes his Fate[Page 17]began to crack, now he could plainly see the errours of his Government, and when it was unhappily too late, might Curse the base designes of his pernicious Counsel­lors: now was he forc'd to stoop that Glorious Lofty Heart, which dauntless hererofore had braved the mighti­est force of Europe. How was he chang'd, alas, from that brave Invincible Lycogenes, that did through Clouds of Smoake and Fire, Charge through the Belgian Fleet, and with fresh Lawrels Crown'd, return'd in Triumph to his joyfull Country: now every little Western breeze that heretofore did serve to blow and kindle up his flaming Courage, like some cold Pestilential air damps his Mis­giving Soul; now Poor, forsaken of himself he stands, Conscience alone of Ills past done remains his tiresome guest: Attend ye cursed race of wicked Jebusites, see the Prodigious effects of your Pernicious Councels, ye Cloggs to Crowns, and bane of Power.

The Prince Anaximander no sooner appear'd with his Fleet, but the Christians all about the Country flock'd to the Shore, and with loud shouts and all other demon­strations of Joy, welcomed the arrival of their great De­liverer: and several with Boats stock'd with fresh Pro­vision put off and dispers'd them about the Fleet, for the refreshment of the Seamen and Souldiers, and having provided before small Bridges and other conveniencies for the Landing his Army, and his Carriages, he found[Page 18]himself in a condition within three days to draw up and muster his Men, who had by this time heartily recovered the Fatigue of their Voyage. Lycogenes in the mean time, though very much dejected, had taken care to Levy a Gallant Army, and it was one while thought a very doubtful thing, to which, to ascribe the Victory▪ Anaxi­mander had not brought with him above Fourteen Thou­sand Horse and Foot, but those indeed Experienc'd Vete­rane Bands, very Compleatly Arm'd; besides, Lycogenes before the Prince landed, had at least Thirty Thousand well appointed Souldiers, so that when he began tho­roughly to compute his own strength, and his Enemies weakness, he thought to take heart, and resolv'd for the greater Incouragement of his Men to appear at the head of them himself, and withal speed to give his Enemies Battle, and hinder their further Progress into the Country; but alas, while he was flatter'd and amus'd with the strength and bravery of his own Army, Anaximander was mustering and entertaining the Choice Young Men of all the Western Country: for the People considering the Cause, and that their Liberties and Lives, were now their only last stake, they came flocking in so fast to the Prince, that he had in eight days more Substantial choice Men than he could handsomely make use of; besides, the Major part of Lycogenes his Army, being Christians, they could not but be sensible that those Swords that they should draw against their Brethren in the West, would at the long run be employ'd against their own Throats and Lives; and therefore, being already weary of submitting their Free-Born Souls to the Bondage and Tyranny of their Pagan Officers, they associate and take Council to­gether how to free themselves and their Country, by either, laying down their Arms, or going over to the Prince Anaximander, and now the fatal Period of Ly­cogenes his Reign drew near, for first whole Companies, Troops, and Regiments of his Army revolt from him, and[Page 19]then his Friends and Near Relations, touch'd with the sence of deeper obligations due to their Country, their Religion and their God: Thus the Trump being turned, the Pagans quickly find their disadvantage of the Game, and in Confusion, like distracted Men fling up their Cards, and scamper to secure themselves from payment. Messalina also to her Sorrow sees what hitherto she ne­ver would believe; now Pedro finds the fallacy of his con­clusions, while Polyorchetes, Sunderania, and others of that wicked Grue curse their unlucky Stars, and seek in every corner for some place of refuge: Poor Lycogenes flies in confusion from his distant Foes, not able to endure even the report of their approach: He that like another Xerxes saw himself begirt even with a world of Guards, now flies bereft almost of necessary Attendance: He no sooner arriv'd at his old Pallace of Alba Regalis, but in hast he calls a Secret and Solemn Council of all his few remaining Friends, and after such Debates as the time would afford and permit, they resolve to send proposals to the Prince, who like a Swelling Tide had now o're spread the Country; and the danger being grown be­yond recovery, Messalina, at last thinks it high time to prepare for her retirement, and with all speed provide for her Security; the Young Child also by the advice of the Council was to be nicely taken care of, being likely to prove a very good after Game. The Queen therefore immediately sends for the Count to a private Conference, who as greedily comes, in hopes to perswade her to a speedy Flight: Just as he approach'd the Closet Door, the Queen all in tears gets up, and not being able for a while to speak, leans on his Neck, and after many grow­ing Sobs and heavy Sighs, falls Fainting in his Arms: never was Lover in so sad distress as was the Count at this unhappy accident; call out he dare not, for fear of any Suspition or ill interpretation of his being with the Queen alone; to go and leave her Dying as he thought, his[Page 20]Soul could ne're agree to; how to assist, what remedy to use, where to get any thing to apply he knew not: distracted thus he Tore himself, and Rav'd, and Curst his misfortune, then would he kneel by the Couch where­on he had laid her, and kiss, and sigh, and Pray, and call, till at last the Queen coming to her self open'd her dying Eyes, and casting a Languishing look at her Dear Count, who was now in a bitter Agony of Sorrow, and hardly able to support his oppressed Spirits, she rais'd her self a little on the Couch, and in a Sorrowful manner lifting up her Hands and Eyes, recounts a fresh the sum of her Misfortunes: All, all, is lost, Dear Davila, said she, my Hopes, my Peace, my Joy, my Glories, my All. And if I have ought left me worth the Thought of Life, it is, that I enjoy thy Love. That Coronet's my own, though my Crown's lost. Messalina is now driven to the Fatal Period of her Grandure in Albion, a shock so dismal, that the Agonies of such a Fall, to such Soaring Ambitition as Mesalina's, are only to be conceived by those that feel them. In her fit of Desparation (for 'twas almost come to that) she is Mrs. however of Reason enough still to provide at least against the Worst of shames, and Last of Miseries, her falling into her Enemies Hands, the Christi­ans, a Danger at that Time much threatned; the united Murmurs of Albion looking up to no other Fountain, and Original of the Woes and Calamities, of the Pittyed and Deplored Lycogenes, then the Hot Counsels, or rather Inchantments of Messalina, and her Pagan Abettors. And how heavy the weight of such an Inquisition would fall, even her Flatterers are but too sensible. Her Flight therefore, being now the last Plank she has to lay hold off to scape sinking, she prepares a small Diminitive Yatcht, and hires (command she could not, so feeble is Soveraignty without Hearts) a handful of Select Sea­men, all well bribed, and well sworn, privately, to waft her safe to Gothland, the only Sanctuary. (Such [Page 21]Universal Enemies had her Politicks pull'd down) the World could yield her. Oh Zeal, Zeal, mad Zeal! what Humane Distresles, Miseries, Ruines are Thine, and Thy only Creation?—Nay, is there scarce that one Con­flagration, that ever set whole Nations in a Flame, that has not been lighted by a Cole from an Altar? Unfor­tunate Messalina, and deservedly so, the late Royal Part­ner, to no less than Neptune's Soveraign, the Oceans Lord, and the still Terror of the World, had not Zeal, Infatu­ating, Destroying, Dethroning Zeal, blazed out; Poor misguided, deluded, hard-fated Lycogenes! This very Messalina, of all those Floating Castles, the late attend­ing Pageants of her Triumph, all those once Impreg­nable Famed Walls of Albion; lest Mistriss of no more than a poor Cock-boat! Instead of glittering Flaggs, and flowing Streamers, ushered by all the Tritons of the Main, and as She past, Saluted by all the Ecchoing Thunder from the Shoar; now to Steal away by Night, Skulk like a Fugitive, obscured by Shades and Coverts! Yes, Destiny and Zeal have so Decreed it! For Sea therefore (such her Equippment, and such the hasten­ing Cause that call'd her) She prepares; and takes with her, her Tomaze, Sunderania, Count Davila, Sebastian, and Pedro, and some others of her Cabinet Friends; the last Three only being a little Transformed, by Dis­guises of Buff, Scar let and Feather, metamorphosed in­to down-right Militants: For indeed her Ecclesiastick Confidents, especially Father Pedro, were grown so no­toriously Infamous, that they durst not trust themselves in their own Shapes, even with Sworn Hirelings and Mercenaries; not Gold it self being sufficient to pur­chase Trust or Safety. The Queen had but very little lest, to save and carry with her, except her Jewels; for truly in spight of all that good Husbandry, that eminent and singular good Quality in Lycogenes; yet what with Stand­ing Armies, and no Taxes (for he neither lov'd or pleas'd [Page 22]Senates enough, for any new Donations from them) and from the continual daily Dreine, he received from those innumerable Spiritual Horse-leeches, that hung upon his Purse-strings, his Exchequer was but low. Messalina's Jewels therefore, being all the Treasure she could save; those by Father Pedro's par­ticular Advice, were committed to the Charge and Custody of an Italian Priest, recommended to her by him, as a Heavenly minded man, a Recluse from the World, and who as a Person under a Vow of Poverty, of a Character and Profession above any Temptation, was the only man she could best repose that Trust in. Thus Embarqued, with their best Sails to their small Frigat; with a Fair Wind, and Prosperous Gale, they arrive at Gothland: for indeed the just Ordaining Pow­ers, that had punisht her with the loss of a Crown, af­ter so heavy a Wreck at Land, thought fit to bound their Indignation there.

From her Arrival in Gothland, the Scene begins a little to Change: For the Pagans there, with no small Homage and Adoration, resound her Welcome. The Entertainment she received, as peculiarly influenc'd by the Commands of Polydorus, was every where Splen­did and Magnificent: I dare not call it his Bounty, or Generosity. For truly, all the utmost Services, Respect, Obligations, Protections, or Assistance; and indeed, all, and more then Polydorus has, or can do for Lycogenes, or Messalina, so near a part of him; are but poor and faint Returns, to compensate those Miseries and Suffer­ings, in which his own private Leagues and Cabals, and the too prevailing Gallick Councels and Measures in Albion, have involved the ruined Lycogenes. With a No­ble Train of Persons of the Highest Quality, and a Band of Guards, a truly Royal Rerinue, is Messalina Conducted to the Gothick Court; whilst Polydorus himself, with that solemn State and Grandeur, comes to meet her, and [Page 23]Congratulate her Arrival; paying her all that Humble and Profound Respect, and Awful Attendance, as if she came not from Quitting, but to the Possessing of a Di­adem: So Pompous was her Entry, that scarce an An­tique Roman Triumph could exceed it. And indeed she came to Triumph, the very first Sally of her Eye, bringing her back no less a Trophy, than the Heart of Polydorus. To give her her Right, even without Flattery; never was Conquest so Expeditious: No sooner was the very Lightning seen, but the Bolt had Executed. So Daz­ling were her Charms, to the surprised Polydorus, that he truly dated his intire Vassallage, from the first Moment he saw her. His once Adored Dear Vestal Divinity, or his Haughtier Montezania's Charms, were nothing to the Influence of Messalina: so unaccountable is the Archery of the Blind God: For Messalina had been no Stranger to Polydorus: when before her Marriage with Lycogenes, in her Travel from her own Italick Dutchy, to the King­dom of Albion, she took the Court of Polydorus in her way; yet, then her Beauties, though in their Younger bloom, could be beheld without half the present Fatality. For, whether his then Regnant Vestal Mrs had so fill'd his Soul, as had left no Room for any other Guest, or for what Reason else; a common Veneration was all the Of­fering he made her then; when Sighing, Desiring, Languishing, Dying, whole Hecatombs are all too little Sacrifices now. In fine, so Caprieious an Ascendant had his present Governing Planets, that that very Polydorus fated for the Dethroning of the Unfortunate Lycogenes; the same Matchivilian Part, before Practised against his Crown, must now be Acted against his Bed. For from this Hour, Friendship, Honour, Hospitality, (Obligations not the first time dispensed withal by Polydorus) and all other ties quite cancell'd; the Possession of Messalina, though at the price of a Kingdom, is his whole and sole Ambition. For Messalina he Burns, and were her [Page 24]Virtue a Rock of Ice, (which for ought he knows it may be); for though indeed he was no Stranger to all other her Intrigues and Affairs, however in her Curtai [...] Arcana, her Amours, he was no Cabinet Counsellour) he resolves to melt it down; and that so far from a scruple at the Undertaking, that he should account it not only the sweetest, but the most glorious of all his Atchievements. For setting all other Considerations apart, what Polydorus once but will'd, he could not will unjustly; his Ambition was Commission'd of his Consci­ence's High Chancellour, whilst to Desire was to Deter­mine; and whatever but once Determined, took the immediate Stamp of Right and Equity to pass it into an irrevocable Decretal; insomuch, that the very Dethroning of a God, if once thought practicable, to desire it was enough to render it justifiable.

As there wanted no Magnificence in all her Enter­tainment from her first Landing, even before the Cap­tivity of the enamour'd Polydorus, you may imagine no excesses of the highest studied Gallantry were omitted now. The Adored Messalina is Lodged in a Pallace so Glorious, as might have fitted the Reception of a se­cond Cleopatra in all her Pride; and which her Anth­ny, the then Competitor for Universal Empire, and in all that Love that lost him the World for her, could not have furnish'd out more rich and Splendid: Nor did the Brightness and Richness of her Pallace consist only in the outside Wealth and Beauty of her Shining Beck, Embroidered Canopys, the richest of Tapistries, Ca­binets, Scruitores, &c. The unseen Treasures, outvy [...] the glittering Frontispiece: In this Drawer of a Cabinet Fourty, 'tother Fifty, a Third a Hund­red Thousand Pieces of Gold; a Fourth, Lockets [...] Diamonds, a Fifth, Ropes of Pearl, &c. And all to mean a Tribute to his Soveraign Messalina. And tru­ly[Page 25]now we talk of Pearl and Diamonds, her own Cargo of Jewels, committed to the true and trusty Italian Priest aforesaid, were under Suspition of mis­carriage; both the Treasure and the Treasurer being at present Invisible: We dare not surmize so unkindly, that Avarice, or filthy Worldly Lucre, could pre­vail upon so Sanctify'd a Recluse from the World, un­der a particular Vow of Poverty; and above all, thought worthy (as we told you) of the peculiar recommenda­tions of Father Pedro, could make Him tardy in such a Case. But whether, on the more charitable side, by some impulse of Religion he reserv'd them for Holy & Pious Uses; as to present them to the Shrine of the Lor­rettian Diana, to implore from her Coelestial Bene­diction, her Albion Majesties Conception of a Duke of Eborac, to her Prince of Cambria; or for any other like Dedication to Holy Mother Church, so it is, that he was no sooner gotten on Shoar, but modest good Man, he withdrew, and was never seen after it. And notwithstanding Polydorus publish'd an Edict, pro­mising a very ample Reward to that Person that should find him, and recall the Wanderer: Either his Divine Contemplations, and sublimer Meditations, had rapt him above the listening to humane and mundane Proclamations; or else his Devout Pilgrimage had carryed him beyond the hearing of them, so that his Recallment is utterly Despaired of; insomuch, that unless her Albion Majesty be content to take out their Price in Dirges for her Soul, 'tis thought for any other Restitution or Payment, she now hopes but little. Polydorus now begins his approach to Messalina, re­solving an immediate vigorous Siege, with all the For­ces he can bring to lye down before her: His dayly Visits, Observance, and constant Attendance, which at first carried onely the Face of common Gallantry,[Page 26]and look'd upon by all Eyes as no other than the Ge­nerous Treatment of a Royal Hospitality to Greatness in Distress, and under his Protection; are now both by his Looks, Behaviour, and Address, so Industri­ously managed, that Messalina (unless she wanted Eyes) must find that in the Assiduous Polydorus, there was something more then a kind Host, viz. an Adoring Slave.

The Queen now fully satisfied how great a Vassal her Eyes had won her, begins to consider the Wise Management of so Important a Conquest. Polydorus's Address and Personage, even abstracted from his Im­perial Character, and the Luster of a Crown, were such as always stood fair in the Female Eyes, and ren­der'd his Heart no dis-acceptable Present to the very Proudest and most Disdainful Beauty. And our Mes­salina who was neither the Coyest, or most In-sen­sible of her Sex, already felt a Commiseration about her, that told her the Sighs of so Royal a Languisher must not go unpittied. Time, Assiduity, and Ap­plication, she plainly foresaw, would at last inevitably prevail; and therefore fancying it no less then the Ab­solute Ordainment of her Fate, she has no farther Thought then an entire Resignation to Immutable Decree. However, though the Stake must at last be lost, yet the Playing her Game out Politickly, and managing her Cards to her best Advantage, are in her own Choice and Power. Yes, that, and that onely takes up all the business of her waking, and indeed sleeping Thoughts. The Terms and Conditions of a Surrender; What Parly and Capitulations first; what Resolution and Obstinacy (for the Victory must not be Cheap) she must hold out with, before the White Flag is at last to be hung out. Her Meditations on this subject had one Evening led her alone from all[Page 27]Company into an Inner and Private Walk of the Garden; When Polydorus, whose unresting Soul had led his Body abroad too with much the same Contem­plations, fortunately meets her. This opportunity as it gave him the Blessing of a more Private Interview, then before he had met, so it inspired him with the Courage of making a more ample and particular De­claration of his Love, then all his hitherto fainter and distant Addresses had made. Accordingly throwing himself at her Feet, in the Tenderest and most Pas­sionate Expressions (the never wanted Eloquence of Love) he told her how intirely the Soul of Polydorus was subjected to the Eyes of Messalina: Nor did he more heighten the Progress of her Victories, & Power of her Charms, then the Fatality of them; that with­out a Return of Pity his Death was Inevitable, whilst his Peace, Happiness and Life were absolutely in her Hands. The Queen, whose part was now to Play, with a seeming Amazement, rather than a listening At­tention, gave him the Liberty of finishing his whole Declaration; when as Wakeing from a Frightful Dream, or Starting from a disturbing Vision, Good Gods, she cry'd, are not your Quivers Empty yet? Have ye more Shafts reserved still for the unfortu­nate Messalina? Is it not enough that your Perse­cuting Powers have Ravisht an Empire from me, and Driven me out an Exile, a Wanderer of the World; but I must yet fall lower; low as the most ab­ject of my Sex, when my Chast Ears must be Profan­ed with the Rude Sounds of Lawless Love; Oh! Po­lydorus, Cruel Polydorus, has Misery and Ruine made the fallen Messalina so little, so despicably little—No, Glorious Madam, (Passionately reply'd Polydorus) so Great, so Divinely Great, that the Gods have singled you out to Weild their Thunder, whilst[Page 28]there's not one Bolt of Heaven that Strikes with Fate but Messalina's. Oh! Madam, if ever Compassion, Mercy, Charity, Enter'd the fairest Temple that ever Lodg'd a God, have Pity on the Adoring, Kneeling, Dying Polydorus. My Life,—alas, my very Soul depends upon no other Doom but Messalina's; for if the Deaf, the Cruel, the Inexorable Messalina must not, cannot, will not Pity me, to Die is but half the Tribute my Despair must pay her: The Transports of a Passion like mine are such, that when I lose all Hopes of one kind Smile from Messalina, she leaves me abandoned to that Wild Torrent of unbounded Hor­rours, that less then the Abjuring of Humanity, the Execrating of Providence, and Cursing the very Authour of my Being, will be the fatal Consequences of my irresistible Desperation; a Desperation so hideous, that when I fall a Victim to her Scorn, will shut me out at once from Earth and Heaven. Messalina, not at all Displeased at so Passionate a Declaration, however to continue the Masque of a most Rigid and Obdurate Virtue, Reprimands him with all the Se­verest Resentments imaginable, desires him, nay, Conjures him for ever to Cease a Suit so Fruitless, and a Thought so Impious, a Language that her un­blemisht never shaken Virtue can so little hear, that rather then liv [...] within the Air of so much Guilt, her wounded Innocence must be forced to Fly a Cruel Court, and seek a Resuge in some kinder and more Hospitable Desart. Ah! Madam, reply'd Polydorus, Then you have Decreed Mankind must be undone! Shall Empires, Nations, People, have Peace, when I have none! No Madam, 'tis resolv'd that Messalina Hate, Scorn, Loath the Ʋnworthy Polydorus. Yes, his Destruction, his Irrevocable Destruction's Sealed; and by the Malice of my Stars, the World shall Groan[Page 29]as I do. He was once more falling at her Feet, when a Princely Train of the Noblest Quality of the Gothland Court appearing in the Garden, interrupted him. He had scarce recovered Reason enough to suppress the too visible concern and disorder, that appeared in his Eyes, much less the Load that lay at his Heart, when one of his Generals Advancing from the rest of the Noble Company, threw himself at his Feet, telling him, He was immediately in Obedience to his Royal Commands, setting forward to the Gene­ral Randezvous on the Banks of the Rhine, and came in Duty to Receive his farther Commis­sion and Orders. Commission and Orders! An­swered Polydorus; Why, Burn, Ravage, Ruine, Destroy; make Nations waste, and King­doms Desolate; spare neither Age nor Sex; but above all, where e'er thou meetst that loath'd detested Thing, that calls it self a Christian, dou­ble thy Fury there, Banish all thoughts of Pity or Remorse; be Bloody and be Canonized: Remember the Christian Pride is swell'd to Ʋlceration; and 'tis the Glory of our Sword to Lance it. And if thou meetest a Temple, lay the Accursed Consecrated Roof in Ashes; the God that sills it is my Enemy; and 'tis but Just my Vengeance Battail Heavens. If thou mak'st Treaties or Capitulations, my Orders are, you break 'em all. Betray and Conquer. Heav'n ne'er kept Faith with me, and 'tis but Reason, we the Vicegerents of the Gods should Copy their own everlasting Falsehood, and Reign Immortal Infidels like themselves. You have my Orders; to your Post; Obey and Prosper. The General upon the Kings Command, makes his Humble Obeysance to the King, and Retreats, Ruminating with some little Sur­prize on the severity of his present rough Commission; [Page 30]which however, on what unknown occasion that had transported him into such Vehemence and Bitterness in the expressing himself, he nevertheless knew to be the true and constant Sense of that Great Monarch; and all his former Orders, though perhaps something gentler and softer worded, carried in reality the same Contents and Mandats; and accordingly in all Duty prepares to Execute.

But to return to our Polydorus, whose Tormenting Reflections on the Cruelty of Messalina had, with­drawn him from all Company to his Closet; In all the Agonies of defeated Love, he could not yet in­tirely yield to Despair: Were her Virtue a Rock of Adamant: Nay, were she possibly as Deaf, as Pitiless, and Remorseless to all his Bleeding Sighs, as himself to a Dying Christians last Prayer, he will not quit the Siege yet. Accordingly not a day, nor scarce an hour passes that he does not Visit, Court, Sue, Plead, and spight of all Denials, all her Pleas of Virtue and Chastity, that Mountain Honour shall not block his way. Sometimes he Woes her with the Promis'd Re­stauration of her Albion, the Re-instating her in all her former Grandeur; and if the Crown of Albion will not purchase a Smile, he'll throw his own in, to make up the Sum. In short, No Gallantry, Ad­dress; no Protestations, Vows or Oaths, though ne'er so Extravagant, are wanting to pursue the Coy Dis­dainful Messalina: till one Morning in her Walk in the same Garden, his succesaful Rhetorick prevails; or rather Messalina thinks she has now held out long enough to yield with Honour: For after his Repea­ted Protestations of the Crowns and Scepters he would lay at her Feet, and the Vassal World he would make her Mistress of; He told her, If Messalina would but Condescend to Crown his Love, he would pay his[Page 31]Acknowledgment of so Divine a Blessing, with no less a Sacrifice then a hundred thousand Christian Lives. A hundred thousand Christian Lives! my Generous Polydorus, replyed Messalina. Such Merit, such Tran­scendent Merit! An Offering of that price enough to Court a Saint, and Win a Goddess. Such Eloquence is irresistable; nay, the name of such a Sacrifice so pleased her, that had the strongest Bonds of Conscience held her, that single Thought had burst the Feeble Manacle; and the offering of so much Heretick streaming Blood, were such an Atonement, as would not only expiate but consecrate the very Sin it self. So pleased and so conquer'd, she generously tells the Ravish'd Polydorus, That she will expect him at Vesper-time, when she will send all her Retinue to the Mosque to their Devotion, and Attend his Com­pany in her Closet.

Polydorus being now Arrived at the Haven, just up­on entring the Inland of Paradice; the Hour, the Place, the Means and Opportunity all assigned for the Consummating of his. Happiness; and what heightned the Charm, his Divine Messalina her self the generous Designer of the whole Scene of Felicity; the Plot, the Introduction and Conduct to this more then happy Meeting, so much her own, that possibly, our Amorous Monarch could not conceive more Rapture at the Queens Concession of her Highest Fa­vours themselves, then at the Endearing management of the blest Minute to bestow them; even the Portal to Happiness being oftentimes with Lovers no less Ra­vishing, then the very Temple of Bliss, to which it leads.—In short, All things contributing to make him the Happiest Prince in the World; whether a Soul, so unbounded, as that of Polydorus, whom the Empire of the Universe ('tis very well known) would[Page 32]hardly satisfy, had the Transports of his Passion, at exalted as those of his Ambition; and was thereby elevated above the Common Height of an ordinary Lovers Extasy; let it suffice, his Joy, his unexpressi­ble Joy was such, as burnt in his Face, and glowed in his very Eyes; and the expected Enjoyment of Messalina was at that Moment a Trophy above all the Conquests that either his Sword, or his more Vi­ctorious GOLD ever won him. But to leave our Royal Lover to all his Furious Longings, Impatient Expectings, and Restless Burnings, those Amorous crowding Attendants, that always make the Leading Cavalcade to the Coronation of Love: My Reader must be intreated to interrupt his Expectation of the success of this Grand Scene of our two Imperial Ina­morato's, by the interposing of a little Comical In­trigue of Lactilla, the Cambrian Princes Nurse; which, whether by a Frolick of Fortune, for some par­ticular Diversion of that Fickle Deity, or by meer common chance, it matters not; casually intermixing it self in this Sublimer Amour, must make up a part of our History.

It is not unknown to the World what Artful Ten­derness our Messalina has all along exprest for that dear Infant. But indeed, 'twas the subtlest part she had to Play, and therefore it must be Acted to the Life. In the late Storm that drove her from the lost Kingdom of Albion, and cast her on the Gallick Shore, however that darling Infant, with all the Tenderest Care, was preserved from the Universal Shipwrack, and not only the honest Bric-kill Nurse that Suckled it, was carried over with the Queen, and her Cambrian Nursery; but also the very Warming-pan Midwife too, crost the Hering-pond with her Royal Mristress; and as some think very timely and prudently, for [Page 33]fear of that Inquisition from the Grandees of Albi­on, had she ventured to have staid behind, that pos­sibly would have put her to that Test her Circum­stances would not well bear; though truly for a fairer Face to the World, 'twas Industriously given out, That her Majesty was with Child again, and therefore the Midwife's Attendance being her Maje­sties special Command, 'twas her Duty to wait on her Royal Mistress to what part of the World soever her Misfortunes should carry her.