Astrea. Part 2. a romance / written in French by Messire Honoré D'Urfe ; and translated by a person of quality. — Astrée. English

Astrea. Part 2. a romance / written in French by Messire Honoré D'Urfe ; and translated by a person of quality. — Astrée. English

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE READER.

ASTREA.

The Third part.

Book I.

The Hiſtory of Daphnide, Euricke, and Alcidon.

The Sequel of the Hiſtory of Daphnide and Alcidon.

The Hiſtory of the Artifice of Alcires.

The Sequell of the Hiſtory of Damon and Madonthe.

The Hiſtory of Chryſide and Hylas.

The Hiſtory of Cryſeide and Arimant.

The ſequell of the Hiſtory of Cryſeide and Arimant.

The Hiſtory of Childerick, Silviana, and Adrimartes.

The Hiſtory of Silvanire.

The Hiſtory of DORINDE, of PERIANDER, of MERINDOR, and of BELLIMARTES.

The Hiſtory of DELPHIRE and DORISSEA.

§

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ASTREA. A ROMANCE, WRITTEN IN FRENCH, BY Meſſire Honorè D'Vrfe; AND TRANSLATED BY A Perſon of Quality.

The ſecond Volume.

LONDON, Printed by W. W. for H. Moſely, Y. Dring, and H. Herringman: And are to be ſold at their Shops in St Pauls Church-yard, Fleetſtreet, and in the Lower walke in the New Exchange, 1657.

TO THE READER.

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HAving in the Epiſtle to the precedent Volume inſiſted on the generall advantages accrewing to Mankind by Romances, and particularly by this of Aſtrea above any other, ſome would haply imagine there were no more to be done in this, than to tell the Reader that this is a ſecond Volume of the ſame excellent ASTREA, when he hath the Book already in his hands. This were an imagination flat enough, even though, out of an exceſs of foreſight, they ſhould further ſuſpect it were the Stationer's deſigne to commend both, by telling him, that, As good entertainment begets confidence; ſo the world's kind reception of the former, had contributed much to the publiſhing of this Second Volum. No, theſe are Cajolleries, and Artifices may haply be excuſable before ſuch Books, as, like pittifull Shewes, muſt needs have a Trumpet or a Jack. pudding at the Doore, that is, ſuch as would ſurpriſe people into a credulity, not a little prejudiciall to their Ey [...]s, their memorie, their Underſtanding, and their Purſes.

Know therefore, that this proceeds not from private Intereſt, but publique ſatisfaction; and is not ſo much the deſigne of the Stationer, in point of advantage, as (ſo welcome is this Piece abroad) an effect of the Buyer's expectation and importunity; and thence he peremptorily affirmes, that the better his Bookes ſell, the greater obligation he puts on the world. This ſome may thinke a Paradox; but to ſhew it is demonſtrable, I need onely ſay, that the more a Booke is bought up, the more are people inform'd, the more inſtructed, the more edifi'd; which who looks not on as of much greater conſequence than the price, is [Page] a perſon certainly of no great correſpondence with Letters. If ſo, how then are we oblig'd to thoſe who ſpend their endeavours and Eſtates to ſatisfie our Curioſity, to ſharpen our imaginations, to rectifie our judgements, to purifie our language, to perfect our morality, to regulate our deportments, and to heighten and inflame our more generous inclinations, nay to acquaint us with all that is pleaſant, all that is excellent, all that is extraordinary in human Actions? And theſe are the true deſigns and ends of Works of this nature; Theſe are Academies for the Lover, Schools of War for the Souldier, and Cabinets for the Statesman; they are the Correctives of paſſion, the reſtoratives of converſation; they are the entertainments of the ſound, and the divertiſements of the ſick; in a word, the moſt delightful accommodations of civill life.

J. D.

ASTREA.

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The Third part.

Book I.

AFter it was determined amongſt the ſhepheardeſſes of Lignon, to go all together within three dayes upon a viſit unto the diſguiſed Alexis; Love, whoſe cuſtome is to torment thoſe moſt, who are moſt devoted unto it, began to make the ſhepheardeſſe Aſtrea ſenſible of ſuch odd panges of ſtrange impatiencies, that ſhe could not give any good account of reaſon for them. She found in her ſelfe ſuch a violent deſire of ſeeing Alexis, becauſe every one reported her ſo reſemblant unto Celadon; that the prejudicated mind of this ſage ſhepheardeſſe, was fully reſolved to love her before yet ſhe ever ſaw her; or rather, this foreſtalled reſolution was a forerunner of a moſt great and impatient love: ſo as it may be ſaid, that this new love was implanted in her very Nature, ſince it produced in her, all the conſequences and effects which love uſeth in the ſoul of a zealous lover: ſo as three dayes which were to be expired before they went this long deſired viſit, ſeemed unto her three long and tedious yeares: And ſhe would with all her heart have been contented to abate ſo many yeares of her life, upon condition theſe three dayes were done, that ſhe might injoy her hop't for contentment: But when Alexis underſtood by her Brother, that Aſtrea was to come to ſee her very ſhortly, oh how this diſguiſed Dru de ſtarted at the newes? ſhe reſented two different Paſſions at once; ſhe was highly joyed, to thinke that ſhe was to be bleſſed with a ſight, of her dearly loved ſhepheardeſſe, and to talke with her in that diſguiſe: Alſo ſhe was damped with a pale feare, when ſhe conſidered that her Miſtreſſe had reaſon to accuſe her of diſobedience, & ſinning againſt her poſitive commands; a Crime which was death it ſelfe unto her to commit; for having untill that time preſerved her affections pure and free from all manner of blame, ſhe would much rather chuſe death, then ſuffer it to be ſtained with the leaſt blur of infidelity or want of reſpect: but, as all true Lovers uſe, her thoughts harped more upon the pleaſing ſtring of her hopes, then upon that which her feares ſuggeſted; ſo as ſhe begun to thinke this terme of three dayes a long while too, and to be angry with thoſe that took ſo long a term.

Leonide who knew all the ſecrets of her heart, and who ſeemed to be deſtined never to enjoy what ſhe deſired, but to contribute all her endeavours and induſtry towards the contentment of another; had not ſhe, I ſay, ſweetned theſe tedious dayes by her affability and complaiſance, doubtleſſe the time had been moſt irkſome unto her. But ſee what a bad maſter love is, and how ill does he recompenſe the paines of thoſe that ſerve him; He [Page] did injoyn theſe two Lovers with abundance of mutuall affection unto one another, but as if he were unwilling they ſhould arrive at the ſum of contentment, he kept them ignorant of their happineſſe, and by this ignorance blaſted their contentment. For Celadon being condemned unto perpetuall baniſhment, he laid the fault upon the change in his ſhepheardeſſes affection: And Aſtrea having ſeen Celadon throw himſelfe into the River of Lignon, ſhe thought, that this ſhepheards love not being able to endure the cruelty of her command he had choſen death before the inſupportable ſentence of her anger; and this conſideration coſt her abundance of bitter repentance, many a ſad ſigh, and a very deluge of Teares. This impatiently expected day drawing nigh, and being earneſtly deſired both by this new Druide, and by the new love of Aſtrea, both of them not being able to ſtay ſo long as till the Sunne was up, they quitted their beds upon the firſt bluſh of Aurora. Celadon, as moſt vigilant, called the Sun ſluggard, and conjured Aurora to open the windowes of Heaven quickly, that thereby this happy and long'd for day might receive a beginning. Whilſt this reſtleſſe ſhepheard was in this longing expectation, and condemning the Suns ſlow motion, day did by degrees enlighten his Chamber; ſo as aſſuming Druids habit, he left the Name of Celadon, and in lieu of it aſſumed the Notion of Daughter unto Adamas; happy had he been, could he have left off his Paſſion as he did his habit; but Celadons heart was ſtill the ſame in any diſguiſe, and nothing could work a change in it but death.

Being thus clad in the habit of Alexis, as ſoon as the doores of the houſe were open, he walked alone into a little Grove which had the view of the Plaine; and from whence he could ſee the whole Courſe of the delightfull River of Lignon: As ſoon as ever he caſt his eye that way, it preſently ſtopped at the place where Aſtrea dwelt, and thinking upon the happy dayes which he had ſpent in that place, when in his own habit he was freely allowed to be with his beloved ſhepheardeſſe; Oh what abundance of ſighs did this thought force from him? He began to recollect into his memory, all the ſweet and kind anſwers which ever ſhe had given him, when being forced by the violence of his love, he begged ſome aſſurances of affection from her: Here he reveived the memory of all the traverſes and thwartings which Alcipes and Hipolite uſed; he did not forget the averſneſſe of Alces, nor the anger of their Parents, nor his long travels, nor any ſubtiltie which love had taught him: Alſo he punctually remembred Aſtreas conſtancy in all difficulties, nor did he forget any circumſtance, which might be any argument of her love once unto him. Then preſently after conſidering how the caſe ſtood now, and how ſhe had baniſhed him her preſence, alſo looking upon that fatal place where he received that diſmall ſentence, Yonder (ſaid he, and pointed to the place with his finger) yonder's the place deſtined to Raviſh from me all my joyes, and to be the beginning of all my miſeries. But (ſaid he after a melancholly pauſe) is it poſſible ſo great affection ſhould ever become ſuch extreame hatred? Can ſuch firm Conſtancy admit of any Change! And can ſuch perfect happineſſe be ever turned into ſuch unlook't for diſaſters. Then ſtanding in a mute poſture, admiring the ſtrange difference between his life paſt, and this preſent: Nay, nay, (ſaid he) never ſtand wondering at the ſtrangeneſſe of the alteration; but rather wonder, that ſuch a change ſhould be, and yet Celadon ſhould live, ſince he hath loſt all that can make life ſweet.

Aſtrea in the mean time, who had not cloſed an eye all the night, no ſooner ſpied the firſt bluſh of Aurora, but ſhe quitted her Bad, dreſſed her ſelfe with all poſſible haſte, and went with all diligence to find out her Companions, who being leſſe paſſionate upon the journey then ſhe, had paſt away the night with leſſe inquietude and more reſt; And though in her way thither ſhe eſpied Silvander in the field of Mercury, lying down under the Pillar, yet leaſt ſhe ſhould loſe time, ſhe would not ſpeak unto him, but haſted away towards her Companions, whom ſhe imagined to find ſleeping, and whom ſhe intended to haſten. And indeed ſhe did find them all aſleep, ſhe awaked them, called them ſluggards, and to prompt them unto more haſt, pulled the clothes off their beds, and made them wonder at her forwardneſſe, but the vehemency of her paſſion might plead her excuſe: Oh Silvander, how much beholding hadſt thou been unto this ſhepheardeſſe, had ſhe brought thee along with her to be witneſſe of this Act, in pulling off the Clothes from them? Judge what effects ſuch a ſight would have cauſed in thee, ſince Aſtrea ſeeing thoſe beauties in that poſture, was raviſhed with admiration at them, and with a ſigh, ſaid, Ah Diana, had you been the third in the Temple, certainly Celadon would have beſtowed the Apple upon you. Aſtrea (ſaid ſhe unto her) You are this morning in ſuch a mood, [Page] as I muſt needs ſuſpect your judgement: And as for matter of beauty, I cannot pretend unto it: As I was comming hither (ſaid Aſtrea) I ſaw one who I am ſure is of another opinion; and had you ſeen him as I did in the field of Mercury, with folded armes, and eyes lifted up to heaven, you would have better believed what I ſay. I know (ſaid Diana) that you ſpeak of Silvander: but ſiſter, I know again that what he does, is but fained, and upon a wager; Fictions, replyed Aſtrea, doe never cauſe reall paſſions; and call me the moſt ignorant perſon that lives, if Silvander doe not moſt paſſionately love you, and if his affection, treat him as you will, doe not accompany him to his Grave; for melancholly perſons who are ſlow and long before they do love, when once the flame is kindled, it will never be extinguiſht in them. I muſt confeſſe ſiſter (ſaid Diana) that when this wager firſt began, I had the ſame apprehenſions. And but becauſe you would needs have it ſo, I ſhould not have conſented unto it, knowing very well how dangerous theſe fictions are: but ſince the diſeaſe of this ſhepheard proceeds from the permiſſion which you have obtained for him from me, I am reſolved that this ſhall be the laſt day he ſhall have leave to continue his Courtſhip; for I will give judgement betweene Phillis and him in the preſence of Alexis and Leonide; the three moneths are determined, and I have deferred it only out of deſire that the Nymphs might ſee the concluſion of the buſineſſe, as ſhe hath the beginning. Aſtrea being unwilling to diſpleaſe her, was ſilent; but Phillis began, Good ſiſter, ſaid ſhe, doe you think that when your judgement is given, if he doe love you, he will then ceaſe? I believe (anſwered Diana) that he will not then talke to me as he hath done; and if he doe love me, the trouble of it will be his own. Oh Diana, replied Phillis; you are miſtaken: for now you may put it off by ſaying, that what he does is onely to make good his wager; but when this excuſe is taken away, you will be then obliged to receive his language as in good earneſt. What you ſay, replied Diana, is very true; but let me tell you, that if he give me any language but what is fitting, I ſhall give him anſwers as ſhall keep him from any replies. Upon this Phillis began to laugh; My deare Companion, ſaid ſhe, we have ſeen ſome put on ſuch reſolutions, who have been forced to alteration: for tell me, I beſeech you, ſuppoſe he ſhould continue in his addreſſes after your charge to the contrary, what then? would you kill him for his diſobedience? I would not kill him, anſwered Diana, but I will give him ſuch language as if he did love me, he would feare offending me; and if he did not love me, let him doe what he will, he will be weary of it quickly. Nay on the contrary, replied Phillis, If he doe not love you, he will not care how much he diſpleaſeth you; and if he love you, his affection will not let him obey you in any thing which ſhall croſſe his love: for, ſiſter, be aſſured, that a violent affection may perhaps be thwarted, but never entirely eradicated. Perhaps he will for a time obey your ſevere commands, but ere long he will caſt off all conſiderations, and like a Torrent which is ſtopped in its courſe, will at laſt overflow its own banks, and all the fields about it: So I ſay, your forbiddance may for a time be a ſtoppage unto the ſtream of his violencies; but his affection will at laſt break down all before it, and overflow all your commands that obſtruct it, and perhaps with ſuch violence as every one ſhall ſee it. If it ſhould ſo fall out, as you may very well expect it will, what can you doe more, but ſtill renew your firſt forbiddances? Perhaps your language will be more ſharp, but alas, words are but words, and too weak to give a check unto one that really loves, as I believe Silvander does. Siſter (ſaid Diana faintly) I never yet met with any ſuch obſtinate Lovers which you ſpeak of; and when I doe, I ſhall find out a way to be rid from them: Heaven has not made us ſo miſerable, but though they have denyed us ſtrength, yet have they given us prudence enough to preſerve our ſelves.

Thus theſe faire ſhepheardeſſes diſcourſed while they were dreſſing themſelves; and when they were ready, they went towards the field of Mercury, where they were all to rendezvous; then to go unto the Temple of the good Goddeſſe, and from thence to Alexis. Silvander was before all the reſt, finding no contentment, but when he ſaw Diana. When they came there, this ſhepheard was ſinging, and was ſo rapt up in his own imagination, as though they were very near him, yet he perceived them not. Diana ſeeing him in this condition; ſhe knew very well that Aſtrea and Phillis had ſpoken truth, and that he prepared himſelf for a great Combat with her; who ſince the death of Philander, had never any ſpark of good will unto any man but this ſhepheard but not enduring that Silvander ſhould ſerve her, being a perſon altogether unknown ſhe reſolved upon extream rigor againſt the affection of this ſhepheard; and perhaps, ſomething againſt her own inclination. Whilſt ſhe was in theſe thoughts, Phillis who loved Silvander for cauſing [Page] the jealouſie of Lycidas to vaniſh. She pittied him, and turning towards Diana, whiſpered thus in her eare; I doe ingeniouſly confeſſe, Miſtriſs, that this ſhepheard does love you better then I doe, and I am affraid that if you be judge the cauſe will go againſt me. Dianas mind being directed another way, ſhe did not reply, but as ſoon as Silvander had done ſinging; How now ſhepheard, ſaid Phillis unto him, doe you value this company ſo little, that you will not daign them a look? Silvander being rouſed out of his deep thoughts, by this voice, as out of a profound ſleep, he ſtarted up, and ſaluted the ſhepherdeſſes. I muſt confeſſe (ſaid he) that Phillis hath obliged me, though perhaps contrary to her intention. Your ingratitude, anſwered Phillis, is ſuch towards me, as I ſhall never adviſe any to oblige you, ſince you doe ſo ill acknowledge it; doe you thanke me thus for advertiſing you of your duty, and for bringing her unto you whom you ſay you love? methinkes common civility ſhould prompt you unto a more handſome acknowledgement then this. Phillis, anſwered Silvander, you put me in mind of thoſe Cowes, who when they have filled the Paile with milk, doe throw it downe with their foot; for when you had in ſome ſort obliged me, you cancell the obligation by upbraiding me with it. I muſt confeſſe that what you have done does merit acknowledgement, but what acknowledgement is due? the very ſame that Diana uſeth unto her little Dogge Driope, when he hath done any thing which pleaſeth her; and if you aske her, what recompence ſhe gives him, ſhe will tell you, that ſhe onely chocks him under the chin, and ſtrokes him half a dozen times upon the back; and ſince you have done no more for me, methinkes you ſhould be content with the ſame paiment. Aſtrea and Diana could not chuſe but laugh at his merry anſwer. Upon which Silvander ſtepped towards her, and offered to ſtroke her as Diana did her Dogge; but ſhe puſhed him away, and with a frowning look, ſaid unto him. If you uſe to pay your debts with ſuch money, I believe all your Creditors will caſt you off as I doe, ſince your payment is ſo bad but, ungrateful perſon, you cannot deny your Obligation unto me to be great, for changing your melancholly thoughts into a ſight of the fair Diana. This Obligation, ſaid he, I muſt needs confeſſe to be very great, if it was done intentionally; but it was done with a quite contrary deſigne, becauſe all that proceeds from an enemy may well be ſuſpected. What ill deſigne could I have in it, replyed Phillis? Perhaps you thought, ſaid he, that the ſeverity of my Miſtreſs would more perplex me then my melancholly thoughts; or becauſe you know that the more one ſees the perſon loved, the more is love augmented; you thought there was no ſpeedier way to kill me, then by the ſight of this faire ſhepheardſſe. But Phillis, doe not think that I will ever ſhrink from ſuch a death, ſince I am ſure I cannot avoid it, and ſince no life can be more deſireable then ſuch a death is.

This diſpute had laſted longer between this ſhepheard and ſhepheardeſſes, had they not ſeen a company coming towards them, and very neare; all with intentions of going together as viſitants of Alexis. One of the company, to make the time ſeem leſſe tedious, did ſing, and the ſubſtance of his ſong was againſt an unconſtant ſhepheardeſſe: Silvander and Diana liſtned with ſilent attention unto the words of the Song: the finger was preſently known to be Corilas, who being ſtung with the perfidious tricks of Stella, he could not hide thoſe reſentments of hatred which he had conceived againſt her. That ſhepheardeſſe alſo, after addreſſes in hopes of regaining him, finding all her endeavours to be in vaine, ſhe alſo turned her amity into hatred, which was ſo publiquely known unto every one, as they were commonly called. The Friends Enemies. The ſhepheardeſſe did not at that time returne any anſwer, becauſe Hylas as ſhe began, did ſilence her with ſinging out theſe lines.

Of loving many.

JF love be good, then it muſt be confeſt

That God communicable is the beſt;

What crabbed Timon then can me reprove,

Or check me for communicating love?

If love be bad, then certainly none will

Condemn me for avoiding what is ill:

[Page] But be it good or bad, to me all's one,

I'le either many love, or elſe love none.

The Univerſe doth change, and all that's in't,

The life is dull tha'ts tasked to a ſtint.

Natures delight is in variety,

If all ſublunaries doe change; faith, why not I?

At theſe laſt words this Company was ſo neare Aſtrea and her Companions, that they all ſaluted each other, and left ſinging to enquire of each others welfare: Hylas, he applied himſelfe unto Silvander; Oh, my good friend, ſaid he unto him, I ſee that here is not one in all the company that knows how to love but I for if there was you would not thus trifle away your time, but go preſently to the faire Alexis. I believe, anſwered Phillis, that we ſhall be there time enough to imploy all your Conſtancy: No, no, replied Silvander, he has all the reaſon in the world to make haſte, otherwiſe there would be ſome danger, leſt the end of his love ſhould be before the beginning of our journey. Perhaps you think (ſaid Hylas) that you have given me a notable check, in ſaying, that I doe never love any long, but I take it as one of the greateſt commendations you can give me. For good Silvander tell me, Is not he that goes as much ground in an hour, as another does in a whole day, is not he, I ſay, the beſt Footman? and a Maſon that builds a Houſe in a moneth, which another will not undertake under a whole yeare, is not he the beſt Workman? If you will make your love a Lackey (ſaid Silvander) I ſhall think the faſter it goes, the better it is; But as for your Maſon, let me tell you Hylas, that he who makes moſt haſte is not the beſt workman, but he who does his work the beſt, does beſt deſerve that name: for moſt haſte makes worſe work, and often ſpoils all. Hylas would have replied, when all the Company began to ſet forward towards the Temple of the good Goddeſſe, where Chryſante expected them at Dinner: for that venerable Druid underſtanding their determination, and being deſirous to viſit the faire Alexis, ſhe invited them all unto her houſe, that ſhe might make one of their company: this requeſt, which was honourable unto them, was not denyed, and therefore Silvander left the inconſtant Hylas to wait upon Diana, being exceedingly glad of this opportunity of being with her when Paris was not. Had the diſguiſed Alexis looked the right way, ſhe might eaſily have ſeen them come from the field of Mercury; for the Grove where ſhe was, ſurveyed the place; but her eyes were ſo fixed upon the place where Aſtrea dwelt, that ſhe ſtood like a ſtatue expreſſing no ſignes that ſhe was alive, but onely breathing or rather ſighing.

She had longer ſtood in this muſing poſture, if Leonide had not diverted her: this Nymph not being able to extinguiſh her flames of affection towards Celadon, ſhe was ſo much delighted in the company of Alexis, that ſhe was abſent from him as little as poſſible ſhe could. The wiſe Adamas having the words of Silvia ſtill freſh in his memory, though he knew well enough what ardent affection that ſhepheard had unto the faire Aſtrea, yet did he live in much perplexity, knowing very well that his Neece was not ſo disfurniſhed of natures gifts, but that ſhe might in time worke upon a young heart, and make it forget all reſpects of loyalty and duty.

This conſideration was ſo ſtrong in him, that ſhe would never have permitted this young ſhepheard to enter his houſe, under the habit name and motion of his Daughter Alexis, had not the Oracle made a promiſe unto him, that when Celadon did enjoy his contentment, his age ſhould then be happy; ſo as being intereſted in point of happineſſe, he choſe rather to take ſo much paines to watch the actions of them both, then to loſe that happineſſe which the Heavens had promiſed. Now becauſe he could not have his eye alwayes upon them, in reſpect his domeſtique and publique affaires invited him another way; he charged Paris to be preſent with them as much as he could.

This morning when he heard they were both gone out of the houſe, and that Paris was not with them, he went immediately after them, and followed his Neece ſo cloſe, as he was in the Grove almoſt as ſoone as ſhee, where Alexis had beene along while entertaining her thoughts: the noiſe which the Nimphs made as ſhe came cauſed Celadon to looke that way, and as he turned he ſpyed the Druide comming, unto whom ſhe bore ſo much reſpective reverence, that though ſhe had rather have beene alone entertaining his thoughts of Aſtrea: yet ſeeming otherwiſe, ſhe went to meet him, and bid him good morrow with a countenance of joy more then accuſtomed; of which Adamas taking [Page] notice, after his morning ſalute, he told her that her countenance of jollity did preſage but a bad concluſion of the day. If it pleaſe, good Father, anſwered Alexis, you ſhall receive contentment by it; for as for me, I have no hopes but in death; and if you did obſerve me with a merrier countenance then ordinary, it is becauſe I thinke my ſelfe every day neerer the end of that torment which Fortune hath ordained for mee; imitating in this, thoſe who are in a long and tedious journey, who when they come to their Inn at night, are pleaſed to thinke that ſo much of their paines is leſſened; the Druide returned this cold anſwer; My dear Child, thoſe who do live without hope of comfort in their miſeries, doe not only offend againſt the Providence of great Tautates, but alſo againſt the prudence of them who have the Guardianſhip of them. In this occaſion therefore I have a double cauſe of Complaint againſt you: you have offended both the Gods and Mee, as Druide of the Country, into whoſe hands the Oracle hath committed you. Father, anſwered Alexis, I ſhould be extreamly ſorry, ſhould I offend either the great Tautates or you; and for an explanation of my words, give me leave to tell you that my intention was not to doubt either in the Providence of our great Gods, or in your Prudence; but I doe beleeve it is not the will of the Gods to give me any contentment as long as I live, and that my misfortune is ſo great as it is beyond all humane Prudence to helpe it. You muſt know, replyed Adamas; that the ſlighting of a benefit received, does often withdraw the hand of the Benefactor, and makes it more ſlacke in conferring then it was before; take heed you provoke not the Heavens unto the like for you doe ſo ill accept of what they have begun to doe for you, as you have reaſon to feare, that in lieu of happineſſe, they will inflict new puniſhments. Doe you not conſider▪ that when you had mured up your ſelfe in a Salvage Rocke, the Gods ſent Silvander with conſolation unto you? Then, to make their goodneſſe more apparent unto you; did not he cauſe Aſtrea her ſelfe to come unto you? Did you not ſee her; nay, almoſt hear her, and the Lamentations ſhe made for you? what better beginnings of happineſſe could you poſſibly hope for then theſe: I will not inſtance the viſits of Leonide and my ſelfe, for perhaps they were troubleſome unto you; but I may well mention the goodneſſe of the Gods to you, in inſpiring mee to bring you unto my houſe, under the notion and habit of my Daughter Alexis, for doubtleſſe it is her whom Aſtrea comes to ſee: What more auſpitious beginning can you have then this? Can you imagine, that without the particular aide and aſſiſtance of the Gods, this habit and diſguiſe could delude the eyes of ſo many perſons? All the people of your owne Towne, your friends, your familiars, have ſeen you, and been deceived; your owne Brother himſelfe is miſtaken; but the favours of Tautates reſt not here: for hee inſpired Aſtrea to come and ſee you: what can you deſire more for a proſperous beginning? Yet I ſee, ſuch is your ingratitude that ſtill you complain, or at leaſt receive not theſe benefits with a thankefull heart. Take heed Child, you provoke not a Diety too ſarre, leaſt they ſhould withdraw theſe favours, and give you a juſt cauſe of condolement. Father, anſwered Alexis, I doe moſt gratefully acknowledge the goodneſſe of Tautates, and your indulgent care over mee; but ſtill I cannot chuſe but complaine; for I am yet like unto a poore afflicted man, who hath a thouſand torments at once upon him; though one or two of thoſe torments be taken away, yet the reſt which remaine are enough to move complaint. The Druide was ready to anſwer when he ſaw Paris coming towards them, who being clad in his ſhepherds habit, made it manifeſt that Love prompted unto the dreſſe. Leonide alſo flattering her ſelfe in an opinion that her beauty needed not to ſubmit unto the beauty of Aſtrea, ſhe uſed all her art, and trimmed up her ſelfe to the beſt advantage that Alexis ſeeing her in that dreſſe, and comparing Aſtrea with her, the artificiall luſtre of the one, might dimme the naturall ſimplicity of the others beauty. Alexis in her uſuall habit ſeemed to care leaſt for this viſit, though ſhe had the moſt intereſt, and becauſe ſhe deſired not to be knowne by any, ſhee added nothing to her ordinary dreſſe; beſides, ſhe knew that her happineſſe was to be expected from fortune and not beauty: but however, ſhe appeared ſo fair in that ſimple habit without any artifice, that Leonide could not keep her eyes off her.

After ſome common diſcourſe, Paris who was paſſionately in love with Diana, to make himſelfe more pleaſing in her eye, he aſſumed the habit of a ſhepherd; and not being furniſhed with ſo much patience as to ſtay till their coming, he told Adamas, that if it pleaſed him, he would goe and meet thoſe fair ſhepherdeſſes, who were to viſit his Siſter, and conduct them to the beſt and neereſt way. The Druide knowing what affection [Page] he had unto Diana, and not diſallowing it for ſome reaſons, which hereafter ſhall be declared, did commend his deſigne, hinting unto him that courteſie and civility, of all the vertues did moſt attract the hearts of people, and that it was the naturall quality of perſons well borne. Paris upon this leave went preſently towards Lignon, and going down the Hill unto the bridge of Botereſſe, he followed the River, taking into a little path upon his right hand, which led him into the Wood, where the empty tombe of Celadon was erected; and paſſing on he came unto the Meadow which is before the Temple of Aſtrea. He had no ſooner ſet foot in it, but he ſpyed on the other ſide of it two Horſemen, the one of which was armed; he had on his right hand a Gantlet, and on the other a Buckler, a Plume of black and white, which waved over the Crupper of his Horſe, his Corſlet was ſet with Lions, his Sword Falchion like, which turned up at the end like to a demicircle, hung by his ſide in a rich ſcarfe.

As ſoon as Paris perceived him, he remembred what hapned unto Diana when Filidas and Filander were ſlaine, and therefore retreated into the Wood, yet being very deſirous to know more of them, he ſtill kept his eye upon them through the thick Wood. He ſaw that as ſoone as they were entred into the Meadow and ſpyed the pleaſant Fountaine, which is at the entrance into the Temple; the Cavelier lighted from his Horſe, and the other whom he judged to be his Servant, ran to him, held his ſtirrop, tooke his Horſe, unbridled him, and without any reſpect unto the place, let him eat upon the ſacred Graſſe: Meane while the Cavelier went to the Fountaine; dranke of the water, and waſhed his hands and face. Paris by his deportment did imagine that his intention was not to offer harme unto any, and this opinion made him ſo bold as to go neerer him, yet ſtill concealing himſelfe in the thicke Wood; ſo as he unſeen came ſo neere them, that he could both heare and ſee all that they ſaid and did: He ſaw that the Cavalier was both young and faire, though extreame ſorrow appeared in his face; then looking upon his Armes, he thought him to be a Gaule, and that he was in love: for he bore upon his ſilver Sheild a Tyger feeding upon a Hart, with this Motto. ‘Thou gav'ſt me death, and I maintaine thy life.’

Perhaps he had obſerved every thing both longer and better, had he not beene prevented by the ſighs of this Caveller, who looking fixedly upon the Fountaine, rowſed himſelfe as out of a deepe ſlumber, and lifting up his eyes towards Heaven, he taxed his courage with Puſillanimity, for ſupporting ſo many misfortunes; his words were ſeconded with many a ſigh, and ſighs ſeconded with ſhowers of teares, which trickled downe his cheekes into the Fountaine: Preſently after, lying along upon the ground, and letting his arms hang looſe, he grew pale, and his complexion changed, ſo as his ſervant who kept an eye upon him, ſeeing him in this condition, he was affraid leaſt he ſhould ſwoone; he ran therefore unto him, caſt a little water in his face, and recovered him before he loſt his knowledge or ſtrength▪ But hee, opening his eyes, and lifting them faintly up to heaven, made ſuch ſad Lamentation, that his ſervant could not chuſe but ſigh: which he obſerving; what Halladine (ſaid he) doſt thou ſigh? Sir, ſaid the Servant, I ſigh more to ſee ſuchan alteration in you, then for the diſtaſter of which you complain: for to be deceived by a woman, to be betrayed by a Rivall, that virtue ſhould procure envy, and that fortune ſhould favour the deſignes of enemies, is not at all ſtrange, becauſe it is ordinary: But I muſt needs wonder to ſee the courage of Damon, which hitherto I believed invincible, and which hath made him eſteemed and feared both of friends and enemies, ſhould now ſhrink at a common accident, which inferiour courages are wont to reſiſt. A thought of revenge, if nothing elſe, methinkes ſir, ſhould move you to preſerve your ſelfe untill you have found out Madonthe, that you might in herpreſence call them to an account, who are the cauſes of your diſpleaſure. For Gods ſake ſir, conſider that a Calumny which is not diſproved may well paſſe for a truth; and conſequently Madonthe had reaſon to treat you as ſhe did. Paris obſerved, that at the name of Madonthe, the Cavelier aſſumed a little vigour, and that looking upon him, he anſwered with a faint voice; Ah Halladin, didſt thou but know what torments are upon me, thou wouldſt ſay that I doe want courage, ſince I doe endure them any longer and live. Oh ye Gods, who both ſee and heare my unjuſt ſorrowes, and my juſt complaints, either beſtow a welcome death upon me, or elſe take away the memory of ſo many diſpleaſures [Page] from mee. The Gods, ſaid the Servant, doe uſe to favour thoſe who by their courage and Prudence endeavour to helpe themſelves in their misfortunes, and to decline thoſe who loſing their heart and courage, have recourſe only to prayers and weake tears; why doe you thinke, did they beſtow upon you a ſoule of a higher generoſity then upon others? doe you thinke it was to make uſe of it only in proſperity, and not to encounter the guſts of adverſity? Certainely Sir, you ought to ſhew the effects of it upon all occaſions, eſpecially in adverſity, to the end that thoſe who [...]ee that vertue in you, may praiſe the Gods for imparting ſo much perfection unto man, and conſidering it in you, they may come to the knowledge of the great Giver. Will you offer to abuſe the favours and the hopes which every one hath in you? I have heard ſome ſay who knew you in your infancy, that you promiſed a noble courage even from the very Cradle, and ſhewed ſo much generoſity of ſoule, as every one conceived that you would prove an example unto the world of an invincible ſpirit: will you not Sir anſwer all their hopes and expectations? There are ſome women who thinke it a ſhame to ſhrinke at the blowes of Fortune, though their natures be puſillanimous and timerous; yet being diſpoſed unto vertuous ends they often change their Natures: you Sir are a man: that very word commands you to be couragious: you who are a Cavelier, brought up in Martiall wayes▪ and hath looked grim death in the face; you who have acquired great reputation in the greateſt dangers: you I ſay, who are Damon, who never ſtarted at any difficulty, now faint at ſuch an accident as this? Will you offer to die before you doe an act worthy not only of a Cavelier, but of a common man? Halladine, Halladine, anſwered the Cavelier, theſe conſiderations are good in another ſeaſon, or in any other man but my ſelfe: alas, what act can I doe, which will doe me any good, only dying excepted; for all others are diſpleaſing unto her for whom only I deſire to live. Thou knoweſt that Madonthe is the only aime of all my deſires and ſince all my hopes of her is loſt, what can I deſire but death? But Sir, ſaid Halladine, how doe you know that all your hopes of Madonthe are loſt? Thou thy ſelfe ſaid the Cavelier doſt know as much: give me leave to tell you Sir, (replyed Halladine) that I doe know how the caſe ſtands better then you doe: for Sir when you commanded me to carry your letter and Therſanders Ring unto her, and the Handkerchief full of your blood unto the helliſh Leriana, by chance I met with them both together; and though that divelliſh wretch who was the cauſe of all your miſery did ſtand immovable at your meſſage, which I declared from you unto them: yet I obſerved Madonthe firſt to grow pale, afterwards to tremble, and laſtly when ſhee heard of your death, and ſaw the blood, ſhe was ſurpriſed with ſo much ſorrow, that had ſhe not beene held, ſhe had ſunke downe, ſo as had I thought you alive, doubtleſſe I had brought you very good newes from her. Oh my friend Halladine (ſaid the Cavelier) what a weake concluſion doſt thou make? Didſt thou but know the nature of women thou wouldſt confeſſe with me, that ſuch alterations in them doe proceed rather from Compaſſion then Paſſion: for certainly all women are naturally pittifull, and compaſſion is an ordinary effect of their weake ſoules; ſo as what thou obſerveſt in Madonthe proceeded from the pittifulneſſe of her Nature: But, Halladine, it is not pitty or compaſſion, but paſſion and love that I doe deſire from her, and this thou didſt not diſcover in her ſoule. Alas Sir, ſaid Halladi [...]e, unto what a miſerable condition are you reduced ſince you your ſelfe are the very worſt enemy that you have? I wonder ſuch an accident ſhould worke ſuch an alteration in your judgement. Admit the worſt, that Madonthe does not love you; yet if you deſire to overcome her and obtaine her favour, why doe you not goe where ſhe is, but ſhun all community with mankind, or habitable places? Since hatred is the higher, (ſaid the Cavelier) for ſeeing the perſon hated, have I not good reaſon to ſhun the ſight of Madenthe, becauſe ſhe hates me? and ſo being deprived of her whom onely I deſire; all things elſe that I ſee are diſpleaſing unto mee, why then ſhouldeſt thou thinke it ſtrange, that I ſhould diſrelliſh all others, ſince I cannot ſee Madonthe? Good Sir, ſaid Halladine, what comfort can you expect to finde in Wilderneſſes, and uncoth ſavage places? Death, (ſaid the Cavelier) for that is all the comfort I hope for ſince it is ſo, ſaid Hallad [...]ne, is it not better to go and die before Madonthes face, that ſhe may ſee you die for her, then to languiſh away your life amongſt Rockes and Caves and ſolitary Woods, where none knowes what you do: Thou ſayeſt well Halladine anſwered the Cavelier, but thou knoweſt that Madonthe is fled away with her darling Therſander; and to enjoy him with more ſecurity, keepes cloſe from any finding them: Doſt thou thinke that I would not have had recourſe unto [Page] ſome deſperat act, if I had not had ſuch an intention as thou ſpeakeſt of? Upon theſe words, teares hindered his ſpeech, and pitty moved Halladine unto the ſame, ſo as for a while they both ſtood ſpeechleſſe. Paris who liſtned attentively, hearing Madonthe named, could not at the firſt imagine it to be her, whom he had ſeen diſguiſed in the habit of a ſhepheardeſſe with Aſtrea and Diana: But when he heard Therſander named, he made no doubt but that it was ſhe, and therefore he hearkned more attentively, when Halladine began to ſpeak thus; For my part, ſir, ſaid Halladine, were your caſe mine, I would never die for one who changes me for another, but if the diſpleaſure of it did ſo far tranſport me as to reſolve upon death, I would firſt ſend death to the man, who is the cauſe of my loſſe before me, and he ſhould die by no hand but my owne. For beſide the ſweet of revenge, I would let her who changed me for him, ſee what a bad choice ſhe had made: I would never ſuffer him to inherit my happineſſe after my death. Therefore I adviſe you ſir, if you be reſolved upon death, that firſt you give Therſander his death, who is the obſtacle of your happineſſe, and cauſe of your death. I muſt confeſſe (ſaid the Cava [...]er) that in this thou ſpeakeſt reaſon; but Halladine, thou knoweſt he conceales himſelfe, he is afraid of ſuch a deſigne; and to prevent it, He, Madonthe, and her Nurſe, keep ſo cloſe, as none knowes where they are. Whileſt he was ſaying ſo, and whilſt Paris was liſtning with an inquiſitive eare, the poore diſtracted ſhepheard Adraſtes came ſinging ſome mad freakes in diſcompoſed meeter, without any order or ſenſe: this miſerable lover, ſince the judgement of the Nimph Leonide given againſt him in favour of Palemon, did ſo reſent his ſeparation from Doris, that being out of all hopes, his minde was diſtracted. 'Tis true, he had ſome intervalls in which he would talke pertinently enough, but then preſently he would change, and rove a hundred miles from the matter, ſo as he moved all that knew him unto pitty, and others to laughter; love being the cauſe of his diſtraction, all his follies harped upon that ſtring; and when his good intervalls were upon him, his complaint was all upon the obduracy of Doris, the injuſtice of Leonide, the good fortune of Palemon, and his owne miſery. Theſe ſtrangers liſtned unto him, but could hardly underſtand what he ſaid, ſince not one word was pertinent unto another: yet he, raviſhed in his owne fancy, not ſeeing them, came ſinging cloſe to them; and had not the Horſes neighed, perhaps he had paſſed on without a ſight of them. The Cavelier hearing him very often intermixe with his roving language, the words Love, Beauty, and Paſſion, did know what his diſeaſe was, he deſired to know a little more, and riſing up, he ſpoke thus unto him▪ Good friend, tell us in what Country we are? and what is the miſery which makes you thus complaine? Araſtes ſeeing the Cavelier, and his minde running all upon love, did anſwer him: Sir, ſhe is ſo infinitely faire, that no mortal can equall her, and Palemon hath raviſhed her from me. The Cavelier replyed, who is that Palemon? Palemon, anſwered the ſhepheard, is Palemon; yes, yes, ſaid the ſtranger, I know that is his name: but what is he, of what quality? At this queſtion, Adraſtes was a little troubled, and looking wildly upon the Cavelier, he anſwered, Palemon is one whom Adraſtes does not love. And Adraſtes, ſaid the Cavelier, who is he▪ Then the ſhepheard growing more frantique, broke out into extreame laughter, and in concluſion, began to cry, ſaying, the Nimph has wronged me; Doris at the beginning cryed, then went away; and though I called her back, yet ſhe would not ſo much as look back upon me, was ever any thus uſed? The Cavelier was at firſt amazed at his language, and plainly ſaw that he was diſtracted, and thinking love to be the cauſe, he pittied him; then turning towards his ſervant, ſee, ſaid he, what will be my fortune, if I doe not die: for certainly this ſhepheard is run mad for love. Love, replyed Adraſtes, is as mad as either. For Palemon if he were not, Doris would either have been here, or I where ſhe is. Thus he roved into ſuch odd impertinencies, that Halladine could not forbeare laughing, which the Knight perceiving, Thou dost laugh at this poore ſhepheard, ſaid he unto Halladine, but does not conſider that perhaps thou wilt have the ſame occaſion to laugh at me. At me ſaid the ſhepheard, why, I am Adraſtes, and I would know whether Palemon will live a long time or no. The Cavelier was ſo troubled with his impertinent ſpeeches, and ſo unwilling to be diverted from his thoughts, that he commanded his ſervant to bridle their Horſes, and getting up, they went into the wood where Paris was, who was in two or three mindes whether or no he ſhould ſhew himſelf, and as a ſtranger, offer him all poſſible aſſiſtance, as by the Lawes of Hoſpitality he was obliged: but conſidering that if he engaged himſelfe with this Cavelier, he ſhould loſe an [Page] occaſion of ſerving Diana: alſo thinking it better to advertiſe Madonthe and Therſander of him, he ſtill concealed himſelfe upon theſe conſiderations.

Paris was no ſooner out of the wood, but looking towards the great Meadow, he eſpied the Company which he came to meet: amongſt the reſt, there was Aſtrea, Diana, Phillis, Stella, Doris, Aminthe, Celidea, Floris, Circene, Palanice, and Laonice; all theſe rallied together with curioſity, to ſee the beauty of Alexis, and the rarities in the houſe of Adamas: There was alſo many ſhepheards, amongſt the reſt, Lycidas, Silvander, Hylas, Ti [...]is, Thamares, Calidon, Pal [...]mon, and Corrilas, all who, to beguile time and length of way, either ſung, or held out ſome pleaſant diſcourſe. Paris was now ſo neare that Silvander knew him, and becauſe he led Diana by the arme, he thought it would diſpleaſe his Miſtreſſe, if he did not yield his place unto Paris out of reſpect, though not unto any out of love: And to oblige her by the Act, he ſaid unto her in a low voice, I beſeech you miſtreſs command me to let your arme go, that I may doe it out of obedience unto your command, ſince I cannot doe it by my good will. Shepheard, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled, ſince you think my command will doe you ſervice in the Act, I do command it you. Oh Heavens (ſaid the ſhepheard) who would not wholly devote himſelfe to your ſervice, ſince you are ſo obliging even in your diſobligings. He durſt not ſay any more leſt Paris ſhould heare, for he was very neare, ſo as Diana advanced to ſalute him, as all the company did. Silvander had no ſooner quitted his place, but his Rivall poſſeſſed it with as much contentment, as the other left it with diſpleaſure. After ſome diſcourſe, Paris obſerved that neither Madonthe nor Therſander were in the company, and therefore he asked Diana of them: unto whom Laonice anſwered, that Madonthe was this morning very ill diſpoſed, and that Therſander kept her company. I ſhould have been glad (ſaid Paris) to have met them here, that I might have acquainted them how ſome enemy of their's is come into the Country; and that it is beſt both for Madonthe and Therſander, to look well unto themſelves. Silvander who had alwaies an eye upon Diana, he heard what Paris ſaid; and becauſe he was a great eſteemer of Madonthes virtues, he took upon him to acquaint them at his return, Laonice who watched for an occaſion to be revenged upon this ſhepheard, ſhe obſerved how ready he was to take upon him this office, to the end ſhe might make uſe of it in time and place. Diana alſo, who began to have ſome ſparkes of good will towards this ſhepheard, did take notice of it, as hereafter ſhall be declared, which Leonice did very well perceive. But in the meane time, leſt the reverent Chryſante ſhould ſtay too long, all the Company ſet forward. Diana entreated Phillis to be alwaies near her, leſt being alone, Paris ſhould fall into diſcourſe of his affections: therefore ſhe kept her ſelfe on the other ſide of that ſhepheardeſſe, and took her by the arme. Calidon waited upon Aſtrea, and Tircis and Silvander kept together; as for Hylas, he undertook no body, but was ſometimes the firſt, and ſometimes the laſt of the company, without fixing himſelfe unto any of the ſhepheardeſſes; he took no more regard of Phillis, then if he had never ſeen her in his life; at which Tireis admired, and after a little conſideration of it, he could not chuſe but ſay aloud unto him; Is it poſſible Hylas, that you ſhould be ſo near Phillis, and take no notice of her? Hylas ſeeming as if he had not ſeen her, turned about as if he looked for her: at laſt, looking upon her, I aſſure you, my time-paſt Miſtreſs (ſaid he unto her) that my heart was ſo much in another place, that my eyes never informed me that you were here; and perhaps the ſame occaſion has brought us both together; very likely, anſwered Phillis; you came with a deſire to ſee the faire Alexis, and I came with ſorrowes that I have loſt you, eſpecially at the game of the Faireſt, as you ſay it was. Faith Phillis, anſwered Hylas, the heavens would have it ſo: How Hylas, ſaid Thircis; doe you thinke that the heavens are the cauſe of your inconſtant humour? as well (anſwered Hylas) as of thoſe vaine teares which you ſhed upon the cold aſhes of Cleon. Things which doe not depend upon our ſelves (ſaid Tircis) and whoſe cauſes are unknown unto us, we doe ordinarily aſcribe unto the puiſſance and will of the Gods. But ſuch things as the cauſes whereof are known, we never uſe to aſcribe them unto the Gods as the Authors, eſpecially ſuch things as are ill, as inconſtancy is, for that were flat blaſphemy; whether inconſtancy be good or bad, anſwered Hylas, is a queſtion which will admit of diſpute; but it muſt needs be confeſſed, that it proceeds from the Gods; for is not beauty the work of great Tautates? and what makes me change but beauty? were not Alexis fairer then Phillis, I had never changed.

Beauty then is the cauſe, and if ſo, why may we not impute it unto the Gods without [Page] any blaſphemy, eſpecially ſince wee ſee by the effects that the change is good and reaſonable, being according to the laws of Nature which obliges every one to look for wha [...] is beſt. That beauty is the worke of great Tautates (anſwered Tircis) I doe confeſſe and more, that it is the greateſt of all which fall within the compaſſe of our ſenſes: but to affirme that it ſhould be the cauſe of inconſtancy, is an errour, as if one ſhould accuſe Light, with the fault of thoſe who goe out of the way, becauſe it ſhewes them ſeverall Pathes. And as to your aſſertion, that inconſtancy is according to the Laws of nature, which commands every one to aime at the beſt: take heed Hylas that it be not of a depraved nature, and quite contrary to the Command you mention: For how doe you know, that your change is for the beſt; for my part I ſee no advantage you get by it: but the loſſe of that time which you imploy about it; you take much unprofitable paines to no end, and make every one ſcorne your friendſhip▪ as too light to be entertained: if you thinke theſe to be advantages, I confeſſe you have ſome reaſon to court them; but if you will credit Judgements which are not infected with your owne diſeaſe, you will find them to be the greateſt evils that you can meet withall.

Diana who obſerved that Tircis ſpoke in good earneſt, and that Hylas perhaps would grow angry, ſhe would needs interrupt them, ſo as this diſcourſe might paſſe no farther; which to effect ſhe put Phillis upon it, who began thus: Heretofore, my late Servant (ſaid ſhee unto him) you were wont to complaine, that of all the company Silvander was your only enemy; but now methinkes Tircis hath ſupplyed his place. It is no wonder, my late Miſtreſſe (anſwered Hylas) for it is very ordinary to ſee ill opinions take hold upon ignorant perſons: Tircis would have replyed, had he not beene prevented by poore Adraſtes, who being come into the Wood, they ſaw talking unto Trees and Flowers, as if they had beene people of his acquaintance: ſometimes he fancied that he ſaw Doris, and then kneeling downe upon the ground he adored her, and as if he were begging for the favour of a kiſſe of her hand, he made a long ſpeech: ſometimes againe he fancied that he ſaw Leonide, and then he rayled and wiſhed her all manner of bad Fortune: but when he fancied Palemon, the expreſſions of his jealouſie was very pleaſant; for though it was very confuſed, yet it gave good evidence of the grandure of his affection. The company paſſed cloſe by him, and though the very ſight of him moved every one to pitty, yet much more when he ſpyed Doris, becauſe then he ſtood immoveable like a Pillar; his eyes fixed upon her, and his armes a croſſe his breſt, without a word, as if he were raviſhed. Afterwards pointing at her with his finger, when ſhe paſſed by him, he ſaid with a deep ſigh; ſee, ſee where ſhe is; then fixing his eyes upon her, hee never moved them as long as he could ſee her: but when he began to loſe the ſight of her, he began to run untill he was before her; then he looked upon none in the Company but her, and ſo ſilently looking upon her, he accompanied her unto the outgoing of the Wood, for farther he durſt not paſſe: when he loſt the ſight of her, he began to cry out: Adieu Palemon, make much of Doris, and upon this he ruſhed into the Wood, where he almoſt alwayes was, becauſe that was the place where Leonide gave judgement againſt him. Every one pittyed him except Hylas, who preſently began to laugh, and turning towards Silvander; This Shepherd, ſaid he unto him, is an effect of that conſtancy which you commend ſo much; which of us two doe you thinke is in moſt danger to reſemble him? Complexions moſt perfect (anſwered Silvander) are moſt eaſily altered, but to chuſe I had rather be like Adraſtes, then like Hylas. The choice of the one, ſaid Hylas, is in your power; but not of the other: How doe you meane it, ſaid Silvander? The meaning ſaid Hylas is nothing difficult: my meaning is, that if you will you may become a foole like Adraſtes, your humour is inclinable to it, but you cannot reſemble Hylas. In this, you are moſt deceived, replyed Silvander; For things that depend upon the will may be in choice, but things that depend upon the will of another are more difficult; and therefore every one that will, may be either vertuous or vitious▪ but they cannot be well or ſicke when they will: now the condition wherein poore Adraſtes is, it is not voluntary, but forced, as proceeding from a malady, the remedies againſt which is not in his hands, but your malady depends wholly upon your will; ſo as it is demonſtrative by reaſon, that it is an eaſier matter to reſemble you, then that miſerable Shepherd. Admit it ſo, (ſaid Hylas) yet is it not better to reſemble me, ſince if I will, I can deliver my ſelfe from my malady as you call it, then to reſemble Adraſtes who cannot free himſelfe from his? Tis true, anſwered Silvander, but if you doe leave off your inconſtancy, then you doe not reſemble your ſelfe: I did ſay that I had rather [Page] reſemble Adraſtes then Hylas; that is, Adraſtes the mad, than Hylas the inconſtant. Truly, (ſaid Phillis, and interrupted them) you preſſe too hard upon my late Servant; I muſt needs take his part and ſay, that inconſtancy is better then madneſſe, ſince it does not take away the uſe of reaſon, which doth onely diſtinguiſh men from beaſts: you are miſtaken Shepherdeſſe (ſaid Silvander) for the diſeaſe of Hylas and that of Adraſtes are both of them reall maladies; but that of Hylas is the worſe, becauſe all maladies of ſoule, are worſe than thoſe of the body. As for the reaſon which you urge, it is not conſiderable, for if the cauſe of a malady doe proceed from ſome defect in the body, yet that body may ſtill be reaſonable as we ſee thoſe who are intoxicated with Wine; now the malady of Adraſtes doeth doubtleſſe proceed from the weakneſſe of his braine which is not able to endure the ſentence which Leonide gave againſt him; but that of Hylas proceeds from an imperfect judgement, which hinders him from diſcerning good from bad, but ſuffers vices to become habituall. And becauſe it is the reaſonable ſoule which gives being unto men, and makes them differ from beaſts, it is better according to your own Argu [...]t to be unſound in body than in ſoule; 'tis better to be a hanſome Horſe or a Dog, then to be the bare outſide of a man; without a ſound ſoule, becauſe a Horſe is a perfect Animall; but he who hath a rotten ſoule and unſound intellectuals is infinitely imperfect; and therefore I conclude it is better to be diſeaſed as Adraſtes is, then as Hylas.

All the Company did laugh at this concluſion, and the noiſe was ſo high, that it was long before Hylas could be heard; And when he began, they ſaw the ſage Chryſante, who ſpying them afarre off, came to meet them with a great Company of her Virgins [...] therefore putting an end to all diſputes, they advanced forward to falute her, and to doe her all the honour and reverence which was due unto her vertue and profeſſion.

The Temple of the good Goddeſſe, where the venerable Chryſante reſided, was at the bottome of a delightful Hill, which was waſhed by the cleere wave [...] of delightfull Lignon; and on the other ſide ſtood the ſacred Grove of the great Tautates. In this ſumptuous Temple which the Romans dedicated unto Veſta, and to the good Goddeſſe did the veſtall Virgins officiate, according to the cuſtome of the Romans: The venerable Chryſante was the chiefe Governeſſe, though ſhe was a Gallian, and of the Druid [...]s order.

When the Romans under pretence of helping the Heduois whom they termed their friends and confederates, did ſeize upon Gaule, and ſubjected them unto their Republique; one principall marke of their victory was to cauſe their Gods to be adored in all places of their uſurpation; not thinking themſelves intire poſſeſſors, if they did not intereſt their Gods, and oblige them to their preſervation; and yet leſt they ſhould ſhew themſelves inſupportable at the firſt, they permitted the Gaules, who adored but one God, under the names of Tautates, Heſius, Tharames and Bellinus, to uſe their ancient cuſtomes, and live in their old Religion; knowing very well that nothing is more intolerable to men, then tyrannically to force their beliefe. And therefore when they entred into the Dominions of the Seguſians, they would not alter any of their Cuſtomes, Manners, Government or Religion. But when they found in this ſacred Grove an Altar dedicated unto a Virgin who ſhould have a Child, and that Divinity ſerved by the Daughters of Druids, they had much more reſpect unto it, thinking that place was conſecrated under another name, either unto the good Goddeſſe, (in whoſe ſervice men could not officiate) or unto the Goddeſſe Veſta, in whoſe Temple they were wont to place a ſtatute of a Virgin, holding a Child in her Arms: Having this opinion, not to leſſen the honour and ſervice which they rendred unto theſe two Goddeſſes, whom they held in great reverence; they built a Temple unto them both, with two Altars alike, and to the honour of the good Goddeſſe, they called it Bonleia, and to the honour of Veſta, they are called Veſtals; and becauſe the People were infinitely Religious towards the Gods whom they adored, not knowing whether theſe Goddeſſes would be worſhipped after the manner of the Romans or the Gaules, and alſo to content the Inhabitants of the Country, they left the Virgin Druids to their ancient Cuſtomes and Ceremonies unto whom they gave all authority concerning manners and oeconomique matters: And thus was the venerable Chryſante abſolute Miſtreſſe of the Virgin Druids and Veſtals.

This Temple was larger and more ſpacious then ſeemed to the eye, being built in an orbicular ſome; it was covered with lead: in the middeſt and higheſt part of it, was [Page] erected a Statute of a Virgin holding a Childe in her Armes; in the midſt of this Temple was placed two Altars, at ſuch equall diſtance, that the one was no further from the middle then the other; by the ſide of either of them there ſtood an Arke of white Marble, ſupported by three Columnes in which was put all the Fruites which were offered; at the doore ſtood a Baſon of water which they called Luſtrale, in which the Torch which was at the Altar when divine Service was celebrated, was firſt waſhed, and afterwards extinguiſhed.

When all this Company met the venerable Chryſante, it was ſo early as the morning ſacrifice was not then begun; and therefore ſhe invited all the faire ſhepheardeſſes unto it, telling the ſhepheards that ſhe was ſorry to rob them of their good company: but ſhe was conſtrained unto it, by the inviolable Ordinance of the Goddeſſe, who commanded that all men ſhould be baniſhed thoſe Altars.

Paris, Calidon, and Silvander who were moſt concerned, made anſwer, That they were ſorry for the ſhallow merits of men, ſince that was the cauſe which moved the Goddeſſe to thinke them unworthy of that honour, and beſeeched her and them all, that they would not entertaine in their hearts the like hatred againſt men. To which, the venerable Chryſante anſwered, That the wiſe Goddeſſe had not excluded men their Altars, out of any hatred unto them but upon other reſpects; and perhaps to make the Veſtalls more attentive in their devotions, and their minds not drawn another way by the ſight of mens perfections. Hylas who had no devotion unto the Gods of his own Country, and much leſſe unto thoſe who were ſtrangers unto him, made anſwer; That if thoſe Goddeſſes did forbid him to love faire ones, Hylas would be none of their Votaries: Shepheard, ſaid the venerable Chryſante, I adviſe you not to provoke the Gods: Upon this word ſhe retired into the Temple, becauſe one of the Veſtals, according to their cuſtome, came and cryed three times, ‘Hence, all prophane ones.’

Hylas therefore could not have time to reply as he intended: for as ſoon ſh [...] he was entred, the doors were ſhut; ſo as Paris, and all the ſhepheards, were forced to goe and wait in the ſacred Grove, where the Druide was to ſacrifice, when the Veſtalls had done

Theſe veſtall Virgins were habited in white Robes, and ſo long behinde, that they could vaile their heads therewith, when they went into the Temple to ſacrifice. This day was dedicated unto Veſta, for not to be ſurcharged with too many ſacrifices; their dayes were to be divided, one day they ſacrificed unto Veſta, and another unto the good Goddeſſe. This day then being the Veſtals, as ſoon as the doores of the Temple were ſhut, and all the veſtall Virgins, Druids and Shepheardeſſes had taken their places, they all bowed to the ground; as ſoon as the chiefe Veſtall ſtood up, who taking in her hand a branch of Laurell which a young Veſtall preſented unto her, and which was dipped in ther water, which was called Luſtrale, which ſhe brought with her in a ſilver Baſon; ſhe ſprinkled her ſelfe therewith, and afterwards did the ſame unto all the Congregation, who being all proſtrate upon the ground, received this water with great devotion. Afterwards, being riſen up, and ſhe returned to her ſeat, another young Virgin preſented unto her a basket full of flowers; ſhe put one Pofie of them upon her head, and did the like unto ſix others, who kneeled down at her feet, and who were to aſſiſt her in the ſacrifice; one of them went preſently, and tooke the Napkin and Baſon with which they were wont to ſacrifice. Another took the box of perfumes, which was called Acerta: Another carried the water which was to be uſed in the ſacrifice, for the Veſtals never uſed any Wine: And thoſe alſo of the good Goddeſſes, never uſed wine but milk: The fifth carried the bundle of Vervine; and the ſixth, a basket of Flowers and Fruits.

Being all thus before her, cloſe to the Altar of Veſta, before which ſhe did proſtrate her ſelfe upon her knees; ſhe began an Antheme in praiſe of that Goddeſſe, and all the Veſtals joyned with her: and having ſung the firſt verſe, they all roſe up, having each of them a Taper in their hands, and walked two and two. The youngeſt went firſt, the elder next, and afterwards the ſix which carried the Chaplets of Flowers: laſt of all, the chiefe Veſtall with her Paſtorall ſtaffe, and all the reſt went about the Altar: Then every one went to their places againe, except the chiefe Veſtall, and thoſe that carried things neceſſary for the ſacrifice: Then ſhe who carried the bundle of Vervine, laid it down on the left hand of the Altar, where the fire was kept in day and night by two Veſtals, becauſe if it went out [Page] they thought ſome great diſaſter would befall them. If ever the fire did extinguiſh, the Veſtal that kept it was ſeverely puniſhed: then they kindled it againe with the rayes of the Sun, which fire they eſteemed Sacred. The other Veſtal, who carried the Flowers and the fruits, did put them into the white Marble Ark, of which we ſpoke before; and the other four ſtayed with the chiefe Veſtal, who then proſtrating her ſelfe before the Altar, did with a loud voice confeſſe her ſinnes; then acknowledged that ſhe durſt not approach the ſacred Altar of that Goddeſſe, being ſo defiled with ſinnes; and that ſhe was very unworthy to offer any thing that was pleaſing unto her, unleſſe it was by her commandment. Afterwards approaching nearer, ſhe ſtrewed the Altar all over with perfumes and incenſe, which caſt a fragrant ſmell all over the Temple. Then turning her ſelfe towards the Eaſt, ſhe uttered in a diſtinct voice, ſome words which a Veſtal repeated unto her word by word, reading them out of a Book, for fear of miſſing, or bad pronunciation; for ſhould any miſtake fall out in them, they believe that the ſacrifices are not pleaſing unto the Goddeſs.

The words are theſe, ‘O Moſt renowned Goddeſs, Daughter of Great Rhea, and puiſſant Saturn, Veſta, whom the Thirrians do call Labith Horchia; Receive we beſeech thee this devout Sacrifice which we offer unto unto thee for the people and Senate of Rome, for the preſervation of the Gaules, and for the Grandure and proſperity of Amaſis our Soveraign Lady. Let the Sacred Fire which thou haſt committed unto our keeping, never extinguiſh: And let thy requeſt which after the victory obtained over the Titans, thou madeſt unto Jupiter, to be ſtill a Virgin, be alſo obtained for us, and that we being all thine, we may be eſteemed part of thy ſelfe.’

At the laſt words of this ſupplication, all the Virgins anſwered, Amen. Afterwards every one threw into the fire ſome Incenſe and Aromatique drugs; then the chief Veſtall taking ſome of the ſacred water, ſhe ſprinkled the flowers, the fruits, and the fire with it: All theſe things being done, ſhe went a little from the Altar, and began a Hymn in praiſe of the Goddeſſe, and all the Veſtals, as a Chorus joyned with her. Laſtly, one, who ſtood oppoſite to the chiefe Veſtal, pronounced in a loud voice, That it was permitted them to depart; and ſo the ſacrifice ended.

Then the venerable Chryſante, who medled not with the Sacrifices, but onely as an aſſiſtant; ſhe went out of the Temple, and all the reſt, except the Veſtals; and went into the ſacred Grove, where the Prophets and the Shepheards waited for them: the one ſort, to ſacrifice; but the other, as much out of devotion to the ſhepheardeſſes, as unto their great Tautates.

Hylas more impatient then any elſe, out of his zealous deſire to ſee the faire Alexis, he was conſtrained to be preſent at the ſacrifice of the Prophets; but his prayer was, that Tautates would be pleaſed this once, to be contented with ſhort Ceremonies, that he might be going his deſired viſit: and indeed as ſoon as the laſt word of the ſacrifice was pronounced, he roſe up, and forced all the company to doe the like. He was as haſty alſo when dinner was done; for ſeeing the venerable Chryſante fall into diſcourſe. Madam, ſaid he, and interrupted her, If you do not give order for our departure, ſome of the company intends to leave you, and go unto the fair Alexis. Phillis anſwering for the venerable Chryſante; what a ſcurvie humour are you in Hylas (ſaid ſhe) to be weary with being in this place? where do you think to find better company? My late Miſtreſſe, anſwered he, Did I love you as I do Alexis, and you not here, I ſhould tell you in anſwer to your queſtion, that the beſt company was where you were: but ſince the caſe is altered, I muſt tell you upon the ſame reaſon, that where Alexis is, there is the beſt company for me. And to make my words good by my actions, if you do not go juſt now, you ſhall have no more of the company of Hylas, Upon this, making a low reverence, he prepared himſelfe to be gone, when all the company flocked about him, and would have ſtayed him by force. Whileſt he was ſtriving to eſcape their hands, a Meſſenger came unto Chryſante from Amaſis, who ſent word, that ſhe would come and lie at her houſe the ſame night, that ſhe might the next morning ſacrifice unto the Gods, by reaſon of a ſtrange Dreame which ſhe had. This meſſage cauſed Hylas to be hotter upon his departure, then before: and ſeeing that the venerable Chryſante could not go, his importunity was ſuch, that the fair ſhepheardeſſes were forced to go away ſooner then otherwiſe they would: Aſtrea indeed [Page] was very deſirous of haſte in going, though her diſcretion did hanſomely diſſemble it, which Hylas and his free humour could not. Having therefore taken their leave, they ſet forward, accompanied with the kind ſhepheards; and becauſe the Paths were in ſome places very narrow, every one did undertake the conduct of her who was moſt agreeable to his fancy, except Silvander, who out of reſpect was forced to quit Diana unto Paris; and Diana had deſired Phillis not to be farre from her, leſt Paris ſhould fall into diſcourſe of his affection: Phillis therefore took Diana by the other arm, and mixed diſcourſe amongſt them, ſeeming as if without deſign.

It happened, that being come out of the Wood, and having paſſed over Lignon, at the bridge of Botereux, the way was ſo broad that many might goe abreſt: Phillis therefore called Lycidas unto her; and ſeeing that Silvander was conſtrained to entertaine Hylas; Silvander, ſaid ſhe, (purpoſely to interrupt Paris) pray give me your opinion: which of us two hath the better place? I think anſwered the Shepherd, that this which I have long had is the beſt; you muſt have very good reaſons (ſaid Phillis) if you can make me beleeve it; and your affection is very cold, if you thinke ſo: yet it is true (ſaid Silvander) though not beleeved, ſo as, whatſoever you thinke of my place or affection to Diana, I would not change with you; for as ſure as you are Phillis, my place is better then yours: I have heard ſaid Philis, that the neerer one is to the party loved, the more is the Lover contented; you have heard the truth, replyed Silvander; You ſee, ſaid Phillis, that I am neere Diana, and you are at a great diſtance: For all that, anſwered hee, I am neerer to her then you are; for you are only by her ſide, and I am in her heart. I ſhall no longer be ſorry for the paines you take in walking (ſaid Hylas) for now I ſee it is Diana that gives you ſtrength to make long journeys without wearying your thighs. Silvander ſmiled at the anſwer, and replyed: I know Hylas that you doe not underſtand what I ſay; nor indeed is it to you that I ſpeake, but unto Phillis, who, the truth is, I find to be ignorant enough in the myſteries of love; but yet ſhe is willing to learne, ſo as ſhe doth better deſerve to heare me than you doe. If Phillis deſire to be a Schollar in the Schoole of love (ſaid Hylas) and will follow my documents, I ſhall make her an excellent Artiſt. Every one laughed at Hylas, and becauſe Silvander obſerved that Aſtrea and Diana looked downe with their eyes, he would change diſcourſe, therefore ſaid unto him: I perceive Hylas, that you are very liberall of your Doctrine, but to returne unto what I ſpoke unto Phillis; I ſay againe that I am neerer Diana then ſhe is, though ſhe ſtand cloſe by her ſide, becauſe Diana is in my heart: you ſaid, replyed Phillis preſently, that you were in her heart. I ſay it againe, anſwered Silvander; beleeve it, ſaid Phillis, there is a great deal of difference; for if you doe love Diana, it may be ſaid that ſhe is in your heart; and if Diana love you, then it may be ſaid that you are in hers. After the common and vulgarſpeech, ſaid Silvander, it may be ſo underſtood; but amongſt perſons of underſtanding, the one may be taken for the other: for to be in any place, is to be underſtood two wayes: The one, when the body is in a place, and then the outſide is in onely there; the other is, when the ſoul which is all ſpirit, doth hover in any place, as mine doth in the heart of Diana; for a ſoule lives more where it loves, then where it breaths,: To live, is an immediate act of the ſoule; it followes therefore, that if I love Diana, I am really in her: it is alſo a common phraſe to ſay, My heart is there, though my body be here: This, anſwered Phillis is a little too obſcure for me: but by all this you onely prove that your ſoule is there, and not Silvander, and therefore my place is the better: for one part of me at the leſt, and that which is moſt apt for paſſion, the body is neerer her then you are. I confeſſe, anſwered he, that in body you are neerer then I am, but you cannot conclude by it that your place is better, becauſe the ſoule is ſo much ſuperiour to the body, as there is no compariſon betwixt them. I wiſh withall my heart Shepheard (ſaid Hylas) that we two were both in love with one Shepheardeſſe: for ſince you contemne the body, I would willingly take it for my ſhare, and leave the ſoule freely to you, though it were the moſt learned ſoule among all our Druids: As for example, leave the body of Alexis to me, and I will leave the ſoule of Adamas unto you, who is a very knowing man. Every one did laugh at this propoſition, unto which Silvander anſwered thus: If all things be taken according to their true merit, certainly your choiſe is not the beſt: For the body which you only love, is an object unworthy of the ſoules love, becauſe love ſhould alwayes adde ſome perfection unto the Lover; for it is confeſſed by all, that love is a deſire of ſomething which is wanting. Alas the body is unworthy of the ſoul's love, becauſe [Page] it is vile and baſe, and much below it; ſuch Hylas, as love onely the body, are Pigmalion-like, who fell in love with a peece of Marble: Nature it ſelfe is very repugnant to it, and you will confeſſ [...] it, Hylas, when I aske you this Queſtion. If Alexis were dead, would you then love her body? To which Hylas making no anſwer; I ſee you are mute truth hath ſilenced you, or elſe you are aſhamed of a bad opinion. Neither the one, nor the other (ſaid Hylas) but what ſhould I anſwer? Doe you thinke I can divine? I can give you an accompt of things paſt if I can remember them, and of things preſent when I know them; but as for things future, good Friend, who doe you take me for: Doe you thinke I had one of the Sibils to my Tutor, or that I was brought up at the ſchoole of Prediction? Good Silvander, if you diſcourſe with me, talke of things within compaſſe of mans capacity, and let the ſecrets of the Gods alone: leave things future unto them, they have reſerved them unto themſelves. If you aske whether I doe love the body of Alexis: I anſwer you, that I do; but if you aske me what I would doe if the body had not a ſoule, I muſt ſend you to ſuch as can foretell things; you may take them along with you, if you will upon an errand to the Deſtinies, and when you returne, I ſhall enquire of you what I ſhall doe then: but in the meane time I will love the body of the faire Alexis, not as ſhe will be a hundred yeares hence, but as ſhe is now at this preſent, the moſt perfect workmanſhip of the gods.

Thus talked Hylas, and Silvander would have replyed, when all the Company came to a narrow planke, where every ſhepheard was officiouſly carefull to helpe his ſhepheardeſſe over; and when they were all on the other ſide, Silvander offered to fall into diſcourſe againe, but Diana hindred him, becauſe hearing a ſhepheard and a ſhepheardeſſe ſinging, ſhe deſired him to liſten. All the Company turned their eyes to the place from whence the voice came, and drawing a little neerer, they ſaw a ſhepheardeſſe ſitting under a ſhady Tree, and a ſhepheard upon his knees before her, courting her, and ſhe returning him very diſdainfull anſwers. Enough, enough Alcidon (ſaid ſhe) if you will have me to ſtay any longer here, either be ſilent, or talke of ſomething elſe; and beleeve it, that whatſoever you ſay upon this ſubject, will onely increaſe my diſaffection to you. If I had not more hope (anſwered hee) in the juſtice of love, then in yours, I ſhould long ſince, not onely have ceaſed talking, but ceaſed living. What can your hopes be, ſaid Daphnide? for if the God of whom you ſpeake were juſt, he would long ſince have made you an example unto all ſuch as are ſo bold as to offer wrong? Doe not offend him (ſaid Alcidon) who hath power to order things according to his will, and of whoſe power you cannot be ſo ignorant, as to thinke that you ought to ſcorne me as you doe: The ſhepheardeſſe would have replyed, had not the company been ſo neer, as cauſed her to be ſilent.

Aſtrea, and the reſt of the Company, who heard theſe ſtrangers, being invited by the beauty of the ſhepheardeſſe, and the hanſome deportment of the Shepheard, as well to ſatiſfi their curioſity, as their duty, unto which the lawes of hoſpitality did oblige them, which were moſt religiouſly obſerved in that Country; they addreſſed themſelves unto the ſhepheardeſſe, and after ſalutation, offered her and all her company, all manner of aſſiſtance; for at the ſame time there came unto her two other ſhepheardeſſes and a ſhepheard, who had ſtrayed from them, and ſtayed under a ſhade untill the heat of the day was a little over. Daphnide, ſeeing this faire Company accoaſt her with ſuch courteous expreſſions, ſhe anſwered with all poſſible civility, and told them all in generall that the Heavens had beene moſt gracious unto the Country, being inhabited by perſons ſo accompliſhed with all manner of merits. Aſtrea made anſwer thus; There is not any here who is not very much devoted unto your ſervice, as well in obedience to our Lawes which command us to be hoſpitable unto Strangers, as out of deſire to have the honour of doing ſervice unto perſons of ſo much merit as you and your companions. Since my firſt encounter is ſo good (ſaid the Stranger) I begin to hope for a happy concluſion in my voyage: And ſince your courteous offers doe imbolden me to enquire of what is neceſſary to be known; I beſeech you fair ſhepheardeſſe tell me, if there be not a Fountaine in this Country, which is called the Fountaine of Loves verity, and where it is? Aſtrea looked upon Paris and Silvander, and returned no anſwer, which canſed Silvander to anſwer for her. Faire ſhepheardeſſe (ſaid he) the Fountaine of which you enquire is in this Country; bnt love hath ſo ordered it that upon the matter it is not here, being guarded by ſuch inchanted Animals, as there is no acceſſe unto it: And where is it, replyed Aſtrea? How, ſaid the Stranger, are you of [Page] this Country, and ignorant of a thing ſo rare? It is almoſt incredible: Thoſe who ſee your face which is ſo faire, cannot chuſe but love you, and by conſequence you cannot but be ſo curious as to know the truth of their affections who love you, which as I have heard ſay; may be ſeen in this fountain. I know, ſaid Aſtrea, and bluſht a little, that it is your Complement which makes you ſpeake ſo advantagiouſly of my face, and nothing elſe, therefore I will not anſwer unto that. But as for that curioſity which you thinke is in me; firſt, I have no occaſion for it, becauſe I was never ſo happy as to be loved in that manner: and ſecondly, we never uſe to have recourſe unto the Fountaine you ſpeake of, to know the mindes of thoſe who ſerve us, becauſe we have a better, and more ſure way. What is that, I beſeech you, (ſaid the ſtranger). It is, ſaid Aſtrea, Time, and the effects of it. I do conceive, ſaid Daphnide, that this way is very uncertaine; and I my ſelfe can ſay, that I have been often deceived by it.

If that do faile us (replyed Diana) then we doe uſe another remedy: What is that, ſaid the ſtranger? It is, anſwered Diana, not to love at all. That remedy, ſaid Alcidon, is moſt unjuſt, for thereby the innocent will be puniſhed, and not the culpable. For he who deceives any ſhepheardeſſe, in faigning to love her, cares not whether ſhe love him or no, and ſo receives no puniſhment for his fault: and he who does really love her, bears all the blame and puniſhment. You ſee, generous ſhepheard (ſaid Hylas) that our ſhepheardeſſes are as unjuſt as faire; and yet for all that, we can't chuſe but love them; what then ſhould we do, if their minds were as ſweet as their faces?

One of the ſhepheardeſſes hearing Hylas ſpeak thus, began to fix her eyes upon him, thinking that ſhe ſhould know him. And doubtleſſe, but for his habit which did a little diſguiſe him, ſhe had not ſtood ſo long in doubt; but after ſhe had a little better conſidered with her ſelfe, ſhe addreſſed her ſelfe unto Thameres, and asked him in a low voice, whether that ſhepheard who ſpoke, was not Hylas, and he anſwering, yes; ſhe whiſpered Daphnide in the eare, and ſaid unto her, Madam, he whom you ſpake unto, is Hylas, and you know him not: The ſtranger bluſhed; and holding her hand before her face, as being aſhamed to be ſeen in that habit, went back a pace or two, crying out, Oh heavens▪ Hylas, how your habit alters you, and perhaps mine alters me as much: Then Hylas coming nearer her, he looked ſeriouſly upon her, ſo as though he had not ſeen her of a long time; and though her habit had much changed her, yet he knew her to be Daphnide, eſteemed the faireſt Lady in all Arles, or the Roman Provinces; but he was ſo much amazed at the ſight of her, that he knew not whether he dreamed or waked. At the laſt, after a long pauſe, he went back, looked upon her, and was not able to ſpeake one word: which the ſtranger perceiving. Certainly, ſaid ſhe, This is a Country of wonders; for I find in it ſhepheardeſſes more civilized, than any perſons in Cities: Naturall beauties, without any artifice; and the greateſt wonder of all is, to ſee Hylas ſilent. Hylas turned towards her, and knew her that ſpoke unto him, to be Carlis, the other Stiliana, and Hermanthe, with them: this ſight did ſo amaze him, that not able to ſpeake a word, he ran to embrace his deare friend Hermanthe; and after a long embracement, he parted, and imbraced againe; have I met with my dear Hermanthe? (ſaid he) Is it poſſible I ſhould find here the greateſt beauties in all the Province of the Romans? I might have ſaid the whole world, if this Country in which we are were excepted. What? The ſo much admired Daphnide; the proud Stiliana, and Carlis, who firſt taught me to love? The Gods have been abundantly favorable to me, in conducting you hither: Madam (ſaid he unto Daphnide) you, and your company, are come to be witneſſes of my Glory and Felicity. Hylas, anſwered the ſtranger, you enjoy no contentment, but I do participate in it as your friend: but if you wonder to ſee me in this equipage, I do no leſſe, to ſee you thus diſguiſed, and in a place where I had no thoughts of finding you: however, I doe thinke the encounter moſt happy, if it will make me any ſharer in the Glory and Felicity which you enjoy. Madam, ſaid Carlis, he nevers offers any ſigne of joy for meeting with me, or with Stiliana. Oh my firſt Miſtreſſe (ſaid he) why do you think ſo? you know that ones firſt love is never forgotten. But you ſhew the contrary (ſaid ſhe) for love cannot be, when the party loved is forgotten; and you cannot deny, but that you had forgotten us all. I am compounded of another mettal (ſaid he) then other lovers are; for I never uſe to forget thoſe whom I ever loved; nor is my affection to them extinguiſhed. 'Tis true, my memory will ſometimes ſtumble, and be covered over with oblivion, as fire will be in the embers, and my affections will ſlacken as a bow that hath been too long bent; but my memory will get up againe: blow but the ashes from the embers, and [Page] the fire will be in; and the bow after a little unbending, will aſſume its firſt ſtrength; even ſo will my memory, and my affection, when the aſhes of oblivion are blown away, by the fight or preſence of the party loved. I perceive, ſaid Stiliana, that Hylas is ſtill Hylas I hope (ſaid Daphnide) that we ſhall have leiſure to know further of your welfare; but in the meane time, leſt we ſhould commit ſome errors amongſt theſe fair ſhepheardeſſes, I pray Hylas tell us who they are, and whether Aſtrea and Diana be in the company. Madam, anſwered Hylas, they are both there; and then he ſhewed them unto her; then Daphnide ſaluted them againe; and after ſhe had well looked upon them, Fame I perceive (ſaid ſhe) has undervalued the truth; for I ſee your beauty goes beyond all reports. Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, and bluſht, thoſe that live as we do, may ſay, that they are hardly in the world; for living onely in woods and fields, fame can take no notice of us, and we think our ſelves very happy in her ſilence. You may ſay what you pleaſe, replyed Daphnide; but now I have ſeen you, I am able to ſay, and truly, that though fame ſhould ſpeak highly in your advantage, yet ſhe both is, and would be ſarre ſhort of the truth, and do you wrong. Madam, ſaid Diana, it is onely your ſweet civility which is pleaſed to beſtow theſe attributes upon us: And though we are, as my companion ſaith, almoſt out of the world: yet would we gladly be ſuch as you are pleaſed to ſay we are; for perfection is deſireable in all. You cannot deſire more then you have; replyed the ſtranger; for if you ſhould, your deſires would be above the power of Nature: and I cannot believe it poſſible, ſhe ſhould make two different beauties more perfect, How, Madam, ſaid Hylas, though they be ſuch as you ſay they are, yet I was never in love with them, or ſo little, as it may be termed nothing. All birds, anſwered Daphnide, are not pleaſed with the pure light of the Sun, nor by conſequence, your bad ſight with theſe great beauties. Nay, nay, Madam, replyed he, It is rather becauſe there are greater beauties in this Country then they are, and you know Hylas was ever a lover of the faireſt. I can very hardly believe what you ſay, anſwered the ſtranger. I ſhall make you confeſſe it, ſaid he, if you will goe whether all this company are going: Diſcreet ſhepheardeſſes (continued he, and turned towards Aſtrea and Diana) know that you ſee here in the habit of a ſhepheardeſſe and ſhepheard, the faireſt Lady, and moſt generous Cavalier in all the Province of Galloligures; and I believe your Country never received a greater favour from heaven, then in receiving them therefore Noble Paris, I beſeech you let them not depart from this company, until Adamas have ſeen them at his houſe. Paris and the ſhepheardeſſes addreſſing themſelves unto Daphnide, did excuſe themſelves for not rendring them that honour which was their due; and beſeeched them to favour the great Druid ſo far, as to viſit his houſe; which they conſented unto, as well to ſatisfie the requeſt of Paris and the ſhepheardeſſes, as out of their deſire to ſpeak with ſage Adamas, about ſome affairs which brought them unto that place, having heard very much of his wiſdom.

Hylas was very glad when they conſented; and becauſe Daphnide knew him in the Iſle of Cama [...]g [...]es, and in Arles, and was well acquainted with his honour, ſhe propoſed many queſtions unto him by the way, unto which the ſhepheardeſſes would ſometimes anſwer for him, and ſometimes Silvander: And though he was in a little kind of conſtraint before Daphnide, Stiliana, and Carlis: yet he could not chuſe but break out often in his anſwers, eſpecially when Silvander ſpake: at which theſe ſtrangers did ſo laugh, that addreſſing himſelfe unto Daphnide: Madam, ſaid he unto her, I think, that in taking upon you the habit of theſe ſhepheardeſſes, you have alſo taken their humour, ſince this ſhepheard's talk does pleaſe you ſo very well: for he never opens his mouth to contradict me, but preſently all fall a laughing. But my good friend Silvander (ſaid he, and turned towards him) you muſt know, that it is at you whom this Lady laughs, and not at me; for thy education being onely Rurall, thou ſpeakeſt accordingly: therefore I think thy beſt diſcretion is, to talk no longer. Courteous ſhepheard, ſaid Daphnide, do not believe Hylas, you do not know him ſo well as I do; but I ſhould be very ſorry you ſhould have any ſuch opinion of me. Madam, anſwered Silvander, Hylas and I have often ſuch conteſts as theſe, and never believe each other. But Hylas, ſaid he, and turned towards him, do not miſtake your ſelfe, for I do know before whom I ſpeak, and know this Lady.

I had ſpent my time very ill amongſt the Maſſilians, and had been both deafe and blind, if I had not heard of her merit, and ſeen her beauty: I know, Hylas, and perhaps better then you do, who the faire Daphnide is, who Alcidon, and who is the great and renowned King E [...]rick: perhaps I can give a more particular relation of the City of [Page] the Maſſilians and of Arles, then many others; and therefore though I am a ſhepheard doe not think to daunt me with your big words. Daphnide then interpoſed; truly, ſaid ſhe, I doe beleeve this ſhepheard knowes me, and I beleeve what he ſayes, and alſo I beleeve he knowes more then you thinke he doth. But kind ſhepheard (ſaid ſhe unto Silvander) if it will not be too much trouble unto you, tell us how you came to know all theſe things? Madam, anſwered Silvander, I was along time in the Maſſilian ſchools where your Name was ſo cryed up by the Bardi, that every one did hear of it. How came you now to be in the habit of a ſhepheard (ſaid ſhe) and what cauſe doth retaine you in it? Fortune, ſaid he, brought me into this Country, and Love ſtayes me in it. And ſaid Hylas, Love brought me into this Country, and Alexis ſtayes me in it. Who is that happy Alexis, ſaid ſhe, (and ſmiled) She is one, ſaid Hylas, who will make you bluſh for ſhame, and grow pale with envie: ſhe is ſo faire, that ſhe hath no equall. Aylas, anſwered ſhe, you ſay ſo much that I muſt needs beleeve you in part, and too much to be beleeved in all; your owne eyes (ſaid he) will be witneſſes preſently againſt your ſelfe, and will enforce you to juſtifie all my words; for I have not ſpoke one ſyllable too much in her Commendations. Alcidon hearing this, thought himſelfe concerned: Hylas (ſaid he) I will acknowledge your Miſtreſſe to be faire, but that ſhe is fairer then Daphnide, if words will not maintaine the contrary, my blood and life ſhall. Hylas hearing this, aſſumed a very ſerious looke; as farre as words will goe, ſaid he, I will maintaine what I ſay; but if you come to matter of blood and life, I will not onely quit her unto you, but unto any that ſhall maintaine the contrary; for my profeſſion is talking not killing: every one began ſo to laugh at this anſwer, that Alcidon could not reply of a long time after.

Doubtleſſe their diſcourſe had continued longer, if they had not been very neer the houſe of Adamas. In the meane time Alexis in contemplation of that contentment which ſhe promiſed unto her ſelfe in the ſight of Aſtrea, did ſtand leaning againſt a window which looked towards the Plaine, and talked with Leonide. When ſhe perceived the company comming, and aſſured her ſelfe that Aſtrea was amongſt them, ſhe ſtarted: ſometimes ſhe looked upon one, and ſometimes upon another ſhepheardeſſe; but when ſhe ſpyed Aſtrea, oh, into what an extaſie ſhe was tranſported! ſhe fixed her eye upon her, and ſpoke not a word, as if ſhe would take her fill of that pleaſing Object: At laſt fetching a deepe ſigh, ſhe ſhewed her unto Leonide with her finger; ſee, ſee, ſaid ſhe, the faireſt ſight in the whole world, being as bad almoſt in that rapture, as Adraſtes was. Then keeping ſilence a while, ſhe went a pace or two backe from the window, and folding her armes upon her breſt: Oh heavens (ſaid ſhe) how dare I preſent my ſelf before her, when ſhe hath commanded me the contrary? What, ſaid Leonide will you relaps into your old errour? Were not theſe conſiderations ſufficiently debated with Adamas before you came hither? have you ſo ſoone forgotten his prudent reaſons? Doe not thinke (ſaid Alexis) that I have forgotten them, but I am ſure Aſtrea will ſee me, and I ſhall ſee her, ſhe will ſpeake unto me, and I unto her, and is not this diſobedience to her Command? Goe, goe, (ſaid ſhee unto me, I ſhall never forget thoſe cruell words) goe diſloyall man, and never come in my ſight unleſſe I commmand thee. The Nymph thinking that if this diſcourſe went on, it would much diſquiet Alexis, ſhe would not anſwer unto her; only thus, theſe thoughts Alexis muſt not now come into your mind; it is already reſolved upon, the time is now come wherein you muſt ſhew your ſelfe a man, Sonne to Alcippes, whoſe courage was ſo highly eſteemed by every one; you muſt I ſay change your Countenance and Garbe; you muſt receive Aſtrea without any wonder, and at the firſt accoaſt of her, have ſo much power over your ſelfe, that none may diſcover you▪ you know that the firſt impreſſions take deepeſt roote, and upon them the moſt ſure judgement is built; therefore reſolve with your ſelfe ſo to diſguiſe the matter, that thoſe whom your habit deludes may not be undeceived by your actions. Ah Madam (ſaid Alexis) how eaſie a matter it is for thoſe that are well to give counſell unto the ſicke? here is a fault committed already replyed Leonide; why doe you call me Madam, and not Siſter; you know Adamas will needs have me call Paris Brother, and ſo he commands me to call you Siſter, and if you doe not the like you will be ſuſpected, you know that your face does extreamly reſemble Celadon, and therefore you muſt uſe abundance of Art to deceive people. Siſter, anſwered Alexis, ſince you are pleaſed I ſhould call you ſo, I ſhall endeavour to carry my ſelfe as well as I can; but I aſſure you never was any, more put to it [Page] then your miſerable Siſter is upon this occaſion, and unleſ [...]e ſome helpe me out I know not how I ſhall delude the eyes of Aſtrea with whom I never uſed any diſſimulation or diſguiſement. Upon ſuch occaſions as theſe, ſaid the Nymph we muſt make our wit and courage appeare, and as they ſay make a vertue of neceſſity. Aſſure your ſelfe, the Authority of Adamas is ſo great, and every one hath ſuch an opinion of his Wiſedome, that with a little helpe of your own, none will queſtion but that you are his daughter.

As they were thus talking, Adamas being advertiſed of the coming of Aſtrea, he came to hearten Alexis, which was no ſmall Prudence; for ſhe was ſo much out of her ſelfe, that good preparatives were but neceſſary, leaſt ſhe being ſurpriſed ſhe might give too much knowledge who ſhe was. When they were in the midſt of their diſcourſe, newes was brought them that all the Company was come in, to the firſt Court of the Caſtle. Alexis bluſht, and her legs trembled ſo, that ſhe was conſtrained to fit downe. Leonide who perceived it, the better to hide all faults, told Adamas that it was good to draw the Curtains of the windowes, and to let in as little light as might be, that the alterations in the face of Alexis might not be diſcerned, and that the pretence for it might be to hinder the Sunne from keeping the roome too hot. The Druide liking the Counſell, commanded all the Curtaines to be drawne: But as they were buſie in preparing all things on the one ſide, Aſtrea was as much perplexed on the other: her heart did beat extreamly, and coming unto Phillis ſaid to her in her eare: Good Siſter find ſome excuſe or other out, which may cauſe us to ſtay a little; for I muſt confeſſe that my hopes to ſee the face of Celadon in Alexis, does ſo much put mee out of my ſelfe, as I feare, that if I h [...]ve not a little time to recollect my ſelfe, I ſhall give too much knowledge of what I deſire to conceale, eſpecially unto theſe Strangers. Upon this, Phillis went unto Daphnide, and ſaid unto her: Are you not weary Madam with walking up the Hill? If it be your pleaſure, I am ſure all the company would be very glad to take a little breath before they goe up into the Hall. For my part (ſaid Daphnide) I like the motion very well, but would not propound it leaſt I ſhould diſpleaſe. Hylas who could not indure to be retarded from his contentment in ſeeing his deare Alexis; Madam, ſaid he, if you were not in very good company I ſhould not offer to leave you; but ſince you are, I beſeech you take it not ill, if I goe before, and tell them that you are coming; for I had rather take breath with Alexis, than here. Then not ſtaying for any, nor for the anſwer of Daohnide, he went up the ſtaires, at the top of which, and at the entrance into the Hall, he met Adamas, Leonide and Alexis: and becauſe all three of them did thinke that the love of Hylas would be an excellent umbrage of what they deſired to conceale, they made him as welcome as they could: The Druid himſelfe, after he had ſaluted him, ſmilingly ſaid, that it was eaſie to ſee who of all the Company was moſt their friend: Sir, ſaid Hylas, if the haſte which I have made in coming firſt, move you to thinke ſo well of me, my ſtaying the laſt will be as good a teſtimony of my good will, and I wiſh my company were as welcome unto you, and your company as it is deſired by me. No queſtion but it is, ſaid Leonide, is it not, Siſter? For my part, ſaid Alexis, I am very much contented in it: Hylas then going neerer her: Fair Alexis, ſaid he, in a low voice, ſo my company yeeld you any contentment, it is enough: Why, (ſaid Leonide, ſeeming to be angry) doe you ſo little eſteeme the reſt of the company? I aſſure you proud Shepheard, I will be revenged of you, and before the day be done, you ſhall repent of your diſdaining me thus: ſhe uttered theſe words with an angry looke, and did very well feign a diſcontented perſon. But Hylas, who naturally did not care for any woman living, unleſſe her he loved I ſhall be very ſorry, ſaid he, when the faire Alexis repents of what ſhe hath ſaid unto me: and till then, you will but loſe your labour, if you ſeek for any revenge upon me: And when ſhe doth repent of it, you need not ſeeke for any greater revenge, for my ſorrowes will be ſo great, that nothing can make them greater. Servant, anſwered Alexis, as long as you doe love mee, you need not feare any revenge, for your good will is very deare unto mee.

He was ready to reply, when Adamas interrupted and asked him, who were thoſe ſhepheards and ſhepheardeſſes which were coming. There is, Father, ſaid he, Aſtrea, Diana, Phillis, and ſeverall others of that neighbourhood: There are alſo ſome ſtrangers, as Florice, Cyrcenea, and their Company; but that which invited me to [...] me before, was to tell you, that we met by the way with faire Daphnide, a Lady of the [Page] higheſt eſteem of any in the Roman Province, and with the generous Alcidon, who diſguiſed in the habit of ſhepheards, are come into this Country to ſeek for the Fountaine of loves verity: Alcidon is the moſt beloved Cavalier in all the Province, eſpecially by the great Eurick: And thus you ſee I am not the onely ſtranger, who diſguiſeth my ſelf in the habit of a ſhepherd, to live happily in your Country. Adamas anſwered him; Is it poſſible it ſhould be the faire Daphnide, with whom the great Euricke, King of the Viſigots was in love? and Hylas anſwering him, that ſhe was the ſame, he continued; though I never ſaw her, yet I ſhall know her, for I have a Picture which they aſſure me, does very much reſemble her, except her habit do cauſe an alteration: yet I will ſeem to know nothing, and will bid all our ſhepherdeſſes as welcome as I can.

Their diſcourſe had continued longer, had they not been prevented by the coming of the Company: for Aſtrea, although ſhe was the cauſe of their ſtay, yet ſhe was not able any longer to ſtay from the ſight of that ſo much loved face; therefore ſhe made ſign unto Phillis, who underſtanding her meaning, addreſſed her ſelfe unto Daphnide and Paris, and ſaid unto them aloud: Now if it pleaſe you, it is full time to follow Hylas; for what will Adamas think, when he heares by him that we are here? 'Tis true, ſaid Daphnide; and taking Aſtrea and Diana by each hand, they led the way, and the ſtaires being very large, they went up all three a breſt, and the reſt of the company confuſedly followed after. Adamas waited for them in the entry of the great Chamber, where he received them as kindly as poſſibly he could: and ſeeming not to know Daphnide nor Alcidon, he addreſſed his ſpeech unto the ſhepheards of his acquaintance, and ſaid unto them with a ſmiling countenance: Faire ſhepheardeſſes, you give me ſome cauſe to think that you are proud, becauſe you ſeem to ſleight your Neighbours: has my Daughter been thus long here, and you not daign one courteous viſit? Aſtrea, who obſerved, that though he ſpoke to all in generall, yet he addreſſed his ſpeech particularly unto her, ſhe made anſwer for all. Revere [...]d Father (ſaid ſhe) things that dod epend upon the will of many, are oftentimes retarded, though every particular deſires to make haſte: This excuſe, ſaid Adamas, will hardly hold; for methinkes every one of you in particular, does owe me as much friendſhip, as I doe owe you all in generall. Then Diana undertook the matter; Father, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled, many had rather give that which they do not owe, then pay their due debts: but as we have committed this fault, ſo are we puniſhed for it, in depriving our ſelves ſo long, from that which is ſo great a happineſſe unto us: Upon this, Daphnide addreſſed her ſelfe to ſalute Leonide, and Aſtrea the like unto the diſguiſed Alexis: but oh how ſhe was aſtoniſhed, when ſhe caſt her eye upon his face? and how amazed was Alexis, when ſhe ſaw Aſtrea coming to kiſs her? Oh love? into what a condition didſt thou put them both, when they kiſſed each other? The ſhepheardeſſe was as red, as if her face were all fire; and Alexis trembled as if a great fit of an ague had been upon her: Hylas, who obſerved how zealouſly his Miſtreſſe ſaluted this ſhepherdeſſe, he grew ſo jealous, that he could not endure ſhe ſhould hold her any longer in her armes; and this jealouſie was a cauſe of their parting, ſo as Diana ſaluted her the next; after her, Phillis; and then all the reſt of the company.

Adamas, who deſired to ſhadow as much as poſſibly he could, the alteration in the face and ſpirit of his Daughter; after all ſalutations were done, and that all the company entred confuſedly into the great Chamber, he ſet Alexis in the moſt obſcure place; and when they were all ready to ſit down, he ſeemed to take notice of Daphnide and her company, therefore asked Thameres in a loud voice, who thoſe fair ſtrangers were? Sir, ſaid he unto him, Hylas can better informe you of them, then I can, if it pleaſe you to aske him; for I can tell you no more, but that we met them as we came hither, and he told us that they were Ladies of as high eſteem, as any in all the Province of the Gallogures. Then Paris coming nearer unto Adamas, told him, that it was the fair Daphnide, and the famous Alcidon, well known for beauty and merit in the Court of the great Eurick. The Druid ſeeming as if he knew nothing of them before, ſeemed alſo to be very angry with Paris for telling him no ſooner. Then addreſſing himſelfe unto her; Madam, (ſaid he) I beſeech you pardon my ignorance, and lay the fault upon your habit, that I have not rendred that honour which is your due Reverend Father (anſwered Daphnide) when I diſguiſed my ſelfe in this manner, my intention was not to be known in this Country where I am come, not in the rank of Daphnide, but onely to find that tranquility which the Gods have promiſed unto me: and I do believe, that but for Hylas, I had gone through my voyage, as unknown as I deſired. But ſince I am prevented, I beſeech you [Page] Father, let all thoſe circumſtances of honour and reſpect, which you mention, alone; and help me to find out thoſe wholſome remedies which the Gods have made me hope to receive in this Country. Adamas with much honour and ſubmiſſion, anſwered her; that he would ſerve her in all things, within the compaſſe of his capacity; and that he would not be diſpenced with, for doing her that honour which was her due: then preſenting a Chair unto her; another unto Alcidon, and unto all the reſt of the company, every one taking their places, Aſtrea ſat next Alexis, and Leonide on the other ſide, which prevented Hylas from being next his new Miſtreſſe: And becauſe he thought her too much taken with Aſtrea, he often interrupted her, and contraried her in her ſpeech, ſo forced her to anſwer him: Phillis perceived by Aſtrea's looks, that he was troubleſome to her, and therefore to give her more opportunity of talking with that Druid, who had ſuch a reſemblance of her beloved ſhepherd, ſhe entred into diſcourſe with him; My late ſervant, ſaid ſhe unto him, is there not one ſpark of that ancient affection towards me alive? This new Miſtreſs whom you adore ſo much, makes no great account of you: Come, come, return again to me that loves you, and eſteems you as you deſerve. Hylas who was paſſionatly in love with Alexis; Late Miſtreſs, ſaid he unto Phillis, you conſider not unto whom you ſpeak, when you mention any ſparks of old affection; the very word old, is enough to make me hate it. If therefore you would have me return again to you, talk no more of any old ſparks: for this is my Motto

An hour is too long to love?

A Minut's fair; and not above.

Do not think that the eſteem which you ſay you have of me, will any thing attract me; for one never uſeth to care for the eſteem of thoſe whoſe friendſhip he hath quitted, and who are meerly indifferent to him; Silvander then began to anſwer for Phillis. Reputation, ſaid he, which every one does ſo much deſire, what is it elſe but this eſteem which you ſo much contemne? if it be to be eſteemed, even amongſt enemies; why, Hylas, ſhould it not be eſteemed from one whom you have ſo much loved? I perceive, anſwered Hylas, that Silvander is not in the place which he deſires, no more then I am; and to vent his choller upon ſome body, he tells me ſuch tales, as Nurſes uſe to lull their children aſleep withall: But my good friend Silvander, have a good heart, and take patiently theſe rubs of fortune: conſider that we live in a very bad age, wherein favours are not diſpenſed according to merit; let us be patient man, fortune will one day ceaſe from perſecuting us.

Hylas, ſaid this unto Silvander, becauſe Leonide in favour of Paris, had placed Diana in the midſt, ſo that Silvander could not come near her, but was forced to ſit betwixt Celadon and Florice; which being known unto every one, was the reaſon why every one laughed at the anſwer, eſpecially Phillis, who ſaid; It muſt be confeſſed, Silvander, that now it happens unto you, as unto one who will undertake to part two who are fighting, and betwixt them is wounded, though he had no quarrel. If you had not often tryed (anſwered Silvander) that the weapons of Hylas have neither point nor edge, I ſhould not wonder you ſhou'd ſay ſo. But, ſhepherdeſſe, having had ſo much experience of them, I wonder you ſhould have that opinion: Never wonder (ſaid the ſhepherdeſſes) for he hath changed his weapons, he does not now fight with his own; thoſe wherewith he hath now wounded you, are borrowed of one whoſe cuſtome is to vanquiſh. After that rate, anſwered he, I ſhall partly confeſſe as much. To tell you truly (ſaid Hylas) neither of you can wound me, either with your own Armes, or any other you can borrow; for be they as good as they will, they have no force againſt me: If they were in my hands, ſaid Florice, what would you ſay unto them? I would ſay, anſwered he, That I do not remember you ever had any I hope, ſaid Cyrenea, that you will not ſay ſo by me. I muſt confeſſe (ſaid Hylas) that when I ſaw you but ſeldome, I loved you much; and when I ſaw you much, I loved you but little. Her ſight then, ſaid Palinice, did as the Scorpion does, which heales the wound it makes; but I am confident you will not ſay ſo of me. Of you (ſaid he, as if he were aſtoniſhed) for God ſake tell me how they call you, that I may know whether your Name can wound me more then your Fade? I perceive, ſaid Stiliana, that it is onely I who had the power to Captivate you. The ſhort pittance of time that I was your Priſoner, anſwered Hylas, does plainly ſhew how victorious you were. The truth is, replyed ſhe, you did go out of Priſon, but it was not without paying [Page] your ranſome. If I did pay it (replied he) then I owe you nothing, and if you thinke to make me your Priſoner againe as eaſily as you did, you are very much miſtaken: I am now a better Souldier then I was, and therefore I would adviſe you not to put it to the hazard; your teares I aſſure you will not doe it. Come, come, ſaid Carlis, Hylas is only mine, for as I was the firſt that ever he loved, ſo he ought to be the laſt, is not this true, Hylas? Conſider Carlis, ſaid he unto her, that every thing wil moſt certainly return to its firſt beginning; and as the firſt time that ever I did ſee you, I did not love you; ſo ſhall I not love you, the laſt time I ſee you.

None could forbeare laughi [...]g at the anſwers of Hylas, which continued ſo long that Alexis and Aſtrea had time enough to talke; but though Alexis might have imployed that time very well, yet ſhe was ſo long before ſhe could begin, being hindred by ſeverall conſiderations, that perhaps the opportunity had been loſt, if Aſtrea had not begun to ſpeake firſt. For this diſguiſed Druid ſeeing her before her eyes who had commanded her never to ſee her, fearing to be known by her voice, or ſome other of her geſtures, was ſo mute, that ſhe durſt not open her mouth, which Aſtrea attributed unto the little acquaintance that was betwixt them, or elſe conſidering that ſhe had beene alwayes converſant with the Virgin Druids, ſhe knew not how to talke of Country affaires. But the ſhepherdeſſe was much miſtaken, for the reaſon was, becauſe ſhe knew too much, and becauſe that face which did repreſent that of Celadon, as well in her memory as before her eyes, it made her extreamly deſirous to gaine the favour of Alexis, which was already but too much gotten, and therefore ſhee was the firſt that broke ſilence thus. When I doe conſider the beauty of your face, and the Graces wherewith the heavens have adorned you above all the Beauties of our age, I am almoſt ready to tax them with injuſtice in depriving this Country ſo long of that which it produceth moſt rare, and in hiding you amongſt the Druid Virgins ſo farre from us: But when I call to mind that the whole Univerſe is not too good to ſerve that great God who made it, I muſt confeſſe that the choice of you was moſt juſt, being the moſt perfect peece in the World. I wiſh (ſaid Alexis) that thoſe perfections which your civility puts upon me were as truly mine, as yours are in you, that I might in ſome ſort be worthy to ſerve the great Tautates: Idoe not bluſh faire ſhepheardeſſe to heare you uſe this language, which rather puts me in mind of my imperfections, then repreſents unto me what I am. I am ſorry, replied Aſtrea that you ſhould have ſo ill an opinion of mee, as to thinke that I ſuppoſe any imperfections in you: For though the heavens have made me a ſhepheardeſſe, and have given me no more wit then ſuits with a rurall life, yet as the Sunne is ſeene by all upon whom it ſhines, by ſome more, ſome leſſe according to their Capacities, ſo may I ſee your Perfections, and know them, ſo farre as to admire them, though I muſt confeſſe that many others unto whom Tautates hath given better judgement, may diſcerne them better, but cannot admire them more then I doe. I ſhall not contradict a judgement ſo favourable, replied Alexis: only I pray God that when you know me better, you doe not revoke it: For though neither my intention nor profeſſion will let me be long in this place, yet I ſhall alwayes thinke my ſelfe exceedingly happy in the favour of all thoſe who reſemble you, particularly your ſelfe, whoſe acquaintance I have ſo long deſired; and I aſſure you that this deſire will make me leave my Companions with leſſe griefe, when I know that I ſhall ſee Aſtrea: Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, this favour is tranſcendent: For if you have a will to be with us, our happineſſe is immeaſurable; or if it be out Complement onely to oblige us, yet we are happy in that you entertaine ſuch thoughts in you. But I may moſt truly ſay, that the newes of your coming filled the Country both with joy and ſorrow; ſorrow in hearing of your ſickneſſe, and joy to hear we ſhould be ſo happy as to ſee you. It is ſo long before you came hither (ſaid Alexis) that if any other but you, fair ſhepherdeſſe had told me ſo, I ſhould not have beleeved it; but to let this diſcourſe alone, I beſeech you tell me, how you uſe ordinarily to ſpend your time: for I am told that the ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes of Forreſts doe live the happieſt of any people in the World. It is certainly (ſaid Aſtrea) very happy unto ſuch whom Fortune hath not forſaken: and you know Madam, that thoſe who were once happy, when they loſe part of what they injoyed, are more miſerable then thoſe who alwayes were miſerable. Tis true, ſaid Alexis, but I doe not thinke your rurall and ſolitary life doth meet with any rubs of Fortune. Not ſo much ſaid Aſtrea, as thoſe who live in Court, and in the tranſactions of the World; but as Lakes though leſſe then the Sea, have [Page] their ſtormes and tempeſts; ſo it is with us, we alſo have our misfortunes and miſeries; and for my part I may well ſay, that having within the ſpace of one month loſt a Father and a mother, my affliction is ſo great, that I am not yet recovered of it: Is it long, ſaid Alexis, ſince you had this loſſe? About foure or five months ſince, (ſaid Aſtrea) and upon this ſhe fetched a deep ſigh: It is a very ſad affliction (ſaid Alexis) to loſe ſuch friends, but nothing is more naturall, then for Parents to dye before Children; and this may be your comfort, that they left you at an age wherein you are able to governe your ſelfe. One thing, ſaid Aſtrea, doth moſt exceedingly trouble me, which is, that I am partly a cauſe of their death: Truly, ſaid Alexis, you bring it into my memorie, that I have heard ſomething concerning it, and I thinke they told me that they were drown'd, in endeavouring to helpe you out of a water into which you were falne. Pardon me Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, it is true, that I fell into that fatall River of Lignon, as I endeavoured to helpe a ſhepherd who was drowned there: and the newes being carried to Hippolita my Mother, that I was drowned, ſhe was ſurpriſed with ſuch a fright, that ſhe did never recover it, but dyed preſently after: and my Father for griefe of her followed her: Thus was I at once deprived both of father and mother. Aſtrea could not relate theſe accidents without much griefe, and Alexis alſo; ſeeming as if it were out of compaſſion: I pray ſaid ſhe, who was that poore ſhepherd which was drowned? I know not, ſaid Aſtrea, ſadly, whether you heard of him, but his name was Celadon, brother unto Lycidas whom you ſee there: Was it Celadon (ſaid Alexis) who was ſonne unto Alcippes and Amarillis? The ſame, ſaid Aſtrea; I have often heard talke of him, ſaid Alexis, truly it was a very ſad accident. I aſſure you Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, that all manner of delights hath been ever ſince baniſhed out Coaſts,; For when he was alive, there was nothing but mirth and jollity amongſt us, and now ſuch a dulneſſe reignes, as if it were not the ſame Country: And for my part having loſt a Father and a Mother, who loved me moſt tenderly, and falne into the hands of an Uncle, my ſorrowes are double. But Madam I beſeech you pardon me for troubling you with ſuch ſad diſcourſe. Oh, ſaid Alexis, you doe infinitely ingage me in it, and you will doe me an extreame pleaſure if you will give me a relation of every particular which concernes you; for beſides your merit and vertue, which obligeth every one to eſteem you, I have a moſt particular deſire to be intereſted in your love; and therefore I beſeech you continue on Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, it is an infinite honour to me, and I proteſt unto you, that from the very firſt minute I ſaw you, there is ſomething which ſo devotes me unto you, that nothing can divert me from your ſervice, but death▪ Alexis would have replied, and perhaps have entred farther into diſcourſe if the jealouſie of Hylas had not hindred her; but he not being able to endure this long diſcourſe betweene theſe two Lovers, he did impudently fall upon his knees before Alexis, and taking her hand, kiſſed it before ſhe was aware, which ſhe perceiving pulled backe, and ſaid unto him: how now Servant, does the faire ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon permit ſuch familiarities? The Virgin Druids, from whence I came, I aſſure you would thinke this very ſtrange. Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, even as I doe not uſe to regulate my ſelfe according to the civility of theſe ſhepherdeſſes, ſo you ought not to follow the ſeverity of thoſe Druids: for if you doe, neither you nor I ſhall receive much contentment by it. I know not what you meane, ſaid Alexis, but I am ſure you muſt have very ſtrong arguments to divert me from following the example of thoſe holy Virgins, amongſt whom I have beene ſo long converſant. I do beleeve what you ſay, replied Hylas, but you muſt know, you need no worſe Rhethorique to make me change my Nature. I ſhould be ſorry, anſwered Alexis, to force you unto any change, for I would have you be as you are; onely let the law be equall between us; and this, as your Miſtreſſe, you may very well allow. Tis true, ſaid Hylas, but how doe you meane? I meane ſaid Alexis, that as I allow you to be as you are, ſo you muſt allow me to be as I am; and without any changing of humours, either in you or me, we may love each other, as we did at firſt. I doe allow of part of what you ſay, replied Hylas; but the reſt is not according to my mind: and I feare you have beene ſo cloyſtered up amongſt the Camutes, that you are halfe ſpoiled: Every one began to laugh at the diſcourſe of Hylas. In the meane time, Adamas entertained Daphnide and Alcidon, after this manner.

Madam (ſaid he unto her) I make no queſtion but that it was upon a good occaſion you came into this Country: for otherwiſe you would never have left the luſtre [Page] and delicacies of the Court, I ſhould not have preſumed to aske the cauſe, had not your ſelfe emboldned me; and knowing thereby that you expect ſome ſervice from me, my readines to do it, prompts me to ask what it is, to the end I may ſerve you according to your merit, and my duty. Father, anſwered Daphnide▪ your wiſdom, and my need of your aſſiſtance, makes me truſt you both with this ſecret, and the greateſt I ſhall ever have. I ſhall think my condition very happy, ſaid the Druid, if I meet with any occaſions to employ my ſelfe in your ſervice: and to make it appeare how much I eſteem your merit, I beſeeth you take ſo much paines to ſee a Gallery which is in this houſe, and there you ſhall find your own Picture ranked as it deſerves. I did never think, ſaid Daphnide, that [...] a thing ſo little worthy, of either ſeeing or preſerving, ſhould be in the poſſeſſion of the Great Adamas. Yet ſince you have done ſo, I ſhall think the Gods intend good unto me, by infuſing this curioſity unto you, which argues a willingneſſe to helpe me in this buſineſſe, from whence my whole happineſſe muſt proceed. I ſhall acquaint you Father, before we part, with the occaſion which brought me hither; in the meane time, I beſeech you till me, in what part of this Country is the fountaine of loves verity? and how I may ſee it? I can verily tell you, Madam, ſaid the Druid, where this Fountaine is, for it is not farre from hence: but I thinke it to be a thing impoſſible for you to ſee it, becauſe it is ſtrangely inchanted, and guarded by Lyons and other fierce Animals, ſo as no humane force can quell them. If the hazard of a life, ſaid Alcidon, will conduce unto the contentment of my Lady, ſhe ſhall quickly receive what ſhe deſires. I doe believe▪ ſaid the Druid, that if courage and valour could doe any thing againſt inchantments, the faire Daphnide would have what ſhe deſires, by the meanes of the valiant Alcidon.

But you muſt know, that the ſtrength of all men in the world united together, will do no good; for ſpirits which are ſuperior unto the nature of men, are ſo puiſſant, that even one of them is able to ruine the whole Vniverſe, unleſſe the great Tautates for the preſervation of mankind, did reſtrain them: ſo as the ſafer way is to have recourſe unto Prayers and Supplications, or elſe ſtay untill the time prefixed be expired, and the conditions of the inchantment performed. What are the conditions? ſaid Alcidon: They are, ſaid Adamas, very ſtrange: For the enchantment muſt not end but in blood, and by the death of the moſt faithfull lover, and loved, that ever was in this Country. This, ſaid Daphnide, is a moſt ſtrange Fate, and muſt needs be miſerable My ſelfe (ſaid Alcidon) can furniſh out the moſt faithfull lover: yes, ſaid Daphnide, and ſmiled, if to love in ſeverall places at once, be fidelity. If you, replyed Alcidon, could but manifeſt your fidelity, as I can, Alcidon would preſently hazard his life. I aſſure you, ſaid Daphnide, I am not ſo deſperate as to die, to make inchantments ceaſe. But Madam, ſaid Alcidon, It ſhould ſeem the will of the Gods ſo to doe, ſince they commanded us to come hither. I ſhall obey the will of the Gods, ſaid Daphnide, as far as poſſibly I can; but before I take this courſe, muſt have a more cleare and abſolute command for it. This, replyed Alcidon, argues but a very faint affection: I do confeſſe it, ſaid ſhe; for I cannot undertake to be a ſacrifice for the publique: beſides, I am not now in love with any; and therefore why ſhould I hazard my life for any: and if I were, I would not do it. I ſhould think them out of their wits that would; for it is not likely any that loves well, would deprive themſelves of the ſight and preſence of them they love, to put an end to an inchantment.

But Father, ſaid ſhe, and turned towards Adamas, I ſee that Alcidon conſtraines me to diſcover unto you, the cauſe of my coming hither: If you pleaſe therefore we will retire, and I ſhall willingly doe it, upon condition you will give me the beſt advice you can Madam, ſaid the Druid, I would I were as able to give you good counſell, as my affection promps me to do you all manner of ſervice: If you pleaſe therefore to leave all this good company together, you may retire into a Gallery which is cloſe by, and call whom you pleaſe to accompany you. Upon this, riſing up, Adamas addreſſed himſelfe unto Leonide, Paris, and Alexis, and commanded them to ſtay with thoſe faire ſhepherdeſſes, and curteous ſhepheards, whileſt he waited upon Daphnide into the Gallery: and you, Hylas, ſaid he, laying his hand upon his ſhoulder, I entreat you to entertaine this good company, and as one of our beſt friends do my houſe honour: Faith, ſaid Hylas faintly, I uſe more to diſhonour, then honor the houſes where I am; yet to obey you, I will do my beſt, provided my Miſtreſs will do as I bid her: every one did laugh at the anſwer of Hylas, eſpecially Alexis, who holding her hand before her face, ſaid unto him very handſomly; Perhaps Hylas, you will he too ſevere; No, no, ſaid Hylas, I require but word for word, if ſo, ſaid Alexis, and if Adamas permit me, I am contented [Page] Then, faireſt Miſtreſs, ſaid he unto her, entreat all this company, eſpecially Hylas, to keep you company all this day, and a little longer if you will. For why ſhould ſo many good friends part ſo ſoon? Adamas who was very glad of this requeſt, anſwered before Alexis.

I aſſure you Hylas, ſaid he, that I do deſire it with all my heart, and thoſe who will not condeſcend unto that deſire, doe extreamly diſoblige me. I will tell you, Father, for them all, ſaid Hylas; that we will all obey you with as good a will as you can deſire it: and though all ſhould goe away, yet I would ſtay alone, to give a teſtimony what power you have over me. Believe me, Hylas, ſaid Daphnide, you have very well improved your ſelfe in this Country, and have learned ſo much civility, that when you come againe into Camargue, you may keep a Schoole, Madam, ſaid Hylas, If all my Schollars would prove like unto my Miſtreſs, I ſhall take ſome delight in it: otherwiſe, believe me, I would not impart my knowledge, unleſſe unto ſome ſuch a one as your ſelfe. You doe oblige me, ſaid ſhe, in equalling me unto Alexis. Pardon me, replyed Hylas preſently, I did not well conſider with my ſelfe when I committed this error; for ſuch is my affection unto my Miſtreſſe, that I cannot judge of any thing but to her advantage. Daphnide had anſwered,, if ſhe had heard theſe words, but ſhe was gone away too far off, and carried with her Alcidon, Stiliana, Carlis, and Hermantes, the reſt ſtayed in the Great Chamber, where a Collation was brought in.

The Gallery into which the wiſe Adamas conducted Daphnide and Alcidon, was more conſiderable for the curioſities which were in it, then for the magnificence of the Structure; though the Doors, Windowes, and Chimneyes, were all of perfectly poliſhed Marble, very rich and beautifull, though the lights were at juſt diſtances; a regular proportion in the height and wideneſſe, exactly obſerved according to the length and rules of Architecture; and Fretworkes and Gilding was not ſpared; yet ſuch had been the care of the wiſe Druid, to inrich it with all manner of rarities and curioſities, which either Europe, Aſia, or Africa produced; not onely of his owne time, but of all ages paſt, whoſe memory was not loſt, that theſe did much exceed the richneſſe of the buildings; and as the one did take the eye with beauty, the other did ſtrike the mind with admiration beyond all thought.

The Arch which was ſupported by a large Frice, was painted with the moſt ancient Hiſtory of the Gaules, ever ſince the great Dis-Samothes unto Francus, who being abſent, and taken up with his other Conqueſts, leſt the Government of the Dominions unto the Druids and Gauliſh Knights. There was not forgotten the Great Dryus, who by the inſtitution of the Druids, left Religion, and the Laws of his Fathers, unto his ſucceſſive Nephews. There alſo was the portracture of the Great Hercules, who married the Princeſs Galathea, who by his eloquence and Arms, did draw the Gaules unto Civility, and unto Generoſity by his example. There alſo was Sigoveſus, and Belloneſſus; the one of which went over the Alpes, conquered, and Callidot, Gaul Ciſalpine; and the other paſſing into the Forreſt of Hircinia, did found the Kingdom of the B [...]yens. To be briefe, there one might ſee the Gaules under Brennus, triump in Rome over thoſe great Citizens, there loading themſelves with Gold: And paſſing from thence into Greece, rifled the Gold and Treaſures of the Temple of Apollo, and ſo returned into their Country.

Above this, was a ſecond Frice, wrought with ſeverall ſorts of Fretwork gilded, which was a great ornament to the Edifice. Betwixt them both, was placed the ſtatues of the Roman Emperours, from Caeſar unto the third Valentinian. But the greateſt curioſity of the place was, that every ſpace betwixt the Windows, was filled with Maps of all the Provinces of Gaule, ſo exactly drawne, that as one walked, one might not only know the diſtances of places, but alſo the ſcituation of places, Townes, their Climates, the courſes of the Rivers, and the propriety of every Province in this little world. No obſervable battle, or important ſiege, but was ſet in its right place; ſo as the great ſiege of Alexia, and the ſignal expeditions of Caeſar, might be ſeen in the plates where they were acted.

About theſe Maps, might be ſeene the Pictures of thoſe Princes, who ruled thoſe Provinces from time to time, ſo as there might be ſeen Pharamond, Clodion, and Merovius; and after him, without any Crown, Childerick his Son, for he was not yet King, becauſe his Father was alive. In the Map of the Sequaners and Hednois, one might ſee Athanarick, and his wife Bliſinde, who though he never paſſed the Rhine, was yet ſet there as [Page] Father unto the valiant Gaud ſelles the firſt King of the Burgundians, who planted upon the bankes of Arar and Roſne. Next unto this King was his wife the wiſe and pious Theudelinda; after them, their ſonne Gunditch, who did firſt ſettle the Crown in Gaul; after that, Gondebert with his three Brothers, Chilperio, Godamar, and Godegeſiles. To be briefe, the Druide was ſo curious, that nothing could be deſired, which was not to be ſeen there; ſo as Daphnide, Alcidon, and their company admired at theſe rarities, and eſteemed them the moſt excellent peeces that ever eye beheld, and caſting her eye by chance upon the map of Aquitane, the faire Daphnide ſaw there all the valiant Viſigots who there reigned; As ſoone as ſhe perceived them, ſhe could not take off her eye, becauſe ſhe knew there the names and faces of many: Amongſt the reſt, of Thoriſmond of Thierry his Brother, and of the valiant Eurioke, next whom ſhe ſaw her owne Picture, as when ſhe was about the age of eighteen or twenty yeares, ſhe kept her eye long upon it; and afterwards caſting them upon the Portraiture of Euricke, ſhe could not chuſe but ſigh and ſay: Oh great Euricke, how fatall was the expedition which raviſhed thy Scepter from thee, and what great cauſe have I to grieve, ſince it is not permitted me to follow thee? Madam, replied Alcidon, it muſt needs be confeſſed, that the loſſe of Euricke was a generall loſſe, but it would have beene much greater, if yours had followed; and doe you not thinke that the Gods in preſerving you had a great care of me? Such is their goodneſſe Madam, that they never reject the prayers of the juſt. I doe wonder at that the more, ſaid Daphnide, becauſe mine are not received which were made with ſo much juſtice and reaſon: For, is it not moſt juſt and reaſonable to accompany in death, thoſe whom they loved in life? Adamas hearing his diſcourſe was very deſirous to heare more, ſo as beſeeching Daphnide to ſubmit her will to the great Tautates, he deſired her to ſit downe, and to beleeve that all things are ſo wiſely diſpoſed by him, that all humane wiſdome was conſtrained to confeſſe it ſelfe ignorant and blind, in compariſon of his omniſcient Providence. Then Daphnide ſitting next unto Adamas, and all the reſt of the company taking their places, ſhe began thus.

The Hiſtory of Daphnide, Euricke, and Alcidon.

I know very well, reverend Father, that the great Tautates does all things for the beſt: For loving us, as the workmanſhip of his owne hands; it is not likely he will withdraw his love from us. But let me tell you, that as Phiſique though for our good is yet very bitter and loathſome; ſo thoſe afflictions which wee receive from the hands of the Gods, though they be very good for us, yet are they very heavy upon thoſe that receive them. Thoſe who murmur againſt his will are indeed much too blame; but if when they feele the ſmart they ſhrinke and bewaile it, they doe but pay the Tribute [...] of their weakneſſe and humanity. I doe confeſſe, that the goods which I have received from his hands are innumerable, and his favours are above his puniſhments; but we being all of a nature more ſenſible of the bad, than the good, I am forced to ſay, that the afflictions which I have received have almoſt blotted out the memory of the bleſſings. And being reſolved to retire my ſelfe from the ſtormes of the World, there is nothing which hinders me but the purſuit of this Cavalier, whom I call troubleſome: This being the occaſion which brought me into this Country; I beſeech you Father give me leave to let you underſtand how the caſe ſtands betwixt us; that ſince the Fountaine of loves Verity is ſhut, we may by your wiſe Counſell and advice, finde ſome eaſe in our troubles.

Know therefore that Thierry the great King of the Viſigots dying honourably in the battle ſought in the Cathalaunique fields, he left many children behind him, ſucceſſors, not only in his Crowne, but alſo in his courage and valour. He who firſt ſucceeded him was Thoriſmond his eldeſt Sonne, he being received King and crowned in Tholouſe, he made it his principall ſtudy, not only to enlarge the limits of his Kingdome: but alſo to repleniſh it with Cavaliers and Ladies: Heaven was at that time favourable unto his will; for neither Ataulfes nor Vulalia his Predeceſſors, nor the great Thierry his Father had neere ſo many accompliſhed Gallants nor ſo many faire and wiſe Ladies as this great and generous King had. It was my Fortune at that time to be brought unto the Court by my mother, when I was about fifteene or ſixteen yeares of age. I muſt confeſſe [Page] that I did not yeild unto any of my age, in the good opinion which I had of my ſelfe, either by reaſon of the confidence I had in my own beauty, which the flatteries of men infuſed into me, or by reaſon of that love which every one is apt to have of themſelvs, which made me thinke all things more perfect in me than in others: But ſo it was, that me thought I did attract the hearts as well as the eyes of all in the Court. The King himſelfe who was one of the moſt accompliſhed Princes that ever the Viſigots had, da [...]gned to caſt a favourable eye upon me, and to carraſſe me; but there being a diſparity in our ages, he did withdraw himſelfe conceiving and conſidering that ſuch a love was more fit for one that was younger than himſelfe.

At the ſame time Alcidon was with the King, and I may without flattery ſay before his face, that then he was the very Sun of the Court, the beauty of his face, his ſtature, his hanſome proportion, his garbe, his becomingneſſe in every thing: his ſweet diſpoſition, his courteſie, valour, vivacity of ſpirit and wit, his generoſity, and his other perfections did get him the onely eſteeme of the time. The King who was infinitely deſirous that his Court ſhould flouriſh in the bravery of Cavaliers, above all other Courts of Europe; he obſerving the merit of Alcidon in his youth, did take a particular care of him, aſſuring himſelfe that if this hopeful Plant wat carefully pruned, he would prove the glory of his Court.

Never bluſh Alcidon to heare me ſpeake ſo advantagiouſly of you in your preſence: I would have you know that my juſt hatred of you, ſhall not hinder me from ſpeaking the truth, and becauſe ſhe pauſed a little, as if ſhe expected he ſhould anſwer; I do admire, ſaid he, that you ſhould ſee in me ſuch ſecret qualities, which perhaps all that know me would contradict, and yet that you ſhould neither ſee nor beleeve my extreame affection, it being ſo great, as all that know me cannot be ignorant of it. I have long debated this in my ſoule, and can find no other reaſon for it, unleſſe that perhaps you reſemble thoſe that make their eſteem to appeare higheſt when they would be ſhut of the perſon whom they ſeem to eſteem; We ſhall debate that, ſaid he, another time, then returning to her diſcourſe, ſhe thus cotinued.

Thoriſmond intending to furniſh Alcidon with all poſſible accompliſhments and knowing that the braveſt actions and noble deſignes doe ſpring from love, to ſow the ſeeds in his ſoule, he commanded him to love and court me. Alcidon, who was not ſo young, (though not above eighteen yeares of age) but he was apprehenſive of the favour which the King did him, and knowing alſo that his advancement depended upon his obedience he undertooke his Commands, and applied himſelfe unto me, as much as any one of hils age poſſibly could; and to traine up his Youth in all compleat exerciſes, the King cauſed Bals to be kept very often, alſo Riding at the Ring and Tilting: It chanced, that preſently after Alcidon had received this command, the Ball was kept in the preſence of Thoriſmond and the Queene: it was the cuſtome at thoſe Bals, to dreſſe themſelves with their beſt art: It hapned that day day, as if it were done upon deſign, that both he and I were in white. And becauſe he would let the King ſee how willing he was to obey his commands, when the Ball began, he tooke me out; which the King perceiving, and obſerving that the youngneſſe of both was ſuch as we had not confidence enough to ſpeak unto each other, he began to laugh, and ſay unto thoſe about him. I cannot tell who put that couple together; but if it was Fortune, it appears in this that ſhe is not blind; for I thinke they could not poſſibly be better ma [...]cht. They are both as innocent as their habits ſpeakes them, and I beleeve they have not ſo much boldneſſe as to ſpeak one word: And it hapned as the King ſaid; for young Alcidon (whether out of baſhfulneſſe, or becauſe ſome ſparke of love began to kindle in his ſoule which kept him in that reſpect off me) did paſs away all that night and ſpoke not one word unto me. And I, having no deſignes at that time, did ſtudy to pleaſe the eyes of all in generall, and had no particular aimes.

Ever ſince this day affection increaſed, and to that height, that as his heart was inflamed, ſo his tongue told his diſeaſe: And I muſt confeſſe that his merits and ſervices gave ſuch eloquence unto his language, that I was perſwaded he did love me, and ere long that he did deſerve to be loved. In the meane time, he advanced himſelfe ſo high in the favour of his Maſter, that there was no office about him ſo great, unto which he might not aſpire; and indeed after he had given him free acceſſe unto his Perſon, and in all privacies how great ſoever, he beſtowed upon him the greateſt office belonging to his Crown, though perhaps his minority of age was not ſo fit for it, as ſome other. The [Page] truth is, ſo many amiable qualities, and noble perfections, did ſo much [...] his youth, that envy it ſelfe did not blame the Kings choice. But oh wiſe Alamas, them is nothing in this world durable; Fortune may well be painted with two face, one for proſperity, another for adverſity: For this great King, in the midſt of his owne Kingdome and Forces, was moſt unfortunately killed by a Chyrurgion. This wicked [...] being to let the King blood, whether by chance or villany, he ſo cut the vein, that he could not ſtay the bleeding: The King perceiving this accident, he took a [...] in his left hand, and in anger killed the Chyrurgion; but that did not help him, for he dyed preſently after to the great griefe of all his ſubjects.

Judge, Father, whether this ſuddain death was not terrible unto my Mother and me; It cauſed us to retire as ſoon as we could, into the Province of the Romans, where our eſtate lay, fearing ſome [...] in this Kingdome, which was deprived of ſo great a King. As for Alcidon, his griefe was ſuch, as it was believed he would not live: He knowes how I reſented his ſorrowes, and grieved for his loſſe, as our amity commanded me; yet he had ſo forgotten both me, and all his promiſes, as I never heard of him all that time. Unto Thoriſmond, ſucceeded his brother Thierry, who took upon him the Crown of the Viſ [...] gots, with a deſire to augment it. And to that end, hearing that the King of Swedes would needs extend their limits unto Spain: he ſent him word, (though he had married his ſiſter) that if he would not deſiſt from this enterpriſe, he would oppoſe him: of which Richard making no account, (for ſo was the King of Swedes called); Thierry paſſed over the Pirenian hills, fought him, and was victorious. Thierry, dying preſently after. Eurick his brother ſucceeded him; who by his valour, quelled all the [...] or the people; and afterwards ſeeing that the Romans, who called us their ancient friends and confederates, would ſubmit unto us as the reſt of the Gaules, he turned his Armes againſt us, I mean in the Province of the Romans.

I ſhall not inſiſt upon particular deſcription of theſe Victories, ſince they are not pertinent to our diſcourſe. But I muſt tell you, that after he had taken the City of the Maſſilians, he beſieged Arles, becauſe until that time I never heard of Alcidon: and he had no more memory of me, then if he had never ſeen me. But then, as if he was newly waked out of a deep ſleep, he bethought himſelfe, and writ unto me. You may imagine Father, how a young ſpirit, that had a very good opinion of herſelfe, could reſent this long ſilence, which I could not call ſ [...]om, becauſe I valued my ſelfe at ſuch a rate, as I thought I could not be ſcorned. Now thinking very often with my ſelfe, that he cared not for me, I vowed a hundred times not to care for him; and that though he ſhould return unto me with all imaginable ſubmiſſion, yet would I look upon him onely with an indifferent eye: I will not deny, but this loſſe was a very great griefe unto my ſoule; and I muſt confeſſe; I love him; ſo as when I received this Letter from him, the memory of his former merit, made me break open the ſeals and I found theſe words.

Alcidons Letter unto Daphnide

I Cannot tell, Madam, whether you will know my hand, or have yet in memory the Name of Alcidon, ſo long has my misfortune ſeparated me from you, and hindred me from keeping my ſelfe in your memory by any good ſervice. If you have yet any memory of me, and if the loſſe of two ſuch dear Maſters, and if the long imployments in a continuall warre, will be admitted as good excuſes, I beſeech you, Madam, to pardon my long ſilence, until I may with your permiſſion, let you know by word of mouth the unfortunate occaſions which have all this while deprived me of my chiefeſt happineſſe. If your goodneſs can ſurmount my hopes, and grant me ſo much favour, I beſeech you appoint ſome place which you ſhall thinke moſt convenient, where I may receive that happineſſe, and you ſhall find that Alcidon never was more yours, then ſtill he is; and that he has yet ſtill preſerved himſelfe moſt faithfully for you; and you will now find him more able to doe you ſervice, then in his green yeares, when you did him the honour, to admit him your moſt humble ſervant:

Theſe are the flatteries, wiſe Adamas, by which love uſeth to abuſe youth: I had no ſooner read his Letter, but though I did very well know the hand, yet I could not preſently conſent to the ſeeing of him: for miſtruſting the ayrie leightneſſe of men, eſpecially young [Page] men, and moſt particularly of Alcidon, whoſe unſettledneſſe was yet freſh in my memory; I would not, at the firſt entreat, ſhew my ſelfe ſo very pliable to his requeſt, but reſolved to let him champ a little upon the bit, purpoſely to ſharpen his deſire; knowing very well, that love aſpires alwaies moſt at that which he thinks is forbidden. And in this reſolution, I took pen and paper, intending to write a diſdaining anſwer, as his two years ſilence deſerved; but ſome Daemon or other, I know not whether good or bad, prevented me, repreſenting unto me the merits of Alcidon, that his youth might plead his excuſe; the divers ſtrange accidents which happened in that time: ſo as altering my firſt deſign, I reſolved to ſee him, with an intention to make him pay deare for his fault, if I found him imbarqued to love me: In this humour, I writ unto him theſe words.

Daphnides anſwer unto Alcidon.

IT is not Love, but Curioſity onely, which makes me give you leave to ſee me: doe not therefore take this leave which I give you, as any advantage to you; but be a better husband of thoſe favours you receive, then you have been of thoſe which your infancy obtained from me:

Adieu.

The Army was then about Arles, and the Great Eurick having taken the City of the Maſſilians; intended to force this, to make himſelfe Maſter of all the Province of the Romans; and to Ruine and Ravage all ſuch as would not ſubmit unto him. In this reſolution, he re-inforced his Army, and waſted all places where he had no hopes that his Armes could retaine: upon this account, the Venetians, the Regnois, the Tricaſtins, Arauſe, Valence, and many other places, felt the fury of his ſword, whileſt he ſtill continued the ſiege of this ſtrong City, which as the chiefe of that Province, gave greateſt reſiſtance, as well by reaſon of it naturall ſtrength, as the great number of Souldiers within it.

As for my Father, when my Mother and I left the Court, after the death of Thoriſmond, he retired himſelfe unto a ſtrong place which he had in Aquitaine. My Mother, who was much affraid of War, thinking to ſhun it, came unto the Province of the Romans, and it was there where it proved moſt hot; But when ſhe heard that the Army of Great Eurick was coming, ſhe retired unto the fartheſt part of the Venetians, along the River of Sorgues, where ſhe had a good houſe, and a ſiſter married, not above four or five leagues from thence, unto a principal Cavalier of the Country.

When I received this Letter from Alcidon, the indiſpoſition of my mother, gave me liberty to diſpoſe of my ſelfe freely; for her diſeaſe being onely age, and no other violent diſeaſe, unto which Phyſick was remedy; ſhe gave me the freedom of diverting my ſelfe, ſometime in walking along the River ſide, and ſometimes in viſiting my Neighbours, moſt of whom were my kindred and allies. I ſent therefore by word of mouth unto Alcidon, by him who brought the Letter, That if he ſhould be at Lers, which is a Caſtle ſcituated upon the Roſne, the fourth day of the following moneth. I would ſee him, and that I pitched upon this place, becauſe I knew the Maſter of it was his friend, and a ſervant unto the King Eurick: but that he ſhould come as privately as he could, becauſe if it was known he was there, he would run a great hazard, by being in an enemies Country, and I ſhould be talked of as the occaſion.

Here Daphnide pauſed a while, and rubbed her hand upon her forehead, as if ſhe were conſidering what ſhe ſhould ſay: at laſt turning towards Alcidon, I would willingly go on, (ſaid ſhe unto him) but methinks it better, that as I have told what concernes me, ſo you ſhould tell what concernes you, to the end Adamas hearing us both ſpeak, he may be more aſſured of the truth, Alcidon anſwered, you may command me any thing, Madam, and I ſhall moſt readily obey: but methinks you much wound the wiſdome of this great Druid, by ſaying he will ſooner believe my words, then yours; for certainly you know better what I did, then I my ſelfe; for my life hath been no better then a death, and I would not live a moment longer, then in obedience to you. Adamas then began to ſpeak: Sir, ſaid he, Were I as much in love with this Lady as you are, this belief might well be in me; but ſince I am not, what you doe ſay of your ſelfe, does more aſſure me of the truth: and ſince ſhe gives you authority, you need not make any difficulty of it. [Page] Authority? ſaid Daphnide: Nay more, I command him; and, if he be as good as his word, he will not diſobey, unleſſe he love me more in word then deed. Alcidon then making an humble reverence; this teſtimony, ſaid he, is but weake, to ſhew my deſires of obeying you; yet becauſe I muſt obey in all, I will in this: Then he began thus,

I will not repeat what this fair Lady hath ſpoken, nor will I offer to excuſe my ſelfe of what ſhe doth blame me, at this time: for I believe it will come in more pertinently in ſome other place, before this diſcourſe be ended, in which I ſhall ſhew her my reaſons, and let her know the ſincerity of my affection; or elſe I hope, that when I have ended this relation, ſhe will give me leave to defend my ſelfe; not againſt her, but onely againſt thoſe bad impreſſions which calumny hath imprinted in her, in prejudice of my innocence. And ſo taking the ſtory where ſhe left it, I ſhall onely ſay, that when her anſwer was brought me, never did man think himſelfe more happy, more contented, nor better ſatisfied with this Fortune than I. I read and kiſſed the Letter a thouſand times, and as often imbraced the welcome Meſſenger; and becauſe he was a man in whom I had great confidence, and who had often given good teſtimonies of his fidelity, therefore I imployed him in this buſineſſe, which ſo neerly concerned me; and I asked him a thouſand queſtions, as whether ſhe was as faire as when I laſt ſaw her? whether ſhe expreſſed any ſignes of loving mee, and above all, whether he heard ſhe loved any other? And when he anſwered according to my minde, I did imbrace him with ſuch raptures of joy, as he ſwore he would tell me no more, ſince I was ready to choake him with hugging him in my armes.

When Thierry dyed, he left his Crowne, as the faire Daphnide told you, unto his brother Euricke, a Prince, who by his great and vertuous actions, did with general applauſe get the title of Great. This Prince did not onely ſucceed his brothers in the Crowne, but alſo in their Deſignes, ſo as he ſhewed the ſame favours unto me, that Thoriſmond did, an event which happens very rarely in the change of Princes; the Succeſſor ſeldome affects thoſe whom the Predeceſſor loved; yet more by my good fortune than merit, I had this honour, ſo as I was raiſed by Thoriſmond and maintained by Thierry, I was alſo favoured by the great Euricke, not now as a child, but a man able to doe him ſervice, as I was obliged. The favour of this Prince had brought me into ſuch familiarity with him, as he concealed but few things from me, and his love leſſ [...] then any thing elſe. And this Prince, though in all things great, yet he excelled all in his age in courteſie and love. I neither could, nor ought at this preſent, be abſent from his Army, without his leave, and therefore I tooke a time when he was alone in his Cloſet, where after a ſmile? Sir, ſaid I unto him, I have a deſigne in my thoughts, and I beſeech you give me leave to put it in execution. Alcidon, anſwered he, your courage hath often prompted you unto things moſt dangerous, and I wiſh you would have more care of your ſelfe, then hitherto you have had: for Fortune is full of inconſtancy; though ſhe ſmile at one time, ſhe will frowne at another, and no prudent man will tempt or truſt her too farre; yet tell me what your enterpriſe is? And having more experience then you, I ſhall know whether it be ſeaſable or no. Sir, replyed I, and ſmiled, were it a buſineſſe that depended upon Mars, I ſhould expect from you very good inſtructions; but needing no other guide but Love, who is blind, and a Boy, I thinke that I ſhall not need either your prudence or experience. The King then imbraced me and ſaid; Alvidon, my advice in that alſo will not be unprofitable: for you know that I am a Souldier as well under the banner of Love, as of Mars; ſo taking me by the hand, he would not let me reſt, until he got out of me, the name of Daphnide, and the place where I was to goe unto her: He had heard often of her name, but had never ſeen her, yet by reports knew that ſhe was very faire: Upon this, he was ſo farre from obſtructing my deſigne, that he did not only offer me all manner of aſſiſtance, but to accompany me himſelfe; and when he ſaw I would not give conſent unto that, he adviſed me to goe with very few perſons, but upon good Horſes, and with men who feared no dangers. That above all, I ſhould not ſtay in any Towne or Houſe, but onely to get Victuall, and then to eat it, and lye in ſome Wood. If this Lady, ſaid he, have promiſed you any good will loſe not the opportunity; for there is a criticall houre in which women will grant any thing one will aske, if one can but hit upon it; and on the contrary, if one let that houre ſlip, without ſerving her, ſhe will never, or very rarely be recovered: after theſe advices of Love, and many others, which would be too tedious to rehearſe, he gave me leave to depart.

[Page] The Caſtle of Lers which Daphnide made choice of to be the place of our meeting was ſituated upon the bankes of the great River Roſne; and truly, the Lady had made this choice with much judgement, becauſe the Maſter of it was a Servant and an Officer unto King Euricke, who had ſerved him in his Army in matters which concerned Engines of War, having the command of Cathapaltes, Rumes, Slinges, and ſuch like Inſtruments of Artillery, and moreover he was my very particular friend. The wife of this Cavalier was in ſome ſort a kin unto Daphnide, ſo as it was almoſt impoſſible to make choice of a fitter place, having only this inconvenience, that from our Army one muſt paſſe ten or twelve long leagues, all through the enemies Country; and though the danger was great, yet it was nothing when Love commanded, who cloſed my eyes againſt all dangers, rather than diſobey.

I tooke with me, him who brought me the anſwer from this faire Lady, as well for the confidence I had in him, as for a guide, becauſe he was very well acquainted with all the wayes of that Country: And in obedience to the Kings command, I tooke onely two other Cavaliers with me. Thus we foure taking horſe, we ſet forward an houre after dinner, unknowne to any, for we tooke other habits, and began our journey under the favour of Love, which was ſuch, as after we had travelled all that day, and all the night following, we arrived at Lers about Sun riſing, where the Miſtreſſe of the houſe received me ſo kindly, that I thought at firſt, ſhe was advertiſed of the deſigne which brought me thither: but preſently after, I perceived ſhe knew nothing, and that all her courteſie proceeded only from the friendſhip which ſhe knew was betwixt her husband and me, and ſhe was extreamly inquiſitive to diſcover the cauſe of my voyage; And therefore to colour it the better, I told her I came upon buſineſſe of great importance, which concerned the Kings ſervice, and came by night for feare of being diſcovered▪ I beſeeched her to conceale my name, and to keep the gates of the Caſtle cloſe ſhut, and that when night came I would depart, if poſſibly I could: Shee being diſcreet and very affectionate to the Kings ſervice, with whom her husband was, ſhe ordered it ſo as very few in her houſe knew that I was Alcidon, and the more eaſily becauſe at my firſt entrance, I changed my Name.

Halfe of the day was ſpent, and I heard no newes of the faire Daphnide, or at leaſt if it was not, it ſeemed ſo unto me: After much impatient expectance, I went up into a high Tower, ſeeming as if I deſired to view the Country, though it was only in hopes to ſee her coming. There was not a Houſe, nor a Wood, nor a Hill, of which I did not aske the name, the better to cover my impaciency: but nothing could divert me, though the Lady of the houſe did all that poſſibly ſhe could to make the time ſeeme leſſe tedious unto mee.

At laſt, after many a long look, and when I began to be cut of all hope, I ſaw a Coach coming that way which I knew ſhe was to come, and ſhewing it unto the Lady, ſhe looked a while upon it: At laſt, it being come a little neerer, ſhe turned towards me. If I be not much miſtaken, ſaid ſhe unto me, the Coch comes hither, and if it be, as I think it is, you ſhall ſee one of the greateſt beauties in all this Country: Who is it? (ſaid I unto her very coldly) I know not, ſaid ſhe; whether you have ſeen her in the Court of King Thoriſmond with her Mother; but if you have, I am confident you know her name: For, though ſhe be my Coſen, yet I muſt needs, and truly ſay, that ſhe is very faire, though ſhe was then but a child: It is, ſaid ſhe, the young Daphnide. At the firſt I ſeemed to have but a little memory of her; but preſently after, as if I had better recollected my ſelfe: Yes, yes, ſaid I, I doe very well remember her, ſhe had then a Father and a Mother, with whom ſhe dwelt; for ſhe was none of the Queenes women: She was not, anſwered ſhe, and perhaps the reaſon of it was unknowne unto you, becauſe you were then very young; but indeed it was becauſe the Queene was jealous that Thoriſmond did looke upon her with an over-kind eye, and yet I aſſure you, ſhe was then but a very childe, as you will judge when you ſee her, for ſhe ſeemes to be very young yet. How? Madam, ſaid I unto her, I ſee her? I beſeech you, No; leſt I ſhould be diſcovered, uand my deſigne ſpoyled. For if it ſhould, beſides my owne ruine, the Kings ſervice would be ſpoyled. She anſwered, that I needed not to feare it: for Daphnide would at her requeſt be very ſecret, and her Father was a faithfull devoted Servant of the Kings: I, whoſe deſire was to ſee her, yet ſeemed to be perſwaded unto it by her. I am, ſaid I to her ſo much devoted unto the ſervice of Ladies, as I cannot beleeve any of them will doe me harme. Upon this, wee ſaw the Coach take into the way [Page] which conducted to the houſe, which aſſured us, that it was ſhe: And the Miſtreſſe of the houſe, very glad of ſuch gueſts, taking me by the hand, ſaid unto me: Will it pleaſe you, wee ſhould goe and receive them? I will put my ſelfe into their hands, ſaid I unto her, and ſmiled: perhaps I ſhall be ſafer that way, than by reſiſtance, for ſubmiſſion workes moſt with generous ſoules.

Whilſt we were thus talking, the Ladies were come into the baſe Court of the Caſtle, where the Lady of the houſe went to receive them, and told them in their eare, what Gueſt ſhe had in her houſe, and how ſhe thought fit they ſhould know it as well as her ſelfe. The faire Daphnide had with her two Siſters, both very fair, but both ſhort of her: As for me, I was retired into a low Parlour, where I ſeemed unwilling to come out, for feare of being knowne▪ and it was well I did ſo; for had I not beene alone at their firſt coming, my actions would have diſcovered my paſſion: For when I ſaw them firſt come out of the Coach, ſhe who came out firſt was ſo faire, as I tooke her for Daphnide, and ſeeing the ſecond fairer then ſhe I recanted my firſt thought, ſaying to my ſelfe, this was ſhe; but I reſted not long in this error, for preſently after I ſaw this faire one come forth, who did ſo raviſh me, that I knew not what I did; but their complements and ſalutations, gave me time to recollect my ſelfe a litle: ſo as when they came into the houſe, I became ſo confident, that when I ſaluted them, I was able to hid my tranſport: afterwards, addreſſing my ſelfe unto her, who had the ſole dominion of my ſoule, I ſaid unto her; Madam, ſince fortune will have it ſo, I muſt confeſſe my ſelf your Priſoner: ſir, ſaid ſhe unto me in a loud voice, we will not refuſe the advantange which we have over you; but we rather wiſh our merits had gotten it, then our fortune. Your merits, replyed I, may pretend unto far greater; and fortune gave you this as being much too little for your merits. You have given me the ſame aſſurances heretofore (ſaid ſhe in a lower tone) but in a language which ſpoke more ſincerity, then that which you now uſe. At that time, anſwered I, I might ſpeak as a childe, but now I have more knowledge of my ſelfe, I am ſure I ſpeak with more truth; yet if you will have it ſo, let be attributed unto fortune: but I pray, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled, how doe you think to pay the ranſome for getting out of our hands? for you muſt never hope for liberty but by that meanes. My ranſome, replyed I, be it never ſo great, will not be halfe ſo hard to be found, as to get my heart conſent, that I ſhall come out of your hands. I perceive (replied ſhe, and ſmiled) you remember yet what leſſons King Thoriſmond taught you, and can talk to Ladies as you were then wont. So I ought to doe with you, anſwered I, ſince you have the ſame eyes, and ſame beauties, wherewith you were wont to conquer all thoſe that durſt look upon you: I thought, anſwered ſhe, that men of arms and blood, ſuch as follow the King Eurick, had onely talked of killing and murdering; but I perceive Alcidon, whereſoever he is, is ſtill the ſame Alcidon; that is, all courteſie and civility; upon this ſhe went into the great Chamber with all the company.

The firſt Complements being paſſed, our kind Land-lady cauſing ſeats to be brought, ſhe placed me more out of civility, then deſign next unto Daphnide, at a little diſtance from the reſt of the company; ſo as ſeeing my ſelfe in a place where I might ſpeak more freely, my affection and my duty, both invited me to give her thanks for the favour of this meeting: but when I began, ſhe interrupted me with an angry look, and laying her hand upon my mouth, ſhe ſaid unto me; You muſt not think Alcidon, that you are any thing obliged unto me for this viſit, becauſe I would never have conſented unto it, but onely out of a deſign to puniſh you, knowing that ſince you did love me, when I was a meer childe, you will now be ready to die for the love of me, ſeeing me more improved. This is the true cauſe which moved me unto this meeting, I meane to chaſtiſe you, and not to gratifie you; for having rendred your ſelfe ſo unworthy of thoſe favours which I conferred upon, I will try whether chaſtiſements will make you better know your duty both unto me and your ſelfe. Can you think, forgetful lover, that after ſo many expreſſions of favour and love, that my beauty deſerves to be forgotten; and that in two long years, no ſpark of any memory ſhould appeare? Doe you thinke perfidious man, that ſo long a ſilence can be excuſed by the miſeries of the time? Wars, and all impediments whatſoever, cannot perſwade me but that it is ſome defect in affection, and not any reall excuſe. I know that if I would permit it, you will flow with excuſes; but I forbid you to ſpeak; not that I feare your language can perſwade me, but becauſe I am reſolved not to believe you; and becauſe I will not let you have ſo much content, as to ſpeak any thing [Page] before me which ſhall pleaſe you: By this you may know, that this meeting for which you think your ſelfe obliged unto me, reſembles ſweet poyſon, which by ſweetneſſe gives death. I offered to anſwer, but I no ſooner opened my mouth, but ſhe checked me, ſaying; what Alcidon, doe you care as little for diſobliging me in my preſence, as in my abſence? No, no, Alcidon, that is not the way to win upon Daphnide What then, ſaid I unto her, is it your pleaſure I ſhould do? To ſuffer, ſaid ſhe, and be ſilent. For it is fit you ſhould expiate your ſinne of ſilence, by ſilence Upon this, I was mute; yet ſhewing by my lookes that my heart was troubled, that I might not ſpeak in my own defence. She on the contrary, looking with a little more favourable eye, after a while of ſilence, began thus:

This Daphnide whom you ſee before your face, forgetful Alcidon, is the very ſame ſhee was, when you firſt made ſo many oathes of fidelity unto her; the very ſame who believed you; the very ſame whoſe hands you ſo oft waſhed in your then innocent teares. But to your ſhame, ſhe is able to ſay, that ſhe has kept her faith without the leaſt ſtain, though ſhe hath ſince had ſo many occaſions to hate you ſhe has ſtill continued her love to you, and entertaines in her ſoul thoſe aſſurances which you gave unto her: and though ſhe has had many inducements to caſt you quite off, yet her heart would never conſent unto it, being reſolved rather to part from her life, then thoſe pledges which you gave her of your fidelity. Theſe eyes which have been ſo often idolized by the young Alcidon, have been witneſſes of many a teare ſhed for your long abſence, when I remembred your young promiſes, which now I find to be ſo falſe: for you never had the leaſt ſparke of memory, or thought of her, unto whom you promiſed eternal memory. Oh Alcidon; you ſhall heare how I have lived ſince the death of the great King, unto whom both you and I were ſo much, obliged; and you will confeſſe, if you be not the moſt unjuſt man that ever breathed, that your ſilence hath made you unworthy of love, but that my affection is ſtill greater then your offence:

Then ſhe began to repeat all paſſages, ſince the beginning of our ſeparation unto this meeting, not omitting any circumſtance that argued my oblivion, wherewith ſhe accuſed me: and on the other ſide, to teſtifie the memory ſhe had of me, ſhe related all the remarkable actions that I had done: and after a long repetition of them, at which I was amazed, that ſhe ſhould know ſo many particulars: I perceive, ſaid ſhe, that you are amazed I ſhould relate your own life unto you; but had you beene as you ought, I ſhould have come to the knowledge of them from your ſelfe, and not from others, which argues a defect in your affection, and your ſilence is a ſigne of your ſhameful forgetfulneſſe.

She had continued thus upbraiding me, and in relating both her own life and mine, very near two hours, and would not ſuffer me to open my mouth in my own defence, nor to anſwer her. At laſt, this offended beauty finding ſome proofe of the power which ſhe had over me, ſhe began to change her countenance and language. Now Alcidon, ſaid ſhe, I permit you to ſpeak, being contented with two hours ſilence in my preſence, in exchange of two yeares voluntary ſilence in my abſence. It argues your abundant goodneſſe, ſaid I unto her, and ſmiled, that you will thus change years into hours. Your crime is ſuch, replyed ſhe, that no puniſhment can equall it: but I will ſhew my ſelfe as merciful, as I am able to puniſh you if I will.

Madam, ſaid I unto her, I ſhould kiſſe your faire hands, by way of thankes for ſuch extraordinary favours, were I not afraid I ſhould be perceived, but I lay my heart at your feet, in teſtimony of my gratitude; I doe moſt ingenuouſly confeſſe, Madam, the fault wherewith you charge me. But if your goodneſſe would be pleaſed to let me tell you the occaſion and reaſon why I was ſo long ſilent, perhaps you would thinke me as worthy of commendations, as of blame. Since I have pardoned you, (ſaid ſhe) and given you leave to ſpeake, you may ſay what you pleaſe; and I wiſh you may ſhew ſuch reaſons as may perſwade me, that you are in no fault. Let me ſay then, (continued I) that you may well conceive, I grieved extreamly at the death of a Maſter, who loved me ſo exceedingly, and raiſed me by his favours above the reach of all Court Envy. Now I ſhould have extreamly offended againſt his memory and the offence would have been thought high ingratitude, if I ſhould have entertained the leaſt kind of contentment in my ſoule: Times of mourning injoynes us unto ſad habits, and forbids any thing of joy or content. Now the poor and diſconſolate Alcidon, was forbidden all manner of happineſſe, and deprived [Page] himſelfe of all that came from you Madam, who was and is his only joy and felicity. To ſatisfie then, both my duty and my affection, I made choice of ſo bidding my ſelfe the honour of hearing from you, to the end nothing ſhould divert me from my ſadneſſe, which was then ſeaſonable. But Loves knowes, and that miſerable heart which loves and adores you, knowes, that in the midſt of my bitter ſorrowes, none grieved me ſo much as that I was diſtanced from your preſence and memory. Two things principally may argue the truth of this unto you. Firſt, if I had not truly loved you, my age would not have permitted me to live ſo long amongſt ſo many faire Ladies without love. Secondly, as ſoone as I had in ſome ſort forgotten my ſorrowes for my great loſſe, my continuall thoughts of you, would never let me be in quietneſſe untill I had the honour of ſeeing you: The danger of the journey, nor the diſtance from the great Euricke, whoſe favours ſhine upon me as faſt as thoſe did from Thoriſmond, could not hinder me. Now Madam, I proſtrate my ſelfe at your feet, reſigning unto you all my affections, all my thoughts, my heart and ſoule, beſeeching you to receive them, not as any new offering or freſh acquiſition, but as yours from my infancy; my Deſtiny, my Maſter and my heart, did give me unto you. I ſhall receive your excuſe ſaid ſhe unto me, as they uſe to receive a debt from a bad pay-maſter, though the money be a little too light: and I will beleeve what you ſay, upon condition that none of your future actions give me any cauſe of doubt.

When I would have anſwered, I was hindred by the Lady of the houſe, who came to tell us it was Supper time; therefore we referred the reſt of our diſcourſe till after it was done. And it was no ſooner ended, but I out of civility falling into diſcourſe with one of her Siſters, ſhe came unto us, and having ſeparated me a little from the reſt, we fell into talke where we left, with ſo much contentment unto me, that I muſt needs confeſſe my joyes were never greater. Thus we ſpent part of the night; at laſt, bed time forcing us to part, we adviſed upon a more ſafe place of meeting; and being conſtrained to depart in the morning, it was now long before we could reſolve upon the place: At the laſt, ſhe ſaid unto me, but in a very doubtfull manner: I am loath, Alcidon, to put you into any danger, but ſince you are ſo urgent upon it, I will tell you, that I have a Siſter married within five or ſix Leagues of this place, where we might very well meet, were it not that my brother in law is an Enemy unto King Euricke, yet were there no other difficulty but that, we might find a remedy; but as ill lucke is, he hath invited a great Company to the marriage of one of his Siſters, ſo as all things ſeeme contrary unto us: I do not think there is one of any quality in all the Province, which is not an enemy unto the King your Maſter. I muſt confeſſe Father, I found much danger this way, but when I conſidered that there was no other way to enjoy the company of my Miſtreſſe, danger was the leaſt of my thoughts, and therefore I anſwered her: That no hazard ſhould make me loſe the happineſſe, ſo ſhe would but command it; onely beſeeched her to take ſuch order, that when I was in the houſe, none ſhould ſee me; for I was confident that under her command I ſhould receive no harme.

In this reſolution we parted, and the next morning leaving one of her Servants with me, who was very truſty; ſhe departed, and I had not the honour to ſee her purpoſely to take away all ſuſpition from the Lady of the houſe. As for me, I departed with my guide, ſome three hours within night: after many thankes unto my Hoſteſſe for her kind uſage, I ſhall not here relate the various encounters I had by the way: The place unto which I was conducted was one of the moſt ſolitary ſeats in all the Country, and the fitteſt for any interpriſes of love.

Upon the bankes of that great River of Roſne, do ſtand many faire Townes, which take delight in her waves; one of the beſt and moſt peopled is Avignion, ſome five or ſix Leagues from whence towards the eaſt is a Valley, which being incloſed on three ſides by high Hils and great Rockes, was at the firſt called Vale cloſe, and afterwards by corruption of language, of which the vulgar is alwayes Maſter, it was called Vaucluſe; at the end of this Valley, under huge Rockes, and by a wonderfull Fountaine which gives a beginning to the River of Sorgues, which a little below parts it ſelfe into two Arms, like a little Iſland, where this houſe unto which I was to goe did ſtand, and which ſtanding betweene two Rivers, has the name of an Iſland. The place from whence this Fountain ſprings, is truly for its ſolitude, in ſome ſort venerable; but ſomething terrible by reaſon of the Rockes which inviron it, and therefore very little frequented [Page] by people. It was here where my guide brought me to alight from my horſe, and to leave thoſe who came with me, which by my command, though with ſorrow, they did. From this ſource unto the Iſle is about a quarter of a League, which I was to walke on foot, and in the night, which I did in ſuch doubts and incertainties, that love made it appeare in me, how not onely himſelfe is blind, but he takes ſight alſo from all thoſe who are his ſubjects. At the laſt, about the eighth or ninth hour of the night, we came unto the Garden doore which belonged unto the houſe, which though it was promiſed me ſhould be left open, yet it was ſhut; judge Adamas, what I thought of the matter then, and whether I had not reaſon to expect Mars in lieu of Venus. But after a long doubtfull expectance, I heard the doore open, and the firſt thing that preſented it ſelfe unto my eyes, was a fair Lady, decked as Painters uſe to doe the Goddeſſe Diana. her haire looſe, her breſt and ſhoulders naked, her ſleeves turned up as high as the elboe; gilded buskins upon her legs; her, Quiver by her ſide▪ and a Bow of Ivory in her left hand. I was raviſhed at ſo fair a ſight, and admired her habit; but I underſtood ſince that ſhe was ſo diſguiſed like Diana, for Name ſake▪ becauſe ſhe was called Delia, which is one of Dianas names, purpoſely to daunce that night with her Siſters, and other young Ladies there, in honour of the great Aſſembly. As ſoone as ever ſhe ſaw me come in, ſaid ſhe unto me, and tooke my hand; Come in and attempt this dangerous adventure under the conduct of Diana, Under the banner of ſuch a Goddeſſe, anſwered I, there is nothing which I will not attempt. Some interpriſes, ſaid ſhe, do ſeeme eaſie at the firſt, which afterwards are ſound full of difficulty, and take heed leſt this be of that quality: If this were not of great importance, replyed I, I would never have come ſo farre to attempt it. I am very glad, ſaid ſhe, to finde you in that reſolution; and know that both Love and Fortune will aſſiſt a couragious ſoule; and to ſhew how deſirous I am you ſhould bring your enterpriſe to paſſe, I will give you ſafe conduct from all that are in this enchanted houſe, unleſſe from the eyes of your Miſtreſſe, and from this Diana who ſpeakes unto you. I doe accept of this aſſurance, ſaid I unto her: Well, (ſaid ſhe) before you have done with this adventure, we ſhall ſee what your Fortune will be, and what your courage: In the meane time, valiant Cavalier, enter, but ſtill enter upon ſuch conditions as thoſe who enter, uſe. I beſeech you, ſaid I unto her, what are thoſe conditions? You ſhall know, anſwered ſhe, when you are entred. Why, ſaid I, are you afraid to tell them, leaſt they ſhould affright me? If ſo, faire Diana, you are miſtaken: For I will undertake any conditions, ſo they doe not contrary that affection which I have vowed unto my Miſtreſſe. Upon this, I entred in alone, ſhe lockt the doore, and my Guide returned through the Rockes of Vaucluſe. Now was I alone with Delia in the Garden; and I muſt confeſſe, that ſhe was ſo advantaged by this odde fantaſticall dreſſe, as ſhe might very well be termed faire, and one that was not prepoſſeſſed might well have found a heart to love her: She ſeeing me ſtand ſo mute, looking upon her, and thinking it was my impatience becauſe ſhe carried me no ſooner unto the faire Daphnide, ſhe ſmiled, and ſaid unto me. What Sir, were you bold at your entrance, and now ſhow ſo little courage to accompliſh your adventure? What fault faire Diana, ſaid I unto her, doe you finde in my courage, what muſt I doe? and againſt whom muſt I ſhew my valour? How, ſaid ſhe, and ſet her Arms upon her ſides, have you not before your eyes an enemy fierce enough to make you put your hand to your Armes? I muſt confeſſe faire Goddeſſe, ſaid I, that you are a very dangerous Enemy unto one that has a heart, but certainly againſt me your Arms have no edge, ſince the faire Daphnide has long ſince deprived me of my heart. How, ſaid ſhe, is there no hopes of gaining any thing from you? You may hope, replyed I, to gaine any thing that I have, you meane, ſaid ſhe, any thing but your heart. Well, well Alcidon, you are not yet in a good faith; but before you eſcape my hands, I will make you uſe other language: I have met with ſome, who at the firſt have ſaid as you doe, and yet before all was done did ſubmit themſelves as conquered: ſuch as thoſe, anſwered I, either did but lend their, heart, or if they did give it, did ſteale it back againe to give it unto you, but I cannot doe ſo, who have not only given away my heart, but my will, my ſoule, and my life alſo. Had you any courage, as you tax me for having none, you would not imploy your valour and your ſtrength againſt one that is without defence, as I am: What honour will it be to vanquiſh one that is already vanquiſhed? one that has no heart; this were to ſtrike one that is dying by the wounds of another. Come, come [Page] my heartleſſe enemy, ſaid ſhe unto me, I know you would have me carry you preſently unto Daphnide; but doe not thinke Alcidon, that our emnity is ſo great, but I woud have done it before now, if it had been time; doe you ſee yonder window which ſtand out further then the reſt? there is Daphnides Chamber; when it is time for you to goe there will be a Candle ſet in it to advertiſe us▪ but aſſure your ſelfe, that as you think the time long here, your Miſtreſs thinks it longer where ſhe is, having abundance of troubleſome perſons, who ſwarme about her like ſo many flies, eſpecially her brother in law, who thinking to doe her a pleaſure, never ſtirs from her: Come, come, you that are a very finely accompliſhed Cavalier, methinks you ſhould not be weary of my company, many have told me that I am pretty hanſome, and I am in an humour to treat you ſo, that what you will not doe by faire meanes, I will make you doe by force: I meane, I will in ſpite of you, keep you from being weary. I muſt confeſſe once again (ſaid I unto her) that it is impoſſible for any one that has a heart, not to love you. For, faire Delia, there are ſo many admirable perfections in you, as look which way one will, one ſhall be ſure to find abundance of invitements to love.

You think ſtill (ſaid ſhe unto me) to eſcape my hands with this excuſe, but before we part, I will make you find another and therefore what will you ſay next Alcidon? I will ſay, replyed I, that you can do miracles, which need not be thought ſtrange; for your beauty equalling the power of the great Gods, you may doe them as well as they: but will you give me leave to ſpeak freely? with all my heart, anſwered ſhe, for you ſee I do the like: Then fair Diana, ſaid I, let me tell you, the Moon is the moſt glorious lamp that now ſhines in the heaven (the moon then ſhining) and if there was no Sun, none could deny, but that it would be alwaies ſo: I confeſſe it, ſaid Delia, what doe you infer by that? I infer, replyed I, That the fair Diana unto whom now I ſpeak, would be the faireſt in the world, had ſhe not a ſiſter, and there is none but ſhe which hinders her from the title of the faireſt. Could I as eaſily believe that, ſaid ſhe, as I am ambitious of that title whereof you ſpeak, I vow Cavalier by theſe Arrowes and Bow, that if I could not kill her with my own hands, I would poyſon that ſiſter who eclipſeth my beauty; but I am afraid, that if ſhe were taken away, it would happen unto me, as unto the Moon, in abſence of her brother the Sun, become obſcure and pale. I ſhould have anſwered, when the ſo much deſired light appeared in the window, and my affection carrying my eyes almoſt alwaies that way, would not let me loſe ſo much time as to anſwer her when I ſaw it. Shewing it therefore unto Delia, I beſeeched her to accompliſh the favour which ſhe had begun. I will, ſaid ſhe unto me, and took my hand▪ you know it is the office of the Moon, whoſe Name I bear, to clear the Night, and to be a guide unto thoſe who wander. My life, ſaid I unto her, is obliged unto your ſervice, though I am afraid that obligation is little worth, ſince you are carrying me unto one whoſe beauty kills all thoſe that looke upon her: and being accuſtomed to ſee men languiſh and die, it is not likely ſhe will have any compaſſion of my paine. Thoſe, ſaid ſhe, whom I take unto my protection, are never ill treated; for if they were, I ſhould not have opened the doore unto you: and beleeve it, I never carry any to their puniſhment: And whereas you feare that her beauty will kill you, never feare that fortune good Cavalier, your Arms are very good, and tryed: for ſuch as will die at ſight of beauty, will die at the ſight of me; ſo as you having paſt that danger, never fear any beauty living will kill you.

Thus we went talking in a low voice, until we came to the houſe, which was the happy habitation of my Miſtreſſe; and finding a door open, we went up a paire of narrow ſtaires, unto the Chamber door, with as little noiſe as poſſibly we could: Then Delia cauſed me to ſtay, and went in alone to ſee who was there, but ſhe found onely the faire Daphnide by her ſelfe, who faigning to be troubled with the head-ake, was laid downs upon her bed, purpoſely to be rid of the company; and pretending that the light was offenſive to her, ſhe cauſed the Candle to be ſet in the window; Delia came preſently unto me, and taking my hand, carried me to her ſiſters bed ſide, and ſaid unto her; ſee Daphnide, what Diana has taken in her laſt chaſe: I muſt confeſſe, ſaid I unto her, and ſmiled, that I am yours, if a heart could be divided into two: but ſince mine is in the diſpoſition of my faireſt Miſtreſs onely, I am come to render it unto her, vowing never to take it out of ſo ſweet a priſon. In this, ſaid Delia, you ſhew the weakneſſe of your judgement, ſince you had rather give your ſelfe unto a Nimph as Daphnide is, than unto a Goddeſſe as I am, nay Diana, who is the Miſtreſs of all the Nymphs, Jupiter, Apollo, [Page] and almoſt all the Gods, ſaid I unto her, have ſlighted Goddeſſes, and courted Nymphs. But never was any ſo faire as this, into whoſe hands I do ſubmit my ſoul & my life: upon this, kneeling down, I took her hand and kiſſed it often, whilſt ſhe was ſo tranſported that ſhe gave no anſwer; which Delia perceiving, ſiſter, ſaid ſhe, will you let this Cavalier adore you indeed and kneel till his knees ake, before you give him any anſwer? Then rowſing her ſelfe as out of a deep ſlumber, ſhe ſaluted me, and afterwards anſwered her ſiſter. I hope Delia, this Cavalier will pardon the fault, and not thinke it proceeded from any incivility, but from my feares of that danger which he is in for my cauſe. I admire, (ſaid Delia) that you being my ſiſter, ſhould be ſuch a coward, whereas I am ſo ſtout as to take priſoner the braveſt Cavalier in all the Army of the great Eurick; how can you want courage, having (as he ſayes) the heart of the valiant Alcidon? Ah Delia, anſwered I, and ſighed, it is a bad ſigne for me, to ſee my Miſtreſs ſo ſaint, for it ſhewes ſhe has not my heart; for if ſhe had, ſhe would rather pitty my miſery which ſhe has cauſed, then feare any dangers wherein I am. Could I Alcidon, anſwered my faire Miſtreſs, remedy the one, as well as I can the other, you had reaſon to thinke ſo: but conſider, that if I did not love this Cavalier, who complaines thus of me, I ſhould neither be in theſe feares wherein I am, nor he in the danger wherein he is. I anſwered her, If you ſpeak from your heart, Madam, then cure me of the malady which proceeds from your ſelfe; and never doubt that I can receive any harme, as long as I am in the honour of your favour: Delia then ſmiled, and ſaid; I perceive that when you have been together a little, the pain of the one will be changed into contentment, and the feares into confidence. But leſt fortune ſhould hinder your deſignes, ſpeak as low as you can, and I will go and ſit by the Candle, ſeeming to read, that I may put it out, if any chance to come; or elſe I will fall in talk with them; and tell them how you doe, without bidding enter. But Cavalier, ſaid ſhe, and addreſſed her ſelfe unto me, Remember the promiſe which you made when I opened the door unto you, and admitted you unto this adventure, which was, to performe the conditions then propoſed, and if you be worthy of the name of a Cavalier, you will keep your word. You have kept your promiſe ſo well with me, anſwered I, that I were a moſt unworthy recreant, if I did not the ſame with you. Then, ſaid ſhe unto me, you are obliged according to the conditions eſtabliſhed, not to attempt any thing, upon any occaſion, nor for any reſpect or reward whatſoever, againſt the honour of the Ladies who are here; but on the contrary, you ought to be contented with thoſe favours which they confer upon you, not ſeeking or deſiring any greater. I will ſooner ſheathe my ſword in my heart, anſwered I, then entertain a thought againſt this ordinance▪ Every Cavalier of honour, is obliged unto it by his very Name: for that reſpect is due, as unto one of the principal ſtatutes of love. I ever thought, anſwered Delia, of Alcidons diſcretion; and I doe exceedingly rejoyce, you doe thus ſecond my thoughts, ſince the law had not been eſtabliſhed but for you. How? ſaid I, not eſtabliſhed but for me? was it made onely to reſtrain my indiſcretion? Is it thought that I am more impudent than any of the Knight errantry? That is not the reaſon, ſaid ſhe unto me; but is it not reaſon this conſtraint ſhould be eſtabliſhed for you onely in this adventure, which you terme the adventure of perfect love, ſince you onely are permitted to attempt it? But ſince, before you have done, you are to deal with a fiercer Champion then I am, I will leave you together with your enemy, leſt you ſhould complain of diſadvantage.

Upon this, not ſtaying for my anſwer, ſhe went away, and ſat down with a book in her hand, and left my faireſt miſtreſſe and me together, as ſhe ſaid ſhe would. At which I being tranſported with abundance of contentment, after I was ſet down upon the bed by her, I tooke her hand, and kiſſing it many times, I ſaid unto her: Madam I am moſt ſenſible of my extreame obligations, and my life is too little a price to be paid for ſuch a happineſſe. Did you kno [...] what paines I have taken, ſaid ſhe, to give you this teſtimony of my good will, doubtleſſe you would ſet a good value of eſteem upon it. For though my ſiſter does now ſhew her ſelfe ſo ſtout in the matter; yet believe me, Alcidon, ſhe is not alwaies ſo, and it was not weak perſwaſions which could make her conſent unto it. Oh what artifice and tricks have I uſed to deceive, not onely my brother in law, but all his kindred and friends, or indeed all the whole Province. Conſider, Alcidon, what a ſtrange reſolution I had in putting my honour and your life into ſo great a danger: For to permit your coming into this place is no leſſe. Madam, ſaid I, and kiſſed her hand, if you conſider my extream affection unto you, Love, and You were unjuſt, if you did not anſwer [Page] it by extraordinary proofes of your good acceptance, and I doe confeſſe, that this is above my merit, though it doe not equall my affection. For it is ſuch, that moſt certaine death cannot make me ſtart from your ſervice. Alcidon, anſwered ſhe, if your affection be ſuch as you ſay, I wiſh it may continue as long as I live. But I doe much feare the love of a young heart. Madam, ſaid I unto her, doubts uſe to enter into the ſoules of thoſe who are not well grounded in their Faith; and theſe in you give me more cauſe to fear weakneſſe of affection on your ſide; for the principal effect of true love is, to remove out of the Lover all manner of miſtruſt of the perſon loved, and it is impoſſible to love one whom they miſtruſt.

By this, replyed ſhe, you may know the grandure of my affection, ſince having ſo many occaſions to doubt you, yet is it ſtill ſtronger then all thoſe doubtfull occaſions, and makes me ſtill give you ſuch teſtimonies of my good will. Yet Madam, ſaid I unto her, give me leave to ſay in mine owne defence, that you doe wrong my love, in taxing it with youngneſſe, for I am twice ten years of age. Ah Alcidon, ſaid ſhe, before any good aſſurance can be, you had need be twice twelve. At this I laughed and ſaid: that Madam were indeed requiſite in thoſe who love common beauties; but for you and I, time is not ſo much to be inſiſted upon; for our ties and obligations are as ſtrong now, as they will be foure yeares hence. She would have replyed, when Delia began to cough, as an advertiſement, that ſhe heard ſome coming: preſently after, her brother in law came to the doore, unto whom ſhe made a ſigne with her finger, and went as ſoftly to him as ſhe could, as if ſhe were afraid to wake her ſiſter; her brother in law asked her how Daphnide did. She complained a long while, ſaid ſhe unto him, and now ſhe is fallen aſleep. What, ſaid he, will you not come downe and dance? to what end did you elſe dreſſe your ſelfe in that habit? I hope brother, anſwered ſhe, that my ſiſter will be well after ſhe has ſlept a while, and if ſhe be, I will come and finiſh our deſigne with the reſt▪ but if ſhe continue ill, we muſt deferre it until another time, and if you will come up againe about halfe an hour hence, I ſhall tell you more: upon this her brother in law went away, and ſhe came unto us to tell us what he had ſaid, and when I deſired her to defer it until to morrow; ſhe anſwered me, I perceive Alcidon that you are all for your ſelfe, and care not for the intereſts of another, ſo you can enjoy your opportunities as long as you ſtay, you care not what becomes of us when you are gone. You doe not well, ſaid Daphnide to make this conſtruction of what this Cavalier ſaid; for I am moſt confident he has more care of us then ſo; but if he love us, as I beleeve he does, he will not take it ill, if we leave him a little without company; I conceive it therefore beſt, that when my brother in law comes againe, you tell him that I am better then I was, and that if he will come, and dance here, I ſhall be very glad of it, ſo he bring with him as few company, and as little Muſique as he can; in the mean time, we will put Alcidon into this Cloſet which is cloſe by my bed.

This Counſell was approved of as good, and to ſhew me this Cloſet ſhe tooke the Key, and not ſtirring from off her bed, ſhe opened the doore, and cauſing a Candle to be brought, ſhewed it unto me, where I found roome onely for two Chaires and a Table. The place was fretted and gilded, and very handſomely furniſhed; in this place, ſaid ſhe unto me, you may be with ſafety, and if you will leave the doore a little open, you may ſee us dance: though you muſt not expect to find the magnificence of the great Eurick, yet I am confident this Ball will not be diſpleaſing unto you, by reaſon of the various habits and new inventions. To which I anſwered, that nothing would be diſpleaſing unto me, that pleaſed her.

Whilſt we were thus talking, the Brother in law returned, and ſo ſoftly leaſt he ſhould wake Daphnide, that he had almoſt ſurpriſed us: But Delia, who firſt heard him, did put out the candle, leaſt he ſhould ſee, and ſpeaking a little louder, Brother, ſaid ſhe, have but a little patience, and my ſiſter will dance with us, ſhe is awake, and ſo well as ſhe will come and ſee us, will you not, Siſter, ſaid ſhe, and addreſſed her ſelfe to my Miſtreſſe. Yes Siſter, anſwered ſhe, but Brother I beſeech you, come hither to dance, and bring as few people, and little Muſicke as you can; for I am afraid leaſt the noiſe ſhould cauſe my head to ake againe. The brother was very glad of this newes, and went in all haſte to tell the company: in the meane time I had le [...]ſure to take up my little habitation, and ſhe to draw the Curtaines, and order all things ſo as none could ſee me▪ and yet I could ſee almoſt all that was done in the Chamber.

We had no ſooner put all things into order, but a great number of Cavaliers came into [Page] to the Chamber, with many faire Ladies, and amongſt the reſt Stiliana and Carlis, who have accompanied my Miſtreſſe hither. After ſome paſſages of civility (for it muſt be confeſſed that the Cavaliers of the Roman Province are the moſt courteous of all Gaule) every one began to talke as the humour tooke them: At laſt they fell into talke of the King Euricke, and his Wars; which they being all exceedingly ſenſible of, there was not one in all the company, who had not ſome paſſionate invective againſt that great King. The beſt language any had for him, was to call him Barbarous, Cruell, the Ruiner of Gaule, and all Europe; and then fell to wiſhes: One wiſhed that he were his Priſoner; another to ſee him dead; a third, that all his Armie were routed; and the beſt wiſh was, that he had never beene. All this diſcourſe I heard, and judge what would have beene my entertainment had they found me. I beleeve they had not ſo ſoon left talking of this great King, and their paſſions had not been ſo ſoon layed, had they not heard the Muſicke, which let them know that Delia and her Companions were ready to dance. Then every one tooke their places, and preſently after, thoſe faire ones entred in ſuch an admirable trim, and with ſuch a delicate new Aire, as I muſt needs confeſſe I never ſaw any thing more full of taking delight. I cannot now inſiſt upon any particulars, more than concernes the ſtory in hand▪ onely let me tell you that though all was well performed, and full of various delights, yet I could not chuſe but thinke the time long, and wiſhed for an end of this Maske, becauſe I thought it ſtole that time from me, which might be better imployed, At laſt, the Ball ended, and the God of ſleepe commanded all the company to retire. Delia onely ſtayed in the Chamber with her Siſter; and then the Priſoner of Love came out of his Priſon, chiding Delia for being ſo long in her dances. Oh what bad company is this Cavaliere (ſaid ſhe) I am confident not one in the Company is weary but yourſelfe. But ſiſter, ſince he is ſo dumpiſh. I advice you to packe him hence, for how can you hope to content him alone, ſince all this company had much adoe to afford it him? Siſter, ſaid Daphnide faintly, all things upon earth cannot afford us contentment, if it doe not come of our ſelves: As all the drugs in the Univerſe, cannot cure a body, if that body by its owne diſpoſition be not apt and conducing to it: And ſo Alcidon, if he will have contentment, muſt content himſelfe and not thinke that a great number of people can doe it. Madam, anſwered I, If I had my will in my owne power, as others have, I ſhould doe as you doe ſay; but ſince I have put my will into your hands, my contentment muſt depend only upon you: Siſter, ſaid Delia, and ſmiled, doe not repent of the time you have kept this Cavaliere caged up by your bed ſide, for methinkes he hath learned to ſpeake very well.

After ſome other diſcourſe, they concluded to put me into the Cloſet againe; untill they were undreſt, and their maids in the Chamber were gone; but when they opened the doore unto me, I found Delia in bed with her ſiſter, and ſhe taking notice that I was not well pleaſed at it: What Cavaliere, ſaid ſhe unto me, why doe you frowne upon me? It is your ſelfe that is the cauſe of my being here. I doe perceive, anſwered I, that I am the cauſe, and I cannot be ſorry for it, ſince my faireſt Miſtreſſe will have it ſo. The truth is, I ſhould have been very glad, if I could have ſpoke unto her without a witneſſe: Doe you not know, ſaid ſhe, that there ſhould be Witneſſes unto all good Contracts. Love, replyed I, never needs any witneſſes, and love will ſerve us for witneſſe, if you need any: Love, ſaid ſhe, cannot be a Witneſſe, for he is Judge. If Love, replyed I, cannot be a Witneſſe in matters of Love; much leſſe Diana, who is alwayes a declared enemy. Though I cannot be a witneſſe, ſaid ſhe, yet I may be the Executioner of the puniſhment. If you deſign that, anſwered I, have I not a good occaſion to deſire you not here? Daphnide, who had not ſpoken all this while, interrupted us, and addreſſing her ſelfe unto me; It was I Alcidon, ſaid ſhe, that appointed her to be there, and my reaſon for it, is ſo much to your advantage, as when you know it, you will not be angry; for it is not to witneſſe againſt you, nor accuſe you: I am fully aſſured of Alcidons diſeretion, and of the power which he hath given me over him: but being more in doubt of my ſelfe, then of you, I deſired her preſence to keep me from doing more than I was reſolved, and leſt my good will to you, ſhould make me goe beyond the limits of duty and fittingneſſe. I muſt confeſſe Madam, ſaid I unto her, that theſe feares in you, are a great honour unto me, but the remedy which you apply is very cruell and vexatio [...]s. Alcidon, anſwered ſhe, you muſt love me, as I love you, and know that ſhe who deſerves your love, ought not only to be without blame, but alſo without ſuſpition of any blame.

[Page] We talked ſo long, and with ſo much delight upon this ſubject, as I took no notice how day began to break: and then, the conſultation was, whether I ſhould depart or ſtay. The faire Daphnide, who was ſtill apprehenſive of my being in any danger, ſhe was at the firſt, of an opinion with Delia, that I ſhould be gone before it was any lighter: but when I hinted unto her that perhaps, it would be long before ſuch another opportunity of ſeeing her would be found; ſhe conſented unto my ſtay, though Delia was of a contrary mind. But love being above all reaſons, it was reſolved that I ſhould ſtay that day in this place, and that when night came I might depart with more ſafety: And to the end I ſhould not ſtay alone in my little priſon, the faire Daphnide reſolved to keep her bed all day, and ſeem as if ſhe were not well: for this Cloſet was ſo near her beds head, as we could talke together without being heard by any in the Chamber. This being reſolved upon, Delia undertook to acquaint my guide with all neceſſary inſtructions what to doe, and to appoint thoſe Cavaliers to keep themſelves cloſe till night.

Having often heard our Druids diſcourſe of the Great Tautates, and of the immortal ſoules of men, who after this life do ſit within heaven, where they remaine for ever: I wondered, but could not comprehend that ſuch a life ſhould be delightfull, ſince they ſay, that they never eat nor drinke, or ſleep, or any thing elſe, but perpetually thinke and contemplate, thinking that time ſhould ſeem very tedious unto them, ſince it is ſo long even paſt all imagination. But I muſt confeſſe, that now I know the contrary, when I conſider how quickly and pleaſingly hours paſſed away, when I was ſo near this faire one; for I was aſtoniſhed when I ſaw it was day, thinking the night not an hour long, ſo quickly had the time flown away.

Every one of the houſe being up, Delia was conſtrained to the like, and I muſt be cloiſtered up in my cloſet: for ſhe would not ſuffer me to ſee when ſhe dreſſed her ſelfe, becauſe of her maids who waited upon her. I would gladly have done the office of her maid, and helped her, but ſhe would not permit it: Delia alſo was againſt it, and bad me get into my Cage▪ I pray Love, ſaid I, be revenged upon you for it: Love, ſaid ſhe, has nothing to doe with Diana. No? ſaid I; yet Diana quitted heaven for a kiſſe of Endimion; and ſhe was not ſo coy, but for a fleece of Wool ſhe was very kind unto Pan, though he had a cloven foot and hornes on his head. Let that Diana of whom you ſpeak, replied ſhe, anſwer the Calumny as ſhe pleaſe; but let me tell you, that unleſſe my minde alter very much, I will never kiſs him that is aſleep; and as for the hornes of Pan, certainly if ever I love any, I had rather he ſhould have them then I; yet, ſaid I unto her, the Moon, whoſe name you have, does weare them very hanſomly. That is, anſwered ſhe, becauſe ſhe is not married, and what ſhe does, is onely to advertiſe lovers whom ſhe lights in the night, that the hornes which they are going to give another, ſhall at ſome time or other be given unto them againe. But, ſaid ſhe, you prolong the time, get into your Cloſet; ſo ſhe puſhed me in, and locked the door upon me: Then calling in the maids which were in the next room waiting ſhe ſilently dreſſed her ſelfe, pretending that Daphnide was not well: afterwards drawing the curtaines of the Windows, ſhe went to give ſuch orders as were reſolved upon; in the meane time, although there was ſome in the Chamber, yet for all that, we talked together, without opening the doore; and though it was in very low voice, yet one of the maids paſſing by the bed, did hear us, not what we ſaid, but onely confuſed whiſpers. By fortune, Delia being careful of us, came back into the Chamber at the ſame time: The maid then addreſſed unto her, and told, that ſhe feared her ſiſter was ſicker, then ſhe imagined; why? ſaid Delia, becauſe, anſwered the maid, ſhe talkes to her ſelfe, as if ſhe were diſtracted; what did ſhe ſay? replied Delia; I did not heare the words diſtinctly, anſwered ſhe, but I am ſure ſhe talked. Alas, alas, ſaid Delia, doe you not know it is her cuſtome every morning, as ſoon as ſhe wakes, to ſay her prayers. The wench believed Delia, who a little after came to us, and told the ſtory, advertiſing us to ſpeak lower. I ſhall, ſaid I; but, faire Delia, is it not better to ſend them all out, that the door may be opened. Ah, ah, ſaid ſhe, and laughed, I am now faire Delia, and not long ſince nothing but homed Diana, who loved clubfooted Pan for a fleece of wool; pray ſtay there where you are, until you have learned to ſpeak a little better of Diana, otherwiſe ſhe will be angry, and puniſh both you, and us alſo. Upon this, ſhe went to ſend out the maids and commanded one of them to bring up ſome meat for her ſiſter, and to bring more then ordinary, becauſe ſhe did not ſup the laſt night. The maid returned preſently as ſhe was commanded; Then Delia ſhut the door: Now ſaid ſhe, the [Page] Cavalier ſhall ſee how I will be revenged of him; then opening his door, Come Cavalier, continued ſhe, before you receive the puniſhment which I intend you, I have brought you ſome victuals, to ſtrengthen you a little, for I ſhould be very ſorry you ſhould die, before you have felt my revenge. She ſpoke this with ſuch a pleaſant aire, as it was impoſſible to forbear laughing: and after her ſiſter had taken a little broath, But Delia, ſaid ſhe, where did you get this? will it not be perceived? yes, anſwered ſhe, if I had no more invention then you. Come, come, no more queſtions, here it is, eat and be thankful, and the reffuſe will ſerve a hungry Cavalier, whom I wiſh ſo ill unto. It is better, ſaid ſhe, to let him have it all; for having faſted ſo long, I am ſure he has more need of it then I have. Upon this, ſhe forced her ſiſter to take a little, and offered me ſome alſo, which I refuſed: Nay, nay, take it, ſaid ſhe, it will down with the help of a willing mind. In ſuch talk as this, we paſſed away all the morning, and dinner time being come, I muſt be ſhut up againe, leaſt I ſhould be ſeen by thoſe who brought up meat: The worſt was, that dinner was no ſooner done, but the Chamber was full of Gallants, whereof ſome perhaps had the ſting of love upon them; and by fortune; the brother in law ſitting on the beds ſide, he cauſed a Chair to be ſet for the principal of them, ſo near me, that I could ſcarce breath but be heard. Conſider Adamas, in what a caſe I had been in, if I had been forced to cough or ſneeze. The moſt of their talke was of King Eurick, and the preparations which were making in divers places againſt him; of which I was very glad to be informed, that I might acquaint the King therewith, which afterwards did him good ſervice: But the worſt of all was, they ſtayed talking until night, though in the Chamber of a ſick perſon, and never from about her bed: At laſt, having a mind to walk, they left her all alone; and then the doores being ſhut, I came out of the Cloſet which Delia opened unto me. Well, ſaid ſhe, How doe you like the adventure? pray what will you call it? Shall the name of it be Perfect love, or Extream patience? It is, ſaid I unto her, the moſt pleaſing adventure that ever I had. But, ſaid Daphnide, what doe you think of your being ſo long in that Cell? I think, Madam, anſwered I, that I am infinitely happy in being near you. You may ſay what you pleaſe, replied Delia, but I am confident you think liberty better then a cloſe priſon. If Diana knew what it was to love, anſwered I, and what contentment it is to be neare the perſon loved; ſhe would not be ſo incredulous as ſhe is, but on the contrary that I have found the Proverb to be falſe, which ſaith, No Priſon ſweet; for I never found half the delight and contentment in the Palace of Great Eurick, which I have done in this Priſon.

We continued in this diſcourſe a long while, and it was ſo ſweet unto me, that hours ſeemed but minuts: and ſupper time being come, I muſt be againe ſhut up, but it was for a ſhort time; for Daphnide being as I think, ſorry to leave me alone ſo long, ſhe made ſuch haſte, that her ſiſter complained ſhe had not time enough to eat: yet ſhe had me in memory; which done, I beſeeched the faire Daphnide, that ſince I was to depart ſo ſoone, ſhe would be pleaſed to put off all viſits for that night, to the end that the time which remained might be imployed with her, which ſhe might wel do by feigning her ſelf not wel, and by pretending that their being ſo long about her bed that afternoon, was the cauſe of it. With much a doe, ſhe conſented, and Delia went preſently from her to bid all the company good night, and to deſire excuſe, that ſhe went to take her reſt ſo ſoon.

In the mean time, I was all alone with my faire Miſtreſs: For Delia, leſt any ſhould ſurpriſe us, had locked the door, and carried the key with her. Love then, and this opportunity, gave me a great alarm: for loving this fair Lady moſt paſſionately, and ſeeing my ſelfe alone with her, it was enough to invite me unto the higheſt ſtrain of Courtſhip: two other great Conſiderations preſented themſelves unto me: one was, the aſſurances which ſhe gave me of her good will, which ought not to make me the more bold: The other was, The precepts which I received from Great Eurick, not to let opportunity ſlip; yet judge, Madam, how my affection was tempered: you know, Madam, that all I did, was, I kneeled down at your beds ſide, and taking your hand, I kiſſed it with a zealous kiſſe, and a ſigh: thus was my love accompanied with moſt humble and devout reſpect.

The truth is, wiſe Adamas, that after I had been thus with her a long while, I ſaid unto her: I beſeech you, Madam, How do you command me to live? I would not have you live, anſwered ſhe, as you have done for the time paſt; for if you ſhould, I would never pardon you, after theſe teſtimonies of my good will which you have received from [Page] me. This, Madam, ſaid I unto her, is a ſtrange command, and I vow that I will never obey it. How Alcidon, ſaid ſhe and ſtarted up out of her bed; Do you vow to diſobey me? Conſider well what you ſay. By fortune Delia put the Key into the doore at the ſame time, and we h [...]rd her opening the door, upon which, fearing leſtſome ſhould come with her, I retired my ſelf into the Cloſet without giving any anſwer; but when ſhe was come into the room, & I ſaw her alone, I came out, & would have taken the hand of my fair Miſtris, but ſhe pulled it away in an angry manner, ſaying unto me ſo loud that Delia heard; ſince you are in that mind Alcidon, you would doe me a pleaſure, if you would trouble me no longer. Delia hearing her give me this language, had an opinion that I had courted her ſiſter in ſome way that was diſpleaſing unto her: This opinion moved her to ſmile and ſay; I ſee that much may be done in a little time, ſince ſuch a change is hapned in this little while I have been away▪ I dare lay a wager Cavalier, that you have not obſerved the cuſtomes and conditions which I told you off when you firſt undertooke this adventure. Nay, nay, anſwered her ſiſter, but perhaps he hath done much worſe; for had he done as you ſay, he had been onely a perjured Lover, whereas by this which he hath done, he hath declared himſelfe perfidious and a Traytor. Obſerve ſage Delia, ſaid I unto her, two great injuries, and yet you ſee me indure them patiently, untill that you have heard us both, and I will make you my Judge, hoping that you will appoint what ſatisfaction ſhe ſhall make me.

The Cavalier, ſaid Daphnide, is infinitely impudent; for he demands ſatisfaction, where he deſerves puniſhment: but Delja ſince he hath made choice of you for his judge, I will alſo chuſe you for mine, that you may appoint a puniſhment ſutable to his crime, if you can find one equall unto it; and becauſe he ſhall not ſay, that I am too bitter in my relation, I am contented you have it from his owne mouth. Then I began to anſwer very calmly, Obſerve I beſeech you oh my Judge, how my affection ſurmounts the rigour of this Lady, ſhe requires that you ſhould cruelly puniſh me, and if I have committed a fault, I make the ſame requeſt; but if ſhe have done (I will not ſay a fault, for I do not think ſhe can) but if ſhe have done any injury againſt my love I do not require that ſhe ſhould be puniſhed; for if ſhe ſmart, I ſhall die of the paine; all I deſire is, that ſhe may not offend againſt that affection which I beare her. I deſire, anſwered Delia, that if you will have me your Judge, I may heare your difference. Heare it I beſeech you ſaid I unto her, from her owne mouth; for beſides that, I know ſhe can ſpeake nothing but truth; it is reaſon you ſhould know it from her, ſince ſhe accuſeth me, and would have me puniſhed. Tis true, ſaid Delia, it is your part to ſpeake firſt: I ſhall let you underſtand it in few words, replyed ſhe, for our diſcourſe was not long; he ſpake theſe words unto me. How Madam, doe you command me to live? I anſwered him, I would not have you live as you have done for the time paſt; for if you doe I ſhall never pardon you, after I have given you ſuch teſtimonies of my good will. He anſwered; this is a moſt ſtrange command, and I doe vow that I will never obey it, and when I charged him with his diſobedience you entred, and hindred me from knowing what he would anſwer. Then Delia turning towards me: Has Daphnide told the truth, ſaid ſhe? Yes my Judg, anſwered I, and upon theſe words, I require juſtice; as for the injury ſhe offered in calling me perfidious and Traytor, I ſay nothing, becauſe you heard them, and beſides that, they are but conſequents of the firſt offence. But ſaid Delia, which way hath ſhe offended you? For Cavaler, anſwer unto theſe queſtions; doe you not proſeſſe your ſelfe a lover of this Lady? Yes, anſwered I, ſo, that when I ceaſe to love, I ceaſe to live. Then replyed Delia, do you not know, that it is one of the principalleſt laws of Love, for a Lover to obey the perſon loved? Yes, anſwered I, and ſo, the commands be not contradictory to his affection; as if ſhe ſhould command him not to love her, ſhe is not to be obeyed. Tis true, replyed Daphnide, for every thing doth naturally fly that which would deſtroy it: but how can you excuſe your ſelfe as not offending againſt this Precept, in this occaſion, where you have not onely thought the command which ſhe made that you ſhould love her, to be ſtrange and hard, but alſo has vowed to diſobey her. My Judge, anſwered I, I did proteſt it, and I vow and proteſt it ſtill; and with this reſolution, that if I could die and die againe, a [...] many times as I have lived houres, ſince my firſt birth, I would rather chuſe all thoſe deaths, then not vow and proteſt it. You hear (ſaid Daphnide, being extreamly angry) how he ſpeaks, and judge whether he does not deſerve puniſhment. My Judge, (ſaid I and ſmiled) let my Miſtreſſe command me to fight againſt a whole Army of men; let [Page] her appoint me to caſt my ſelfe into the fire, nay, if ſhe pleaſe let her preſently put a dagger through my heart, I will immediately obey her: And to let her ſee what dominion ſhe has over me, let her put me to what teſt ſhe pleaſes; for I am ſure ſhe cannot command me any thing, be it never ſo dangerous or full of difficulty, but my love will prompt me immediately to obedience. Doe you not remember that when you firſt admitted me entrance, and enjoyned conditions upon me, how I promiſed to performe them all, provided they did not contradict my love? I doe remember it, anſwered Delia: Then my Judge, replyed I, methinkes you ſhould not take it ill, that I ſhould make this vow and proteſtation of diſobedience unto my Miſtreſſe, for had I done otherwiſe I had been perfidious and a Traytor, both to her and Love. I asked her how it was her pleaſure I ſhould live; I would not have you live, anſwered ſhe, as you have done for the time paſt. Now if I did love her for the time paſt as much as a heart could love, in commanding me not to love her as I did for the time paſt, is not this to command me not to love her; and ſhould I not be diſloyall and perfidious if I ſhould obey ſuch a command? No, no Madam I cannot doe it; I loved you when I was a Child; I have continued it when I was a man, and ſhall love you till death; nothing can divert me from this reſolution; it is ſo rivitted in my heart that it will never out as long as I live, nay, it will be found in my heart after my death. Delia then began to ſmile, and ſaid, I ſee that Love is a Child, and a little thing will ſet him a crying: my ſentence is this, I doe ordaine firſt that all differences ſhall ceaſe; then, that Alcidon, as a puniſhment for his fault in anſwering Daphnide ſo peremptorily, that he would diſobey her, that preſently he doe kiſſe the hand of his Miſtreſſe; and that Daphnide as a puniſhment for commanding him a thing which ſhe would not have done, had ſhe rightly underſtood it, that ſhe ſhall kiſſe Alcidon, as a teſtimony of her repentance. This judgement was executed to my great contentment, and we ſpent all the reſt of the night in ſuch pleaſant diſcourſe, as when I heard a clocke ſtrike, me thought that it did not make quarters of hours.

I ſhould never make an end, ſhould I relate all the diſcourſe we had amongſt us: I will therefore onely tell you, that being ready to depart, after I had deferred it as long as poſſibly I could; I took the hand of my faireſt Miſtreſſe and kneeling downe I ſaid thus unto her; I am now Madam upon the laſt minute of my happineſſe; for Delia and the time forceth me to depart; I perceive that neither of them are ſenſible of my paſſion, and for ought I perceive, you, who are the cauſe of it, are as inſenſible as they. Alcidon, anſwered ſhe, doe not complaine of me; but conſider, that if I did not love you, I ſhould never run the hazard of my honour, and your life, which is dearer to me then my owne, and you thinke that the paſſion which blinds my eyes unto all theſe conſiderations muſt needs be very great. Madam, ſaid I unto her, this is it which moſt amazeth me, that ſince you have already done ſo much for me, you ſhould now doe ſo little. Then her Siſter being at a little diſtance, doing ſomething in the Chamber, Daphnide anſwered me. Remember Cavalier, that the conditions betwixt Delia and you, at your firſt entrance into this adventure were, that you ſhould not be too importunate in your demands, but to be patient and perſevere. At this word ſhe held her hand unto me, which with a ſigh I devoutly kiſſed. Then, ſaid I unto her, all that I have to doe, is to pray unto the great God Saturne, who is the Governour of time, that he will make it paſſe away quickly, ſo as I may arrive at my happineſſe before my death: otherwiſe, that if I muſt never arrive at it, then that my life may quickly paſſe, ſo as I may not live and languiſh too long in paine. Live Cavalie [...], ſaid ſhe unto me, and live contentedly, and conſider that I doe love you. Theſe were the laſt words ſhe then ſpoke unto me; for the clocke ſtrucke twelve, which was the hour of my departure, by appointment. And Delia, leſt he who ſtayed for me at the doore ſhould be perceived, would not let me ſtay any longer: Beſides, I was ſo extreamly grieved that the time was ſo expired as I could not open my mouth to bid her adieu, at the leſt, I doe not remember what I ſaid. Thus I parted ſo confuſedly melancholly, that I was in the midſt of the Garden before I ſpoke or anſwered Delia one word, at which ſhe being halfe angry: What Cavalier, ſaid ſhe unto me, and pulled me by the arme, have you leſt both your tongue and your heart behind you? I doe not know faire Delia, ſaid I unto her what I have left, nor what I have brought; but this adventure has given me the greateſt hopes, and the leaſt effects that is imaginable▪ Why? ungratefull Cavalier, ſaid Delia, could you ever [Page] imagine to obtaine more then you have from my ſiſter? Much leſſe in regard of my merit ſaid I unto her, but much more in regard of my affection: If you had a ſound judgement, ſaid ſhe unto me, I believe you would have thought quite contrary; for you might expect to obtain much, ſince you are Alcidon, ſo much eſteemed by all that know you; ſo as your merits might juſtly plead highly in your behalfe; but your love cannot yet pretend unto much, being ſo young, as I cannot tell whether your affection can be called by the name of Love; for the name of man, muſt not be attributed unto one which is but newly crawled out of his Cradle. How ſaire ſiſter of my faireſt Miſtreſſe, ſaid I unto her; doe you call my love young, when it took root in me as ſoon as I had any knowledge of good or evill? and can you call it little, which in grandure ſurpaſſeth the greateſt Gyant that ever breathed upon earth? I think it young (ſaid ſhe) becauſe it never took beginning, till the day before you began this adventure: and I eſteem it little, in compariſon of what it will be, and in reaſon ought to be. But, ſaid ſhe, and ſhaked me by the hand, let us leave off this diſcourſe, and tell me when you think to ſee us againe, and what you have reſolved upon with my ſiſter? You heard all our diſcourſe, anſwered I, and I am ſo much grieved to part from her, that I doe not remember any thing. Since ſo, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled, your Miſtreſs did very well to favour you no more, for your grief would have made you forget all: Doe not think ſo, replyed I; for as I have not forgotten, that I did not receive thoſe favours which I hoped for, ſo ſhould I never forget, if I had received thoſe favours which I deſire.

Doe not imagine ſo, anſwered ſhe, for men doe much longer remember injuries then benefits; and bitterneſſe has a longer reliſh in their mouthes then ſweetneſſe; but ſince you have not reſolved upon any thing with my ſiſter, let me adviſe you to ſee her againe, as ſoon and as often as you can: for you muſt conſider, that nothing but eyes will ſatisfie love, nothing will make it take root ſooner then ſeeing her; and nothing will make it grow better then often talking with her. I deſire Alcidon, to teſtifie, that I doe love you; and ſince you have undertaken this adventure, and ſince it was I who opened the door unto you, I will give you ſuch advice, as queſtionleſſe, if you doe follow it, you will bring your enterpriſe to paſſe; I am a little elder then my ſiſter, and conſequently have a little more experience then ſhe, and perhaps then you either; therefore doe not ſ [...]ight thoſe inſtructions which I ſhall give you, unleſſe you meane to repent it. My ſiſter loves you, ſhe has told me as much, and you may believe it, by her thus hazarding her honour for a ſight of you: but ſhe is very young, and by conſequence naturally ſubject unto the imbecilities of youth. Youth is apt to take any kind of impreſſion, and as apt to loſe it aagain; their moiſt memories are like ſoft wax, you may imprint what you will, and it will as eaſily loſe the impreſſions, if any new print be offered: therefore to avoid this danger, and if you will ſtill be loved, and well loved, you muſt by your preſence often renew theſe firſt impreſſions, if you cannot doe it as much as is requiſite by preſence, let it be by Letters, and meſſages: for when ſuch unhop't for, and unexpected Complements doe come, they work very great effects: for in love, thoſe contentments which are expected, ſeem to be due, and it is an injury if they be retarded or refuſed; whereas others that come unlook't for, work great effect upon that ſoul which receives them. Fair Delia, ſaid I unto her, If I could requite theſe favours which I receive from you, with the hazard of my life, I ſhould think my ſelfe much beholding unto fortune: But not daring to hope for ſo much happineſſe, I beſeech you believe, that in teſtimony of the eſteem which I have of your judgement and good advice, I will moſt religiouſly obſerve it, and preſerve my obligations unto you in my memory as long as I live; and in requital, though I have not a heart of mine own to preſent unto you, I will engage my ſelfe to ſend you one, which you will eſteem much above that which was mine, and is now Daphnides. Alcidon (ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled) I perceive by your diſcourſe, that every thing turnes to its beginning: for when you came firſt into the Garden, you talked thus of loſing your heart, and doe the ſame at your going out: I wiſh that ſhe who has it, may long injoy it: and in the meane time, I ſhall ſee what effects your promiſes will produce, as well in obſerving my advice, as in ſending me this heart which you have promiſed.

Being now come to the Garden door, I took my leave of her; and having found my guide, we walked a gentle pace towards our rocks, but as if the heavens frowned at our ſeparation: they were upon a ſuddain overſpread with Clouds, ſo as we did not onely loſe the light of the Moon, but were ſo wet with Rain, as we were forced to ſhelter our ſelves [Page] under a thick tree, until the fury of it was over. My guide had ſo loſt his aime of the way, as when we went unto thoſe who ſtayed for us, he wandered, and led me unto the head of that Fountaine, which gives both the name and beginning unto the River of Sorgues. This Fountaine is ſo beſet with great Rocks, that it ſeemes as if it were incloſed with high walles every way, but that by which we came. When this Spring is calm, it ſeems to be a great well, whoſe water being too full, runs over: But ſometimes, as my guide told me, it is moſt horrid to behold: For, ſaid he, do you ſee that high Rock upon your left hand, I aſſure you, that it will often belch out his water as high as it, with ſuch a fury and noiſe, that no Tempeſt at Sea does equal it. Doe they not know the cauſe ſaid I unto him? No, anſwered he; for ſometimes it begins to be in this fury, when the weather is very faire, and as now you ſee, when it raines, it will be as calme as other waters. The cauſe, replyed I, muſt needs be from wind incloſed, which forceth the waters thus.

Whilſt we were talking thus, the Rain ſtill continued, and I, having found a hollow Rock, under which I could ſhelter my ſelfe, I adviſed the Guide to go unto them who ſtayed for me, in the mean time I would reſt my ſelf, and when the raine was paſt, the Moon would ſhine, and help us in the way.

Now, Reverend Father, I ſhall here relate unto you a moſt ſtrange adventure, not as pertinent to our diſcourſe, but for the ſtrangeneſſe of it. When my Guide was gone, as I commanded him, and I alone under this wild Rock, Love, out of pitty would not let me be long without him, for I fell into the ſweet thoughts of Daphnide; and after I had pleaſed my ſelfe a while in thoſe raptures, me thought the weather cleared up, and the Moon breaking through the thick Clouds, ſhined as bright as ever I ſaw it: This invited me out of my hollow Rock, and whilſt I was looking about me that way which I ſuppoſed my company would come, I heard the Fountaine make a noiſe. I went preſently to the ſide of it, thinking it would riſe up, according to reports: and having a deſire to ſee this wonder, I ſet my ſelfe down upon a ſtone near unto this Fountaine; then did I ſee a thing which indeed is beyond beliefe, without a ſight: I ſaw the water riſe above its bank, up to the height of four feet, and then it appeared to be like an old man from the middle upward, with long haire dangling about his ſhoulders, and a beard hanging down to his breaſt, which being wet as well as his hair of his head, ſeemed to be ſo many ſeveral ſtreams about him, with another that flowed out of a pot which he held under his left arm. This old man was Crowned with Rock-fern, and Ruſhes, and for a Scepter, held a great Reed in his right hand. Whilſt I ſtood wondring at this Viſion, I ſaw the water to divide it ſelfe into ſeveral ſtreames, and as ſoon as he touched them, I ſaw ſo many Naiades, or water-Nymphs about him, as there was ſtreames in the Fountaine. All out of reverence, bowed unto him, and he raiſing himſelfe above them, as upon a Throne which the water made for him, they came to kiſſe his hand, and to preſent him with ſome Gifts: one preſented unto him a Chaire, made and covered with Moſs; another, a Garland of Ruſhes and Ivie; another, a Girdle of Fern; another, a basket of Cheſnuts; one offered Poites of water flowers; another, a Net full of ſeverall Fiſhes: To be brief, every one gave him ſomething, as teſtimonies of their good will, which he received with many thanks. After this, with a loud ſhril voyce, he ſaid, Oh Divine Naiades, whom the Deſtinies have ordained to live in waters, and who complain that you are confined unto my little Spring, whereas your ſiſters ſwim with full ſpred armes in the Roſne, and Durance. Ceaſe your complaints, and with me rejoyce at the advantageous choice which they have made for you. For though the limits of our Dominion is not equal unto others in largeneſſe: yet we doe excell them in ſo many priviledges, that we have no reaſon to envy any of our Neighbours: For our life is ſweet and quiet, none comes to break our ſleep, nor interrupt our paſtimes; our banks are never ſmeered with Homicides, nor are our waters ruffled with the ſwelling weight of ſayling Ships. But that which ought moſt to content us, nay which makes us glorious, above all the Rivers of Europe, is, my divine ſiſters, the infallible promiſe which we have from Deſtiny, and which was confirmed with theſe words.

Happy Daemon of Sorgues, Hearken (ſaid he unto me) to the promiſe which I make unto thee, Nine and twenty ages ſhall be no ſooner paſt, but upon thy bankes ſhall come the Florentine Swan, which ſhall ſing ſo ſweetly under the ſhade of a Laurel tree, that raviſhing thereby both Gods and Men, he ſhall for ever make thy Name famous through all [Page] the world, and ſhall make thee excell in honour, all the Rivers which like thy ſelfe doe empty themſelves into the Sea.

He would have continued on, when hearing ſome noiſe, and as I beleeve, eſpying my Companions as they were coming to me, I was aſtoniſhed that he and his troope daſhing the water with their hands, they made it riſe ſo high that I loſt my ſight, and I lay as if I were aſleepe, as thoſe who came unto me told me, not ſo neere the Fountain as I thought my ſelfe, but in the ſame place where the Guide left me when he went unto them.

This ſaid Adamas, was a moſt miraculous viſion, which truly for my part I beleeve to be a dream, but not an ordinary one; for doubtleſſe this doth ſignifie that ſome great and remarkable perſon ſhall inhabit in thoſe ſolitary Rockes, and make thoſe bankes famous, by the renowne he ſhall get; which is to be ſuppoſed will be very great, ſince the promiſe of it is made by the Deſtinies, with ſuch advantagious words. I cannot tell, ſaid Alcidon, whether it was a Dreame or no; but I am ſure, that I thought my ſelfe to be awake: and afterwards he continued thus:

I tooke Horſe, and to omit all the particulars of my returne, after many dangers, I arrived at the place where I left King Eurick, who received me with many a Carraſſe; and as it pleaſed him to honour me ſo farre as to love me ſo would he often aske me how I did thrive in my love; ſo now taking me by my hand, he carried me into a private roome where none could heare. Come, Lov's Souldier, ſaid he unto me, Does all goe well in your enterpriſe, and have you had a good journey or no? Sir, ſaid I, when it ſhall pleaſe you, I ſhall give a true relation of it, and then your ſelfe may judge. Let it be now, ſaid he unto me, for I much long to know whether you are as proſperous in Love, as I have been in Warre: Then in obedience to his command, I related the whole Adventure; but I have ſince heartily repented that I ſpoke ſo advantagiouſly of Daphnides beauty and ſpirit; for I perceived that it pleaſed him exceedingly to heare that all I obtained was good words, and a few kiſſes: then would I have applyed a remedy to my errour, but it was too late: yet to turne the matter, I began to extoll Delia, and ſo, that at firſt I did beleeve I ſhould imbarque him there. The King, who was more ſubtill then to beleeve it, to put me out of my ſuſpition, did ſet ſo good a face upon the matter, that perhaps any other might have beene deceived as well as I. Oh what groſſe folly it is for any Lover to acquaint his Maſter with his affection! For it did kindle in him ſuch thoughts as were not in him before, and put him into hopes of being, if not a Poſſeſſor of my happineſſe, yet at leſt a pretender unto it; yet God knowes what force ambition has upon the ſpirit of a woman, eſpecially upon a woman of a generous ſoule. Whilſt we were thus diſcourſing upon the buſineſſe, newes was brought the King, that they of Arles were reſolved to ſubmit themſelves into his hands, upon thoſe conditions he offered unto them; to wit, the conſervation of their Franchiſes and priviledges, without which the Inhabitans of the Town were ſo couragious, as they would never have conſented to acknowledge him. This is the reaſon, ſaid the King, and tooke me aſide, why I aske you whether you are as proſperous in Love, as I am in Warre: For this City is the chiefe of all the Province, and it rendring it ſelfe unto me, it is to be thought that all the reſt after its example, will doe the like. Sir, ſaid I unto him, it is a very happy Omen unto me, and if I doe bring about my deſigne, I will not change my prize for yours. The King imbraced me with a ſmile, and ſaid afterward aloud, we ſhall heare the reſt of your buſineſſe another time; Meane while, I will goe and take orders to content thoſe of this Towne ſo, as may invite others to doe as they have done; that Sir, ſaid I unto him is the beſt courſe you can take; for a great King, as you are, ſhould force people unto ſubmiſſion, more by ſweetneſſe, then violence.

Whilſt the King was buſie on his ſide, I was no leſſe on mine; for at the ſame time I diſpatched Alvian, which was the name of him whom Daphnide gave me for a guide; and becauſe ſhe had a great truſt and confidence in him, and that his fidelity and affection was already known unto me, I deſired him to contrive it ſo, that by his prudence I might ſometimes ſee that fair Lady; I told him that I would never forget my obligations unto him, which I would repay any way he would deſire: ſo he departed with a promiſe, that he would ſtudy my contentment, and upon every occaſion would teſtifie his deſire of doing me ſervice. Thus I left him, and was in ſuch raptures of Love, as I had no other thought but of Daphnide; I found by experience, that Lovers doe not meaſure [Page] their time, like other men, but according to the impatiency of the paſſion which poſſeſſeth them; for dayes ſeemed unto me whole months, ſo long did I thinke them, hearing no newes from this faire Lady; my ſweeteſt entertainment was my owne thoughts, which when I could get my ſelfe out of all company, ran continually upon the paſſages of my voyage.

The great Eurick, having nothing to doe after the rendition of this Towne, would refreſh his Army for ſome dayes; for it had been much tyred out in that occaſion, and dividing them into ſeverall Quarters, he kept no more about him, then were requiſite for the ſafety of his perſon. And becauſe it was his cuſtome when he tooke Truce with Mars, to begin warre with Venus, and with his ſport in hunting, he devoted himſelfe unto them two, there being nothing more odious unto his courage, then idleneſſe; and it was his ordinary Apothegme, that to live and do nothing, was to bury himſelfe before he was dead.

My office called me to be continually about his perſon, but my affection to him much more; and therefore I was never from his elbow. The truth is, this new love, or rather this renewing of my old love to Daphnide, had made me ſo melancholly that I could hardly ſpeake unto any: Which the King perceiving one day when he was hunting, whether it was to mocke at my paſſion, or whether it pleaſed him to heare talke of her, who tyed my heart and my tongue, I know not; but he called me unto him, and with a ſmile, ſaid; May one not interrupt your thoughts ſo farre Alcidon, as to tell you, that they are ſo much taken up with abſent perſons, that they care not for us that are preſent. Sir, ſaid I unto him, there is a neceſſity of it upon me, which I hope wil ſerve for an excuſe. For ought I ſee Alcidon, replyed he, none but I am a loſer in this Adventure. Why Sir, ſaid I unto him? Becauſe, ſaid he, Daphnide hath gotten a Servant, and you, in lieu of a Maſter, have gotten both a Maſter and a Miſtreſſe: But I have loſt; for whereas, I alone did poſſeſſe you, now I have a Companion who has a ſhare with me, and perhaps a greater then I have. Did I thinke Sir, replyed I pr [...]ſently, that my affection would any manner of way divert me from that ſervice which I owe unto you; doubtleſſe Sir, in lieu of Love, I would chuſe Death, and ſhould thinke my ſelfe unworthy to live, if I did not to my laſt breath continue in this deſigue. But then, if without prejudice to your ſervice I may obtaine that happineſſe which Love doth promiſe me, and which my heart does ſo paſſionately deſire, I cannot thinke it any loſſe to you; for a good Maſter, as you are does alwayes deſire to ſee his Servants thrive in contentment. I muſt confeſſe, ſaid he unto me, and laughed, that this affection, ſo it do you no harm, it will not doe me any; but I much feare, that as diſeaſe cannot continue long, but it muſt needs either increaſe or diminiſh; ſo if yours do not quickly diminiſh, it will ſo increaſe, that we ſhall be both loſers: And therefore you muſt either be diverted from it, or elſe uſe ſome remedies. Sir, ſaid I unto him, the care which you are pleaſed to have of me, will guard me from all danger: But to cure or diminiſh my affection, is to attempt a thing which is beyond the reach of all poſſibility.

This, ſaid the King, is a moſt ſtrong and violent paſſion, Sir, ſaid I unto him, did you but ſee her who is the cauſe of it, you would ſay, all is too little to equall her: But is it credible, ſaid he, that ſhe ſhould be ſo fair, as you ſpeake her? Sir, anſwered I, did I not feare that I my ſelfe ſhould be the cauſe of my owne ruine, I would tell you (and truly) much more; but I am afraid▪ that in ſo doing I ſhould ſharpen the weapon which will kill me. How doe you meane? ſaid he unto me, and becauſe I did not anſwer: Speak freely Alcidon, ſaid he, tell me what your fear is; and he commanding me two or three times, at laſt I continued; I feare Sir, and not without reaſon, leſt Daphnide being ſo infinitely faire, ſhould have as great an influence upon your ſoule, as ſhe hath upon mine; if that ſhould happen, there is no way for me but death, and a death ſo deſperate, that my moſt mortall enemies would pitty me.

I knew by ſeverall circumſtances, ſaid he then unto me, that you were in this doubt, and I had a mind to put you out of it: No, no, I would not offer ſuch wrong unto any of my ſervants, much leſſe unto you, upon whom I have conferred ſo many ſignall teſtimonies of my particular good will: live happily, and never fear it, for I ſwear by my Crowne, that no humane beauty upon Earth can make me commit ſuch a fault. Sir, ſaid I unto him, I muſt humbly proſtrate my ſelfe at your feet, by way of gratitude: for I eſteeme this favour no leſſe than a new life, and am ſure that if ſuch a misfortune had beene, I had been but a dead man.

[Page] Our diſcourſe had not ſo ſoon ended, unleſſe the Chaſe coming towards us, had not forced us away; as for me, I was the moſt contented man alive, putting full aſſurance in his words, and therefore ever ſince, when he ſpake unto me, I told him freely all paſſages concerning my paſſion. Some dayes thus paſſed on, and I heard no newes from Alvian, which was no ſmall trouble unto me: But at the ſame time, the Kings affaires invited him to receive ſome place which would ſubmit into his hands; and therefore he drew out part of his Army towards that quarter where Daphnide dwelt. When the King told me his reſolution, I was raviſhed with joy, and ſaid unto him; Now ſir, I hope you will grace me ſo farre, as to ſee my Miſtreſſe, for we ſhall paſſe cloſe by her houſe; with all my heart, anſwered he: then we ſhall ſee whether ſhe be ſo faire as you ſame her to be; and if I talke with her, I ſhall quickly know whether you will ſpeed in your hopes.

The King ſets forward, and to omit all matters which are not pertinent to my ſtory, though in themſelves worthy of Chronicle; and being within a mile of Daphnides houſe, he told me that he would ſee her, and that in rrſpect of the good ſervice which her Father had done him, he could doe no leſſe being ſo near her and her Mother, but ſee them. I am ſtill afraid Sir, ſaid I unto him, that this honour which you intend to doe them, is mixed with Love. What? ſaid he, and ſmiled, you old fits of folly againe? will you not believe what I have promiſed with an oath; had I onely promiſed, I ſhould be onely a deceiver in ſo doing, but having ſworn, I ſhould be perfidious: Come, come, caſt away theſe fooliſh thoughts, unleſſe you are reſolved to offend me; and on the contrary, be confident that I will do all the good offices I can, and as you can expect from the beſt of your freinds.

Upon this, I preſently diſpatched a meſſenger unto Daphnide, to let her know of the Kings coming; and when we were in ſight of the houſe, I would have gone before, but he commanded me to ſtay with him, becauſe (ſaid he to me, and ſmiled) I ſhall be more welcome if I bring you with me, than if I come by my ſelfe. Sir, ſaid I unto him, I believe that Lady has ſo much judgement, as rightly to value the honour which you doe her; but Sir, take heed leſt you loſe the title of invincible; for I aſſure you, there are ſtrange Captivaters in that houſe; it is the habitation of the Graces; Daphnide is accompanied with two ſiſters, who yield not unto any but her ſelfe; and had I not been already engaged, there is one Delia who doubtleſſe had abſolutely captivated me. Is that ſhe, ſaid the King, of whom you ſpoke to me before? Yes ſir, anſwerd I, and doubtleſſe the moſt accompliſhed beauty that ever I ſaw, if as I told you before, ſhe had not a ſiſter. To her then, ſaid the King, will I addreſſe my ſelfe. By this time we were come ſo neare the Caſtle, that the Ladies being upon the bridge, the King lighted from his horſe to ſalute them; and taking the Mother by the hand, he went into the great Chamber, where they talked a while; and the King enquired of her and her husbands health, and whether Wars were not offenſive to her. In the meane time, I talked to the fair Daphnide, who though at all times fair, yet, that day, it might be ſaid, ſhe ſurpaſſed her ſelfe, having added unto her natural beauty, ſo many Graces by her artificial dreſs, as I never ſaw any ſo fit to conquer hearts. Delia ſtood next to her, and my eyes and heart being fixed in contemplation of their beloved object, I ſtood gazing a long time before I ſpoke. You went away, ſaid Delia, without a heart, and return without a tongue; if you loſe as much every voyage, you will become very ill company: Delia, ſaid I unto her, you are very pleaſant; but if ſhe who hinders you from being the faireſt in the world, doe uſe ſuch Arts, I know not what will become of me. Who doe you ſpeak of? ſaid Daphnide; of you Madam, anſwered I, who adds ſo much art unto your Naturall beauty, that no eye can look, and hope to eſcape impriſonment. I ſhould in favour of Alcidon, anſwered ſhe, believe that this might be, if every one did look upon me with Alcidons eyes. But let us leave this diſcourſe, and tell us which way do you take. I am ſure, ſaid I unto her, that the way hither, is the way of my felicity, and my way from you, is the way of my hell: Nay, nay, ſaid Daphnide; I mean, which way does the King go, and whither does your Army intend to march? I would have anſwered her, but the King called me away. Alcidon, ſaid he unto me, come hither, and be a witneſſe; is not the ſtrong Towne of Arles reduced into our hands? Yes certainly, ſir, ſaid I unto him; and you muſt look for other Kingdomes, and indeed other Worlds, to exerciſe your Armes in, for there is no more to Conquer which I know of. They will not believe me, replyed the King; and [Page] therefore I pray relate unto this incredulous Lady, how not onely Arles, but almoſt all the Province which is called the Romans, is in our hands. Oh, ſir, ſaid the good old Lady, not but that I did believe what you did ſay; but it is becauſe till now, we thought the Towne of Arles impregnable. Nay, nay, replyed the King, I will have you underſtand the whole ſeries of the ſtory, to the end that hereafter you may not doubt of what I ſay: Upon this, riſing up, he ſet me in his place, and went to the place from whence I came; and becauſe Delia when he came, would have retired, he pulled her back, and talked awhile unto them both. I could not poſſibly heare what they ſaid, as well becauſe it was but a little too far off, as becauſe I was engaged to talke unto this old Lady. But preſently after, when the King took Daphnide by the hand, and carried her the Window, I muſt confeſſe, then I began to doubt, and my words did ſo die in my mouth, as if I were ſoul-leſſe: I could not chuſe but obſerve their faces and actions; and whatſoever I ſaw, made me ſuſpect that which I feared moſt; ſo as I wiſhed withall my heart, for ſome hot alarm to call away the King from the place where he was. I cannot tell how long his Courtſhip laſted, but I am ſure it laſted ſo long, that I thought every minute a day. At the laſt, the King took his leave, and went on his journey. Daphnide ſeeing me following, did beckon unto me, as deſirous to ſpeak with me; whereupon I commanded one of my men to hide my horſe, to the end I might have ſome colour to ſtay behind; ſo as though the King called me twice or thrice, yet ſtay I did, ſeeming to be very angry with my ſervants, for the little care they had of my Horſe. The King, and almoſt all the Train departed; and I going into the houſe, ſeeming onely becauſe I would not have the Ladies ſtay ſo long in the Sun, I took Daphnide aſide: Well Madam, ſaid I unto her, what doe you thinke of the Great Eurick? Nay, ſaid ſhe, what diſcourſe doe you thinke we had? I cannot tell, replyed I: Then, ſaid ſhe, I will tell you, and you ſhall judge which of us two loves you beſt: when he took me to the window, to the end Della might not hear, though at the firſt he ſtayed her with me out of civility: he ſaid unto me; I doe not now wonder, that Alcidon ſhould run ſuch hazard to ſee you, for I proteſt you are the faireſt in the world; and now I have ſeen you, I cannot think any in the whole Univerſe worthy of eſteem.

At the firſt, this diſcourſe made me bluſh, eſpecially hearing him mention you, and of a buſineſſe which I did not thinke he knew of: yet ſeeming as if I did not underſtand him, I anſwered thus: I know not ſir, why you ſhould tell me of Alcidon, nor what hazards he has run; but I am ſure, that there is nothing in me worthy of your eye, nor of the language of ſo great a King. Why, fair one, ſaid he unto me, did you thinke Alcidon could leave our Army without my leave, and without telling me whither he went? The Law of War is very ſevere and ſtrickt: moreover, aſſure your ſelfe, that he is too young to enjoy ſo much good fortune. I am ſo little verſed in the way of War, anſwered I, and the age of Alcidon does ſo little concerne me, as I never learned the one, nor cared for the other. Why, ſaid he, doe you thinke I know not, how he hath ſeene you twice; the firſt time at a Cavaliers houſe, who has the charge of my Artilery; and the next time, at your ſiſters, where you kept him in a Cloſet: No, no, Fair one, he has told me all, and ſo particularly, as you your ſelf do not know them better: Certainly, ſaid I, Alcidon has a great confidence in you; and in ſaying ſo, I was conſtrained to cover my bluſhes with my hand, being aſhamed the King ſhould know all theſe particulars. But he ſmiling; This, ſaid he, is the common vanity of all young people; they cannot be ſilent, but muſt be blabbing of their own happineſſe; but be not angry I ſhould know this, ſince loving and honouring you ſo much as I do, I ſhall take no notice of it; but if you will follow my advice, and preſerve your reputation, caſt off this youth, and reject his addreſſes; for you may be certaine, that he who would tell me theſe things, will in an humour tell them to any other, and perhaps to ſome that are not ſo diſcreet as I am.

Judge, Alcidon, ſaid ſhe to me, into what a condition you have brought me, by acquainting him with theſe things, which above all you ſhould have concealed. How can I chuſe but be extreamly angry with you, when I reflect upon the wrong you have done me? Madam, ſaid I unto her, I muſt needs confeſſe my ſelfe in a great fault, but I am confident you will excuſe it, if you will but pleaſe to remember the manner how we lived in the dayes of his Predeceſſor King Thoriſmond, who being the firſt cauſe of our love; I thought this King, being as gracious unto me as the other, would alſo favour the accompliſhment [Page] of it: but I perceive their deſignes are farre different; for the one aimed at my happineſſe in giving me that which he had a mind unto himſelfe: and the other intends to make me moſt miſerable by raviſhing from me, her whom he knowes is mine, and without whom he knowes I value not my life: For I doe foreſee, by the knowledge which I have of his humour, that he will love you; his deſigne I perceive is to put you out of conceit with me; ſo as your mind then not being ingaged, he hopes the more eaſily to win upon you, and bring about his own ends. But Madam, if you doe think him able to compaſſe his deſires, and that I ſhall ever ſee this change in you, I conjure you by the memory of great Thoriſmond, who loved us both ſo well, never to let me ſee it, but to tell me betimes, that my death may anticipate ſuch a dire accident. Daphnide then ſmiled, and ſaid, I am very glad to ſee you ſo much perplexed as you are, as well to prevent you from relapſing into your crime of being ſo liberall in your tongue, as to know by your fears which you have of the King and of his good will unto me, that you doe really love me. But Alcidon, I love you too well to let you be long in this perplexity; Live therefore contentedly, and be confident, that as long as Alcidon loves me, Daphnide will never love any other, and that neither the grandure, nor authority of a King ſhall ever be able to alter me in this reſolution.

We had talked longer, if the King who had already ſent twice for me, had not ſent the third time, fearing, as I beleeve, leſt Daphnide ſhould impart unto me, what he had ſaid unto her: Therefore after I had kiſſed the hand of my faireſt Miſtreſſe, and after ſhe had given me aſſurance, that if the King continued, ſhe would impart all unto me, I departed, and galloped after the King, whom I found gone but a little way; for he ſtayed purpoſely to diſpatch away an expreſſe to colour thereby his ſtaying for me, and to the end, that if I came not quickly, he might ſend another meſſenger for me. When I was come unto him; Alcidon, ſaid he, I ſent for you, becauſe there is danger in coming after an army with few men; for I have intelligence that the Enemy is not farre off, and if they have any deſigne of doing any thing, they will watch ſuch occaſions by their ſpies. I gave him moſt humble thankes for the care he had of me, and though I made no ſhew of it, yet I knew very well, that when he ſaid the enemy was not farre off, he ſaid truly, ſince he himſelfe was neer me, and no enemy could be more dangerous nor cruell then himſelfe. Obſerve, wiſe Adamas, the follies of love; I reſented the injury ſo deepely, that had I not feared to incur the danger of being taxed for a perfidious Cavalier, I know not unto what fury my reſentments might have prompted me unto againſt him; but upon good conſideration of the matter, I reſolved to ſmother my wrongs, and ſeeme to take no notice that I knew any thing; conſidering, that when the deſires of people are thwarted, they are moſt violent, and when the deſires of perſons in power are once knowne, they are prompted to uſe violence. But the great conſtraint in which I lived, did ſo perplex me that I fell ſicke: By this, reverend Father, you may judge how great my affection was, ſince it had power to bring me into ſuch a condition. The King did not thinke my ſickneſſe ſo great as it was; but it increaſing every day, and his affaires conſtraining him not to abide long in one place, he left me in the City of Avignion, upon the report of the Phyſitians, who told him how great my diſeaſe was.

Thus I tarried in this Towne ſo ill, that but for the contentment which I received from ſome Letters which Daphnide ſent me by Alvian, I know not what would have become of me. However, it was more then eight dayes that I kept my bed, before I heard any newes from Daphnide, becauſe ſhe not knowing of my ſickneſſe, but ſuppoſing me to be in the Army, ſhe ſent Alvian thither. In the meane time I who thought that ſhe knew of my ſickneſſe, I pined away with ſorrow and griefe, having an opinion that her ſilence proceeded from a defect in her affection, and then I blamed the inconſtancy and ambition of women, ſuppoſing that the Kings affection to her was certainly the cauſe of it. At laſt, my impatiency not being able to indure this incertainty: I ſent unto her my Servant, who carried my Letters; the firſt time unto her, and in the extremity of my ſickneſſe, I writ theſe few words unto her.

Alcidons Letter unto Daphnide,

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I Have all the reaſon in the world at this time to complaine againſt my Fortune, being at once left both by my Maſter and my Miſtreſſe. (I know not Madam whether it be permitted me to phraſe you ſo) But in this I muſt needs commend her, who ſeeing the injuries, which both of them doe me, ſhe would not let me live any longer, leaſt I ſhould any longer indure this unjuſt puniſhment.

See, ſage Adamas, how Love will ſometimes both wound and cure his Subjects, almoſt at the very ſame time. Alvian, who was ſent to ſeeke me in the Army, and hearing that I lay ſicke in Avignion, he returned in all haſte to his Miſtreſſe, who preſently diſpatched him unto me; and by fortune, the ſame day that her Letter came to me, mine came to her: The Letter which Alvian brought, imported theſe words.

Daphnides Letter unto Alcidon.

THe Bearer hereof, hath been a great diſtance off to ſeeke you, and to my great griefe will find you neerer; If my Health be any thing deer unto you, let me heare of yours.

When I received this meſſage, and underſtood by word of mouth the reaſon why ſhe writ ſo ſhort, was becauſe ſhe thought me ſo ſicke, as I was not able to read more. Oh, ſage Adamas, I cannot expreſſe my joyes! I was indeed very ſicke, and the Phyſitians, who applyed onely corporall remedies, were farre beſides the marke, ſince my malady was only of the mind. The truth is, that from the firſt houre of Alvians arrival, I recovered ſtrength; and not to diſobey the command which I received from Daphnide; I ſent him back the next morning with this anſwer.

Alcidons Anſwer unto Daphnide.

Madam

IT is from Daphnide you muſt inquire of Alcidons health, ſince it wholly depends upon her: If you continue upon him the honour of your favours, he is well: otherwiſe he is not onely dead, but ſorry that ever he lived.

On the other ſide, Daphnide ſeeing my thoughts, or rather my jealouſie, ſhe was very deſirous that Alvian might remove it from me; for ſhe knew very well, that I had a great confidence in him. And further to make her good will appeare, ſhe ſent my Servant backe, with ſo many good words, and aſſurance ſhe would never alter, as I was conſtrained to beleeve it: Her anſwer was this.

Daphnides Anſwer unto Alcidon.

IF it be ſo, that one may judge of another by themſelves, I have great reaſon to doubt of that fidelity which you have promiſed me, for you have done ſo of mine. If you were in my roome, ſhould ambition tranſport you above love? Oh no, I will not harbour ſuch an opinion of you: For I muſt confeſſe, Alcidon, if I did, I would not love you ſo well as I doe; wrong me therefore no more in this kind, unleſſe you would have me beleeve, that you would have that affection diminiſh, which you have ſworne unto me.

Thus we continued many dayes writing unto one another, with ſo much contentment unto me, that my diſeaſe was forced to leave me: and when I had got ſo much ſtrength as I hoped every day to ride abroad, Alvian came to bring me two Letters which the King had writ unto her from the Army: And in teſtimony of her free way ſhe lived with me, ſhe ſent them yet ſealed, as when ſhe firſt received them.

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Daphnides Letter unto Alcidon.

NOw the Wars are begun, I have ſent you two Priſoners; none yet ever ſpoke with them, treat them as you pleaſe, I freely give them unto you, as I will doe all the reſt that fall into my hands.

In this, I received at once a great pleaſure, and a great diſpleaſure; I cannot expreſſe my contentment, to ſee that Daphnide did ſo well performe her promiſe to me; but it wounded me to the very ſoule, to ſee that the King ſhould attempt that, which he had ſworn unto me the contrary. To withdraw my ſelfe from Daphnide, I thought a thing impoſſible; and I knew that if the minde of this faire one proved ſtrong enough to reſiſt him, he would in a tranſport of paſſion baniſh me the Court: Alſo if ſhe yielded or was overcome, then there was no hopes of any life for me. I remained long in this doubtfull incertainty; at laſt, love having the predominancy in my heart, I reſolved to adviſe her, not to receive any ſuch meſſages from him, if it were poſſible: yet my curioſity prompted me to ſee what the King had writ, having an opinion, that though I did not, yet ſhe would read them, and I ſhould never know; ſo I returned her this Anſwer.

Alcidons Anſwer unto Daphnide.

THeſe two Priſoners, Madam, are not of that quality to be kept long in my priſon: I have therefore ſent them both back: But take heed leſt in hearkning unto any more, the Fort which Parleyes doe render it ſelfe.

I ſhould be too tedious, ſhould I relate all the Letters which we writ unto each other at that time; for ſince it was not above ſix or ſeven leagues betwixt us, we ſent unto each other almoſt every day: But ſo it was, that the King being reſolved to be as victorious in Love, as in War; he perſiſted ſo cloſe in the Courtſhip of this faire one, as what excuſe ſoever ſhe can find, ſhe muſt confeſſe, that if it was not Love, yet it was Ambition at the leaſt, which invited her to hearken unto him, and to entertaine his Courtſhip: Oh Heavens? what groſſe folly it is in any, to look for any certainty under the Moon? I mean for any thing which is not alterable? Whilſt thus we continued writing unto each other, the King continued his enterpriſe; and I who thought that I had a good occaſion to laugh at him, did find my ſelfe in the concluſion, the party laughed at. Pardon me, Faireſt Miſtreſs, I beſeech you, if this truth offend you. Well, well, Alcidon, ſaid Daphnide, and interrupted him, I will not now anſwer you, go on with your diſcourſe as you pleaſe. Upon this, Alcidon continued.

The King having effected his enterpriſe againſt his enemies, he returned the ſame way he came, purpoſely to ſee his new Miſtreſſe: and to the end I ſhould know nothing of it, he came the night before his Army, almoſt all alone, and lodged in her houſe. He had made choice of ſuch to wait upon him, as I knew nothing of it a long time after; but at laſt, I came to know it by an accident, which hereafter I ſhall tell you. In the meanetime, the King came to Avignion, where he honoured me ſo far, as to enquire of me: and becauſe I was extreamly vexed at the purſuit which I ſaw he made of this faire Lady, I could not perfectly ſhake off my ſickneſſe; but being neither well nor ill, I languiſhed away ſuch a melancholly life, as I became ſcarce knowable: The King hearing of it, ſent ſeverall times to viſit me, and he himſelfe condeſcended to come and ſee me, but ſpoke not a word of Daphnide, nor made any ſhew of ſeeing her, or had her ſo much as in memory. I for my part, kept not ſuch a cloſe Guard upon my lips, but told him, that it grieved me ſo much, that againſt his promiſe he ſhould uſe me thus, as the very ſight of him aggravated my griefe, and augmented my ſickneſſe.

Since the laſt time that the King was with Daphnide, ſhe writ unto me onely as an umbrage for her intentions, and to keep me as long as ſhe could from the knowledge of all paſſages, though ſhe knew they would out at laſt: for the Courtſhip of Great Princes [Page] cannot be long concealed. As for the Letters which ſhe received from him, ſhe ſent them not unto me, as ſhe was wont to doe, unleſſe it were ſome out of which no great matter could be collected, and thoſe very rarely. Thus did I fret away my time with ſuch heartbreaking thoughts, as when I think upon them, I cannot chuſe but wonder they did not bring me to my Grave. Sometimes in the evening when the weather was fair, and the Sun in decline of heat, I ſhould walke upon the bankes of the River Roſne, towards the houſe of this fair one, and there all alone contemplate upon my own thoughts, until the Suns light had left our Hemiſphere; and then I ſhould returne to my own lodging, and ſpend the whole night in the ſame melancholly imaginations.

How often have I taken conjectures of my misfortune for certainties, and then wiſhed my ſelfe out of this life, as thinking that I lived onely to reſent my own ſorrowes and her treachery? How oft have I with diſdaine, thought my ſelfe a fond fool for loving ſuch a weathercock beauty? how many times have I reſolved to break off all thoſe perfidious bonds that tyed me to her ſervice? perfidious may I well call them, for all her oathes and promiſes, which together with her beauty, tyed me to her ſervice, are all vanity and deluders.

But alas, how oft have I alſo conſidered, that not being my ſelfe, I was not able either to doe or reſolve upon any thing, but according to her will and by as that drew me unto her? Till now, ſage Adamas, my miſery was onely dubious, and hanged onely upon ſuſpition: but now, ſee how the whole truth came to be diſcovered unto me.

I was walking, as I told you, upon the bankes of Roſne, not with any intention to divert my ſelfe, but onely to entertaine my mortal thoughts one evening, as I was returning to my lodging, I ſaw a young Cavalier, who was one of my friends, whoſe Father ſerved the King in his Courtſhip of this faire one; and he rid by me, and did not know me, not imagining that he whom he ſaw could be alone ſo late, whom he knew never uſed to walke ſo ſlenderly attended▪ but riding on a little further, and knowing and ſervant that waited upon me at a diſtance, he asked him what he did in that place: and my ſervant anſwering, that he waited there until I had done walking; the Cavalier preſently alighted from his horſe, and having ſaluted me, beſeeched me to pardon him, for paſſing by and not knowing me. After ſome common diſcourſe which we had together upon that ſubject, I asked him from whence he came, and whither he was going? He who was altogether ignorant of my love unto this fair one, and knew nothing neither of the Kings but by his father, he anſwered me with all freedom and plainneſſe. I come ſir, ſaid he, from a place, where you are had in memory, and I have brought you a letter which will teſtifie as much; then putting his hand into his pocket, he took it out, and withall another, the ſuperſcription whereof I knew; and having a ſuſpition, that it was directed unto the King; alſo ſeeing how free this young Cavalier was in his language, as I tooke my owne letter, I asked him, for whom the other was: For whom (ſaid he) why? it is to the King my Father is faln ſick, and he gave it unto me to carry unto the King: He ſpake thus unto me, as thinking that I knew of the Kings love, as I did all other the Kings buſineſſe before. Though this made a deep impreſſion upon my heart, yet I ſmiled at his ſimplicity, and ſaid unto him: I doe believe, dear friend, that both you and your Father, are put to very much trouble in the buſineſſe. Oh Sir, ſaid he very freely, I ſwear unto you, that all the voyages of War which the King has taken has not been ſo troubleſome to us, as this curſed love hath been, eſpecially ſince the King in his return, went to ſee that faire Lady; and you may imagine this a truth, by the ſickneſſe which my Father hath gotten. My dear friend, replyed I, and embraced him ſuch as great Princes doe imploy upon ſuch occaſions, are ſuch whom they beſt love; and therefore you are not a little obliged unto that fair Lady who is the cauſe; beſides your own merit, of the Kings love and favour unto you. Sir, ſaid he unto me, I cannot tell what may happen; but I am affraid that this Lady of whom you ſpeake, will ſo bewitch him, as none can have any ſhare in the Kings favour and love but herſelf.

Theſe words went ſo to my heart, as they conſtrained me to diſmiſſe him ſooner then otherwiſe I would: and having no curioſity to know any more, I told him purpoſely to make him go away, that the King impatiently expected his coming, and that I would not deprive him of his contentment by ſtaying him any longer.

Thus I remained all alone, unleſſe accompanied with ſo many diſmal and mortal thoughts, as it was above an hour before I would return: but at laſt, night conſtraining [Page] me to retire into the Towne: I went unto my lodging with a defigne to depart all alone the next morning, and ſo ſhun all manner of humane Company, as none ſhould ever deceive me againe. And to begin, I went unto my Chamber by a backe ſtaires, and having none but my Page with me, I went preſently to bed, and commanded him to tell all the Company that expected me, how I was not well, and that I ſent him to bid them all good night. I cloſed not an eye all the night long, and Aurora began to bluſh before any mind of ſleep came upon me: And being in a full reſolution of departure a Feaver ſeized upon me ſo violently, as I was conſtrained to deferre untill my recovery. I had not yet looked into the Letter which Daphnide ſent me, having neither ſo much courage as to ſee what was in it, nor hate enough to caſt it into the fire; but not knowing which of theſe two I ſhould reſolve upon, I held it in my hand, and kept it two dayes before I brought it to light: At laſt, being tranſported with choller one night when I was alone, I muſt, ſaid I to my ſelfe, I muſt needs ſee the treachery of this perfidious woman, and afterwards ſo exclude her out of all memory, that nothing may remaine of her in me but eternall ſcorne. Upon this, raiſing my ſelfe up in my bed, I opened it, and by the helpe of a wax Candle which ſtood by my bed ſide, I read what ſhe had written unto me.

But, wiſe Adamas, unto what purpoſe ſhould I repeat here thoſe words which were writ onely with an intention to delude me the longer: And againe, why ſhould I not repeat them, ſince it is requiſite the Phiſitian ſhould know the wound, before he can apply right remedy? I will therefore rehearſe them, not any thing to my conſolation, but onely to let you ſee how I was uſed.

Daphnides Letter unto Alcidon.

SHall I never heare anybetter newes, but that Alcidon is ſtill ſicke? Shall I never ſee him as he was when he undertooke the adventure of Perfect Love? Have all my Prayers no efficacy in them? will the Gods be eternally deafe unto all the ſupplications that I make unto them for your health? Oh ye Gods; if ſo, then either abridge my griefe, or elſe change my heart, that it may not be ſo ſenſible of his ſufferings: and you Alcidon, either reſolve upon a recovery, or elſe to kill me with griefe.

See reverend Father, what a cruel Letter I received, after I had diſcovered her treachery to me; unto which in a tranſport of anger I returned this anſwer.

Alcidons Letter unto Daphnide.

THere is nothing can cure Alcidon but death, ſince he findes no fidelity either in his Maſter or his Miſtreſſe; and therefore to what purpoſe ſhould I live any longer amongſt a Company of perfidious people? Never complaine that the Gods are deafe; for they have heard your prayers, and in not giving health unto him whoſe life could do nothing but grieve for the breach of ſo many oathes, they have made your heart inſenſible of me, but too ſenſible of another, who perhaps will one day revenge ſo many per [...]idious oaths; for the Gods are more juſt then not to revenge me, and puniſh you.

I gave this Letter unto my ſervant, who carried my firſt, and did command him to returne preſently, and not ſtay for any anſwer. The ſmart of this diſpleaſure was ſuch, that my diſeaſe increaſed very much; of which the great Eurick hearing, although he was aſhamed of his filching away this faire one from me; contrary to all his promiſes made unto mee, yet after dinner he condeſcended to come and viſit me. I was indeed very ſicke, and yet my greateſt paine was the remembrance of his theft; ſo as when I was told the King was coming to ſee me I trembled, as if a new fit of an Ague had ſeized upon me; and when I ſaw him, there appeared not a drop of blood in my face; but perhaps thoſe who obſerved, did thinke my paleneſſe was onely an effect of my ſickneſſe.

He came to my bed ſide, where after he had asked me all circumſtances, concerning my diſeaſe, and I anſwered as civility and honour commanded; he ſat downe, then turning [Page] his backe upon all the Company, he began to ſpeake in a lower tone, and ſeeing that I ſcarcely ſpoke one word, he thought to waken me by talking of Daphnide, little thinking that I knew how ſquares went betwixt them. He asked me how that fair one did, and how long it was ſince I heard from her. I anſwered him very faintly, that I thought ſhe was well, and that I never heard from her ſince the day that ſhe writ unto him, by ſuch a man, and then I named the man who brought me the laſt Letter. The King bluſht and at firſt would have denied that he received any from her; but I beſeeched him to pardon me, for I knew he did, and that the ſame man who brought him his Letter, brought one to me alſo. How? ſaid he then unto me, did ſhe then ſend one unto you? Yes Sir, anſwered I, and moreover I know of the honour which you did her, in ſeeing her at her houſe At this, he was a little confuſed, when he ſaw I knew what he thought me ignorant of: and after a long pauſe: Alcidon, ſaid he unto me, I muſt needs confeſſe my fault, though to my ſhame: Tis true, I did ſee that Lady of whom you ſpeake and have received Letters from her: and more then all this, I muſt confeſſe that I doe love her above my own life.

I cannot deny but that in this I am a very bad Maſter, and a worſe friend to treat you thus after ſo many promiſes to the contrary; but in my confeſſion of this perfidie, I can ſay no more in my owne defence, but that I was deceived my ſelfe, before I deceived you: I was perſwaded, that as I never met with any man living who could overcome me, ſo much leſſe that a woman could be able to doe it; and in this opinion I promiſed you that which ſince I find my ſelfe not able to performe. The confidence which I had in my owne ſtrength againſt men, did drive me into the errour of deſpiſing all women in general, and of this Lady in particular; and my ſorrow is ſo much the greater, in that it reflects upon Alcidon, to his prejudice; Alcidon I ſay, whom I loved ſo well; and it is to be beleeved, that ſince I have been ſo perfidious unto him, it is a thing abſolutely impoſſible for me to doe otherwiſe: Alcidon my dear friend, I freely make confeſſion of the wrong which in ſpight of myſelfe, I have done you; proteſting that if I could any way in the world pay that debt unto which I am obliged, I would preſently doe it, with as good a heart, as ever I received any favour from heaven.

The King uttered theſe words in ſuch a diſcompoſed manner, and with ſuch a countenance, as teſtified that his expreſſions did not come from his heart: And becauſe I ſaw him ſtand ſilent, I anſwered him; Sir, ſaid I, all that is in the world were created to ſerve your greatneſſe, eſpecially Alcidon who is ready to ſacrifice himſelfe upon the Altar of your contentment: And the Heavens foreſeeing it impoſſible I ſhould be deprived of Daphnide and live, will take away my life, leſt it ſhould be any obſtacle unto you: And therefore welcome death, ſince my life cannot conduce to your contentment. Upon this, I could not reſtraine my teares, and the King being moved at them, after a while of ſilence, ſaid unto me: You cannot Acidon, wiſh me ſo ill, as the injury I have done you does merit, I doe moſt ingeniouſly acknowledge it, and wiſh that my blood could remedy it; perhaps I ſhall doe it in time, but for the preſent there is no thought of it. And yet for your ſatisfaction, I am reſolved upon any thing you would have me, onely take heart and recover of your ſickneſſe; and beleeve to your contentment, that I will doe all I can to procure it. After this, the King went out of my Chamber, leaving me in ſuch a ſad condition as it is incredible any other than my ſelfe ſhould live under ſuch a load of ſorrowes and deſpaires.

Alcidon turmoiled with the memory of theſe painfull paſſages, and the wrong which he received both from his Maſter and his Miſtreſſe, he loſt his ſpeech, ſo as after a while of ſilence, when he offered to ſpeake, he could not; and therefore he was forced for a long time to be ſilent; at laſt ſtriving with himſelfe he broke out with much adoe, and ſaid: You ſee Madam, how in obedience to your commands, I make my old wounds bleed afreſh, but when I conſider all is by your command I doe patiently indure all; but if your Rigor be not greater than my Patience, I beſeech you helpe me to beare the burthen which you have impoſed upon me, I meane in the continuance of this relation of my miſfortunes, of which you may ſpeake with more aſſurance than I can; for in all that is hereafter to be told, I am only the ſufferer of what you were pleaſed I ſhould endure. Methinks my requeſt is not unreaſonable, that the wiſe Adamas may underſtand from your mouth the truth of thoſe things, whereof you only are the Author. Adamas not ſtaying for the anſwer of Daphnide, turned towards her, and ſaid; Methinkes Madam the motion [Page] of this Cavalier is reaſonable, and that by your owne ordinance impoſed upon him, you are obliged unto it.

Reverend Father, anſwered ſhe, the law is not equall betwixt him and me▪ yet ſince you thinke it fit, I ſhall doe as you pleaſe; and I muſt tell you, that though Alcidon hath ſpoken the truth, yet as good Orators uſe, he hath inſerted ſome words to the great advantage of his cauſe: Then after ſhe had pauſed a while, ſhe continued the diſcourſe thus.

The Sequel of the Hiſtory of Daphnide and Alcidon.

IT is a Proverbe full of reaſon, that Parties intereſted or prepoſſeſſed with any Paſſion, can never be good judges, becauſe their judgements being offended, they can never performe their perfect Functions, no more than a leg or an arme can which has any great wound. Alcidon has made good the Proverb by the conſequences which he hath ſo often drawne to my diſadvantage being byaſſed thereunto more by paſſion then by reaſon: And becauſe my diſcourſe would be very long if I ſhould anſwer all his particular rovings into Paſſion, I will omit them, and truly relate the remainder of our Fortune, and leave you to cenſure of his paſſions. And to begin where he left, I will tell you Reverend Father, that having received the Letter which he ſent unto me, unto which I returntd no anſwer, becauſe the Meſſenger according to his command went preſently away without bidding any adieu. I became the moſt deſolate perſon in the world, being taxed with a crime (and with ſome colour of reaſon) which I could not helpe. I underſtood preſently after by the Kings Letters, all the diſcourſe which they two had together, and afterwards by Alvian, whom I ſent purpoſely to ſee how he did, though I did not write, who told me how ill he was.

I diſcourſed long with my ſelfe what I ſhould doe in the buſineſſe; for on the one ſide, his affection to me invited me to goe unto him, and tell him how he was miſtaken: on the other ſide, I durſt not doe it for fear of being blamed. I was long wavering in the ballance between theſe two conſiderations, before the Scale would turne to either ſide; but at laſt, the returne of Alvian conſtrained be to goe unto him; for bringing me ſuch very bad newes of his ſickneſſe, I caſt off all other conſiderations, and reſolved to ſee him: In this determination I ſought out for ſome excuſe to colour my Voyage: And preſently after, a very good one preſented it ſelfe: For Peace being made, my Brother-in-law was conſtrained to goe to Avignon about getting of a Cozen of his, who was a Priſoner in the Towne which was rendred unto the great Eurick; and who becauſe he would needs contradict the generall reſolution, thoſe of the place ſeized upon him; and though Peace was afterwards publiſhed, yet they would not ſet him at liberty, leaſt if the warre ſhould breake out againe, he ſhould interpriſe ſomething againſt them: And ſeeing there was ſome difficulty about his inlargement, and that the buſineſſe by conſequence would take up a long time, he would carry his wife with him, and he had a great deſire of my Company, that I might be ſeen with him, if he was forced to make any addreſſes unto the King. As ſoone as the husband made the motion unto me, I conſented with a condition of my Mothers conſent: The good old woman gave her conſent as ſoone as ever ſhe underſtood the cauſe; ſo as within two dayes after, we ſet forward, and as fortune was, our lodging hapned to be directly over againſt the lodging of Alcidon.

His ſickneſſe was much ſpoken of, and the King went oft to ſee him, for he loved him very well: but when he was advertiſed of my arrivall, he ſhewed himſelfe more deſirous of his health than before: For whereas he was wont to ſee him but once or twice in a weeke, ſince I came, he went to him every day, and as he went or came backe he commonly came to my lodging. As for me, the ſame day I came I ſent to Alcidon, and told him by Alvian, that if he was pleaſed, I would willingly come and ſee him▪ and as ſoone as I received his anſwer, I went thither▪ I found him very ill, and his Chamber full of Phiſitians and Chyrurgians, ſo as at that time. our talke was onely of his malady; unto which, he anſwered very little, and ſighed much. The day after, I tooke my time ſo conveniently as I found him almoſt all alone; and then after I asked him how he did, he anſwered me with tears in his eyes, and in a feeble and languiſhing tone: Why [Page] Madam, ſaid he, doe you aske me any queſtions concerning that diſeaſe which you your ſelfe have cauſed? you muſt needs know it better then I, or all my Phyſicians. Alcidon, anſwered I, I doe indeed know part of your diſeaſe, which is that of your minde; but I am altogether ignorant of your corporal diſeaſe, and it is that which I am moſt affraid of: for, as for the other, I am confident you will quickly recover. Ah Daphnide (ſaid he unto me, with a deep ſigh) I ſee by this, that you have moſt care of that part which leaſt does merit it: for, if there be any thing in me which is commendable, it is this ſoul, with which I have not onely loved you, but even adored you, with ſuch a pure and entire affection, as I believe none but your ſelfe could ſleight it as you do. This anſwer, replyed I, argues your diſeaſe; but have all the care you can for the cure of your body, and you will finde that the diſeaſe of your ſoule is not mortal; at leaſt, if there be any ſparke of [...]aſon yet remaining in you. I doe know, anſwered he, that the diſeaſe of my ſoule is not mortal; for our Druids tell us, that the ſoul never dies, but is immortall: but ſince the diſeaſe of my body, will not cure the diſeaſe of my ſoule, I will further it with my own hands ere long, that I may no longer look upon a perſon with the eyes of love, who has ſo little in her ſoule. I perceive, replyed I, that you are deeply wounded, and your greateſt paine is in your opinion: you thinke that the addreſſes of the Great Eurick have ſuch an influence upon me, that they will extinguiſh that affection which I have promiſed unto you. Is not this your diſeaſe Alcidon? Doe you not think you have reaſon to complaine againſt me, and your fortune, which was to love a perſon ſo wavering and inconſtant? To this he anſwered very faintly; Did you as well know how to cure, as to find out my diſeaſe, I ſhould confeſſe you to be an excellent good Phyſitian. It is as eaſie to cure it, replyed I, as to know it. And to begin; tell me Alcidon, how came you to know, that I doe not love you? is it not by thoſe anſwers which I have given unto the King, and by ſuffering my ſelfe to be ſeen and courted by him? But lay aſide your Paſſion a little, and conſider who King Eurick is; who I am; and in what times we live in: You ſee Eurick is a great Prince, who is able to doe what he will: againſt whom, Cities, Provinces, nay whole Kingdomes are not able to reſiſt, when he is pleaſed to turne his Arms againſt them.

Doe you think that love is not as ſtrong a paſſion in him, as his ambition? Can you believe that I am able to reſiſt his force, more then ſo many millions of perſons? you know that I am his ſubject; that I dwell in the Country which he hath conquered, and in a time when he thinks all forfeited unto him: Can you thinke me well adviſed, if I ſhould diſdaine and reject him. Doe you think he would ſuffer me to live quietly in his Dominions, if I ſhould treat him ſo, eſpecially knowing from your own mouth my love unto you? He would alſo accuſe You of all the harſh treatment that he received from Me. Is it poſſible your paſſion ſhould ſo blind your eyes, as not to ſee that the onely remedy is this which I have uſed? Into what a ſtrange fury would his diſdained love turn, if it ſhould beſleighted? the name of hatred is too low; ſome new phraſe which ſignifies hatred, muſt be invented, before it can be rightly expreſſed: hatred, anger, rage, fury, deſire of revenge, nay tyranny, and cruelty, will not ſignifie his Diſguſt. Then Alcidon, conſider, into what a condition I ſhould have brought you & my ſelf alſo, if I had taken that courſe; the leaſt you could have expected, is baniſhment out of all his Dominions; and the leaſt that I could look for, is a thouſand wrongs and affronts, which neither you nor I could ever have endured without death or revenge: ſee into what extremities we ſhould have brought ourſelves, and what contentments we may well hope for by living thus; confeſs my counſel to be the beſt, ſince it ſecures us from all danger, and makes a way for us to live happily together, and with more contentment than ever we did. Alas, Madam, anſwered he, how eaſie a thing it is to know, that all theſe reaſons are but meer excuſes, for did you intend as you ſay, why did you conceal the matter from me? why did you not diſcover it at the firſt, but made uſe of ſo many ſhifts and deluſions, as may well be called treachery, of which I had never known, unleſſe I had made the diſcovery by a meer accident? I ſhall in this confeſſe the very truth, anſwered I, I thought you to be ſo farre from this opinion, that I thought it to no purpoſe to tell you, but to uſe you as children are uſed who are ſick, they ſweeten the edges of the Cup which holds the bitter medicine, and ſo tempt them to take it the more eaſily, and by this meanes preſerve their lives; aſſuring my ſelfe, that you would not take it ill when you knew my intention, but would reliſh both the benefit, and the medicine. Alas, ſaid he unto me, with a deep ſigh, a medicine [Page] more bitter and difficult to take and endure, than the diſeaſe is of which you would cure me. All ſick people, anſwered I, when Medicines are preſented unto them, do ſay as much as you, but when they find the good effects, and recover health, then they commend both the medicine and Phyſician, and reward them with a thankful Fee: and I hope that ere long you will do the like.

He would have anſwered, but was prevented by a great company of Cavaliers, who came to viſit him; and preſently after, I left him with them, not fully ſatisfied in his mind, but ſo diſpoſed, that my arguments began to worke with him▪ and becauſe I deſired his recovery above all things, I ſaw him againe two or three dayes after, and uſed ſuch arguments, that he conſidering the ſtate of things, and that there was no remedy, he conſented I ſhould continue ſo with Eurick: upon which, I made a promiſe unto him, that as he was the firſt I ever loved, ſo ſhould he be the laſt, and that I would love him until I was in my Grave: That the affection which I bare unto Eurick, might be called Reaſon of ſtate, and that which I bare unto him, might be called Love of heart.

Theſe, Reverend Father, were the remedies which I uſed to cure this ſick man, and they had ſuch an operation upon him, that he began to recover, and riſe out of his bed; ſo as before I went from Avignion he was perfectly well, and ſo contented that I ſhould ſmile upon the King, that he himſelfe would often come with him, when he came to viſit me. The truth is, I was put to uſe all my art in carrying my ſelfe ſo ſwimingly, as to perſwade the King that I was quite off the hinges with Alcidon; and Alcidon had much a doe to perſwade him that he had no deſigne upon me; for the King knowing what good will had been betwixt us, he could not believe that he could out of reſpect unto him, extinguiſh his flames unto me: Alſo conſidering, that Alcidon was young and hanſome, and at a right age for love, he thought him ſo fit a ſubject for my love, as he could not thinke I could quit Alcidon for him. Thus did he live long in jealous ſuſpition; but the diſcreet carriage of Alcidon, and my coldneſſe towards him, did make him loſe that opinion; and therefore thinking himſelf ſole poſſeſſor of my affection, he openly ſhewed his love unto me; ſo as after my brother in law by my mediation had obtained his deſires, he ſent for my Father and Mother to come unto him, purpoſely as an excuſe for his deſires of having me near him. Although they were both very old, yet ambition which alwaies takes more root in the ſoules of old people, then in young, did in obedience to his commands, move them to leave their homes in hopes of preferment unto greater favours.

Now are both become Courtiers, and the King did not deceive their hopes, for he loaded them with wealth and honours, which yet they did not long enjoy; for whether it was that their age was arrived at that term, beyond which none can paſſe: or whether it was that the Turmoiles and noiſe of the Court did abridge their lives; yet ſo it was, that they both dyed preſently after, as if they came to the Court onely to leave me in poſſeſſion of it, for otherwiſe, I durſt not have come: but being there, I ſtayed there under excuſe of taking order about ſome domeſtique buſineſſe which was left upon me, and afterwards when the Kings affection to me was publiſhed in hopes to be his wife, as he himſelf divulged.

During all this time, few dayes paſſed without giving Alcidon an opportunity of ſeeing me in private, and in which I did not ſpend two hours at the leaſt with him, which alwaies ſeemed ſhort unto me when we parted: He knowes very well that all this is true, and that many times in teſtimony of my good affection to him, I have put both him and my ſelfe in very great danger of life and honour. The truth is, I muſt needs commend both him and his diſcretion in this, that what opportunities ſoever I gave him, and what favours ſoever I ſhewed unto him, he never offered to go beyond the limits of honeſty: and though I believe, he thought that I would not ſuffer him, yet I am much obliged unto him, in that he never gave me any cauſe to repent of my kindneſs to him.

Living thus in the flow of contentment, though I was in continuall feare leſt the King ſhould come to know of this good will: and leſt that ſhould give him occaſion to change, as he had already done to the diſadvantage of others; I obſerved that there was many great Ladies, who to enjoy the favour and poſſeſſion of this Prince, whether it was out of a deſire of the Glory to command him, whom ſo many millions obeyed; or out of a ſpiring hopes to obtain a Crown, I cannot tell; but they were very aſſiduous in ſprucing themſelves up in hopes to be pleaſing in the Kings eye. Amongſt the reſt, I obſerved [Page] two; the one was called Clarinta, and the other Adelonda: As for Clarinta, I muſt needs confeſſe I never ſaw a fairer, nor more meritorious of love, having all the amiable qualities that are deſirable. In the firſt place, Envy it ſelfe could not find the leaſt tittle of a defect in her face; ſhe had a hand, no eye ere ſaw a fairer nor better proportioned; her ſtature was tall, ſtraight and ſlender, and the Majeſty of her mind was ſuch, as if ſhe were borne purpoſely to weare a Crowne, as many of her Anceſtors formerly had done: And to make her Charmes the more inevitable, the Univerſe had not a finer wit, the rayes of which ſhined in all her actions: but eſpecially her ſpeech was ſo infinitely charming, that not to be taken with her, there was no other remedy, but not to ſee and heare her. To be briefe; I muſt confeſſe, that were I a man, I had devoted my ſelfe her adorer, what treatment ſoever had I found; and woman as I was, I was never ſatisfied but when I ſaw her, and was with her, although ſo many perfections and merits gave me ſufficient cauſe to hate her, becauſe of the deſigne which I had, and the pretenſion which I know ſhe had.

As for Adelonda, truth is, ſhe was faire, but not comparable to Clarinta; neither in beauty nor merit; and moreover, being married, ſhe could not have the aſpiring pretenſions of the other ſo as though I was not troubled much to ſee Eurick carraſſe her, yet the other gave great guſts of ſuſpition; and therefore I reſolved to divert the mind of the King firſt from her, and afterwards at more leiſure from Adelonda; eſpecially when I ſaw that he went ſometimes unto her. And though at the firſt he feigned that he did viſit her, not out of love, but only honour; yet afterwards his viſits were ofter than uſuall, and he hid them from me, as much as he could. I quickly obſerved this my ſelfe beſides thoſe ſpies which I had continually about the Prince, did preſently advertiſe me of it. After I had well conſulted with my ſelfe upon the beſt remedy againſt this ſtorm; at laſt, I bethought me of Alcidon, thinking that if he would ſecond me in it, my deſigne might happily proſper. And becauſe the matter required preſent expedition, the firſt time I had an opportunity of talking with him alone, I uſed this language.

Alcidon, I am unreſolved whether or no I ſhould impart a buſineſſe unto you, which troubles me more than I am able to expreſſe, fearing leaſt the affection which you beare unto me, ſhould make you take my words otherwiſe then I deſire: and yet if you doe but conſider how I have lived with you for the time paſt, and what evident teſtimonies I have given you of my good will, I am confident you will thinke that it is onely the neceſſity of our affaires which conſtraines me to deſire a thing of you, which I have hitherto delayed. You know, how as my fortune is, all that looke upon me, are enviers of my happines; ſo as I muſt ſtand upon my guard againſt all perſons who would if they could ſtep into my roome. The affection which you have promiſed unto me, and that which I bear unto you, does ſtrongly invite you to have an eſpeciall care of me, but more of your owne conſervation: For though none knowes of the great league that is betwixt us; yet few perſons but know that you have beene ever well affected to me. Now Maxims of ſtate doe ſay, that the fortune of the head ought to be communicated to the Members; ſo as your ruine is moſt evident if mine befall me. I lay theſe inſtances before your eyes, to the end you may not think that ſtrange which I am conſtrained to propound for our preſervation. You ſee how Clarinta, whether relying upon the grandure of her parents, or building her deſigne upon the foundation of her beauty, I cannot tell, but you ſee how ſhe endeavours to get the good will of Eurick, and which is worſe, her labour, is not loſt, for methinks that Prince begins to thinke her more amiable than I wiſh he did; you know how fleeting and alterable his mind is, and how hitherto none could make him fix.

If Clarinta ſhould compaſſe her deſigne, conſider how ſhe would baniſh us from Court, leaſt ſhe her ſelfe ſhould fall into like confuſion, wherein ſhe has brought us. Therefore before things proceed any further we muſt by way of prevention uſe all the arts we can imagine for a ſhelter againſt this ſtorm. To thinke of uſing violence, and to force the wounded ſpirit of this Prince, would ſhew ignorance in thoſe effects which love uſeth at the beginning to produce, for nothing makes it greater than oppoſition, like unto a coale which the wind makes blaze by blowing upon it. To thinke that diſſimulation will mend the matter, and in ſeeming not to know it, that time may produce ſome good remedy, is very bad, and dangerous counſell: For although Love which findes no oppoſition may by little and little loſe it ſelfe, and become nothing, yet as this caſe ſtands, the danger will be inevitable; for love does never leſſen till after fruition: Clarinta cannot [Page] be enjoyed till after the marriage; and after marriage though Eurick ſhould alter his affections, yet notwithſtanding, ſhe would be Queen of the Viſigots, and we by conſequence ſubject unto her will, and liable to all her violences. So that upon ſerious conſideration, I can finde no better remedy againſt this menacing danger, than this which I ſhall propoſe unto you, which once more I conjure you to take in a right ſenſe, and not upon any other ſurmiſes than as I intend it. You cannot be ignorant how liberall the heavens has beene unto you in the gifts of Nature, and in accompliſhing you every way above other men: you have had ſufficient proofes of it in all your attempts: I make no doubt but if you would caſt your flaming eye a little upon Clarinta ſhe would preſently melt at the charms of it, and unleſſe her heart be made of ſtone, ſhe cannot avoid the amiable glances thereof; If you would put this my requeſt in execution, moſt certainly ſhe would love you, and preſently reject Eurick and all his ambition; ſhe would wholly devote her ſelfe unto you, or elſe Eurick ſeeing his addreſſe, and her entertainment of it, he will diſdaine her and retire: Thus ſhall we avoid a misfortune which does much threaten us; if you can tell me any better expedient, I beſeech you propoſe it, that we may make choice of the beſt: I have long deferred the making of this over-ture, fearing leaſt you ſhould have an opinion, that I propoſed it as a way to rid my ſelfe of you, though my intention onely is, that we may live together for the future in more contentment and ſafety.

This was the language I uſed unto Alcidon, ſo plainly demonſtrating my intention unto him, as I could not imagine that he ſhould be diſcontented at it, or ſuſpect that I had any other aime then what I told him: yet for all my aſſurances of the contrary, and mauger all my reaſons and arguments, he was perſwaded that my deſigne in this motion was, to ſet him further from me, and then to comply more freely with great Eurick. After a long muſing ſilence, and fixing his eyes upon the ground, he looked up, and with a ſmile which ſpoke his diſcontent, he anſwered me; I wiſh, Madam, that I could ſerve you in this according as you deſire: and indeed I will, for your deſire is to me a moſt full command: but my heart tells me, that a great misfortune will take original from this command; yet obey it I will, not out of any hopes I have in thoſe favours which you ſay the heavens have ſo liberally indowed me withal, but onely to let you ſee that I will obey you in all things as long as I live. Oh Heavens! cannot the King be contented in the happineſſe of your love, but he muſt needes make me entirely miſerable? Oh Alcidon, haſt thou a heart that can ſupport theſe injuries of fortune? But why ſhould I not endure them, ſince the faire Daphnide commands it ſo: then turning towards me with abundance of reverence, Yes, yes, Madam, ſaid he unto me, I will doe as you command me, though it coſt me a life, and all manner of contentment.

Upon this, he would have gone away, but I held him by the arme, and after a ſecond urging of my Arguments, and adding the beſt motives I had, I deſired him, that though our ruines would be inevitable if not prevented; yet if it went ſo much againſt his minde, that he would not attempt it, for no misfortune whatſoever would be more grievous unto me then his diſpleaſure: but ſtill if he would allow of reaſon, he would plainly ſee that he was erronious, in having any ſuch opinions, and that he did exceedingly offend me in entertaining them. Madam, ſaid he, If I doe offend you in it, I will preſently doe my penance in obeying your command; and ſo as I am confident you will pitty me for it, but I pray heaven your pitty come not too late: yet I am ſo entirely ſubmiſſive unto whatſoever is your will, as I proteſt obedience unto whatſoever you ſhall command; and doe not believe that I will faile in it, further then my power fails me: and though you doe ſee me make a little doe at your command, yet I beſeech you thinke that it proceeds from no other cauſe, then from my abundance of affection, which cannot endure to heare of the leaſt thought of any ſeparation from you; or that I am able to make any addreſſes of love unto any whomſoever but your ſelfe, unleſſe it be under a guiſe of diſſimulation, and that too with inſufferable paine unto me. Alcidon, ſaid I then unto him, I am not now to begin the knowledge of your affection to me, nor of your merits, to have my reciprocall love: but I pray you believe, that unleſſe death doe very ſuddenly ſurpriſe me, I ſhall in ſome ſort come out of your debt, and pay my moſt due acknowledgements, for any thing I either have or ſhall receive from you. And that you may more clearly ſee the end I aime at, I doe promiſe you, Alcidon, and ſwear by the great God who puniſheth all falſe Oathes, that all the paines you ſhall imploy in the Courtſhip of Clarinta, ſhall be put upon my ſcore and account, and that it ſhall be my [Page] ſelfe who will pay you your wages. Methinkes that if Alcidon did love me, theſe expreſſions would content him; and yet I perceive this enterpriſe goes againſt his heart, and he will attempt it, onely becauſe he will not diſobey me But ſo it was, that in obſervance of his promiſe to me, he reſolved upon it▪ and according to his beſt diſcretion, he began this addreſſe, in which truly he found more difficulty then we imagined, and much more had met with, if fortune had not removed ſome great impediments, by an encounter which I ſhall relate unto you.

The Hiſtory of the Artifice of Alcires.

IT is eaſie to be imagined, that Clarinta being ſuch a captivating beauty, and brought up in a Court full of generous young Gallants, was not long without many ſervants: Amongſt the reſt, there was two who under an umbrage of Conſanguinity, had inſinuated themſelves highly into her favour: The one was called Amintor, and the other Alcires, both of them indeed very valiant and amiable Cavaliers. And who, if I be not miſtaken, did imbarque themſelves at firſt into the affection of this beauty, under the notion of friendſhip; a ſubtilty very ordinary and often uſed by love, the better to ſurpriſe thoſe who are of harder tempers to give it entertainment, Beſides the kindred which was between theſe two Gallants, their long education together, the conformity of exerciſes unto which they addicted themſelves, and their concurrency in age did unite them in a ſtrong league of friendſhip, and adopted them brothers in matter of Armes, and to ſweare amity and aſſiſtance of each other: But love which never admits of any companion, did make a fraction in this league of friendſhip, as hereafter I ſhall relate unto you. Fire cannot be ſo hid, but ſome ſmoak will appeare, but I believe it is a matter more hard to cover love long, eſpecially from thoſe who have any intereſt in it. And therefore Alcires finding that Amintor did thrive in his addreſſes better then himſelfe, and ſeeing all juſt wayes would not avail him, he reſolved to have recourſe unto ſubtilty, thinking that, ſo he could overcome, all wayes are allowable in Love.

It is uſuall amongſt perſons of any quality, to make choice of one amongſt their ſervants, whom they make a confident, and truſt ſuch a one more then any other: Clarinta made choice of one amongſt her maids, whom ſhe loved very well, and truſted with her moſt intimate ſecrets. Alcires, who knew what prevalence ſuch ſervants uſe to have with their Miſtreſſes, had long before hand courted the good will of this wench; and being a brave Gallant, and very liberal, he got himſelfe ſo farre in her favour, as he could mould her into a model: ſo as when Amintor and he met together at the faire Clarinta's, he would alwaies yield place unto him, and entertaine this wench who ſtood a diſtance from them: And when he ſaw Amintor look upon him, he would alwaies have ſome ſecret to whiſper in her eare and ſmile, doing all he could to make Amintor enter into ſome ſuſpition.

Amintor obſerving this, as the nature of lovers is, he preſently ſuſpected that this familiarity betwixt them proceeded from ſome greater cauſe then from that wench, and perhaps from ſome deſign which Alcires had upon the Miſtreſſe. Amintor being a man of a free open heart, and one that could not long ſmother his thoughts from a friend, one day meeting with a fit opportunity, he ſaid thus unto him: Good Alcires, what buſineſſe of importance could you have with Clarinta's maid, which made you ſo earneſt with her as you ſeemed? Alcires ſeeing his plot began to take, did at firſt anſwer him onely with a ſmile▪ and afterwards, would you have me tell you? ſaid he, you doe ſo wholly take up the Miſtreſſe when you are with her, as I being all alone, am forced to take up with what you leave me, the maid: But heretofore, ſaid Amintor, you were not wont to doe thus, and I am no more a taker up of the Miſtreſſe, then I was wont to be; what new mood has of late poſſeſſed you? Alcires pauſed a while before he anſwered, and then looked upon him with a ſubtile ſmile; at which Amintor was more troubled then before, and ſeeing that he ſpoke not a word; Why, ſaid he, doe you not give me an anſwer: have I any intereſt in your familiarity with her? if I have, I pray let me know it, that I may ſhare in your mirth. Alcires then, ſetting a more ſerious face upon the matter: Amintor, ſaid he unto him, Although there was no ligaments of Conſanguinitie us, yet as I am your friend, you may eaſily believe, that I will impart any thing [Page] unto you; and the very truth is, I had long ſince acquainted you with what you deſire to know at this time, had I not feared your diſguſt of it; and this conſideration will ſtill ſtop my mouth, unleſſe you aſſure me of the contrary. I will not give you that aſſurance, ſaid he, if you tell it with an intention of diſpleaſing me; but if you tell it with an intention that I may prevent any inconveniency, I ſhall think it a very great obligation. If you will promiſe me, ſaid Alcires, to uſe it with diſcretion, and to take well the advertiſement which I ſhall give you, onely with intention to bring you forth of a great error, I am very ready to tell it you, as your kinſman, and as your friend: but otherwiſe I ſhall not; for unleſſe you make good uſe of it, it may doe you much hurt. Then Amintor making that promiſe unto him, Alcires went thus on: Know Amintor, that after a long Courtſhip of the faire Clarinta, I proſpered ſo well, that ſhe is intirely mine, aad I have enjoyed her. Oh Heavens! ſaid Amintor, doe you know what you ſay? have you enjoyed Clarinta? Yes, yes, ſaid Alcires, I have enjoyed her, and therefore ſet your heart at reſt; for ſhe is ſo much mine, as very few nights paſſe, but I am with her, and therefore you ſee I ſhun her company as much as I can, purpoſely to deceive inquiſitive eyes, as ſhe deſired me. Oh ye Gods, ſaid Amintor, and lifted up his hands; Oh heavens! will you not puniſh her? I aſſure you, ſaid Alcires, that I had a longing deſire to acquaint you, becauſe I was extreamly ſorry to ſee you ſo deceived: but as I told you before, I much feared that it would vex and diſpleaſe you. Amintor upon this folded his Arms, and ſtood ſilent a long time; at laſt ſaid thus, I ſhould be extreamly angry with you Alcires, for raviſhing Clarinta from me, did I not know that when we both courted Clarinta, we had no deſigne of deceiving one another: for as thoſe who run for a priſe, though many run, yet onely one can win it: ſo I have no reaſon to be angry with you for winning Clarinta from me; but rather, I have reaſon to thanke you for telling me, that I may run on no longer in an error: only one thing wants, which would ſum up my obligation, and which I conjure you unto; which is, that you will ſatisfie my eyes in the truth of this, as well as you have done my eares. I ſhall give you as good ſatisfaction as I can, anſwered Alcires, but I am afraid it will onely feſter your wound the more, and be a greater diſpleaſure unto you. No, no, replyed Amintor, it cannot more diſpleaſe me, but will rather encourage my reſolution to doe as I ought: Alcires ſeemed to be a little puzled at this queſtion, but he foreſaw it, and therefore prepared himſelfe for it from the firſt: Truly Amintor, ſaid he, I know not well how to ſatisfie the nice curioſity of your eye; for I have a good deſire to give full contentment, yet I am afraid it will be abſineſſe of difficulty to get you into her Chamber, becauſe it is not every night I go unto her, but onely when the opportunity falls hanſomly out for it, which ſhe cannot let me know of, until every one be in bed: beſides, I know how to get in, but you will be ſeen. Nay, nay, ſaid Amintor, I deſire not to go ſo farre, I had the ſame conſideration with my ſelfe; It will ſatisfie me, if I can but be with you, and ſee when your ſelf go into her Chamber. If that be enough, anſwered Alcires preſently, you ſhall be fully ſatisfied, and perhaps this very night if you ſtay in my Chamber: then Amintor promiſing he would, they parted in this reſolution.

See, ſage Adamas, unto what impoſtures we women are ſubject unto, by the example of this wiſe and faire Lady, who though ſhe was clearly innocent, yet by the calumny of Alcires, was deemed as culpable by Amintor. He went and waited with a longing impatiency, untill the crafty Alcires came and called him: Alcires in the interim hoping to compleat his plot, which he had thought was well begun, and having long before reſolved upon this way; the time being come when every one went to bed, he came to Amintor, and told him he would conduct him to the promiſed place. The King who tooke great delight in bring amongſt Ladies, had lodged Clarinta, Adelonda, and me, in his Palace, pretending it as a great honour unto us: Clarintas quarter was a ground Chamber near the Court, and had onely three or four ſteps unto it: from oft the halfe part of theſe little ſtaires, one might go into her Chamber ſeverall wayes; through one doore, one came into a great Dining room, and a drawing room, out of which was a paſſage through a little dark Gallery, which conducted into her Cloſet by a back door; and here it was where Clarinta commonly lay; and if one would go further without going into her Cloſet, they needed onely to open a door cloſe by, through which they came into a great Chamber that conducted out of the Palace, by a Gate very ſeldom frequented.

Alcires having long before hand obſerved theſe things, he conducted Amintor into [Page] his little dark Gallery, where ſtaying without any light when all were in bed, he ſaid uno him; you ſhall ſee Amintor, that as ſoon as I knock at the Cloſet door, it will be opened unto me but I beſeech you according to your promiſe, return as ſoon as ever you ſee me entred in: then leaving him ſome five or ſix paces from the door, he ſeemed to goe unto it, but went unto the other which paſſed into the great Chamber, and which being ſo neare Clarintas Cloſet, Amintor could not ſee the great difference; then after Alcires had ſtayed a little while, he returned unto Amintor, and whiſpering him in his eare, told him that they were come a little to late, for all were aſleep, but yet he heard them riſing: but I beſeech you o [...]ce more, ſaid he, that when I am entred, you may goe away as ſoftly us you can, and in the mean time ſtand a little further off leſt when the door opens and a Candle come, you ſhould be ſeen. Amintor did ſo, little dreaming of his ſubtilty, which was onely to get him further off the Cloſet door, leſt he ſhould ſee the difference of the Doores: Alcires then going as gently as he could unto this door, he opened that which paſſed into the great Chamber, and preſently ſhut it after him; for the ſpring lock was made after ſuch a faſhion, as it would ſhut of it ſelfe, and Alcires having obſerving it, he came a little before, and had left it half open. Amintor hearing it open, and ſhut preſently againe, did verily believe that it was Clarinta's Cloſet doore; and probably any other, beſides him, might have been deceived, the doores being ſo neare each other, and the place ſo darke▪ but for better aſſurance, he went and laid his eare to the doore, and hearkned if he could heare any talke, or any noiſe; but whether it was that the noiſe which Alcires made, had wakned ſome in Clarinta' [...] Chamber, or whether it was his owne imagination which made him thinke ſo; yet ſo it was, that he had an opinion he heard a noiſe, which tranſported him into ſuch a fury, as he was ready to breake the doore open with his foot; but thinking upon the promiſe he had paſſed unto Alcires, and the kindred between them: alſo conſidering into what a confuſion he ſhould put all the houſe into, he had ſo much power over himſelf as to forbeare, and go away, but ſo vexed as he could not reſt all the night. On the other ſide, Alcires having play'd his part ſo well thus far, and fearing leſt Amintor ſhould look for him at his Chamber, he would not go unto it, nor unto any other place where any one might ſay the next day that they ſaw him, and there paſſed all the night away in a grotto of the Garden, whereof he had got the key: judge you into what a perplexity he put Amintor, and how prudently warie a Lover ought to be in avoiding the artifices of a Rivall. The diſpleaſure of this Cavalier was ſuch, as not being willing to declare it unto any, he was conſtrained to keepe his bed, and murmur away the time againſt a malady, without looking for any remedy; of which Clarinta being advertiſed by common reports, and being ignorant of his diſeaſe, her love to him forced her unto a viſit; and ſhe found him ſo full of ſorrowes, that he could hardly look upon her, which ſhe attributed unto the greatneſſe of his malady: but going another time to viſit him, and ſtill finding him more melancholly and cold then at the firſt time, ſhe could not chuſe but ſay thus unto him; Is your ſickneſſe Amintor, ſo extream, that it does not onely make a change in your face, but in your humour alſo, which is ſo much different from what it was wont to be, that indeed you are not knowable? Ah Clarinta, anſwered he and ſighed, how happy had it been for me, if this alteration had come ſooner? ſhe ſtood aſtoniſhed at this anſwer; and when ſhe would have continued diſcourſe, his Phyſitians came unto him, ſo as ſhe durſt not make any further replies; but after a little longer ſtay, ſhe went away, the worſt ſatisfied perſon in the world: in the meane time, Alcires to loſe no time in the ſeconding ſo good a beginning, and to comply with all occaſions that preſented themſelves, he grew more kinde and familiar with Amintor then before, and kept himſelfe ſo conſtantly near him, as it was impoſſible for any to ſpeak with him, and he not heare. For knowing very well that his diſeaſe proceeded from deſpaire principally, he was loath any ſhould undeceive him, or let him know the truth. But becauſe he had not yet accompliſhed his chiefe worke, but thought it neceſſary that as he had deceived Amintor, ſo to deceive Clarinta alſo, purpoſely to make her fly from him, as he fled from her: one day therefore when he was with his companion alone in his Chamber, he made a ſhew as if he would write ſomething which was of ſome importance; but as if his fancy was not pleaſed with what he writ, he raced out ſometimes a word, and ſometimes a whole line; and at laſt, as if he were angry at the dulneſſe of his genius, he tore the paper in pieces, and flung away the Pen; at which Amintor ſmiling, and wondering at it, he asked him, why he did ſo? [Page] I aſſure you, anſwered he, that my wits are off the hinges this day; This morning the King commanded me to write a Letter of thankes unto a Lady, for ſome favour which ſhe had done him, and to carry it to him when I had done, that he might tranſcribe it; but my genius is ſo dull to day, that I am not able to write one ſignificant ſyllable to the purpoſe. Amintor loving Alcires, and knowing that Eurick uſed to imploy his friends ſometimes in ſuch Commiſſions, whom he thought had a happy faculty in penning; he would try whether his malady would permit him to write this Letter for his friend, and taking his ſcribled Paper out of his hand, the better to hint him upon the ſubject, he writ theſe Lines.

Amintors Letter in the name of King Eurick.

IT is, Madam, by the grandure of my affection, that you have meaſured the favour which I have received from you: but by what rule can I ſquare and equall the thanks which I owe unto you for it? it muſt needs be by ſome rule that is infinite, for ſuch is my will to doe you ſervice, which I beſeech you to receive, as from a perſon who loves you above all the world, and thinkes himſelfe the moſt obliged perſon in it.

Alcires did deſire no more, but that Amintor ſhould write ſuch a Letter upon this ſubject, not with intention to give it unto the King, as he pretended; but to effect another deſigne which he had plotted in himſelfe; he much commended therefore the acuteneſſe of his fancy, and his facility of expreſſion; then thanked him for it, and put it in his pocket: after this he went away, pretending to tranſcribe it in his Cloſet, where he was to doe ſuch things. By fortune, the rude Copy which he firſt writ, remained upon the Table, which the poore ſick Amintor laid up in a little drawer where he was wont to put ſuch Papers, without any other deſigne but that it might not be ſeen. Alcires in the mean time, ſealed the Letter, but gave it no ſuperſcription, and went to Clarinta, taking a time when he thought to find her alone. Two dayes were already expired, ſince the laſt time Clarinta did viſit Amintor, and ſince ſhe returned ſo ill ſatisfied; and though ſhe was very deſirous to know why Amintor ſhould ſpeake in that manner unto her; yet ſhe durſt not goe againe ſo ſoon, leſt ſhe ſhould thereby give occaſion of ſcandal: And now ſeeing Alcires, alſo knowing what familiarity there was betwixt them, and not being ignorant that Alcires loved her as well as Amintor; yet ſhe could not chuſe but aske him how he did? Alcires, ſeeming as if he did not know that his friend loved her, did anſwer her very coldly: I believe, Madam, he is very well; for he is of late ſo jocond and merry, as it is not likely he will long keep his Chamber, ſince all the Phyſitians ſay that the cauſe of his malady was exceſſive ſorrow: I believe, ſaid Clarinta, that the Phyſitians ſaid truly; but if he be ſo jocond as you ſay, he is much changed ſince I ſaw him; for the laſt time I was with him, he could ſcarcely open his mouth to give me a word. I know not, ſaid Alcires, when it was you ſaw him, but I am ſure that never man looked with a more contented face, then he did yeſterday morning; and it was not without good reaſon, if he who obtaines his deſires has any reaſon to be contented, I beſeech you Alcires, ſaid ſhe preſently, let me know what it is which cauſeth him ſo much contentment, that as his Couſen and friend, I may participate in his joyes. Madam, replyed he, I ſhould willingly obey your command, but that I know very few women who can be ſecret; and ſhould he ever come to know it, I ſhould quite loſe his friendſhip, which I value at a very high and deare rate. I muſt confeſſe, ſaid ſhe, that I am a woman▪ but none of thoſe who you ſay cannot keep a ſecret, having ever made a conſtant profeſſion not to ſpeak of any thing which I promiſe to conceal, as at this time I ſweare and proteſt I will: Upon this promiſe, ſaid he, I will tell it you, but upon a condition that you ſhall not by your ſoveraigne power over me, urge me to tell more then I am willing to impart: I aſſure you (ſaid ſhe) that I will not: Know then, replyed Alcires, moſt craftily, that poor Amintor is ſecretly become deſperately in love with one of the prime and faireſt Ladies in all the Court; and loving her extreame paſſionately, he reſolved to try how her pulſe did beat in good will towards him: but finding himſelfe not not ſo happy as in his hopes, he reſented it ſo ſadly, that he fell ſick, and fell into ſuch ſtrange fits of melancholly, as there are very few perſons but that gheſſe her to be the onely [Page] cauſe of it. Of which this faire one being advertiſed, was moved unto ſo much compaſſion as to viſit him: and ſince finding the grandure of his affection, ſhe gave him ſo much cauſe of contentment, as before ſhe did of deſpaire Do not expect, Madam, that I ſhould tell you who it is, unleſſe you can gueſs at her by the effects which I ſhall relate: but ſo it is, that this very morning he hath a writ a Letter unto her, and made me his confident to carry it. Clarinta hearing this, and being infinitely ſurpriſed at it, ſhe could not chuſe but bluſh extreamly; and becauſe ſhe would not have Alcires ſee her, ſhe held her Hankercher before her face, and asked him who that kind Lady was, ſtill keeping her Hankercher cloſe to her face: This is it Madam, ſaid Alcires which you promiſed not to urge me to reveale; but to give you full aſſurance of what I ſay, though the Letter be ſealed, yete will break it open and ſhew it unto you, then he opened it, and preſented it unto her▪ She who knew it very well to be Amintors hand, as ſoone as ever ſhe caſt her eye upon it, and therefore beleeved all that Alcires ſaid: ſhe read it with a ſtrange perturbation of ſpirit, which ſtill made her more and more deſirous to know unto whom theſe thankes was directed. Will you not tell me Alcires (ſaid ſhe unto him) unto whom this good language was written? Madam, ſaid he, I ſhould have named her unto you at the firſt, had I not taken ſo deepe an oath to the contrary, as it is horror unto me to thinke of breaking it: but let it ſuffice you that ſhe is one of the faireſt Ladies in all the Court I beleeve it, ſaid Clarinta, ſince you ſay it: but for all her beauty, let me tell you that ſhe is very kind: And ſince you will not tell me her name, for want of other revenge ſhe ſhall never have the contentment of reading this Letter: Then out of ſpite, ſhe tore it in ſeverall peeces. Alcires ſeemed to be hugely angry at this and would have hindred her, although it was the leaſt of his cares: at laſt, ſeeing there was no remedy, he was pacified: I will tell him, ſaid he, that as I pulled my Handkercher out of my pocket it fell into the Fire and was burned before I ever tooke notice of it, but if he will write it, I will carry another.

Could he poſſibly uſe more ſubtilty to break of friendſhip and love on both ſides than he did? And it had ſuch operation in them both, that Clarinta being deceived by this Letter, and Amintor by his owne eyes, they were both ſo ill ſatisfied with each other, as they longed for an opportunity of meeting to upbrald themſelves mutually with infidelity: But upon better thoughts Clarinta ſhe reſolved to ſee Amintor no more, and Amintor, he would not as he uſed, ſend any more to viſit her; and all this did but the more confirme them in thoſe opinions which Alcires had infuſed into them.

Now Reverend Father, be pleaſed to obſerve how eaſily Fortune can when ſhe will, facilitate the way unto her Favorites to bring about their deſignes. I have inſiſted ſomething long upon the ſubtilties of Alcires, and diſcontents of Clarinta, that you may thereby the better underſtand, how Alcidon to effect my requeſt unto him, came to be in favour with Clarinta: for it is moſt certain, that without this diſſention he had very hardly compaſſed his deſigne; but as he was ever happy in all his attempts, ſo he was no leſſe in this encounter.

Alcidon would very faine have palliated his infidelity with words; and though I was ſilent when he ſpoke, and ſeemed the firſt time he came unto me to take no notice of any thing; yet I know very well that he had other affections in him than unto me; and without going any further, I was fully informed that Thoriſmond being dead, and when Thierry his Brother aſſumed the Crowne, then did he ſee Clarinta in one of the Aquitane Cities, and loved her; and if I would, perhaps I could tell him both the time and the place; but it will ſuffice that his owne ſoule knowes this to be true. And becauſe Alcidon ſeemed to deny what ſhe ſaid; Nay, nay, Alcidon, ſaid ſhe, never deny the truth; you know that what I ſay is true; And that a little after the accident of Damon and Madonthe, Thoriſmond dying and Thierry ſucceding him, you followed him in his Voyages, and at the ſeige of a City, you ſaw that Lady, in whoſe ſervice you had continued longer, if Thierry had not dyed almoſt as ſoone as he was King, and being ſince much imployed by the great Eurick in ſeverall enterpriſes, you forgot Clarinta, as you did me. Come, come Alcidon be content [...]d; if I would, I could relate, not onely the beginning and progreſſe of this affection; but perhaps alſo ſo many particulars of your life, as will make you amazed.

I ſpeake this, wiſe Adamas, not to upbraid his inconſtancy; for I know that his age would not then permit him to be more conſtant; but my drift is onely to let you underſtand [Page] that it was much leſſe paines to him to make his affection knowne unto that Lady. I do not deny, ſaid Alcidon, and interrupted her, but that at the time you mention, I did ſee Clarinta, and that her beauty did at the firſt bluſh raviſh me, by an unexpected encounter: For at the ſeige of a Towne, there being an intermiſſion of Armes, I went up to the wals to fetch off ſome Souldiers who lay a little too neere: There I eſpyed this Lady upon the battlements, ſpeaking unto one of our Army whom ſhe knew: I muſt needs ſay, that as ſoone as I ſaw her, I admired her, and that ſhe had then like to coſt me my life, For the Truce being ended whilſt I was gazing upon her, I took no notice how Arrows flew about as thicke as haileſtones, which thoſe of the Towne did ſhoot at me▪ I remember her dreſſe was an embleme of death, for ſhe was then in mourning for her Father, ſo as the ſight of her was almoſt mortall to me in that kind: but I will never confeſſe that this did ever make me falle in my duty to you, and you doe me moſt manifeſt injury if you ſay otherwiſe. We will beleeve what you pleaſe, ſaid Daphnide, but Alcidon, this time in which I commanded you to ſpeake unto her of Love was not the firſt time you ſaw her, and therefore acceſſe was more eaſie unto you. Yet at the firſt, ſhe knowing of the paſſages betwixt us, becauſe the King himſelfe had told her, ſhe did much reject his addreſſe: For you muſt know, Reverend Father, that the great Eurick deſiring to inſinuate himſelf into her favour, did let her underſtand, that all the addreſſes which he made unto me, were onely in the behalfe of Alcidon, whom he told her was paſſionately in love with me.

This Cavalier being very deſirous to overcome this fair one he would not be repulſed upon the firſt denial. But one day, when Eurick was walking upon the banks of Roſne, and the better to paſſe away his time, had invited many Ladies, amongſt which Clarinta and I were; I obſerved how Alcidon accoaſted her, and how after he had talked a while with her, he gave a paper unto her, which ſhe tooke, and tore in peeces, and without reading it threw it into the water. I could not then heare what he ſaid unto her, or what ſhe anſwered, becauſe they ſpoke very low, and I was very farre off. But Alcidon told me ſince, that he ſaid thus unto her.

Doe not thinke it ſtrange Madam, I ſhould in this place try whether I can obtaine that which I could not in another; I meane the honour and happineſſe of your favour: For being alwayes unfortunate, when I begged it upon the Land, I will try whether the element of Water will prove more favourable unto me: And becauſe when I looked upon you, my ſoule was ſo wholly in my eyes, as my tongue forgot its function, and I could not ſpeake, therefore I preſent my hearts humble deſires unto you in this paper, which I would, but cannot ſpeake: Upon this, he preſented it unto her, and ſhe fearing that if ſhe did refuſe it, many might take notice of it, ſhe tooke it, and ſaid thus unto him: You have reaſon Alcidon to thinke that this element will be more favourable unto you than the other, if it be true that every thing favours its like; for your inconſtant humour does not at all reſemble the Earth, but the Water very much, which ebbs and flowes, and is never ſtill. And to ſhew you that I am of the ſame judgement, I will beſtow upon it this paper, in which you ſay you have writ your deſires, to the end it may grant your requeſts, aſſuring my ſelfe that you being as inconſtant as it, it will favour you, as much as poſſible it can: Upon this ſhe tore the paper all in peeces, and without reading it, threw it into the Water. Oh Madam (ſaid Alcidon to her, ſtriving to ſtay her arm) can you thus deſpiſe the moſt pure affection that ever was offered unto you? Are you not contented, unjuſt beauty that you are, to burne my heart by the flames of your eyes, but you muſt alſo drownd all my deſires in this Water before you ſee them? You doe me wrong replyed ſhe, in accuſing me of injuſtice, ſince I make my ſelfe appeare to be moſt equitable in detaining nothing of anothers, and in rendring unto this element, which is ſo inconſtant, the thoughts and conceptions of the moſt inconſtant heart in the whole Univerſe.

Whilſt this Cavalier and Clarinta were thus talking, the King was diſcourſing with me; yet I was not ſo attentive to his talke, but ſtill I had an eye upon Alcidon, aſſuring my ſelfe that Clarinta by ſome action or other would give me ſome light of what he ſaid; and to the end that the King ſhould take notice of them, I fixed my eyes upon them, and would not anſwer him: And he pulling me by my arme, as if he would wake me out of a ſleepe: I am awake Sir, ſaid I unto him, pray ſee what I am obſerving; then I ſhewed [...] Clarinta and Alcidon, and as fortune was, juſt at the ſame time when the Cavalier [Page] gave her the Letter, ſo as he ſaw how ſhe tore it, and threw it into the water, of which I was very glad, to the end he might take notice of this new Love; knowing very well, that in ſuch matters as theſe, you need onely make them ſee a little, and let jealouſie alone to make up the reſt.

Since this day, Alcidon followed his enterpriſe ſo cloſe, that the faire Clarinta thinking this would be a fit meanes to gaine Eurick, and to make Amintor lament the loſſe he had of her, ſhe ſeemed to incline unto him; I ſay ſeemed, for indeed ſhe was then fuller of Ambition then Love; and therefore ſhe aimed at Eurickes love, and was vexed at Amintor, thinking he had left her for ſome other; againſt which, ſhe thought her Carraſſe of Alcidon, might be very profitable unto her: For ſhe knew very well, that to reduce an Apoſtate Lover, there was no better way then to make him jealous; and to get the affection of a King, no better artifice, then firſt to get the favour of his favorites, as ſhe knew this Cavalier to be one, to the end that they by their good words in the cure of their maſter, might induce him unto love: beſides which, ſhe had as ſhe thought, an example of this in me, whom ſhe knew Alcidon favoured; and ſhe thought that I was advanced unto the Kings favour by this meanes. Upon theſe conſiderations therefore, ſhe began to hearken unto this Cavalier, and to conferre ſome kind of triviall favours upon him, of which I was very glad, thinking that when the King ſaw it, he would according to his humour, be extreamly offended at it: and when I could talke unto Alcidon in private, I ſtill ſolicited him to engraciate himſelfe further into her favour, and to court her as much as he could in the ſight of King Eurick, which he did ſo effectually, that not onely the King, and Amintor, but almoſt all the Court took notice of it, though neither Clarinta nor Alcidon, had at the firſt any aimes of making themſelves loved in good earneſt, but onely as conducing to their ſeverall deſignes, which could not be accompliſhed had they kept their amities in ſecret; becauſe all the effects which they hoped for, was to proceed from the knowledge which others were to have of it.

They continued thus a long while, during which, Amintor ſtill inveighed againſt the affection which he bore unto Clarinta; his generous ſoule not being able to conſent, that his heart ſhould ever love one, who as he thought had ſo baſely betrayed him. On the other ſide, ſhe who thought that ſhe had more reaſon to hate him, for ſo unworthily caſting her off, although ſhe ſeemed not to care a ruſh for it, yet her ſoule was ſo extreamly nettled with ſpite at it, as though ſhe was not able to find revenge ſo ſoon as ſhe deſired, yet ſhe could not defend her ſelfe from extreame ſadneſſe, which in her face did diſcover that diſcontent, which her heart would have concealed: And as a ſnow-ball growes bigger for being rowled in the ſnow, ſo this her diſpleaſure being joyned unto other vexations, whereof the life of man is very fertile, together with ſome indiſpoſition of her body, ſhe was brought into ſuch a condition, as ſhe was conſtrained to keep her bed, where all her paſtime was to ſigh and lament.

Amintor was preſently advertiſed of it; for by reaſon of their affinity, both their domeſtiques had much familiarity together. But this was not enough to appeaſe the offended ſpirit of that Cavalier. It happened, that this faire one growing every day worſe and worſe, he was told one night that ſhe was ſo very ill, as it was feared ſhe would not live until the morning. Thus farre he had held out; but hearing talke of death, he thought it time to render himſelfe, and therefore without more delay, he dreſſed himſelfe by force, and though ſick, yet crawling as well as he could to the lodging of Clarinta, he found her in bed, yet not in ſuch extremity as was reported. She who expected any viſit ſooner then his, and who was much offended at him, could not indure his preſence without paine, thinking that he came to ſee her onely to delude her more; and therefore ſhe rowſed up her ſelfe with a reſolution to anger him as much as ſhe could: And in order to this, after ſome common diſcourſe, ſhe asked him, what newes at Court: For, ſaid ſhe, I keeping my bed as you ſee me, I know nothing, but what out of pitty is told me. Madam, ſaid Amintor faintly, It is ſo long ſince I was at Court, or in any place but my bed, as you muſt not aske me for any newes: I came hither onely to ſee you, and am very glad to find you in a better condition then I heard you were. Perhaps Amintor, anſwered ſhe, you were in hopes to finde me dead: No, no, Sir, I will not yet put you to the expences of mourning for me: And to ſhew that I am not, thankes be to God, in ſuch a bad condition, I will manifeſt to you, that my thoughts are quite another way; then putting her hand under her Pillow, ſhe pulled out a Paper which ſhe gave him; Here Amintor, reade [Page] theſe Lines which were writ upon thoſe Flowers which you ſee at my Beds head; & if you cannot gueſs at the Author, I will tell you who it is: Before I ever reade them, ſaid he, I am moſt confident that I can name him; then opening the Paper, he began to read it.

When Amintor had read two or three lines, he pauſed a while: Well Sir, ſaid Clarinta unto him, what doe you thinke upon them? Hitherto, anſwered he, I find nothing which makes me alter my opinion, except the hand, which indeed is not the ſame I thought it; but perhaps it was writ purpoſely to delude thoſe that read it. I am ſure, ſaid Clarinta, that you are miſtaken; but read on, and perhaps you will know better, and your opinion will be quite confuſed. Then Amintor began to read again; and when he had read a line or two further; I cannot tell, ſaid he, whether that which followes may alter my opinion; but thus far I am ſtill in the ſame minde, and then he began to read out the reſt. When he had done, he muſed, and was much gravelled to imagine who ſhould be the Author: for at firſt he thought upon Alcires, but the concluſion put him quite out of that conceit: Clarinta ſeeing he could not hit upon it, and ſeeming to make great eſteem of the Paper, ſhe laid it in the place where it lay, and then turning towards him; I perceive Amintor, ſaid ſhe, that you cannot find out the Author; but, I aſſure you, he is a perſon who merits as good fortune as any about the Court, I muſt confeſſe, Madam, anſwered he, that theſe laſt lines doe put me out of my knowledge, unleſſe to diſguiſe himſelfe the more, he faigns to be leſſe favoured then he is. Why Amintor, replyed Clarinta preſently, doe you thinke me ſo liberall of my favours, as to conferre them upon any one? this might ſerve ſuch a one unto whom you gave ſo many fine thanks; but if you have not forgotten the way of my living with you, when you made addreſſes to me, you may know that I am not a perſon from whom any favours are to be expected. Oh Madam, anſwered he, and ſighed, I have but too good a memory of what you mention; But alas, my own eyes are ſuch certaine witneſſes, that I cannot give them the lye. Clarinta was very ill; but when ſhe heard him ſay ſo, ſhe turned in a fury towards him; what can your eyes witneſſe, ſaid ſhe, to my diſadvantage? and becauſe out of his reſpect unto her, he did not anſwer, ſhe continued; Nay, nay, Amintor, Never offer by your ſilence, to cover your ill will unto me under a vaile of reſpect, content your ſelfe with your paſt treaſons, and doe o [...] excuſe them, by accuſing me of your fault. Neither your eyes, nor the eyes of all men living, can teſtifie any thing to my diſadvantage; if they doe, they are unjuſt, and I ſhall look upon Amintor as the moſt perfidious and ungrateful man alive. If ever I failed, Madam, ſaid he, in my honourr of fidelity which I owe unto her who accuſeth me of perfidy and ingratitude, I pray heavens this minute may be the laſt of my life. But if you pleaſe, Madam, to give me leave, I will anſwer to the queſtion you asked me. Yes, yes, ſaid ſhe in an angry manner, tell all you know; but be ſure there be more truth in your words, then in your oathes. Madam, anſwered he, your command is needleſſe, and this is truth it ſelfe, that I would not deſire life, but to have the honour of doing you that faithful ſervice which I have vowed: I doe impatiently deſire to heare the end of your diſcourſe, ſaid Clarinta, that afterwards I may make you confeſſe your ſelfe to be the moſt ungrateful perſon in the whole Univerſe; I ſhall prove it by your owne hand, unleſſe you have the impudence to deny it: Amintor, after a while of ſilence, anſwered thus; If you will pleaſe, Madam, to tell me what moves you to uſe ſuch bitter termes and injuries againſt me, I will ſatisfie your deſire with a Proteſtation, that if I doe lye in any thing I ſay, I will pray unto the Gods moſt ſeverely to puniſh me, before I ſtir from this place: but I moſt humbly beſeech you, to let your minde be at reſt, until I have ſpoke a little in my owne defence. When you ſhewed me the Paper, I believed the happy Alcires to be the Author of it; but when I found in the laſt lines how he complained againſt thoſe Flowers, for enjoying the happineſſe he deſired, and of which he was deprived; I preſently altered my opinion, unleſſe it was ſo expreſſed purpoſely to diſguiſe the matter; for I have ſeen him enter into your Chamber ſo eaſily, that he could have no cauſe to wiſh for more permiſſion than he had. Oh ye Gods, Cryed out Clarinta, did you ever ſee Alcires come into my Chamber in the night? Madam, anſwered he, I have ſeen him go in, and in the night; may the Gods never proſper me, if theſe eyes of mine have not ſeen him do ſo: would any have thought, replyed ſhe, that Amintors ſoule ſhould ever have been ſo wicked, as to juſtifie a thing ſo falſe, and to call the Gods for a witneſſe of it? I am ſorry, Madam, replyed he, that in my obſervance of [Page] your Commands, I ſhould be forced to a diſcourſe, which troubles you ſo much; but moſt aſſuredly I have ſeen him goe in, and ſo ſure I am of it, that unleſſe I had entred in with him, I could not be more ſure. This, replyed Clarinta, is the moſt impudent villany that ever was invented: And oh ye [...]ods that uſe to protect the innocent, take my cauſe into your hands; make my innocence appeare, and puniſh theſe impoſtors; afterwards addreſſing her ſelfe to the Cavalier: it is not a time, ſaid ſhe, to diſſemble any longer; I will have this villany ſearched to the bottome, and the maske of it taken quite off: Life is not dearer to me than my honour, and death ſhall be evermore welcome to me than this Calamny and therefore Amintor ſpeake cleerly, and tell me when, and how you ſaw Alcires come into my Chamber, otherwiſe I ſhall beleeve that all you ſay is onely your own invention Madam, anſwered he, Alcires is the man who unhoodwinkt theſe eyes of mine, who when I would not beleeve what he ſaid, did let me ſee the extraordinary favours you did him, and brought me to your very Chamber door to ſee him enter, and upon this, he related unto her the whole ſtory of the buſineſſe, both what he had ſeene, and what had paſſed between Alcires and him.

This poore Lady was ſo aſtoniſhed at this cunning Calumny, as ſhe ſtood along time like a Statue, and was not able to open her mouth, at laſt recollecting her ſelfe, and rouſing up her ſpirits; is it poſſible (ſaid ſhe) that any humane wit ſhould be ſo wicked, as you tell me Alcires is againſt me, who never gave him any cauſe? Can the clemency of the gods be ſo great towards men, as not to chaſtiſe ſuch a damned villany? In the firſt place, Amintor, I doe ſweare and proteſt unto you, that there is nothing in the world more falſe than this impoſture, and may the gods poure out the higheſt of their indignation upon me, if there be any part of this calumny true: in the ſecond place, I conjure you by our former friendſhip, and by all thoſe promiſes of good will unto me which you have vowed unto me, alſo by the obligation of conſanguinity betwixt us, that you ſearch out this wickedneſſe to the very bottome, ſo as there may not remain in you or any that heares of it, the leaſt doubt of the truth: And upon this condition and no other, I will pardon the offence you have done me in beleeving ſuch falſe and wicked things of me; And though I could clear the matter before you goe from hence; yet I deſire for my ſatisfaction, that as Alcires and your owne eyes have deceived you, ſo I would have it them that ſhould undeceive you, you ſay that he uſed to come very often unto me: Looke, but looke well into the matter, and I am confident you will find he went ſome whither elſe. And yet, not to leave you long in ſo bad an opinion of me, I will let you ſee that Alcires does not manage his villany with judgement; You told me that when he brought you to my Chamber doore, was the ſame day that Eurick condeſcended unto Daphnides petition concerning a Priſoner; I doe very well remember by a remarkable accident, that it was the fifteenth day of the Month of Mars: Now I would gladly have you heare the teſtimony of all the ſervants in my houſe, before I ſpeake with them, to the end you may know that God may permit innocency to be ſlandered, but not oppreſſed; And it muſt be confeſſed, that in this God hath ſhewed a particular protection, ſince for more than eight dayes before, and more then eight dayes after the fifteenth day of the month of Mars, I did not lye in my Chamber, but in my Mothers, unto whom I went every night, by reaſon of ſome indiſpoſition which ſhe had.

If it be ſo, ſaid Amintor, than the villany is cleerly diſcovered: You ſhall immediatly ſee (ſaid ſhe) that ſo it is: upon this, ſhe called for all her maids, and in the preſence of the Cavalier asked them, how long it was ſince the laſt time ſhe lay in her Mothers Chamber, and how many nights ſhe lay there; all of them teſtified the very ſame ſhe had told, and did make the impoſture of Alcires ſo plaine that Amintor was put out of all doubt.

This Cavalier hearing the concurrent Teſtimonies of ſo many, he was ſo convinced of the truth, as he thought it abſolutely impoſſible to be otherwiſe. And when all the women were retired, he ſaid thus unto Clarinta; I muſt needs confeſſe Madam, that the impoſture of Alcires is very great, and containes two grand offences; the one againſt you, & the other againſt me; and becauſe I am ſenſible as well of my own error as his wickednes; I moſt humbly beg a pardon for retaining ſuch an ill opinion of you, beſeeching you to conſider how cunningly this villany hath been carried, and how true love is alwayes apt to be jealous: When I have the happineſſe to obtaine this pardon, I ſhall then call Alcires to a ſtrickt accompt for ſtaining the reputation of Clarinta and for moſt perfidiouſly [Page] betraying his friend Amintor by his ſubtle impoſtures. Clarinta who ſtill preſerved ſome ſparkes of good will unto this Cavalier, ſeeing him ſo ſubmiſſively upon his knees before her, ſhe kindly tooke him up, and cauſing him to fit by her, with teares in her eyes ſaid thus unto him. Although Amintor, the ſubtle villany of Alcires be very great and much beyond your crime; yet let me tell you that you are farre from being blameleſſe in beleeving ſuch things of me, having long before received ſo many teſtimonies from me of the contrary: But when I conſider your affection to me, I will lay the whole load upon jealouſie, which is ordinary with thoſe that love, and ſo pardon the fault upon two conditions; the one is, that ſince Alcires uſeth to come ſo often unto me in the night, you to follow him, ſo as you may know whither he goes, for certainly he comes not hither; in thus doing, perhaps you will diſcover ſome other haunts, which I ſhall be glad to know, that I may pay him in his owne Coyne, and doe him the diſpleaſure he intended to doe me: The other condition is, that you promiſe me not to reſent this offence too deeply againſt him; I know your courage is apt to call him unto ſatisfaction, and this I muſt not ſuffer, becauſe if you doe you will offend me more than he has; it would reflect much upon me, you would thereby make all the Court know that which is now onely knowne to your ſelfe; you know that a Calumny will blaſt a womans reputation and ſcandals will ſpread themſelves like aire into all eares. Madam (ſaid Amintor) this laſt command goes ſomething hardly downe; and I beſeech you conſider, that though it be not in revenge of you, yet I am obliged to let this impoſtor know, that I am not a perſon that can put up ſuch injuries: for reputation is ſo chairy and cautelous, as though none know any thing, yet if we our ſelves can ſuffer any indignity without reſentment, we are not worthy to be called perſons of honour; for a conſcience is as good as a thouſand Witneſſes. Amintor, ſaid ſhe unto him, I would have you doe this for my ſake, and to conſider with your ſelfes, that every Cavalier is obliged at much unto the honour of Ladies as their own; you know Amintor that you ought to have a care of mine, and ought not to doe any thing which may give it the leaſt ſtaine. I will not inſtance by way of obligation upon you, the affection which heretofore you have promiſed unto me; for I now ſee, that the power I have over you is but very little. Madam, ſaid Amintor, and interrupted her, to ſhew you that you never had more power over me than now you have, I will do as you command me, but ſtill upon condition that you tell me, what the perfidie is whereof you accuſe me, and whether it ariſe from ſuch another originall as that of Alcires. I do beleeve, ſaid ſhe, that it is poſſible to be ſo, yet your owne hand writing which I know very well, will hardly let me thinke you innocent. Then cauſing a box to be brought unto her, ſhe tooke out the torne paper which Alcires gave unto her, and giving one piece unto him, can you deny, ſaid ſhe, that this is your writing? Amintor having looked well upon it; I muſt confeſſe, Madam, ſaid he, that this is my hand: Then ſaid Clarinta, when all the peeces are put together, they will ſhew you the perfidie whereof I accuſe you; for I confeſſe the Letter was brought whole unto my hands; but when I ſaw my ſelfe ſo baſely betrayed by a perſon from whom I leaſt expected it, very ſpite and anger made me tear it thus in pieces. Amintor was ſo much amazed as he could not anſwer; but ſhe raiſing her ſelfe up in her bed, and ſpreading the pieces of paper upon it, ſhe joyned them ſo together as ſhe read unto him, that thankes which he gave for the extraordinary favour which he had received. Amintor calling to memory the time when he writ this Letter, and by what cunning he was induced to write it: I muſt needs confeſſe Madam ſaid he, that Alcires is the moſt ſubtle, crafty and pernitious man that ever breathed; tis true I writ this Letter, and gave it unto him onely as a Copy, and without any ſeale; and ſo he told the whole ſtory and truth of the buſineſſe: but, ſaid he, I doe remember one thing which remains in my hands, and which confirmes, as you ſaid, that God never fails the innocent, for that will ſhew you the truth of what I tell you and therefore by your permiſſion, I will ſend for a little box, in which I put the paper that Alcires writ, when he intreated me to indite that Letter for him, according as he ſaid, the King had commanded him. By which you may plainly ſee, that what I did was only at his inſtance, and without any concernment of my owne. Clarinta had a great deſire to ſift out the matter, and therefore deſired him to ſend for this paper which being preſently brought did cleerly teſtifie the truth of what Amintor ſaid, which gave ſuch full ſatisfaction unto Clarinta (for ſhe knew the hand of Alcires very well) as giving her hand unto Amintor, I aske your pardon wronged Amintor, ſaid ſhe, for the ill opinion which I entertained of [Page] you proteſting for the future, that no Artifice whatſoever, ſhall make me miſtruſt your affection. Madam, anſwered Amintor, and kiſſed her hand, I ſhall place this day in my Calender, as the happieſt I ever lived, ſince it has diſcovered two things which would never have come to light by any other meanes: The one is, That it hath let me know how my own eyes have betrayed me: And the other is, That it hath let you ſee, how I am ſtill your moſt faithfull ſervant. Theſe two happy encounter [...] doe ſo much t [...]nſport me beyond my ſelfe, as I muſt confeſſe I have not words to expreſſe my thankes unto you, and my good fortune; He would have continued, but he was prevented by the Kings coming in, who hearing how ill this Lady was, he came to viſit her, almoſt all alone, leſt too much company ſhould diſquiet her: and he came in upon ſuch a ſuddaine, as he ſurpriſed the pieces of the Letter which were upon the bed: As for Amintor, he had preſently put his up; but Clarinta was ſo ſurpriſed at the Kings ſuddaine coming, and finding that Cavalier with her, as ſhe forgot to put hers up: And the King ſpying them, laid his hand upon them ſo quickly, as ſhe could not hinder him, and all her prayers were fruitleſſe to make him render it back again. But on the contrary, lapping it up very carefully in his Hankercher; and after he had talked with her a while, he retired himſelfe to his Cloſet, where putting the pieces of Paper into order, and ſaw the thankes which Amintor gave her, (for he knew it to be his hand) imagine you in what a caſe he was. All Lovers are commonly jealous, but eſpecially this King; whether it was that he loved with great violence, or whether his generous courage could not brooke a Rivall; yet ſo it was, that this jealouſie moved him to ſuch a hatred of this fair & wiſe Lady, as he did not content himſelfe with telling this unto me, and ſhewing the Letter unto Amintor; but he blazed it abroad, and made ſuch a publique matter of it, as all the Court had talke enough upon that ſubject.

Obſerve, ſage Father, how this pettiſh god, whom they call Love, is pleaſed to make himſelfe merry with ſuch as ſerve him, I deſired to break off the amity betwixt Eurick and Clarinta; and in order thereunto, I made uſe of Alcidons love by way of gratification; and to the end I ſhould not be beholding to my own prudence, did raiſe up Alcires, who with a Letter which fell into the hands of the King, did doe the work for me. The drift of Alcires, was to take off a ſervant from Clarinta, and by his ſubtilty make her hate his Rivall, and quite contrary, the diſatisfaction of Clarinta was the cauſe of her receiving Alcidon into her favour: And ſo Alcires, in lieu of one Rivall, found two. Alcidon on the other ſide, who gave that Paper of Verſes unto Clarinta, in hopes to obtaine her favour, he gave occaſion to Amintor to be reconciled unto her, and to find out the knavery of Alcires. Alcires he got Amintor to write a Letter, with intention to make the faire Clarinta hate him by it; and this Letter quite contrary to his aime, did make himſelfe out of favour: But the worſt of all is, and which is the cauſe of my coming into this Country: I who aiming to make Clarinta loſe a ſervant, I gave her one, and deprived my ſelfe of him, to reſigne him unto her; for Alcidon ſince that time, has ſo wholly devoted himſelfe unto her, that he is mine onely in his tongue, and hers in his heart. Oh the giddy and unconſtant humours of men! There is nothing in the world will make them and their fleeting minds firm and ſtable.

But this Cavalier, having begun a Courtſhip of this Lady, by my commands, he continued it according to his will; ſo as ſhe may very well boaſt, that as I took one ſervant from her, ſhe has alſo raviſhed another from me, and with this advantage, that ſhe loved Eurick onely out of ambition: but I did love Alcidon really and cordially: At the firſt, I did not reſent the loſſe, becauſe I received extream contentment in being, delivered from that inquietude which Clarinta kept me in, till of late. But I did not long enjoy this reſt, for it ſeems the heaven is pleaſed I ſhould tread alwaies upon thornes; for I had no ſooner enjoyed this happy victory, but I was forced to take up Armes againſt a new enemy.

For Eurick being extreamly offended at Clarinta, but for ſome great and prudent conſiderations, durſt not make ſhew of his reſentments, he reſolved to make her repent it, and through envy would chaſtife her, by conferring thoſe favours on another, which might have been hers, could ſhe have been contented to be onely his. And in order to this reſolution, whereas before time his affection was divided amongſt three; now his intention was, to place it all, at leaſt all his favours, upon one onely Miſtreſs.

I told you before, that when I deſired Alcidon to make addreſſes unto Clarinta, there [Page] was another Lady whoſe name was Adelonde, unto whom the King had made ſome ſigns of goodwill. And now, in revenge upon Clarinta, he devotes himſelfe, and all his favorable addreſſes unto her; ſhe is now become his, and the Courts onely Idol; ſo as though her extraction was much inferiour unto Clarinta's or mine, yet ſuch was his deſigne to preferre her before us both; ſo as I muſt confeſſe I was two or three times in a mind to break off quite with him: But Alcidon, by his wiſe advice, ſtill diſſwaded me, and in this made me overcome both my ſelfe, the King, and her: ſo as I may well ſay, that I doe owe all the contentments which I have ſince received, unto him, and his patience.

Adelonde being now raiſed above all her hopes, ſhe ſtill raiſed her pretenſions unto a higher pitch and though all the world did thinke the favours which this great Prince conferred upon her, to be very high, yet ſtill her deſires were higher. Theſe inſatible deſires prompted her to make uſe of all wayes, juſt or unjuſt, eaſie or hard, to accompliſh them. And therefore, when ſome of her friends adviſed her to uſe ſome charmes, thereby to retaine the wavering minde of this Prince, ſhe hearkened unto them; Whereupon, ſhe gave unto the Great Eurick, a bracelet of her haire, the lockets whereof were Lions, ſet with ſtones: Theſe Lions had ſuch a quality, as whoſoever wore them about their arms, they could love none but her. Perhaps it may not be ſtrange, that two ſuch puiſſant paſſions, as Love and Ambition, ſhould tempt her unto this Crime, had ſhe reſted here, and not add [...]d a ſecond, which indeed proceeded meerly for want of judgement: But ſhe thinking that he would preſerve them as precious Gemmes, and would weare them continually; or at leaſt, to make him do ſo, and not give them unto another: ſhe told him, that a very learned Druid, who had a very particular care of him and his Crown, knowing what wicked attempts would be againſt his life and ſtate, had made thoſe Lions under ſuch Conſtellations, and with ſuch Art, that as long as he wore them about his Arme, no enterpriſe of his enemies ſhould have any effect againſt him; but as often as any enterpriſe was attempted to his prejudice, theſe Lions would advertiſe him, by ſcratching his Arm gently with their Clawes.

But ſee, ſage Father, how the Heavens doe mock at thoſe, who would compaſſe their deſignes by unlawful meanes. That which this Lady had taken ſo much paines about, to augment and preſerve the affection of this great Prince unto her, was it which made her entirely loſe it: For as ſoon as ever he perceived that ſhe made uſe of Charmes and Magick, he believed that all the inclinations he had unto her, proceeded from ſome Divels, and not from her beauty, or any merit in her: and from that time did ſo extreamly abominate her, as he would never come neere her; and when he ſpake of her, he called her his Medea, and his Witch.

I have related this paſſage, Father, not as any way relating unto Alcidon, or me; but onely that you may better know the humour and ſpirit of the Great Eurick, and by that to judge whether I had not great reaſon to preſerve his good will unto me, by all manner of prudent ſubtilty that poſſibly I could; and whether I had not as good reaſon to impoſe this task upon Alcidor.

Now, whatſoever I ſhall relate unto you more concerning this great Prince, will not at all concerne the difference betwixt us; for ſince that time, we lived together as we did before. The King he returned unto me with all manner of ſubmiſſion and ſorrow, for offending a perſon whom formerly he had loved. Alcidon, he [...]loved and courted Clarinta before my face, never rendring unto me thoſe offices which the affection I had unto him merited, and which by the law of Fidelity he was bound to pay, had there beene any ſpark of that virtue in him. As for me, I bore it out as well as I could, and preſerved the Kings favours to me with all poſſible ſolicitations: ſo as I could with truth ſay, that amongſt all my cares, none was ſo great, as to ſee this fickle Alcidon was not aſhamed to ſerve that Lady in my very preſence, after ſo many promiſes of affection and fidelity to me.

But, Father, why ſhould I talke any more upon this ſubject, ſince I now muſt tell you of this great Princes death; and tell it I muſt, ſince, I owe it unto the memory of the greateſt and moſt generous Prince that ever raigned in Gaule. Now therefore, ſage Adamas, that the great Eurick finding the affection of Clarinta fickle, and that of Adelonda, full of foul practices, he thought mine onely worthy of himſelfe; for he ſaw me keep ſuch a retired decorum in all my wayes, as he could not ſuſpect I loved any but himſelfe, unleſſe it was Alcidon, of whom he could not entertaine the leaſt ſpark of jealouſie. [Page] But calling all my actions into his memory, and how modeſtly I had tolerated his various affections and departures, and alſo how ſweetly I received him at his returne, he came at length to that reſolution which I deſired, and declared that he would marry me, and make me Queen, as well of his Dominions, as of his heart and affections. Judge, Reverend Father, whether I and all my relations had not good reaſon to deem our ſelves fully happy: But alas, I find too well, that the heavens are not pleaſed to let a high happineſſe laſt long: For when I was arrived at the very top of all my hopes, happineſſe and deſires; when I had made all preparations of joy for the marriage, a curſed Aſſaſinate being inſpired with a helliſh ſpirit, did raviſh him from me by a fatall blow which he trayterouſly gave him to the heart.

Oh Heavens! Can you ſuffer ſuch a horrid villany to paſſe unpuniſhed? muſt not ſuch a Monſter as this be made an eternall example of horrour to affright all men, if there be any ſo unnaturally wicked from ſuch a curſed act? You may imagine in what a ſad condition I was, when this fatall newes was brought unto me by the outcryes of the People: For my part I am not able to tell you how I tooke it; for I did not onely loſe the uſe of my reaſon, but alſo of my ſenſes for a long time; for every one tooke me for dead. Oh happy had I been if it had been to; then ſhould I have buried all my ſorrows, & all my contentments would have followed him to his Grave. Upon theſe words ſuch a flood of teares flowed in her eyes, as ſhe was not able to ſpeake of a long time; which gave a ſufficient teſtimony how deepely ſhe reſented her loſſe; but at laſt, the wind of ſeverall ſighes drying up the raine of her eyes, ſhe aſſumed her ſpirit, and continued thus.

Pardon I beſeech you Father, the weakneſſe of a woman, for ſuch an occaſion might perhaps excuſe a ſpirit of a higher temper than mine, did any reſent them ſo neer the heart as I doe. But to paſſe over ſuch ſad remembrances which cannot chuſe but be tedious unto you, and to fall into the diſcourſe where I digreſſed, give me leave to tell you, that whilſt I was in the midſt of laments, and could not find any reſt or conſolation to my ſad ſoule; this cruell Alcidon, to loaden me with more miſery, did preſently quit Clarinta and comes impudently upon me, as if he had never let any other have a ſhare in his affection. I muſt confeſſe I was much amazed to ſee him without bluſh talke to me with as much confidence as formerly; but I was more offended at him for coming upon me ſo impudently, and never offering to aske pardon for the injury he had done me, and to talke to me of love and affection: For nothing under the Sun offends a woman more than after profeſſion of Love to quit her and love another. I permitted his diſcourſe a long while and gave no anſwer: I beleeve he attributed my ſilence unto the reſentments of my loſſe; but ſeeing he continued on, my patience could hold out no longer, and therefore I was conſtrained to ſay thus unto him. Alcidon let me intreat you to hold your peace, ſuch talke as this, is not now ſeaſonable betwixt us; though heretofore it was permitted, yet now, ſince both you and I are much changed from what we were, it is not allowable. He would have anſwered, but I gave him the ſtop, and ſaid unto him; Yes, yes, Alcidon, both you and I are very much altered: I in this, becauſe heretofore I thought you had loved only Daphaide, and am now aſſured of the contrary: And you in this, that heretofore you devoted your ſelfe wholly unto me, and now the faire Clarinta onely poſſeſſeth you, and may ſhe long and peacably enjoy her Conqueſt: I promiſe you Alcidon that I am ſo farre from envying her happineſſe, as I will pray the Heavens it may many ages continue: Alcidon was mightily amazed at this, and would gladly have juſtified himſelfe; but I was ſo certaine of the truth, as all his talke did rather move anger than love. Afterwards (for at that time he ſaw me ſo angry, as he could not put in a word) I left him in as angry a mood as I my ſelfe was: But the next morning he ſurpriſed me before I was dreſt; and by chance Carlis▪ and Stiliana were then both in my Chamber, and they being very familiar with us, neither he nor I concealed any thing from them: He fell downe upon his knees, proteſted that he would never riſe, unleſſe I would promiſe him to heare his Juſtification patiently, and then he would let me diſpoſe of his life and happineſſe as I pleaſed. I, who was ſufficiently loaded with misfortunes already, had no mind to adde unto them thoſe diſpleaſures which I foreſaw, but perſiſted in my reſolution not to hear him, knowing very well, that good wits never want good words to perſwade what they will, eſpecially Alcidon, whoſe eloquence I was not ignorant of, but was affraid he would incline me to imbrace that ſervice, which had ſo baſely quitted me for another.

[Page] At laſt Carlis and Stiliana hearing our conteſt, they told me, that ſuch a Judge was unjuſt as would condemne a Party before he heard him. Moſt true, my dear friends, ſaid I unto them; but did you know as well as I, what charmes his words have whom you would have me hear, you would adviſe me to ſtop my eares, rather than lend them unto the inchantments of ſuch a Charmer as Serpents doe: But ſince you will have it ſo, let me oblige you to aſſiſt me; which both promiſing they would, he roſe up, and knew ſo well how to plead his Cauſe, as they were both abſolutely for him. And becauſe I knew very well that all his eloquence was but oyled words and gilded language to gloze over his excuſes, without any reality of truth, I ſo farre reſiſted him, as it was reſolved upon by both ſides to have recourſe unto the Oracle, which returned us this anſwer.

Upon a day, you'l ſee

A Fountaine, in Forreſt

Called Loves Veritie

Will ſet your hearts at reſt.

This Anſwer, ſo obſcure and full of ambiguity, none of us knowing the Country, nor ever ſo much as heard of the Fountaine of Loves Verity, it did much perplex us: And Alcidon to ſhew what a great deſire he had that the truth of his affection might appeare, he made ſuch enquiry of this Fountaine, as hearing of it, he could not reſt untill a Voyage unto it was reſolved upon. I muſt needs confeſſe, Father, his importunity did much move me unto it; but one of the cheife reaſons which induced me thereunto was my deſire of being for a while abſent from the place where I had ſo many ſad Memorandums of my loſſe, hoping that being farre off them, my ſorrowes would by degrees leſſen: And unto this may be added my curioſity of ſeeing whether that Country, and thoſe who dwelt in it were ſo happy as reports went; for wonders were told me of the places beauty, of the ſweetneſſe of the Aire, the abundance of Rivers, full of Fiſh, and the pleaſantneſſe of the Fields. But when I heard of the delectable lives of the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes of Loire, of Furant, of Argent, of Serane, but eſpecially of Lignon, I was raviſhed, and wondered that all Europe did not go and inhabit in Forreſts. To know therefore whether all this fame was true, I conſeuted unto this journey: and becauſe we heard that all thoſe who are there were habited in the garbs of ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes, alſo deſiring not to be knowne, we diſguiſed our ſelves in this habit, as well for the reaſons aforeſaid, as becauſe we needed not any great train of Servants to attend us.

Thus reverend Father, you have heard, not onely a relation of our lives paſt, and of our difference, but alſo the cauſe of our Voyage, and of our diſguiſe; we want nothing now but your prudent direction, how we may ſee and have addreſſes unto this Fountain, and your ſapient Counſell unto ſuch as ſtand in ſuch need of it as we doe.

Thus ended the faire Daphnide, leaving Adamas in a great opinion of her Prudence and Wit; and becauſe he perceived ſhe expected his anſwer, he replyed thus. Who is it Madam, that hath heard of great Euricke, and amongſt the wonders of his Hiſtory does not admire the puiſſance that the beauty of Daphnide had over his ſoule? I beleeve that Ganges and Thyle have heard ſo much diſcourſe of it, as that your names are as well knowne here as in Gaule.

But I muſt confeſſe that preſence which uſually does diminiſh the opinion which fame gives of abſent perſons, does make it appeare that the opinion which I had of Daphnides beauty and merit was much below what I find to be true: I thanke the Gods for honouring my houſe ſo much as to ſee you in it, and ſhould be much more thankfull if I can be any way ſerviceable unto you▪ For, and it is without any flattery, I was never more affected unto the ſervice of Amaſis or Galathea, then I am unto yours, and I ſhall eſteem ery day happy that gives me any opportunity to ſhew the truth of this: Let alſo this my devotion extend it ſelfe very farre unto Alcidon: And as to the Queſtion which you aske me concerning the Oracle, I can at preſent ſay no more but this; that it is impoſſible you ſhould receive that benefit which the Oracle promiſeth from the Fountaine, unleſſe ſome ſtrange and even miraculous things do come to paſſe: For Madam, this Fountaine as I told you before is indeed in this Country, and not farre from this houſe, but Clideman and Gug [...]man procured a learned Druide to inchant it, and ſet ſuch guards upon it, as it is a thing impoſſible to attempt the ſeeing it by force: For it is perpetually watched [Page] by moſt fierce Animals; and ſuch Charms cannot be uncharmed, but by the death of the moſt faithfull Male and Female Lovers in the world. What kind of Animals are they? (ſaid Alcidon): for to teſtifie that I doe, and ever did love this faireſt Lady, I am very willing to venture one.

If you can but finde, ſaid the Druid, and ſmiled, the moſt faithfull female, as it ſeemes you have the male, perhaps you may with the loſſe of your life, let the faire Daphnide ſee this Fountaine: but I believe you will hardly finde a companion; and ſince it is ſo, I adviſe you to leave off your deſigne, and take my word that no humane wit or power can bring it to paſſe, but this way I have told you: It is guarded by two of the greateſt and moſt fierce Lions that ever any eye beheld, and two of the keeneſt Unicorns, which guard the entrance into this Fountaine, whilſt the Lions go about to looke for their prey: As for the Unicornes they fed like Horſes and Deer, upon Graſs and Leaves. But it is moſt ſtrange, that theſe Lions, though of a fierce and keen nature, yet never offer any harme, but unto ſuch as offer to enter into this Fountaine; in ſo much as the little Children feare them no more then they doe little Dogges; but if any doe approach neare a hedge which growes about the Fountaine, you ſhall ſee the Lions grin with their teeth, and their eyes ſparkle; and alſo the Unicornes prepare themſelves in ſuch a fearful poſture, as is moſt terrible to behold: There is no thoughts therefore of any force; but in as much as I know that the Great Tautates is no lyer, and that by his Oracle he anſwers you, that one day you ſhall ſee the Fountaine of Loves Verity; It is very fit methinks, that we diſcourſe a little upon this ſubject; for Oracles are never falſe, but the interpretation of them does very often deceive us, becauſe ſometimes they muſt be underſtood according to the naturall word, and ſometimes Allegorically: To come therefore to the interpretation of this: If one ſhould take it literally, and according to the word, it might be thought that the Inchantment of this Fountaine will quickly end, were it not for one word, which is, One day, which methinkes intimates as much, as if it were a thing farre off: for ſo we uſe to ſay, when we wiſh for any thing which we long for: And upon this conſideration I ground, that the Oracle is perhaps to be underſtood in another manner, which I thus interpret.

The proper quality of the Fountaine of Loves Verity, is to ſee whether or no one doe truly love. Then any thing that can let us ſee the ſame thing, may upon the ſame reaſon be ſaid in that particular, to be the Fountaine of Loves Verity; that is, working the ſame effects which this Fountaine doth; Now Time, Perſeverance and Services, may doe the ſame. It followes therefore, that Time, Services, and Perſeverance, is this Fountaine of which we ſpeak. And that which induceth me unto this opinion is this word, One day; For that denotes length of time, which gives occaſions of doing ſervice, and gives leaſure to ſhew perſeverance. To tell you why the Oracle did Allegorically ſpeak rather of Forreſt in particular, then of the Roman Province, ſince time may worke the ſame effects there, as well as here, is a thing which I cannot doe: and yet ſince there cannot be any thing ſuperfluous or defective in the Oracles which are the words of the Gods; I thinke this Country was made choice of for two reſpects: The one, becauſe you ſhould be farre from your own Country, where your quality, your buſineſſe, your kindred, friends and acquaintance, may ſo diſturbe you, that the leaſt part of this time which ſhould be imployed to bring you unto this knowledge, is imployed as the Oracle commands; whereas being here free and without any conſtraint, the whole time is your own. The other reſpect is, and I believe the greater; that heaven would have you ſojourne a while in this Country, to the end that by obſerving the daily converſation of theſe ſincere ſhepheards and ſhepheardeſſes, you may the better come to know the ſincerity of that affection which Alcidon profeſſeth to you, or elſe his falſity and diſſimulation: For whiteneſſe will beſt appeare, when black is oppoſed to it. I conclude therefore, by one way or other, that the Oracle is to be underſtood thus: That you ought to ſtay for a time in this Country, as well to ſee whether the inchantment will ceaſe, as to try the truth of Alcidons affection; of which in the interim, I am in very great hopes; for it is to be thought, that the Gods like good Phyſitians, would never apply remedies to diſeaſes that are incurable; I meane, that had they known the anger of Daphnide would be perpetuall they would never have propounded this remedy.

Thus the ſage Druid ended his diſcourſe, and becauſe Daphnide offered to be going away, Adamas did the like; but Alcidon ſtayed him, beſeeching him to make Daphnide [Page] ſit downe againe, that he might in his preſence import a buſineſſe of ſome importance. Then the Druid ſtaying her almoſt by force, Alcidon began thus.

He, Revernd Father, who ſaid he was cut with the ſharpeſt ſword, and being asked what ſword, anſwered, that it was the ſword of Calumny, does thereby intimate unto our underſtandings, that there is nothing which deeper pierceth the heart and the ſoule then it, and which I have very often found to be moſt true in my ſelfe, ſince it ſo pleaſed my fortune and this faire one to have it ſo; and the wounds ſmart now worſe then ever, ſince ſhe continues her ill opinion of me, and blames me in the preſence of ſo reverend a perſon as the wiſe Adamas. And becauſe I know that a charge untrue may paſſe for truth, and becauſe I had rather die any way then in her ill opinion, I muſt humbly beſeech you, Madam, give me leave to ſpeake the truth in my own defence. Then becauſe the Druid ſaid it was but reaſon, he continued thus:

§

THis faire one, ſage Father, has taken the paines to relate unto you the whole ſeries of my miſerable fortune, and I muſt needs ſay, ſhe has done it truly, unleſſe in her two dogmaticall opinions: I muſt needs ſay, ſhe is like unto thoſe who look through coloured Glaſſe, whoſe eyes ſee all things to be of the Iſame colour: for her minde being poſſeſſed either with Love or Ambition, ſhe judges of all things according to thoſe Glaſſes; ſo as every thing which ſhe ſees in me, ſeems unto her to be as ſhe ſees them in her ſelf: Alas faireſt Daphnide, it grieves me to upbraid you thus, and I wiſh I could make it falſe with the loſſe of my blood and life: but you have teſtified that it is but, too true, both by effects and by words: when you commanded me with ſo many proteſtations of affection, to court Clarinta, what promiſes did you then make me? you have heard them, grave Father; for ſhe has rightly related them, and the reaſons alſo why ſhe thought it requiſite, I ſhould addreſſe my ſelfe unto Clarinta: I ſhall onely hint at them, to bring them into your memory; If I be ruined in the opinion of Eurick, ſaid ſhe, then are you the ſame, becauſe our two fortunes are conjunct and inſeparable. But what kind of ruine was it ſhe menaced and meant? onely forſooth, to be baniſhed with her from the Court: If Clarinta, ſaid ſhe, doe proſper in her deſignes, ſhe will baniſh us both the Court. Why, Daphnide? Is it ſuch an intollerable torment, and an utter ruine, to ſpend the reſt of your dayes with one that loves you beyond all expreſſion? Oh that your language had been as full of truth as cunning, and that Love had as much power over you as Ambition? then would you never have enjoyed me to court her, who would have ruined nothing in us but this idol Ambition. Nay on the contrary, ſhe would with abundance of thankes, have been glad of the occaſion of our living together. But I beſeech you reverend Sir, obſerve what a fine gilded Pill ſhe gave me to ſwallow, and what a delicate cover ſhe had to excuſe her ſetting me away from her. You cannot be ignorant, ſaid ſhe, how liberall both Heaven and Nature hath been unto you in all excellent endowments; If you doe court Clarinta, ſhe will be taken with them, which Eurick ſeeing, he will ſcorn her; and ſhe will give her Selfe, and all her Ambition unto you.

Oh Love, wilt thou not revenge ſuch poyſoning flattery? She would perſwade me, that Clarinta would quit that ſame Ambition, which cauſeth Daphnide to reject me, and give me unto another: but why ſhould any imagine, ſhe ſhould deſire my ſeparation from her? Is it out of any ſecret hatred ſhe beares unto me? or becauſe ſhe thinkes me troubleſome? No, no, none of theſe; but for the ſame reaſon ſhe her ſelfe alleadged. Eurick, ſaid ſhe, ſeeing you Court her, and ſhe entertaining you, he will ſleight her and retire. This, this, Father, was the maine end all her candid eloquence did aime at: Thus would ſhe have ſhifted me off unto Clarinta. Well, ſhe commanded it, and I was all obedience; but have I not great reaſon to complaine, ſince ſhe is not ſatisfied with thus deceiving me; but ſhe muſt alſo at my returne, accuſe me of her own fault? I ſweare unto you, ſaid ſhe, that all the paines you take in Courting her, ſhall be put upon my accompt, and I will be your paymaſter. Is it poſſible Daphnide, you ſhould ſpeake this, and now blame me for Courting Clarinta? Nay have I not rather reaſon to require my wages for doing your commands as near as I could? But perhaps you ſay, that when Eurick was once out of fancy, I ſhould have deſiſted, and as the occaſion varies, ſo ought the enterpriſe. I muſt confeſſe, Madam, that when the cauſe ceaſeth, the effects muſt ceaſe alſo: but ſince the [Page] King was diverted from his affection unto Clarinta, by reaſon of my addreſſe, ſo had preſently deſiſted, why might it not well be imagined, that then his affection would have returned: would not this laſt fault have beene worſe then the firſt? But faireſt Daphnide, if you had a mind that I ſhould have deſiſted, why did not you command me. Could you imagine that you had not an abſolute power over me, having had formerly ſo many ſignall teſtimonies of it. But here comes in a very fine accuſation; As ſoone as ever Eurick was dead (ſayes ſhe) he preſently leaves his Clarinta, and never ſo much as asking any pardon, comes to me as impudently, as if he had never devoted himſelfe unto another. What is it thou ever canſt doe, unfortunate Alcidon, to give a teſtimony of thy fidelity, ſince that which in all reaſon is the greateſt evidence of it, is taken for the contrary? I courted Clarinta by command and againſt my will: onely as Daphnide ſaid, through reaſon of ſtate, and to the end Eurick ſhould diſguſt her: Now can it be thought ſtrange that when Euricke is dead during this counterfeit Courtſhip, I ſhould deſiſt from it? had I not done ſo, it might be thought I had ſome other deſigne: But ſaid ſhe, you ought to have asked me pardon before you returned to your wonted way of converſation with me; Good God, muſt I in lieu of payment and recompence aske pardon? And why Madam I beſeech you, ſhould I aske it? Perhaps you will anſwer, becauſe you have courted Clarinta; but I beſeech you, did not you command it, and command it with a promiſe of recompence? but perhaps you will ſay again, that I continued longer in the ſervice than I ſhould have done; but why Madam, ſhould I not have continued longer ſince I expected your commands for it.

May not this ſame Queſtion be as well asked a Gally-ſlave, whoſe will depends upon anothers? If one ſhould aske him why he is ſo long in that Captivity? Has he not more reaſon to aske, why doe they keep me in it ſo long? You tell me, you are ſure I loved Clarinta, and endeavoured for particular favours: But ſuppoſe I did, and that this affection did diſpleaſe you, can you blame any but your ſelfe for it; why did you command me to ſerve her? Is it not an evident demonſtration, that ambition is more predominate in you than love, and muſt you not needs confeſſe, that ſince I obeyed your command ſo willingly, Love was more ſtrong in me than your Ambition? For all thoſe reaſons which you alledged unto me to ſhift me off from you, was only in favour of this curſed ambition: And if the love which you ſay I bore unto Clarinta was ſo potent in me, why did I reject her ſervice as ſoone as poſſibly I could? Why elſe ſhould I quit her as ſoone as ever Euricke was dead? Had Clarinta treated me worſe than uſuall, had ſhe made any new choice, or had there beene any bad underſtanding betwixt her and me, then there had beene ſome cauſe to ſuſpect my returne unto you; but ſince ſhe never gave me the leaſt ſhadow of any cauſe, what can you thinke could make me leave her, but onely the inviolable affection which I ſtill preſerved for you? But Father, perhaps you may aske why the faire Daphnide, who had formerly made ſo much affection unto me appeare both before, and during Euricks love, even to the hazard of our Fortune and reputation, ſhould after the death of this Prince, thus change her mind [...]nto me, and give me no entertainment: For it is not likely, that a Lady ſo admirably accompliſhed every way, and ſo full of judgment, ſhould alter her humour without ſome occaſion. No Sir, but will you ſee her reaſon for it out of her owne words: Tis true, that at firſt ſhe loved that Prince onely out of ambition, and as ſhe cals it Reaſon of State; but is it ſtrange a finger ſhould be burned if It be held in the flame; nay it were rather a miracle if it ſhould not, for that were againſt Nature.

The great Eurick was doubteleſſe a Prince ſo fully adorned with all accompliſhed blandiſhments that allure Love, as the faire one was by degrees caught before ſhe was aware, and in lieu of loving him, as ſhe ſaid, ſhe loved him as he deſerved: And to make this truth evident, doe but obſerve how ſadly ſhe has reſented his loſſe even unto this day; who can doubt but that theſe are effects and certain conſequents of a moſt reall and ardent affection? I cannot relate the ſeverall ſad reſentments ſhe has expreſſed of his death, for they will but open my wounds the wider: But I am ſure, ſage Adamas, that you would judge them full of extreame affection, and the bad entertainment which I have received from her proceeds from no other cauſe, but from her love unto this Prince; and as an umbrage of it ſhe would ſet that fault upon my ſcore, which ſhe ſhould doe upon the great Euricks and my misfortunes. But faireſt Daphnide, though you have loved him, not as you ſay, in reaſon of State, but in good earneſt, yet againſt whom doe you thinke you have offended? Not againſt one who has not love enough to pardon, to forget, my even [Page] to quite eraſſe the offence; but it againſt Alcidon, who you know adores you; he is ready to give you his life, and his ſoule, and not to upbraid you with the injury. Why doe you not put forth your hand unto him, and by that action of kindneſſe ſignifie, that none but the great Eurick could ever interpoſe betwixt you and him. It is no meane glory unto me, that ſhe whom I love ſhould have beene adored by the greateſt Prince in the whole Univerſe; nor will it be a little ſatisfaction unto the Ghoſt of that great Prince, you ſhorld love Alcidon, who indeed did yeild unto him in Fortune, but excelled him in love.

If I ſay any thing which your owne ſoule knowes not to be moſt true, tax me with a lie; but if you cannot deny this truth, why will you toment me any longer, and make me doe penance for a fault which you your ſelfe have committed? Upon this, Alcidon riſing from his ſeat, and falling downe upon his knees before the faire Daphnide, and taking her hand: I doe vow and ſweare, ſaid he, by this faire hand which is onely able to raviſh away my heart, that I did never in my life render any homage, but unto her that owes it, and that it is ſhe alone who has and ever ſhall have the ſole power over me. Diſpoſe of me and of my fortune as you pleaſe, and let Daphnide be as cruell as ſhe can, yet ſtill ſhall Alcidon love her for ever. And you reverend Father, ſaid he, and addreſſed himſelfe to the Druid; The great Tautates hath eſtabliſhed you a Judge in this Country, why doe you not condemne this Faire one to give me that heart which ſhe hath ſo often given me, and taken away againe? If ſhe doe accuſe me for loving any elſe, is it poſſible ſhe ſhould know better than I my ſelfe? She affirmes I love Clarinta, I ſweare and proteſt the contrary, why ſhould ſhe thinke to be beleeved more than I? She ſees onely my outward actions, but I know the intentions of my heart; perhaps ſhe will ſay that I would deceive her, and that ſhe would not deceive me; but why ſhould I deceive her; for if I did not love her, I would not care for her affection; and if I doe love her, can ſhe thinke that he who loves one will deceive her.

Thus ſpoke Alcidon, adding much other diſcourſe, and many arguments which Daphnide could not handſomely anſwer. At laſt, the Druide ſpoke; Methinkes Madam, ſaid he, that the Oracle is cleared, and that now is the time to compoſe this difference. I would to God, ſaid ſhe, that it could be ſo compoſed, as that quietneſſe of mind might be reſtored unto Alcidon and me, which we have taken from each other; Are you pleaſed Madam, ſaid Adamas, that I ſhould be your Judge: If Alcidon will conſent unto it, anſwered ſhe, and if he will ſtand unto what you ſhall doome, I will never be againſt any thing which you ſhall deeme fit. I doe proteſt by all that is ſacred, ſaid Alcidon, that there is nothing in the World which can keepe me from loving and adoring you; and I ſweare that I will ſo farre ſtand unto the doome of wiſe Adamas, that if he doe ſentence the contrary, I will ſo farre obey it, as that you ſhall never be troubled with me; and if I faile in this Oath, may all the Elements he my confuſion. Then Adamas, with the gravity of a reverend old Judge, began in a Majeſticall manner to ſpeak thus: Tell me, Madam, ſaid he, did you ever love Alcidon well. Above my life, anſwered ſhe; and doe you now hate him, replyed he: I hate his levity and inconſtancy, ſaid ſhe, but not him: But ſay he be not inconſtant replyed he, nor ever loved any but you, would you then love him ſtill, and be ſorry for charging him wrongfully? Doubtleſſe I ſhould, ſaid ſhe: Can you charge him with any other inconſtancy, continued the Druid, but in this buſineſſe of Clarinta? Is not that enough, anſwered Daphnide? But when he firſt went about to ſerve Clarinta, ſaid Adamas, was it not by your command, and did he not undertake it againſt his will? I muſt needs confeſſe, ſaid ſhe, that in this I was unwiſe, and he adiſſembler; But had he made a retreate, ſaid Adamas, and Eurick cloſed with Clarinta againe, would you not then have blamed Alcidon for diſobeying your Commandement? I thinke I ſhould, anſwered ſhe. Hear then your dooms oh Daphnide and Alcidon, ſaid the Druid; The great Tautates who made the whole world by Love, and by Love preſerves it, would not onely have things inſenſible, ſhould be united and linked together by the bonds of Love, but things alſo ſenſible and rationall.

From hence it is that he hath given unto the inſenſible Elements, qualities which linke them together by ſympathy: Unto Animals he hath given love and deſire to perpetuate their kind, and unto men reaſon, which teacheth them to love God in his Creatures, and the Creatures in God. Now this Reaſon tels us that whatſoever is amiable ought to be loved, according to the degrees of its goodneſſe; and ſo, whatſoever is moſt amiable, [Page] and has moſt goodneſſe, ought to be moſt loved. Yet in as much, as we are not obliged unto this love, untill this goodneſſe be known unto us; it followes by conſequence, that themore any good is known, the more it ought to be loved: But ſince God hath made every thing by love, and that the end of every thing is alwayes moſt perfect, we may eaſily judge, that ſince all good things have Love for their end, Love is the beſt of all things. Now knowing this goodneſſe of love, we are obliged by the Lawes of Reaſon to eſteem it above all things; and the more it is known, the more we ought to eſteem it. The Oracle which was given you, for compoſing your difference, makes good what I ſay: For it is this,

Upon a day, you'l ſee

A Fountaine, in Forreſt

Called Loves Veritie

Will ſet your hearts at reſt.

That is, In Forreſt you ſhall come to know, that you doe really love each other, and then your hearts will be ſet at reſt: for the Great Tautates, who gave this Oracle unto you, knowing how religiouſly you payed what was due both unto Him and Reaſon, did alſo know that as ſoon as you were aſſured of each others affection, you would preſently thinke it moſt reaſonable, to love according to your merits: And therefore Daphnide, ſince you ſee, that Alcidon does love you, (for why ſhould he ſo paſſionately deſire your love, if he did not truly love you?) And you Alcidon, ſince you ſee the love of Daphnide towards you (for why ſhould ſhe be je [...]lous of you and Clarinta, unleſſe her love were the Mother of her jealouſie?) I doe Ordaine, or rather, the Great Tautates commands you, that forgetting all paſt paſſages, and without any ſtay to ſee any other Fountaine of Loves Verity, you doe preſently unite your affections, and revive your ancient loves of each other; make it appeare that none loves better then you two, for none have more cauſe, ſince heaven hath infuſed it into both.

Upon this, Adamas took both their hands, and joyning them together, ſaid, May this union be happy, and eternall. It is a thing impoſſible to expreſſe the joyes of Alcidon, or the thanks he gave unto the great Druid, but eſpecially unto Daphnide: Stiliana, and Carlis, and Hermantes, rejoyed for Alcidons ſake; for where ever he came, he had the happineſſe to get all mens love.

Thus was the diſpute betwixt Daphnide and Alcidon, compoſed by the prudence of the ſage Adamas. Although he conceived the meaning of the Oracle to be, That their jealouſies of each other ſhould vaniſh by a ſight of this Fountaine; yet like a perſon of deep apprehenſion, judging by their diſcourſe, that he ſhould doe them a better office, and more ſutable to their will in reconciling them, he thought it fit to expound the Oracle in this manner, and alſo to adviſe them, to ſtay in this Country a while, to the end that if any ſuſpitions yet remained in them, and that if it pleaſed the Heavens to uncharme the Fountaine, they might there be perfectly cured of their malady.

Whilſt theſe things paſſed thus in the preſence of Adamas, the ſhepheards and ſhepheardeſſes, who were in the Great Chamber with Leonide and Alexis, as ſoone as the Collation was ended, did fall into their ſeverall diſcourſes where they left. But Alexis and Aſtrea, for feare of being interrupted, did take each other by the arm, and walked to the other end of the Chamber, which made well for Alexis, for by moving, ſhe might the better hide the alterations in her face and better excuſe her diſorderd language. Aſtrea who was no leſſe tranſported, to ſee ſuch a lively reſemblance of Celadon, and not able to hide her contentment, was very glad of this convenience to talke with Alexis walking, as well becauſe none could heare them, as becauſe ſhe might with more freedom expreſſe the affection which ſhe bore unto her. After therefore they had walked two or three turns, neither of them knowing well how to begin diſcourſe; Aſtrea broke ſilence thus,

I ſhall as long as I live, Madam, obſerve this day as a Holiday, in memory of the high favour which I have received on it in making me ſo happy as to know you, and to expreſſe my moſt zealous deſires of doing you ſervice. The ſacred Misſletoe which it hath pleaſed the Great Tautates to make grow in our Hamlet this yeare, was an Omen of the happineſſe which we were to receive by your coming into this place; ſhewing thereby, [Page] that the liberall hand of the great God, where it beſtowes one favour, does accompany it with many others. The happineſſe and good fortune of it, ſaid Alexis, is all on my ſide, in coming hither at ſuch a ſeaſon, when this ſacred Misſletoe is to be gathered; for that is the cauſe of my happineſſe in ſeeing you, it being one of my greateſt deſires. How, Madam? ſaid Aſtrea, doe you thinke it your happineſſe in wronging us all, and me in particular, by thinking we came hither onely becauſe of this ſacred Misſletoe? I will thinke, ſaid Alexis, as you pleaſe; but give me leave to ſay, that it is at this time the cauſe of my happineſſe in ſeeing you; and though I had not been here, yet you would have come to invite Adamas unto the ſacrifice of Thanks. I doe moſt ſeriouſly proteſt, Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, that it is your ſelfe onely which invited me to come hither; for I never in my life had a more earneſt deſire of any thing, than of ſeeing of you; beſeeching you to believe, that it is not my humour to meddle with any publique matters, but I leave them unto our wiſer Paſtors, who takes the cure of them according to their cuſtome, and according as they thinke moſt advantagious for this Country. I ſhould be very proud of my ſelfe, ſaid Alexis, if I could be perſwaded of it; for it is a thing which I moſt wiſh, and priſe above any happineſſe that ever happened unto me. But pray tell me, fair ſhepheardeſſe, in what place is this Misſletoe found? If the Sun would permit you to looke out of the window, anſwered Aſtrea, I ſhould let you ſee it from hence. I believe, ſaid Alexis, that the Mountain does interpoſe, if it be on that ſide; but if it do not, I believe the heat of the day being over, we may enjoy the pleaſant proſpect of all that plaine: upon this, opening the Window, and both looking out; after they had looked about every way, Aſtrea began thus.

Doe you ſee, Madam, the couſe of that River which runs by the walles of Boen, as if it did cut that plain almoſt in the middle, and empties it ſelfe into the lap of Loire; that is the fatall and defamed River Lignon, upon which you may perceive our Hamlet to be ſeated, oppoſite unto mount Verdan, which is a little Mountaine in forme of a pointed Diamond, in the middle of the plaine, and which lookes like a Rock in the Sea. If you pleaſe to caſt your eye a little upon the left hand, you may ſee the Temple of the good Goddeſſe, a little round Temple under which runs an arme of that deteſtable Lignon, and a little beyond that, following ſtill that [...]ravinous River, you may eſpie a little wood, and it is there where the happy Oak grows which this year bears the ſacred Misſletoe. And truly it is worthy obſervance, That, there, is the form of a Temple made out of little Trees, pleached together moſt artificially. None knowes who made it, nor the time when it was ſo contrived; and yet it is ſo well ordered and contrived, as whoſoever conſiders it, muſt needs confeſſe him that did it a moſt admirable Artiſt. We almoſt all think, it was the worke either of Pan, or Egipan, or ſome other Rurall God; for ſuch exquiſite inventions when the Author is unknown, are commonly attributed unto ſome Deity. Alexis feemed to wonder at all this, and the better to colour her diſſimulation, ſeemed as if ſhe could not ſee this place which was ſhewed unto her, though none knew it better then her ſelfe but Aſtrea pulling her a little nearer, and holding out her hand to direct Alexis unto the place where this Temple was: Doe you ſee, Madam (ſaid ſhe unto her) that wood which growes almoſt cloſe upon the banke of the River? Caſt your eye a little upon the left hand and you may ſee a little Meadow greener then all the reſt; the reaſon of it is, becauſe the graſs of it is not ſoyled, nor any Cattel driven into it, becauſe it hath been long ſince dedicated unto ſome Deity, as well as that little tuft of Trees which joynes upon it. Now this little ſacred Meadow, ſeems as if it had been conſecrated as the Court belonging unto that artificiall Temple, which ſtands amongſt thoſe Trees I think, ſaid Alexis, that I doe ſee the place you meane, and I doe obſerve one tree much higher then all the reſt: Right, right, ſaid Aſtrea, that is the Tree which ſupports the Temple, and to its fame, has this yeare the happineſſe to beare the ſacred Misſletoe, for which we ought to offer a ſacrifice of Thanks. Had I ſo much wit as to relate all the rarities there, and the Art wherewith it is made, I am ſure you would admire them: Amongſt the reſt, I obſerved the Picture of the Goodeſſe Aſtrea (for the Temple is dedicated unto her) much different from thoſe by which they uſe to repreſent her unto us: She is pourtrayed in the habit of a ſhepheardeſſe, with a ſheep-hook in her hand, and her flock about her: and which is moſt admirable, all that ſee it, ſay, that ſhe reſembles me. Alexis could not chuſe but bluſh at this, and it was happy for her none ſtood by; for it had been an eaſie matter to ſee what alterations were in her face, and fearing leſt if Aſtrea ſhould accidently [Page] looke towards her, ſhe ſhould perceive it, ſhe leaned upon her elbow in the window, and covered her face with her hand, and to give her no leiſure to looke upon her I beleeve faire Shepherdeſſe, ſaid ſhe, that he who drew the picture of that Goddeſſe in that manner, did it with much reaſon: For Aſtrea, who is the goddeſſe of Juſtice, cannot be better repreſented, than by a ſhepherdeſſe with her ſheephooke and her flocke; both to ſhew that in places moſt retired and rurall, the innocent and weake are by her kept in ſafety, and to ſhew that by the meanes of Juſtice, peaee and abundance is maintained amongſt men, which are two things which cannot be better repreſented, than by ſhepherdeſes and their flocks. But I doe thinke him much more judicious in giving your, fair face unto that goddeſſe: For how could he poſſibly make choice of a better being to repreſent a Diety, than in taking for his patterne, the moſt perfect that ever Nature ſhewed unto us? And ſuch is your beauty, that I beleeve if that goddeſſe Aſtrea would looke upon this picture ſhe will be prouder of your features, than of her owne and had rather be ſuch a one as you are on the Earth than as her ſelfe is in Heaven.

Theſe Praiſes, ſaid Aſtrea and bluſht, are much too high for one ſo full of misfortunes as my ſelfe; eſpecially coming from you Madam, unto whom they are much more due; but ſuch as I am. I am moſt devoutly yours, ſo as you may diſpoſe of me as you pleaſe, and ſpeake of me likewiſe: For I profeſſe, that I have no higher ambition than to merit the title of your moſt devoted ſervant. Faire ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid Alexis) would you have me beleeve what you ſay? Madam (ſaid Aſtrea preſently, I doe moſt earneſtly beg it, and conjure you unto it by what you love moſt; This conjuration, ſaid Alexis, beſides your owne merit, has a great prevalence and muſt needs be granted; and therefore according to your conjuration, I doe promiſe henceforward to beleeve all your expreſſions of good will unto me, upon a condition you will never repent of it I and in exchange, I doe oblige my ſelfe by my fidelity never to deny any thing which you ſhall aske in the name of her whom I love beſt. Madam, replyed Aſtrea, may I never live a minute longer than I devote my ſelfe, my ſervices, and my life unto your ſervice. Faire Shepherdeſſe, ſaid Alexis, I doe oblige my ſelfe in the ſtrongeſt tyes of fidelity to entertaine your amity with all my heart, and will never whilſt I live faile in any duty of a perfect friend.

Who is able to expreſſe the contentments both of Aſtrea and Alexis? ſince both loved each other better than themſelves, but that Aſtrea feared her friends would never conſent unto her following this dear Druide unto all places whereſoever ſhe went, and but that Alexis had an opinion ſhe ſhould loſe all theſe pretious favours if ſhe were knowne, it had beene impoſſible for them to hide the exceſſe of their ſatisfactions.

On the other ſide, Paris who kept himſelfe alwayes next Diana, and who could not ſufficieetly expreſſe his high affection to her, being vexed to ſee ſo many people about him who harkned unto what he ſaid, and deſiring to entertaine them with ſomething elſe, he deſired Hylas to take a Lute and ſing. Hylas all complacence, did take the Lute, and conſented unto the deſires of Paris, upon condition every one would doe the ſame, particularly Silvander. This ſhepherd, who had an eye alwayes upon Diana, knowing that ſhe loved very well to hear him ſing, he tooke the Lute from Hylas, and ſung a ſong, the ſubject of which was, that though he loved extreamly, yet he thought he loved not enough.

When Silvander had done, he kiſſed the Lute and preſented it unto Corilas, who willingly accepted of it, and fixing his eye upon Stella, he began to ſing upon this ſubject, that Now his Love was extinguiſhed, it could never kindle againe. Stella hearing how Corilas twitted her, ſhe offered to take the Lute, intending to pay him backe the money which he lent, but the ſhepherd doubting it he would not let her have it: ſaying it was unreaſonable that Hylas who firſt had it, ſhould be ſo long without it: Be not offended ſhepherdeſſe, ſaid Corilas unto Stella, if I doe give it unto Hylas, ſince if your deſigne was to expreſſe any thing of your humour, I aſſure my ſelfe he will ſatisfie you, if he ſing according to the dictates of his heart: You are very kind Corilas, ſaid Hylas unto him, to pay your debts with anothers money; at the leaſt, Stella and I have this advantage, that being both of one opinion, we have met with one that will allow of our humours, but yours is ſo bad, that you are ſingular in your Sect, then taking the Lute, and not ſtaying for the anſwer of Corilas, he ſung in commendation of inconſtancy.

[Page] Phillis, who could not indure that Hylas ſhould paſſe without an anſwer, Methinks Silvander, ſaid ſhe, that both you and I are obliged to anſwer this inconſtant ſhepherd, ſince he is ſo imp [...] as to ſpeake thus in the preſence of our Miſtreſſe; for every right Lover when he heares any thing in diſadvantage of fidelity is obliged to defend that vertue. Moſt true, my Enemy, anſwered Silvander, and I ſhould have done it ere now, but that I was affraid my indiſcretion would have beene blamed for interrupting, yet if Hylas will repeat the ſame Verſes he ſung, I will try whether I can anſwer them Verſe by Verſe; [...]haps ſaid Hylas, it will not pleaſe the Company to repeat what I have ſung already; but, Silvander, that you may be without excuſe, I pray anſwer theſe: I am ready, ſaid Silvander; for being ſure I have reaſon on my ſide, I am very couragious to undertake the Combate. As the generous Lyon, ſaid Hylas, contemnes all creatures that are his inferiours in ſtrength; ſo doe I you, Silvander, being ſo much my inferiour both in wit, and goodneſſe of cauſe; thus they began to ſing, one for, and the other againſt inconſtancy.

Whilſt theſe two ſhepherds were thus ſinging, and the reſt of the Company attentively hearing, Paris cloſed with this opportunity, and got neerer Diana; was there ever ſuch a pleaſant humour (ſaid he unto her in a low voice) as this of Hylas? I thinke (anſwered the ſhepherdeſſe) that he is like all other men, onely he is a little more free and open in uttering his thoughts than others are. Oh Madam, replyed Paris, have you ſuch a bad opinion of men, and thinke them all as inconſtant as he is? I have no bad opinion of men, (anſwered Diana, and ſmiled) for I cannot thinke it an errour in them to doe as Hylas doth, ſince it is a thing very naturall, to love where we like beſt: And ſince moſt ſhepherds doe love onely to pleaſe themſelves, have I not good cauſe to thinke that where they find moſt pleaſure, there they will without any difficulty love, imitating in this our ſheep, who uſe not to eat alwayes of the ſame graſſe, nor feed only in one Paſture, but loving variety, graze ſometimes in the Meadowes, other times upon Hils, and ſometimes again under Shades: The ſhepherdeſſe as ſhe ſpoke this, ſmiled, to ſhew ſhe ſpoke againſt her conſcience, and Paris taking notice of it, anſwered thus: Hylas would be well confirmed in his opinion, faireſt ſhepherdeſſe, if he heard you; but I beleeve if you were condemned to follow this opinion, it would be ſomewhat difficult to make you conſent unto it. I muſt confeſſe, anſwered ſhe, that what you ſay is true, for ſhepherdeſſes are not ſubject unto the ſame Laws which ſhepherds are; for they doe not only fly inconſtancy, but conſtancy alſo. This is too enigmaticall for me to underſtand, replyed Paris, unleſſe Faireſt you be pleaſed to make a cleerer interpretation. My meaning is, anſwered ſhe, that the Virgins of this Country, doe not only fly inconſtancy, becauſe they are not of a wavering temper; but they fly conſtancy alſo, becauſe they will not be obliged unto any kind of amity, loving and eſteeming all that deſerve it, not with love and paſſion, but according to duty and reaſon.

I doe beleeve it, anſwered Paris faintly: but for ſome intereſt which I may have I wiſh that one amongſt them were of another humor. Generous Paris, replyed Diana, you muſt needs pardon their dull capacities: for being brought up, in rurall and halfe ſalvage places, you cannot expect they ſhould differ much from ſuch as they moſt converſe with: you ſee what an influence education hath upon people, and above reaſon: for I beleeve there is very few in all this company, who would not more contentedly chuſe to live with their flockes upon the bankes of Lignon, and under their homely roofes, than in princely Pallaces, and civilized Cities. I beſeech you faireſt ſhepherdeſſe ſaid Paris, what opinion are you off, what doe you thinke of this houſe? and how ſuits it with your liking? I ſhould ſhew my ſelfe of a very weake judgment, anſwered Diana, if I did not thinke it very noble, and very pleaſant. Much more noble and pleaſant would it be, ſaid Paris, if what is now in it, would be alwayes in it. Tis true, replyed Diana, for ſo many faire ſhepherdeſſes and hanſome ſhepherds, doe not onely make the company very great, but alſo the place very pleaſant. It is not the quantity, replyed Paris, but the quality of perſons which makes me eſteem it: I am of your beliefe, ſaid ſhe; for moſt company does commonly moſt of all make one weary of it; but they muſt be of a very bad humour that doe diſlike the company which is here. I perceive, replyed Paris, that you will not underſtand my meaning; for it is not of all the company which I ſpeake, but it is, faireſt ſhepherdeſſe of one only, without which one, all the reſt of the company would be weariſome unto me. Diana faigning not to underſtand him: That one (ſaid ſhe very [Page] coldly) is much obliged to you; though all the reſt are but very little beholding; there is none in the company, anſwered Paris, ought to thinke much at me for it, ſince without that one my life it ſelfe is unpleaſing to me; after this, both ſtandin [...] [...] and Paris ſeeing Diana, did not reply, I did never in my life (ſaid he, and ſmiled) ſee a ſhepherdeſſe leſſe inquiſitive than Diana; Why doe you not aske me who this one is? becauſe ſaid ſhe, it would be indiſcretion in me; for I am ſure that if you had a mind to name her, you would, and if you deſired to conceale her, I were very indiſcreet if I did importune you▪ She, added Paris, unto whom I have given my heart, may very well know all th [...] ſecrets of it, nor ought I to conceale them, Men in giving ſuch gifts anſwered Diana d [...] often give and take againe: If you meane by me, replyed Paris, pardon me faireſt Diana, if I tell you, that you wrong me; ſince from the firſt day that I gave my ſelfe unto you, the gift was with ſo full a conſent of my heart, as I ſhall never enjoy any contentment untill you have taken full poſſeſſion of it; and it was of you I ſpoke when I mention'd one, from whom I muſt receive my full contentment. I ſhould be very unworthy (anſwered the ſhepherdeſſe, and bluſht) if I did not receive this honour you are pleaſed to doe unto me, with much obligation unto your civility: Nay, nay, ſaid Paris, never tell me of any civility or reſpect, but in lieu of thoſe words, put in that word of Love. That word, ſaid ſhe, fals not handſomely from the tongue of a woman; If it will not come off your tongue, replyed he, then let it be in your heart: That would be too great a crime, replyed Diana, and would render me unworthy of this honour you are pleaſed to doe me.

Silvander and Hylas had now done ſinging, and there was not a word amongſt all the company, as if they were in hopes of their beginning to ſing againe, which was a cauſe that many perceived not onely the affection wherewith Paris ſpoke unto Diana; but alſo the paſſion in which Silvander was to ſee their long diſcourſe; which Hylas conſidering, and thinking to get ſome advantage over him: Come, come Silvander (ſaid he) we have ſung enough; let us now be a little ſerious and rationall if we can▪ Tell me upon your faith whether you perſiſt ſtill in the ſame opinion which you were wont to be: I am not much addicted unto changing (ſaid Silvander) but of what opinion doe you meane? Are you ſtill in the heart of Diana, replyed Hylas, and is ſhe ſtill in yours? why doe you aske me this queſtion, ſaid Silvander? Becauſe (ſaid Hylas) I will at this time make you confeſſe the contrary. Methinkes Hylas, anſwered Silvander, you had better have ſlept on then wake to no purpoſe: Whilſt every one laughed at this queſtion and this anſwer, Phillis tooke an occaſion to interrupt the diſcourſe of Paris and Diana, and to call her companion to heare this fine diſpute: In the meane time Hylas anſwered; ſhepherd, ſhepherd, I doe not wake to ſo little purpoſe as you thinke, ſince to put one out of an errour, is a worke never out of ſeaſon, but anſwer me; Are you ſtill in the heart of Diana, and is Diana in yours. Diana hearing this queſtion; Hearken (ſaid ſhe unto Paris) what Hylas ſayes: For I am confident it will be ſome mad piece of diſcourſe or other: Then they heard Silvander anſwer thus; Doe you thinke Hylas that becauſe you are continually changing, others are the like: Diana and I are in the very ſame places we were wont to be; Why then, ſaid Hylas, ſhe is in your heart, and you in hers. It is as you ſay, anſwered Silvander: Then, prethee good Silvander tell me, ſaid Hylas, ſince you are in the heart of Diana, whether the diſcourſe which Paris had now with her did pleaſe her or no? And Diana, ſince you are in Silvanders heart, tell us whether Silvander was pleaſed at the Diſcourſe.

There was none in all the company, except Silvander, who did not laugh ſo loud, as they cauſed Aſtrea and Alexis to turne about and ſee what the matter was; which Hylas obſerving, he ſtayed not for Silvanders anſwer (for Aſtreas long diſcourſe was as vexatious unto him, as that of Paris was unto Silvander) but ran preſently to her; Miſtreſſe, ſaid he unto Alexis, Theſe ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon are ſuch bewitching flatterers, that unleſſe one take very good heed, it is almoſt impoſſible to reſiſt their charms. I beleeve Servant (ſaid Alexis) that you ſpeake like a very knowing man. Tis true (ſaid he) I have not been ſo long Apprentice, but I have learned my Trade; For before I loved Phillis, I thought Laonice faire, and before her, Madonthe, and before them both, Criſide: Here is three ſtrangers, ſaid he, pointing at Florice, Palanice, and Circenea, can witneſſe I am no Noviſt, when I was Servant unto them; and if Carlis, who is in the Gallery with Daphnide were here, ſhe could tell you how ſhe was the firſt who taught me my Primer. But Servant, ſaid Alexis, I doe not thinke that Carlis can boaſt that [Page] you hold her for your laſt Miſtreſſe, as you did for your firſt: for I have heard you ſay, that you have loved but as many as you have met. Miſtreſſe, ſaid he, you ſhould have added as many faire ones, as I have met: for I doe confeſſe, that whereſoever my eye obſerved beauty, I was a lover and ſervant of it; and methinks you ſhould like my humour very well, ſince it hath made me yours; and without which, ill-favoured Carlis had ſtill poſſeſſed me.

I like your humour extreamly well, anſwered Alexis, did I not feare that as it is now the cauſe of your being mine, ſo it will hereafter make me grieve for the loſſe of you. Oh faireſt Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, I beſeech you not to thinke any ſuch thing; for beſides your offence unto my love, it is moſt impoſſible any ſuch thing ſhould ever be; for I never loved any thing but beauty, and out of you it is moſt impoſſible to find it. I ſhould be very glad, anſwered Alexis, to have you continue long in this opinion of me, that I may not loſe as others have; but I had rather that all your perſwaſions could make me believe all you ſay of me to be true. I need no perſwaſions, anſwered he, where every eye is able to teſtifie. If all did ſee me with your eyes, anſwered Alexis, their teſtimonies might perhaps be favourable unto me. I am certaine, replyed Hylas, that there is none here, will give my eyes the lie. Your eyes indeed may ſee things as they are, anſwered Alexis, but your mouth may perhaps be given a little to Hyperbolize, and your tongue which is ſo glib in attributing unto me, more then is my due, does teſtifie that you have learned in more Schools then one. I doe confeſſe it, replyed Hylas, but withall I am able, and without vanity to ſpeak it, that the Schollar, ſurpaſſed the Maſter. You never told me (ſaid Florice) that when you were my Schollar, you learned your leſſon of Circenea, and Palinice alſo. And had we all three united our learning together, we might have kept you longer at School. How ſervant, replyed Alexis, what? ſerve three at one time? You may judge by that Miſtreſſe (ſaid he) the greatneſſe of my courage, and whether I doe not ſerve you moſt devoutly, ſince I attempt none but you alone.

Whilſt he was talking thus, Adamas, Daphnide, and Alcidon came out of the Gallery, becauſe it was near ſupper time; and when they had talked awhile upon ſeverall ſubjects, the table was furniſhed, and with ſuch and ſo many delicacies, as Daphnide admired that a country houſe could find out ſuch varieties of curioſities as this wiſe Druid had provided. Supper being ended, and after much and various diſcourſe which laſted long, Adamas obſerved by the eyes of moſt in the company, that it was bed-time; and therefore he invited Daphnide and Alcidon unto their reſt, waiting upon them to their Chambers, and leaving Leonide and Paris to carry the reſt of the ſhepheardeſſes and ſhepheards into theirs: but though the night was farre ſpent, yet Alexis having carried Aſtrea, Phillis, and Diana into their Chambers, ſhe could not ſo ſoon part from them; but, after a hundred good nights, ſtill ſhe had ſomething to ſay: At laſt, Leonide having lodged all the reſt, came into the Chamber, and hearing the clock ſtrike midnight, ſhe conſtrained her to retire. The three ſhepheardeſſes being now alone, although there was ſeverall beds in the Chamber, yet would they needs lie all together.

Whilſt they were addreſſing themſelves, Aſtrea could not for her life talke of any thing elſe but Alexis. Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto Phillis, was ever two faces ſo full of reſemblance, as this of the faire Alexis, and that of poor Celadon? For my part, ſaid Phillis, I never in my life ſaw two more like. Nay more, ſaid Diana, did you ever ſee any Glaſs repreſent a nearer ſimilitude, betwixt the ſubſtance and the reflection? Nay ſiſter, ſaid Aſtrea, what would you ſay if you had ſpoken with her in particular as I did? her voyce, her pronunciation, her aire, her actions, her ſmiles, nay every little feature are ſo reſemblant, as if Celadon were by her, I could finde no difference; and the more I conſider it, the more I am raviſhed with admiration. I wiſh with all my heart, replyed Phillis, we could perſwade Adamas to let her ſtay amongſt us for a time; and if we could, ſiſter, I believe you would be well contented. Doubtleſſe I ſhould, anſwered Aſtrea, for I can truly ſay, that ſince the death of poor Celadon, I never enjoyed any pleaſure but in the ſight of Alexis. But alas, there is no hopes that Adamas will ever ſuffer her to come unto us, for ſhe is ſo dear unto him, as he cannot ſuffer her to be out of his ſight, nor would it be pleaſing unto her, being accuſtomed unto another kind of life: And fortune is alwaies ſo little my friend, as I cannot thinke ſhe will ever doe me ſo great a kindneſſe. Siſter, replyed Diana, If you deſire that this faire one ſhould come into our Hamlet, we muſt uſe a little cunning; ſometimes one ſhall bring that to paſſe by ſubtilty, which [Page] would be denyed; if it were openly asked; and ſuch kind of policy is not blameable when it will not hurt any one. Should we aske this favour of the Druid, perhaps his civility would be ſo great as not to deny it; and perhaps alſo, he would alleadge ſuch conſiderations, as we ſhould not ſpeed: but let us goe another way to worke; let us entreat him, and let all the company do the like, that he would be pleaſed not to retard the ſacrifice of thanks for the ſacred Misſletoe: he hath already promiſed as much unto other ſhepheards, who came with the ſame Petition: If we bring him to that paſſe, as to come preſently with us, I am confident he will bring Alexis with him, as well becauſe Leonide will come, as to accompany Daphnide, whom we muſt entreat to aſſiſt us in the buſineſſe: Beſides, the ſacrifice being a buſineſſe of great and religious ſolemnity; and Alexis being a Druid, it is not likely ſhe ſhould be left at home. Yet to be every way prepared; if it happen ſo that Adamas do make any difficulty in it, we muſt intreat both her and Leonides good will unto it; for I do percieve that ſhe is not diſpleaſed to be in our company; and yet truly conſidering the difference in education, perhaps ſhe does onely conſtrain her ſelf out of civility to be ſo complaiſant unto us in her Fathers houſe. But for all that, I am fully perſwaded, if we could once get her into our Hamlet, we three ſhould keep her in it, by endeavouring to pleaſe her in ſuch things as ſhe takes moſt delight in; and perhaps when ſhe ſees the honeſt innocency of our lives, ſhe will not thinke it much diſagreeable to her humour Truly, ſaid Phillis, and ſhook her head, ſhe is of a ſtrange temper if we did diſpleaſe her; but I lay my life, that we ſhall all cry when ſhe is conſtrained to leave us, and therefore we had as good let it alone Aſtrea hearing this, ſaid unto her; Siſter, if you take any delight in my company, let us procure her to be amongſt us, for otherwiſe I am but a meer loſt woman. But will you know what I foreſee? (ſaid Phillis) I make no queſtion but we ſhall get her amongſt us, by the meanes which Diana hath propoſed; nor doe I feare but Alexis will be well pleaſed with us, if I doe but take the paines to humour her; but I plainly ſee that when ſhe comes, Aſtrea will quite leave us, and make no more reckoning of us then as meer ſtrangers. And therefore I will tell you what we will doe if that happen: This Alexis will not ſtay alwayes with us, but will one day return either to Dreux or to Carnutes, and then we will make no more reckoning of her, then ſhe does of us. Fie, fie, Siſter replyed Aſtrea, I cannot abide you ſhould bring this ſad ſeparation into memory; for Gods ſake, let us not bring on a miſery by the thought of it, which will come but too ſoon of it ſelfe. No, no, replyed Diana, let us lay aſide all ſuch Cogitations, and doe what our amity commands us: ſince Aſtrea has no contentment but in this, let us doe all we can to continue it to her: And though ſhe ſhould doe as you ſay, yet if we doe love her, we ſhould be ſorry for her, ſince all things are common amongſt thoſe that love one another and loving her as we do, why ſhould we not ſhare with her in the contenment which ſhe receives?

With ſuch diſcourſe as this, theſe ſhepheardeſſes got to bed, and after good nights unto one another, they fell aſleep in this reſolution which they had fixed upon. But on the other ſide, Alexis being retired into her Chamber, and Leonide with her, Adamas entred preſently after them, who having brought Alcidon and the old Paſtors into their Chambers, leaving the care of the reſt unto Paris; He came unto Celadon, to know what had paſſed betwixt him and Aſtrea. After he had ſhut the door, leſt any ſhould heare, Well Alexis (ſaid he and ſmiled) how does Celadon? As for Celadon, anſwered Alexis, I cannot tell how he does; but as for Alexis, let me proteſt unto you, ſhe ſayes that ſhe never in her life had more contentment ſince ſhe was your Daughter. I am glad on [...], ſayes Adamas, ſo it continue. But tell me truly, Celadon, Doe you now repent of your believing me? It is a thing impoſſible, anſwered the ſhepheard, that any ſhould repent following your counſell. For all you give is good, But let me tell you Father, that this which I have received from you upon this occaſion, is full of danger unto me; for if Aſtrea ſhould come to know me. I proteſt there is nothing under the Sun could keep me alive; for beſides the juſt occaſion which I ſhould give her to blame me, for diſobeying her command, I ſhould grieve ſo exceſſively for failing in my duty, as it would ſuffice to take away my life; or if it did not, I would court all inventions in the world to give me a ſuddaine and cruell death. Well, well, ſaid Adamas, I perceive your condition is not yet in a fit temper to take thoſe remedies which I would give you, we muſt ſtay till time has a little more prepared your conſtitution; in the mean time, be ſure you put on a ſtrong reſolution, not to diſobey any thing I ſhall command, for otherwiſe you will give me occaſion [Page] to tax you with ingratitude. Father, ſaid Celadon, I will never faile in my obedience to you, provided your commands do not contradict thoſe which I have already received, which is moſt impoſſible I ſhould not obſerve: I will never adviſe you (ſaid the Druid) againſt what you ſay: But let me tell you, that the patient muſt not think, he knows what Phyſick is better againſt his diſeaſe, then the Phyſitian doth.

To morrow, I will go in the company of theſe ſhepheards and ſhepheardeſſes, to offer the ſacrifice of thankes for the ſalubrious Misſletoe which is found in their Hamlet; and as it fortunes, under the very ſame Oak where you made the Temple of Aſtrea, which let me tell you, is an Onch of very good fortune to you. And becauſe I muſt according to cuſtome, carry Paris and Leonide with me, it is requiſite I ſhould carry you alſo. Oh Father, (ſaid Alcidon) what do you mean? into how much danger would you bring both me, and your ſelfe alſo? Since it hath pleaſed good Tharamis to give me the contentment of ſeeing this ſhepheardeſſe, of talking with her, and yet not to be known by any in the company; doe not put me and yourſelfe unto any further hazard: what a wound would it be unto your unſtained reputation, if it ſhould come to be diſcovered? and to me it would be moſt certaine death. Let us thank the God for the favour he hath done us; and let me rather retire into ſome deſart, where I may end my miſerable dayes. I ſee, replyed Adamas, that you are to begin again your firſt leſſon: That God whom you name, hath commanded me to have a particular care of you, and I muſt be obedient. For, Child, you muſt know, that he never commands any thing, but what is juſt and laudable: and though humane ignorance does ſometimes thinke the contrary, yet in the end we ſee, that he who keeps cloſe unto his Ordinances, does ſurmount all difficulties, and clear all thoſe triviall doubts which may obſcure the glory of his actions. Therefore, never trouble your ſelfe with any thing that relates unto me, no nor what returnes unto your ſelfe; for Thamires never undertakes a thing, which he does not bring unto a perfect end: It is he, who by me does that which you ſee me doe for your good, having commanded me by his Oracle. Doubt not therefore, but that both You and I ſhall receive contentment.

Celadon would have replyed: bnt Leonide interrupted him, ſaying, You may ſee, ſhepheard, that oftentimes one will do thoſe things for another, which he would not doe for himſelfe: If Adamas ſhould leave you at home, and carry with him Paris and me, what would be thought of you? what ſtrange opinions would there be, if you who goes under the notion of Druid, ſhould not come unto a ſacrifice of ſuch ſolemnitie; ſince you have gone ſo far, you muſt go farther; and ſince Tautates hath committed you unto the tuitiod of Adamas, and you your ſelfe confented to it, you cannot make a retreat without offence both againſt that God, and Adamas alſo. You muſt ſhut your eyes againſt all conſiderations whatſoever, and ſubmit your ſelfe wholly unto his prudence and conduct.

Celadon ſhaked his head at this: Father, ſaid he, ſince the Gods have commanded it, and ſince you are pleaſed to take it upon you, I refer my ſelfe, my life, and all my contentments unto you. Upon this, the Druid embraced him, and taking Leonide by the hand, left him to his reſt. But his thoughts would not permit him to take any, for all the night long his minde ran upon the ſweet diſcourſe which Aſtrea and he had, and upon every circumſtance, not forgetting a ſyllable, or the leaſt action which gave him any teſtimony that ſtill ſhe loved the memory of Celadou. And when he had long entertained theſe thoughts, he would gladly have driven them out of his mind, as thinking them contrary to his preſent condition.

Fie, fie, miſerable ſhepheard (ſaid he) why doſt thou ſuffer thy ſelfe to be flattered up with the ſmiles of fortune? haſt thou not often found, that ſhe never Caraſſes, but with a deſigne of deceiving? nor raiſeth thee up, but that thy fall may be the greater? Conſider to what a height of happineſſe thou wert once elevated; remember that never any ſhepheard could call himſelfe ſo bleſſed as thy ſelfe: Then turne but thine eye upon the preſent condition, and tell me if it was poſſible to fall from a ſteeper Precipice. And now at this time, when under a ſhadow thou art taken for another, and under a borrowed Name much off: Canſt thou take theſe favours as thine owne? thou doſt not conſider that thou ſtealeſt them under the umbrage of anothers Name, and that they would be denyed unto thine.

This conſideration did make all his firſt thoughts ſo bitter unto him, as he was almoſt [Page] ready to fall into the ſame deſpaire as when he lived in his Cave, and he wanted but a little of reſolving to returne into his firſt deſign of ſeparating himſelfe from the World, ſince he ſaw no hopes of any cure for his miſeries. And probably this reſolution had prompted him to put his deſigne in execution, had not ſome good Angell brought into his memory the ſapient advice of ſage Adamas, apprehending that if God had not deſigned him ſome ſolace in his miſery, he would never have put him into the hands of ſuch a reverend Perſon, who was eſteemed highly good and wiſe amongſt all that knew him. After he had toſſed away moſt of the night in theſe turbulent thoughts, this comfortable conſideration laid him aſleepe; and it being breake of day before he began, it was long before he awaked. Aſtrea, Diana and Phillis did not the like; for Aſtrea paſſionately deſiring to get Alexis unto her Hamlet, ſhe waked betimes: And Diana fearing leaſt Paris ſhould find her in bed, although he carried himſelfe at a reſpective diſtance, yet ſhe would not put it to the hazard, but as ſoone as ſhe ſaw Aſtrea wake, ſhe awaked Phillis, and began to upbraid her; what Servant, ſaid ſhe, are you not aſhamed to be aſleep and your Miſtreſſe awake? Miſtreſſe, ſaid Phillis, I did not know you to be awake, but methinkes you ſhould ſleepe as well as I doe▪ unleſſe Silvander were in my room. Oh Servant, ſaid Diana, let Silvander be where he is, he does not thinke upon us, and let us thinke no more of him. As well as I love you, replyed Phillis, I would not be tyed to thinke upon you ſo much as he does.

This is a bad opinion which you have of him, replyed Diana, but you ſhall ſee that when I have given my judgement, which will be within this two or three dayes, he will preſently turne to his old byas. Siſter, ſaid Aſtrea, doe you really, and upon your faith, thinke as you ſay? When you aske me upon my faith, ſaid ſhe, I muſt conſider a little better before I anſwer; but if you will know what I would have him doe, I will tell you, and truly; that I doe love him ſo well and my ſelfe alſo, as for both our quiers I w [...]ſh as I ſay. Upon my faith (ſaid Phillis and ſmiled) you doe lye; and pardon me Miſtreſſe if this offend you, for there was never any woman yet that was angry for being loved and ſerved by a perſon of merit; but on the contrary, I have ſeen many very angry with thoſe that did love them, and afterwards did fall off from loving, though they had no deſigne upon them. Nay, I will goe a little further; I never in my life ſaw any who were not inwardly angry at ſuch changes: I my ſelfe who never did love Hylas, yet muſt needs confeſſe that when he quitted me, I was angry at him though I carried it as well as I could: and the reaſon of all this is, becauſe as the addr [...]ſſes of thoſe who love us are arguments of our beauty and merit; ſo their departures from us are arguments of the contrary. You may thinke of me as you pleaſe, ſaid Diana, but I proteſt that if it were in my choice whether he ſhould continue, or give over his addreſſe unto me, I doe foreſee that they would both be ſo troubleſome unto us both, as I know not which I ſhould chuſe: For if he doe continue it what deſigne can I have in ſuffering it? For it is not probable my Parents would ever ſuffer me to marry a perſon who is unknowne, and I my ſelfe ſhould be aſhamed that Diana ſhould ever commit ſuch a fault. Then againe, if we ſhould breake off all amity, I aſſure you that I ſhould long lament it, becauſe I thinke his merits make him worthy of Love: It is the greateſt folly in the World (ſaid Phillis) that Parents ſhould make marriages, and we are very fooles to let them. Has not this brought Aſtrea into the condition wherein ſhe is; had her Parents left her to the free diſpoſition of her ſelfe, ſhe had married Celadon; he had been alive, and ſhe for ever contented; whereas, on the contrary, Parents croſſing them has killed the one, and the other is little better. And now, the old foole Phocion would beſtow her upon Calidon, and is ſo perſwaded to bring it about that he never reſts. Ah that I had the hampering of him I ſhould quickly reſolve what to doe. What would you doe (ſaid Aſtrea) if you were in my roome; I would tell him in few words (ſaid ſhe) that I could not abide him: What would be thought of a woman ſaid Diana, that ſhould ſpeake ſo, and what would they ſay of her? Miſtreſſe, ſaid Phillis, words are but words, and opinion is but opinion, and both but wind; but to marry a peeviſh Husband is a thing that would be felt all ones life: And therefore I ſhall thinke you very inconſiderate in ſaying that you will not marry Silvander, whom you confeſſe to be a man of much merit, and every way compleat, onely becauſe you know not from whence he came. Ah Miſtreſſe, will you not eat fine fruit unleſſe you know the Tree whereon they grow? Oh the groſſeſt folly of all others, to purſue appearances with all eagerneſſe, and never care for things that are recall and truly good. God has infinitely bleſt me [Page] in giving me Parents of another mind; for I aſſure you, had they beene of ſuch a temper, I ſhould have found them worke enough. Diana ſmiled at this, and ſaid, Your counſell Siſter is very good, but not to be followed alwayes. For I beſeech you tell me; this opinion which you ſleight ſo much, and theſe appearances which you condemne, are they any thing elſe but reputation, which is a thing as deare as life is? is there any thing upon earth more miſerable than a woman without this reputation, is there any condition [...] pittifull, as that of a perſon who hath loſt it? I muſt confeſſe, that conſider it rightly, and it will be found a folly; but is there any thing amongſt us which is not folly, if it be ſearched to the bottome? No, no Servant, all the world is nothing but a gloſſe, a vaine ſhadow of good; though you and I doe know this to be true, yet by the common conſent of all, it is judged otherwiſe, and you or I muſt not be the firſt, to breake the Ice. This makes me thinke upon the counſell that was given amongſt the Rats, who reſolved for their ſafety to have a Bell tyed about the neck of the Cat, to the end they might hear her when ſhe came, but upon the upſhot of the reſult, there was none amongſt all the company that durſt attempt the doing it.

Diſcourſing thus, theſe faire ſhepherdeſſes dreſt themſelves: and Aſtrea, not well knowing upon what deſigne, did trim up her ſelf with more care and curioſity than ſhe did ſince the loſſe of Celadon; which Phillis taking notice of, ſhe could not chuſe but ſmile, and hinting it unto Diana, Miſtreſſe, ſaid ſhe, the ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon are of a very odde humour: Why? ſaid Diana, becauſe I ſee, ſaid Phillis, that Aſtrea takes abundance of paines to dreſſe her ſelfe better than ordinary▪ For my part I know no reaſon ſhe has for it, unleſſe it be her affection to this faire Druid, whoſe acquaintance was but of yeſterday. I pray tell me, is it the humour of the ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon to aſſect ſo ſoone, and rather ſhepherdeſſes than ſhepherds? To which Aſtrea anſwered; Tis true, I have a greater humour to make my ſelfe amiable, than ever I had, and there is good reaſon for it, becauſe when I was courted by ſhepherds, I thought my ſelfe of merit enough to make my ſelfe loved amongſt them, never putting my ſelfe to any further trouble than to be ſeene: But now if I will obtain the favour of this faire Druid, I muſt be as carefull of my ſelfe as any Servant is in getting the favour of his Miſtreſſe. But Siſter, replyed Diana, Phillis and I are either much miſtaken in our judgements, or elſe there is great defects in ſuch as ſee you and doe not love you, though for nothing but for your merit. Upon this, they had all dreſſed themſelves, and as they were going out of the Chamber, they ſaw Paris walking with Leonide in the next room, and the ſhepherdeſſes were neere them before the other perceived, they ſeemed to talke very affectionately; of which Paris was much aſhamad, and when he ſaw them, after morning ſalutes, he asked Diana pardon, who anſwered him that he had committed no offence whith concerned her: For ſhe being the meaneſt of the three, they had more reaſon to complaine than ſhe, if there was any cauſe at all; and not ſtaying for his anſwer, ſhe addreſſed her ſelfe unto Leonide, and asked her whether ſhe had a good night? I have more reaſon to aske the ſame queſtion of you (ſaid Leonide) who are up ſo early; was there not ſomething in your Chamber, or your bed which was the cauſe of it? Both in the Chamber, ſaid Diana, and in the bed, but it was this faire ſhepherdeſſe, ſaid ſhe, and pointed at Aſtrea, who waked us ſooner than we would, out of her deſire to imploy the time ſh [...] is to ſtay here, as well as ſhe can, I meane as near the faire Alexis as ſhe can get; for ſhe is ſo zealouſly▪ devoted her Servant, as I know not how we ſhall part them, when ye goe from he [...]ce. Come, ſaid Leonide, let us go to h [...]r, if ſhe be awake; but as we goe, let me impart one ſecret which I have thought upon, which will be a meanes they ſhall not part ſo ſoone: You muſt intreat Adamas that without any more delay, he goe and offer the ſacrifice of thankes for the Misſleto, and that h [...] carry us all with him.

I know he will not deny you, for I know he muſt performe this duty once, and he will be for one night contented with the houſe of Aſtrea, by reaſon of Phocian whom he loves and eſteems very much-and ſo ſhall we be all together, all the day to morrow▪ but fair ſhepherdeſſes, be ſure you conceal me in the buſineſſe; for if Adamas ſhould know that this advice comes from me, perhaps he would be angry, and make ſome difficulty in it. Nor is it neceſſary that Alexis ſhould know, becauſe ſhe is of a very retired humour, and never ſo well contented as when alone. I matter not if Paris be of the plot, becauſe I know that he takes much delight in your company, and will not croſſe it. I ſhall never deny the opinion you have of me, ſaid Paris. Then Aſtrea after ſhe had ſmiled upon Diana [Page] and Phillis: Do you think, Madam, ſaid ſhe, that Adamas will not deny us, and will let Alexis go alſo? for the truth is, if all the world go, and Alexis ſtay behind, I ſhall be but in a very bad mood, and perhaps ſhall hide my ſelfe from the trouble of all the reſt of the company.

You ſee, Madam, ſaid Phillis, that the ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon are no diſſemblers: both ſhe, and all the reſt, ſaid Leonide, are more worthy and eſtimable for it; but I beſeech you, from whence proceeds this great amity? by ſympathy, ſaid Aſtrea, and I am not my ſelfe unleſſe I be by her: ſince ſo, ſaid the Nymph, I ſhall render you all the contentment that I am able, and I cannot chuſe but admire, for Alexis, the laſt night did ſpeak the ſame of you, that you do now of her: I have a very intimate familiarity with her, and know her uſual humour; but now ſhe is quite out of all her Naturalls, and the alteration muſt needs proceed from ſome ſupernatural power. Madam, ſaid Phillis, you will make her ſo proud, that we ſhall not be able to live with her: upon this they came to the Chamber of Alexis, where they found her yet in bed; for being ſomething early, and it being morning before her thoughts would give her leave to ſleepe, ſhe was hardly awake when all this good company came into her Chamber.

The truth is, ſhe was much ſurprized at this unexpected viſit, but not ſo much as to forget hiding the Ring which ſhe took from Aſtrea, when ſhe threw her ſelfe into Lignon, and which ſhe wore ever ſince about her arme in the ſame Ribband in which it was tyed: alſo ſhe neglected not to cloſe her ſmock before her breaſt, leſt a difference of Sex ſhould thereby be diſcovered, and leſt the faire Aſtrea ſhould ſee the Picture which ſhe uſed to wear about her neck, and which that ſhepherdeſſe knew very well; ſhe held one hand before her face, and with the other took the ſheet and almoſt covered her ſelfe, as if ſhe were aſhamed to be ſeen in that poſture. Leonide to make her ſelfe merry, ſaid thus unto her; What do you think, Siſter, of theſe faire ones whom I have brought to helpe you up? Siſter, ſaid Alexis, and raiſed her ſelfe a little up, you have done me a great ſhame, in doing me a great favour; for what will all theſe faire ones ſay, finding me thus long in bed? The worſt they can ſay, replyed the Nimph, is that you are a ſluggard, and that the Druids of Carnutes are not ſuch early riſers as the ſhepheardeſſes of Forreſts? Upon this, all the ſhepheardeſſes gave her the good morrow; and ſhe after a general thankes for their Complement, turned towards Aſtrea in particular; and you faire ſhepheardeſſe, ſaid ſhe, how have you paſſed away the night? Siſter, ſaid Leonide, ſhall I tell you for her? I proteſt ſhe hath lain with you all the night. With me, replyed Alexis preſently? Yes with you, ſaid Leon [...]Ede, if not in body, yet at the leaſt in minde. That way indeed ſhe may, anſwered Alexis; and I believe it, for▪ I aſſure you faire ſhepheardeſſe, (ſaid ſhe, and took her hand) that the diſcourſe we had the laſt night, has ſo taken up my whole mind, that I never ſlept until it was day.

Leonide, to give her dear ſiſter the opportunity of talking more privately with Aſtrea, took Diana unto the window, and Phill [...]s alſo: There ſhe kept them in diſcourſe, whilſt Alexis cauſing Aſtrea to ſit down upon her bed, and ſtill holding her hand, ſhe was almoſt tranſported with an extream deſire to kiſſe her. At the laſt, fearing to diſcover what ſhe deſired to hide, ſhe contented her ſelfe with preſſing her hand betwixt hers: and after a while of ſilence. I proteſt, fair ſhepheardeſſe (ſaid ſhe unto her) I have thought upon you, and the diſcourſe we had all the night long. But tell me, I beſeech you; Is it poſſible that Phocion (as Leonide aſſured me the laſt night) ſhould force you to marry againſt your minde? Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, 'tis very true, that it is his d [...]ſigne; but it is as true alſo, that he ſhall never bring it to paſſe▪ Not that I have ſo much courage as to contradict him openly, but I ſhall treat Calidon in ſuch a ſort, as I ſhall drive him out of any ſuch fancy: Not but that I know the ſhepheard is a man of more merit then I deſerve; but for all that, my genius is not agreeable, nor can ſuit it ſelfe to his. How is it poſſible, Madam, I ſhould ever believe Calidon loves me, when I know he loved Cel [...]dea above his own life, and this with exceſſe of diſobedience to an Uncle, who was unto him in lieu of a Father, and from whom he hoped for his eſtate. But I have heard ſay, replyed Alexis, that now he is out of this humour, and does not love her. I believe it true, anſwered Aſtrea, but it was when ſhe had loſt her beauty, and then his flame extinguiſhed; ſo that as ſoon as my face changeth, his affection to me will change alſo. What a ſad diſaſter would it be to me, if I ſhould live to ſee ſuch a change, nay the leaſt diminution of good will to me? But Madam, continued ſhe with a deep ſigh, that is [Page] not the principal difficulty; for perhaps I ſhould hope to keep his mind in due amity, having not ſo low an opinion of my ſelf, but that with a little ſtudy, I ſhould hold him within compaſſe of duty to me. But there is another obſtacle in the way which hinders me, from ever marrying, far greater then all theſe. Yet, Madam, I dare not trouble you with any ſuch ralations, and what would you think of me, for being ſo familiar as to talke unto you of ſuch trivial matters? Alexis then ſhaked her hand, and ſaid, Did you but know how infinitely I love you, certainly you would never ſpeake thus unto me, who am infinitely deſirous to know your buſineſſe and intentions, that I may the better ſerve you in them; whether it be by my own endeavours, and by the meanes of Adamas, or any other way you ſhall pleaſe to imploy me. Madam, replyed Aſtrea, I am very ſenſible of the great honour which you are pleaſed to confer upon me in your love, and thinke it to be ſo high a happineſſe unto me, as I value it infinitely above my life: but as for the offer you are pleaſed out of your abundant goodneſſe to make unto me concerning Adamas, I humbly beſeech you never to ſpeake unto him in it, becauſe I would not have him imployed in a buſineſſe of ſo ſmall a conſequence, and which I can well enough bring to paſſe my ſelfe, aſſuring my ſelfe that I can deal well enough with Calidon. I wiſh you may, ſaid Alexis, but I am affraid you will find it a difficulty: when I looke upon the beauty of your faire face; for beauty, faire Aſtrea, is Glue, or Bird-lime, which will never let go thoſe wings which are touched with it. Madam, replyed Aſtrea, I am not owner of ſo much beauty; or if I were, I hope my reſolution is ſtronger then all the violencies and wilfulneſſe of Love.

And be pleaſed to know, that I will die a thouſand death, rather then I will ever marry, ſince it is the will of heaven, or rather my bad fortune ſo to have it. At this word ſhe ſtopped, and pulled out her Hankercher to wipe her eyes, for ſhe was not able to withhold her Teares. And when ſhe was beginning her diſcourſe againe, the coming in of Adamas prevented her; who coming into the Chamber by chance, and finding this good company there, he was ſorry that he had interrupted them: for there was nothing he deſired more, then to ſee Alexis and Aſtrea together, in hopes that this way would remit Alexis into his former condition, and conſequently that his old age ſhould be very happy and contented, according to the Oracle. Yet ſeeming as if his coming in was of purpoſe; and after he had ſaluted all the ſhepheardeſſes, he ſaid thus unto Alexis: What Daughter, in bed yet? What will all theſe faire ſhepheardeſſes ſay, ſeeing you ſuch a ſluggard! Sir, anſwered Alexis, the fault is in my ſiſter, who brought them hither without giving me any notice. The fault, replyed Adamas, is in your ſelfe, who are yet in bed; and if they ſerved you aright, they would pull all the clothes off, and teach you to riſe ſooner in the morning.

Then Aſtrea, who was riſen off the bed, in reverence of Adamas: Reverend Father, ſaid ſhe, There is reaſon why we ſhould riſe early, becauſe we have flocks to look unto: Moreover, it is fit, Alexis ſhould preſerve her beauty without taking any paines. You may ſay what you pleaſe, replyed Adamas; But my opinion is, that if ſhe will be fair, ſhe muſt doe as you doe; for your beauty may tell her, that your Receipt is a very good one. Aſtrea bluſht a little, and would have replyed, if one had not come to acquaint Adamas, that Daphnide and Alcidon ſtayed for him in the great Chamber; And therefore, he taking the ſhepheardeſſes by their hands, they all left Alexis to dreſſe her ſelfe, whilſt ſhe went to ſhew unto this good company the rarities of his houſe, which indeed were curioſities of much admiration.

After all the Company was aſſembled together, and that to the great contentment of Hylas, Alexis was come unto them, Adamas thought it beſt, before dinner, to ſhew them the Walkes, and the rather becauſe the Sun was masked with many Clouds: Every one applyed themſelves unto thoſe that beſt pleaſed them, except Silvander, Hylas, and Calidon: For Paris tooke Diana whom Silvander out of reſpect was conſtrained to quit: Alexis ſtill was with Aſtrea, which kept Hylas and Calidon from the happineſſe of talking unto this feigned Druid and faire Shepherdeſſe. As for Calidon and Silvander they durſt not ſhew the leaſt diſcontent: But Hylas who was not accuſtomed unto any conſtraint▪ M [...]ſtreſſe, ſaid he, as ſoone as they were out of the houſe, I beſeech you let Calidon wait upon Aſtrea: Who then, ſaid Aſtrea, ſhall keepe the faire Alexis company? Pray good Shepherdeſſe, ſaid Hylas, never take you any care; he that cares for the birds of the Aire, will not let her be without helpe; and for want of a better, I will tender my [Page] ſervice unto her, and at the ſame time he took Alexis by the other arme. Truly (ſaid Aſtrea halfe angry that ſhe could not be alone with Alexis) it is eaſie to know Hylas, that you are none of the Shepherds of Lignon, for they doe never uſe to be ſo impudently bold: I doe beleeve it, ſaid Hylas, and it is very likely, that they being Shepherds are not ſo couragious as I am: Methinkes, replyed Aſtrea, that ſince you aſſume the ſame habit, you ſhould alſo aſſume the ſame courage. No, no Shepherdeſſe (anſwered he) a Hero is not leſſe hardy for having a ruſty Sword; but on the contrary, if examples of vertue have any influence upon Shepherds, Calidon whom I ſee there looking upon you, as if he would began Alms; would doe as I doe. Aſtrea looked downe with her eyes upon the ground, fearing leaſt if this diſcourſe continued, that young Shepherd ſhould imitate Hylas, and ſo of one fault ſhe ſhould make two, ſhe was ſilent, and ſaid not a word more: But Hylas obſerving this, and having an opinion that if any would divert Aſtrea, he might the more eaſily talke with Alexis, he made a ſigne unto Calidon, which made him more confident than uſuall, and therefore after an humble reverence unto the Shepherdeſſe, he tooke her arme, pretending he would helpe her to walke. The Shepherdeſſe ſeeing there was no remedy, turned her head towards Alexis, and ſaid thus; I ſee that bad examples are ſooner followed than the good▪ and I muſt now recall that advantage which I gave unto the Shepherds of Lignon: Alas, ſaid Alexis, and ſhooke her head if our lives had none of theſe bitter wormwoods, we ſhould be but too happy, ſhe ſpoke this in ſo low a voice, that neither Hylas nor Calidon heard her; yet the cold entertainment which this ſhepherd received from this ſhepherdeſſe did make him thinke that ſhe had much rather be alone with the Druide; but ſeeming to take no notice of it, he continued on his deſigne, ſo as now there was none without a Companion but Silvander. But Laonice who ſtill nouriſhed a ſpirit of revenge againſt him, and ſought for an occaſion of doing him ſome ſignall diſpleaſure ever ſince the day that by his judgement ſhe loſt Tircis; ſeeing him thus alone, ſhe thought now that ſhe had met with a fit opportunity; ſhe knew already what affection he had unto Diana, and what affection Diana had unto him: For their loves being great, it was impoſſible to hide it from her who kept a very obſervant eye over all their actions. Therefore ſeeing him alone, and very penſive, ſhe went unto him, and put on a face far different from her heart: Shepherd, ſaid ſhe, I ſee ſo many ſignes of ſorrow painted in your face, as I cannot chuſe but thinke, that perhaps you are in love: Shepherdeſſe, anſwered Silvander, I have ſo many ſeverall occaſions of ſorrow, as you need not aske me whether Love be a cauſe: I thinke, ſaid ſhe, you have no new occaſions, for of late dayes you are more contented than uſuall; but will you give me leave to tell you what I thinke? The cauſe of your melancholly proceeds either from a diſeaſe preſent, or from a diſeaſe abſent: You muſt explane the Riddle, anſwered the ſhepherd, before I can returne an anſwer; I meane replyed Laonice, ſince you would have me ſpeake cleerly, that either griefe preſent torments you, ſeeing another in your roome with your Miſtreſſe: or elſe the good which is abſent; for I know that you doe love Madonthe: Sage ſhepherdeſſe, ſaid Silvander, I ſee you are a great Prophereſſe: For it is one of theſe two that does torment me▪ but perhaps (ſaid he and ſmiled) not ſo much as you imagine. Sometimes in ſuch diſeaſes (ſaid Laonice) one is apt not to think themſelves ſo ill as they are, but in good earneſt Silvander, which of theſe two is it that moſt troubles you? Which doe you thinke, ſaid Silvander? If I ſhould tel you my opinion, ſaid Laonice, perhaps you would not confeſs it. Were it a crime to love, ſaid Silvander, I muſt confeſſe I had no reaſon to confeſſe; but ſince it is rather a vertue, or at the leaſt an action which in it ſelfe is neither good nor bad, why ſhould you thinke I will not confeſſe it; ſince in denying a truth I ſhould commit a greater ſinne: Moſt true, ſhepherd, replyed Laonice, for every one who would be eſteemed good, ought above all things to be very carefull they never injure the truth: and therefore Silvander tell me upon your reputation; does not the abſent good trouble you more than the preſent evill? Silvander had no mind of making his affections knowne unto this ſtranger, if poſſibly he could avoid it, and therefore with a ſmile anſwered her: I cannot chuſe but admire at the quickneſſe of your ſight, diſcreet Laonice; for I durſt have ſworne that none had taken notice of theſe things; but I beſeech you, how came you to this knowledge? Silvander, ſaid ſhe, content your ſelfe with this that all theſe diſſimulations which you uſe to Diana may perhaps amuze Therſander, but not ſuch as have with my eyes obſerved your actions: All thoſe that live about the delectable River of Lignon, [Page] have their hearts ſo poſſeſſed with their owne paſſions, as they never obſerve anothers? have no eyes for any but for them they love. But I who have nothing elſe to doe, but to obſerve the actions of all, I doe plainly ſee that Madonthe does pleaſe you more than Diana; but be not ſorry that I know it, for perhaps it will not be unſerviceable to you: Madonthe loves me, and I think ſhe will be eaſily induced unto any thing I ſhall perſwade; I know what it is to love, and which way to compaſſe the contentments of it, and I promiſe you to aide and ſerve you in all I am able. Silvander could not chuſe but laugh to heare her talke thus, and to confirme her in the opinion which ſhe had conceived, he beſeeched her to be ſilent, and above all, not to acquaint Madonthe, leaſt it ſhould offend her, and ſo ruine his whole deſigne; he thanked her for her kind offers, which he would not refuſe, but would not make uſe of at that time, for ſeverall reaſons which hereafter ſhould be made knowne unto her.

Silvander thought himſelf very ſubtle in this, but Laonice who ſeemed to beleeve him, began to contrive the miſchiefe which ſhe intended him, upon it, and which ſince ſhe made him pay ſo dear for. In the mean time Paris and Diana were entred deepe into diſcourſe; for this young man was ſo inflamed with a violent affection unto this ſhepherdeſſe, as he could never reſt, but when he was with her. Certainly, if ſhe had intended to love any, ſhe would have pitched here; but ſince the death of Filander, ſhe would never ſuffer love to take any hold of her affections, thinking none worthy to be Succeſſor unto ſuch a ſhepherd as Filander. If ſhe did afterwards love Silvander, it was not out of deſigne, but upon a ſurprize which the merits and addreſſes of that ſhepherd made upon her; ſo as the good will which ſhe had unto Paris was no more than as a ſiſter unto a brother, and ſo farre ſhe thought her ſelfe obliged by the affection he had unto her; and ſhe was hindred from any farther, by the affection ſhe bare unto the memory of the courteous Filander; yet he whoſe affection had no limits, to render unto her all poſſible teſtimonies of his love, he reſolved to try his fortune, and thinking this opportunity to be good, he would not let it ſlip: leading her therefore by the arm, he drew her a little from the reſt, and whilſt every one was buſied in their owne various conceptions, he ſpoke thus unto her. I cannot chuſe but wonder, faireſt Diana, that all my endeavours to doe you all ſervice, ſhould not let you ſee the great affection which I have unto you; or if you do ſee it, I wonder more that it ſhould have no greater operation, nor produce any more reciprocall good will in your ſoule: Though my ſervices cannot merit ſo high as love, for that were too much happineſſe, yet Methinkes they might at the leaſt produce ſome ſparkes of good will, and be in ſome degree pleaſing unto you; I have tryed all wayes, and in this cannot but accuſe the meaneſſe of my merit, and the greatneſſe of my misfortune; I have tryed, I ſay, and doe find all wayes that are advantagious unto others who are in love, but find them all unprofitable unto me; you injure my extreame affection; my ſervices diſpleaſe you; my patience makes me deſpicable: my conſtancy tedious unto you, and the very age I ſpend in loving, ſerving and adoring you, is ſo ſterile, as you hardly take notice, I am any thing yours▪ Oh Heavens, can ſuch cruelty, if not ingratitude, accompany ſuch a noble ſoule? will you never ſuffer my tears to mollifie your heart of Ad [...]man [...]

At this word Paris was ſilent, as well becauſe he feared that his eyes could not reſtraine thoſe teares which theſe words would bring from his heart if he continued his diſcourſe, as becauſe he would give Diana time to ſpeake ſome words of conſolation to him. She, who did love him, as I told you before, not thinking him ſo deeply engaged in the Fetters of love, and deſiring if it were poſſible not to let him depart diſpleaſed, after a ſweet glance of her eye towards him, ſaid thus unto him; I did not thinke generous Paris to have heard ſuch language from you, which is as farre from my expectation, as the Heavens are from the Earth; you blame me for being inſenſible, and that I doe not acknowledge the affection which you have unto me, and I beſeech you, what would you thinke of me, if not loving you, yet I ſhould behave my ſelfe towards you as I doe: Have I not ſhewed you as much plauſibility and favour as I am capable off? Did I not alwayes anſwer you with all courteſie and civility that was hanſome for me doe; What can you deſire more of me? do you ſee me Garaſſe any more then your ſelfe? do I not apply my ſelfe more unto you, then any other? and at this very time, do I offer to talk or glance any eye upon any but your ſelfe? Oh faireſt ſhepheardeſs (ſaid Paris, and ſighed) I do confeſs all you ſay, and that you do more for me, than for any other: but [Page] what am I the better, as long as you do nothing for any elſe, nor me neither? If my affection were not as it is▪ I mean, extream, perhaps I ſhould not with ſo much importunity beg teſtimonies of your good will. And as much as you ſay, you have done for me: what I beſeech you have you done, but onely as to the ſon of Adamas the firſt time you ſaw him, and before he gave teſtimony of any affection? All your actions towards me, I muſt confeſſe are full of civility and ſweetneſſe, But are you not obliged to the ſame towards all of my qualitie? Can you thinke theſe duties that belong to my Name and Quality, can ſatisfie for thoſe that are due unto a violent affection? No, no, fair one, Civility and Courteſie will ſerve the ſon of Adamas, but nothing elſe but Love can ſatisfie Paris: There muſt be a reciprocall compliance, before I can leave complaining; and I muſt blame you of inſenſibility, and my ſelfe of ill fortune, in loving ſo great a beauty with a hard heart. Then Diana after a little pauſe, returned him this anſwer: I thought until now, Paris, that there had been nothing in my actions but what would have pleaſed you, thinking that I had regulated them according to the Rules which Virgins ought to obſerve, even when they have a deſigne to pleaſe and oblige; but I perceive I was miſtaken, but to ſhew my repentance, and how free I am with you, I will very ſincerely tell you my thoughts: I honour you Paris, as much as I do any man in the world; and I do love you as much as I do my brother; if this will not content you, I cannot tell what you can deſire more.

Fair Diana, ſaid Paris, This Declaration is indeed very pleaſing unto me, and as the Son of Adamas, I am fully ſatisfied; but, as Paris, not at all: becauſe my affection requires nothing more; not Courteſie for Courteſie, but Love for Love. If you be not contented and ſatisfied with this I have told you Paris, replyed the ſhepheardeſſe, you muſt look for more from your ſelfe, ſince you ſuffer your deſires to go beyond due limits; and I have a juſt cauſe of complaint againſt you, if I would take it, for pretending more from me, then I ought to give▪ 'Tis very true, replyed Paris, that you would have moſt juſt cauſe of complaint, if faire ſhepherdeſſe, I ſhould deſire any thing from you which was not fit for you to grant: But all my deſires being grounded upon honour and virtue, methinks you ſhould not complaine againſt them; And to open my heart moſt freely unto her that owes it, know fair ſhepherdeſſe, that I am ſo wholly devoted unto you, that I ſhall never enjoy any reſt or contentment, untill you be alſo mine, upon condition of marriage. You do me much honour, replyed Diana, in having ſuch thoughts: but you muſt know, that I have Parents, unto whoſe wiſdome I refer all ſuch matters: and yet if you will have me ſhew you my very heart, I do ſweare, Paris, that neither you nor they, nor any alive, are able to move me unto any ſuch mind of marriage. I do love you as my Brother, but cannot as a Husband; and do not think this ſtrange, for my minde is the ſame towards all men living. Oh ye Gods, ſaid Paris then, muſt I never receive any perfect contentment? You ſay that you do love me as your Brother, but you ordain that this Love muſt all my life long be a barren, ſteril, and fruitleſſe love, Paris, ſaid ſhe, what would you have me ſay? have you a mind I ſhould deceive you? or with ſome ſmooth diſſembling language, give you ſome deluding hopes? methinks I have obliged you in diſcovering my reſolution ſo freely and genuinely unto you. Oh ſhepherdeſs, ſaid Paris, with a profound ſigh, what a moſt diſobliging obligation is this? how many ſad ſighs and ſorrowful tears muſt I pay unto your cruelty, to acquit my ſelfe of his fatal obligation.

They would have continued longer, when coming to a croſs-walk, they were hindred by the reſt of the company, who were returning to the houſe; for Adamas was told it was dinner time, and Alexis tired with the talke of Hylas, and to be ſo long ſeparated from Aſtrea, ſhe took all occaſions of being with her againe; and as ſoon as ſhe ſaw Diana, I beſeech you fair ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid Alexis unto her) help me to defend my ſelfe againſt the fine diſcourſe of Hylas▪ for I aſſure you, I know not how to anſwer him: Miſtreſſe (ſaid Hylas) thoſe that cannot defend themſelves, they muſt yield unto the courteſie of their enemies. I had rather die (ſaid Alexis and ſmiled) then render my ſelfe unto the mercy of ſuch a conqueror. Rather then you ſhould die, ſaid Hylas, I would render the victory, and yeeld my ſelfe the conquered. Truly, ſaid Alexis, you are very courteous: but, Hylas, I am of ſo proud a temper, and ſo little deſirous to be obliged, as I know not whether I ſhould receive your offer. Why ſhould you make a queſtion of it, ſaid Hylas? is it perhaps you ſcorn it? No anſwered Alexis; but rather becauſe [Page] I feare leſt being victorious in that manner, I ſhould be overcome. Oh heavens, ſaid Hylas, and cryed out, I ever thought it a dangerous buſineſſe to love a learned woman, and one that is brought up amongſt the Druids of Carnutes: I do vow and ſweare by the love I have to you, that when I began firſt to love you, I was afraid of nothing more then that you were not ſimple enough. Why good Hylas (ſaid Diana, who was very glad to mingle diſcourſe, purpoſely to be rid of Paris) would you love one that was ſimple? Truly, ſaid Hylas, I would not have her a fool, nor would I have her overwiſe; ſo ſhe have as much wit as to believe all I tell her, I would not have her able to expound the deep ſciences of our learned Druids. But if ſhe ſhould have no more wit then to believe you, replyed Diana, you would be put to a great deale of paine, by reaſon of the cure you would have in the carriage of her ſelfe. You are much deceived ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid Hylas) for what is pleaſure to one, is never painful. Some ſay ſo indeed, ſaid Diana, but I do not think ſo; for I believe the pleaſure onely keepes them from thinking of the paine: but that they have none is an error, ſince if they be put to any violent exerciſe, they will blow and paint as if they wanted breath. See Diana, ſaid Hylas, you are one of thoſe two, whom I would not love; you have too much wit, and put me to pain in ſtudying how to anſwer you, which is a thing I cannot abide: but on the contrary, I ſhould be extreamly contented, if ſhe admire all I do, and all I ſay: from admiration proceeds from a good opinion, and from this good opinion will proceed the love that I deſire.

Silvander who was neare, and watched for an occaſion of ſeconding Diana in her diſcourſe: Admiration, ſaid he, will work the contrary effect which you deſire. Why ſo? ſaid Hylas; for if ſhe admire me, ſhe will believe me full of great and high parts; and when I ſpeak, I am an Oracle unto her, my deſires will be Lawes, and my will Commands: Admiration will produce quite contrary effects, replyed Silvander; For the learned ſay, that Admiration is the mother of Verity, in as much as admiring any thing the minde of man is naturally apt to ſearch for the knowledge of it, and this ſearch makes him find out the truth: and ſo Hylas, in ſaying that ſhe will admire you, you doe as much as ſay, that ſhe will know you; and knowing you, ſhe will finde that if ſhee eſteemed any thing in you, ſhe is miſtaken; and then in ſcorning you, ſhe will admire that ſhe ſhould admire you: I perceive ſhepheard, anſwered Hylas, that you are one of thoſe wits, which, were I a woman, I ſhould never love: But though you can talk well, yet talke as long as you will, I am ſtill in the ſame opinion; for he who does admire whilſt he is in that admiration, does he not infinitely eſteem the party that cauſeth it? 'Tis true; ſaid Silvander; but then preſently after that, he will change when he comes to the knowledge of the Truth. This, replyed Hylas, does give me ſatisfaction: for in ſaying ſhe will change preſently, let me tell you, my good friend Silvander, ſaid he, and clapt him upon the ſhoulder, ſhe may chance to doe as I may do; but let her make as much haſte as ſhe can, I will pardon her if ſhe change ſooner then my ſelfe: and if ſhe do chance to be before me, faith ile over take her preſently. This anſwer cauſed every one to laugh, and this diſcourſe entertained them till they came into the houſe, where the Table was furniſhed with many delicacies, and every one ſat down as the night before.

All dinner while, nothing was almoſt talked on, but the merry humour of Hylas; and to put him upon diſcourſe, there was alwayes ſome or other who took his part. Amongſt the reſt, Stella, who though ſhe did it in ſhew to pleaſe the company, yet was it not at all againſt her humour, ſhe having all her life long followed the rules of this Doctrine. And Corilas who had heretofore reſented the effects of it, hearing how ſhe took part with Hylas: Shepherd, ſaid he unto Silvander, I beſeech you tell me; is it true that love does grow from ſympathy? All thoſe who ever ſpoke of it, anſwered Silvander, ſay Yes, Then, ſaid Corilas, am I the onely one that believes the contrary, and have had full experience of it: For can two humours be more like, than thoſe of Hylas and Stella? and yet I do not ſee there is any love betwixt them. There was not one at all the Table, who did not laugh when they heard this diſcourſe of Corilas. And when Silvander would have anſwered, Stella interrupted him, in ſaying; I do not bluſh, ſhepherd, at a thing which hath given me all the contentment I enjoy; for had I not changed when I loved you, I had loſt it; and you muſt accuſe the reaſon which Silvander gave, for my changing which is, that Admiration is the mother of Truth: for at the firſt not knowing you, I did admire you; and when I did know you, ſcorned you; ſo as you may very [Page] well give this Motto; Farre off, ſomething; neer nothing. But, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled; as you ſay, that I am Inconſtant for loving you once, and not loving you; ſo you may better ſay that I am Conſtant, in changing once only and continuing in a reſolution of never loving you, as long as I live. The queſtion which I asked, replyed Corilas, is not whether you be a wavering Weather-cocke or no: But whether (Hylas and you being alike, and ſimpathy being a cauſe of love) whether you doe love one another? Unto this ſhe preſently ſaid, I will tell you Corilas, that ſimpathy may worke its effects, when there is no greater force to oppoſe it; And that ſimpathy which may be betwixt Hylas and me, might have ſo much force as to make us love, if it were not that knowing thee ſo little worthy of love, thou haſt made me have ſuch an ill opinion of all other ſhepherds, as I know not whether ever I ſhall love any. You have taught me a leſſon, ſaid Corilas: For having had ſo much experience of you, I cannot conceive that thoſe who are under the ſame habit you are, doe not hide under thoſe habits the ſame imperfections: Fie, fie, ſaid all the ſhepherds, this, Corilas, is too much, to blame all the reſt: No, ſaid Corilas, my intention is not to blame them: I onely ſay, that I cannot conceive they have not ſame imperfections; I doe not ſay, they have them, and in this I blame onely my ſelfe, as not having the judgment to know the truth: But of all this, I accuſe this deceiver, who yet cannot glory in her victory, for ſhe has paid deer for it.

Daphnid [...] and Alcidon did hearken with much delight unto the diſpute of theſe ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes, and admired that theſe Rurall wits brought up amongſt Woods and in Fields, ſhould be ſo polite and civilized. But Daphnide having a very curious ſpirit, and deſiring to know every thing, ſhe addreſſed her ſelfe unto the ſage Adamas: Methinkes Father, ſaid ſhe unto him, that to part theſe two friendly Enemies (for ſhe knew they were ſo called) and to ſatisfie a curioſity wherein I have long lived, you would doe very well to tell us what this Simpathy is, of which they ſpeake, and whether it will cauſe love; and in ſo doing, you will feaſt us double, both in our bodies, and in our minds. Madam, anſwered Adamas, your curioſity is commendable, and did I not give it ſatisfaction I were much to blame, as well in not obeying what you pleaſe to command, as in not informing ſuch as deſire it, as my charge obliges me; and the ſooner, becauſe I am able to doe it in few words: Be pleaſed to know, Madam, that Tautates the ſupream Creator of all things, did make Heaven, which is his chiefeſt Manſion, and the place where he created all ſoules, and becauſe it is nothing likely that any thing ſhould come out of the hand of ſuch an excellent Workeman which is not in its full perfection, he formed the ſoule by intellectuall participation. Now this participation is taken from the pure intelligence of that Planet which is predominate when it is created, and this perfection which it receives, is ſo agreeable to it, as it is inflamed with love of that intelligence which did impart it unto it. And even as a Lover doth forme an Idea of the thing loved in his fancy, as perfectly as poſſibly he can, to the end it may fill the eyes of his ſoule, and pleaſe himſelfe in this contemplation when he is deprived of the ſight of that beloved face; ſo likewiſe this ſoule being in love with the ſupream beauty of this Intelligence, and of this Planet when it entred into the body unto which it gave the forme, it did imprint not onely the ſenſe and the airy body, in which the learned ſay it is wrapped but alſo the fancy with this Character, with the beauty of which it was ardently inflamed in heaven, ſo as it can apprehend a figure and perfect reſemblance of it: and pleaſing it ſelfe in this contemplation it conceives a certaine naturall diſpoſition to eſteeme all that reſembles it good and beautifull, and to diſlike generally all that is unlike unto it, accuſtoming its judgement in ſuch ſort unto this will as it becomes habituall, from which we cannot refraine without very great force upon our ſelves: From hence it is, that as ſoone as we caſt our eyes upon any one; if they doe report unto our ſoules, as faithfull Mirrrors, that there is in this perſon ſomething which doth reſemble that Image of Intelligence immediately we doe love, without any farther diſcourſe in our ſelves, or other ſearch for the occaſion of this good will, being drawne unto it by an inſtinct which may be termed blind: On the contrary we doe hate, if we doe find them different; and this is it they call ſimpathy, which is that conformity which we find betwixt one another; and which indeed is the ſource of love and not beauty altogether, as many believe: For if beauty were the ſource of love, it would follow that all faire ones would be loved of all: But we ſee on the contrary, that not the moſt faire and the moſt worthy, but thoſe onely who come neereſt to our humour, and with whom we have moſt conformity, are thoſe whom we doe love beſt.

[Page] Here the Druide ſtopt, and Daphnide began thus; I muſt confeſſe with thankes, reverend Father, that you have at once cleered ſeverall doubts unto me, yet one remaines in which I much deſire ſatisfaction. If it be ſo that love proceeds from that reſemblance that I meet with all in the party that I doe love: How comes it to paſſe, that the ſame reſemblance does not make him love me? For, if I do love by this ſimpathy, and if this ſimpathy doe come as you doe ſay, Methinkes it is impoſſible but that he muſt have the ſame inclination unto me, that I have unto him; My meaning is, that the ſame Planet muſt have the ſame influence upon us both; yet for all that we ſee many who doe not at all affect thoſe who are even ready to dye for the love of them. Your doubt, Madam, replyed Adamas, deſerves a cleering; it is very ingeniouſly moved, and ſhewes the excellency of that ſpirit from whence it comes.

Be pleaſed therefore to know, Madam, that as I told you, the ſoule fancies unto it ſelfe an Idea, and the moſt perfect image that it can of this Planet, and of that Intelligence or apprehenſion which it loves; but in as much as, to repreſent ſo faire and ſo perfect an Image, the matter is of ſuch an inferiour ſort, as it is able to doe it but very imperfectly: It muſt enſue that this repreſentation is not equally perfect in every one, becauſe the matter of the body is better diſpoſed in ſome than in others, and accordingly as the ſoul does find it, ſo does it worke more or leſſe perfectly; As in painting, if the pencill, and the colours be naught, the Painter muſt needs make bad work, and but little reſemblant unto the thing he would repreſent, ſo the ſoule finding the body indiſpoſed to receive the figure and lineaments, that ſhe would give of this beauty which it loves, the reſemblance remaines ſo imperfect, as the features are hardly knowable: And when this happens thus, doubtleſſe he that hath the moſt perfect repreſentation of this Intelligence, and of the Planet, ſhall be loved by ſimpathy of the other who hath it, though ill done: For his ſoule, though it hath not the repreſentation of this face which it loves, in this body, to the life; yet does love the Portraiture when he ſees it well done in what place ſoever it be; but on the contrary, that ſoule which ſhall meet with a matter: well diſpoſed, and which by conſequence hath the Idea and patterne well repreſented; it daigns not to turne its eyes upon the other, either becauſe it ſcornes it, ſeeing it ſo ill made, or becauſe it knowes it not, having ſo little reſemblance; and from hence proceeds that love which is not mutuall.

But (ſaid Hylas and interrupted) good Father give me leave to aske you one queſtion: If theſe loves proceed from ſimpathy how comes it to paſſe, that after one hath loved another, he ſometimes ceaſeth that love; nay, ſometimes to ſcorne, and often to hate. This queſtion, anſwered the Druid, and ſmiled, is a queſtion fit for Hylas, and you may ſee that this ſimpathy is a blind inſtinct, ſince Hylas loving and ceaſing to love one and the ſame ſubject, yet he does not know why he does ſo: But Hylas, I will tell you, to the end that hereafter you may know the reaſon of thoſe things which you doe ſo well practiſe.

Imagine, Hylas, that thoſe impreſſions which the ſoule makes in her body, by which ſhe repreſents this ſuperiour beauty of her underſtanding, and of her Planet, be indeed corporeall: For ſhe drawes the lineaments in the fancy, as a Lover does the features of thoſe he loves in his imagination, and repreſents them in ſuch ſort in his ſenſes, and in his complexion, as ſhe makes his humour melancholy, if ſhe have any influence from Saturne; and merry, if from Jupiter; and ſo of the reſt. And afterwards, as we have already ſaid, ſhe takes ſo great a cuſtome in contemplating and approving theſe things, as ſhe has made it habituall, which though it be very difficult to change or loſe, yet it may be changed and loſt. As we ſee commonly come to paſſe, in wax and a ſeale: Though the wax have an impreſſion and figure, yet if one will make a new impreſſion, the ſame wax loſes the firſt figure, and takes the new; ſo the ſoule having imprinted this Coeleſtiall Character in the ſenſes, if they through careleſſeneſſe be not pleaſed with it, or elſe any new objects make the will rove after them; it is certaine, theſe will marke his fancy with another figure, and it will ſo loſe the firſt reſemblance, as that it will retaine no ſhadow of it; and then the party who was loved by him, or who loved him by ſimpathy loſing this reſemblance which he had, he loſeth alſo the love which it cauſed. For even as Habitudes, ſo ſimpathy, may be loſt, and gotten; but Hylas, if every time you have changed, you have imprinted a new Idea in your ſelfe, there is none in the world whoſe impreſſions are not in you; ſo as my daughter may hope that you will be more conſtant [Page] unto her, than you have been to all the world; not that ſhe merits more then her world of Predeceſſors, but becauſe ſhe is the laſt. Every one laughed at the concluſion; and Hylas had anſwered, if Aſtrea had not interpoſed.

I beſeech you, Father, ſaid ſhe, if it be ſo that love doth proceed from this ſympathy, how comes it to paſſe, one ſhould be long acquainted with another without any love, and yet love at laſt? The anſwer which I gave unto Hylas, replyed Adamas, may ſerve unto this queſtion: At the firſt, that perſon had not the Character of the beauty of this intelligence; and ſince by a new mark, as with a new ſeale, he might have it imprinted: but to demonſtrate it a little clearer.

The ſoul being wrapped in theſe bodies of ours, as long as it is there ſhut up as in a Priſon, ſhe does not underſtand, nor comprehend any thing but onely by the ſenſes by which, as by ſo many windowes, ſhe come to the knowledge of all that is in the Univerſe: And ſhe does not onely not underſtand nor comprehend, but by them; but alſo ſhe can neither underſtand nor comprehend, but by corporeal repreſentations, although ſhe does ſtudy and contemplate the incorporeal ſubſtances. Hence it comes to paſſe, that ſhe cannot have a knowledge of things more perfectly, then as the ſenſes preſent them unto her: and if they be falſe and deluders, they deceive her, and cauſe her to be of a falſe judgement; as we ſee in ſuch as are ſick, who think meats though never ſo good, yet to be ill taſted, becauſe their guſt is depraved. So likewiſe, ſuch as have ill eyes, they oftentimes ſee things double, or of another colour: or yet, though the eyes be good and ſound, yet ſome interpoſitions betwixt the eye and the object may delude; as if they look through a blew or red Glaſs, all they ſee ſeems to be of the ſame colours: A ſtraight ſtaff put into the water, will ſeem crooked; and all things greater or leſſer, according to the qualities of the Spectacles through which they are looked upon. Now theſe falſities, being repreſented by the ſenſes, for truths, the ſoule which gives credit unto them, is preſently corrupted in her judgement, becauſe the things preſuppoſed, and from whence ſhe drawes conſequences, are ſuch: The Judgement being made, the Will immediately conſents unto it: The Will, I ſay, which has that which is good for her object, and that which is judged ſo, or which on the contrary, does fly that which ſhe thinks to be evill.

And from hence you may underſtand, fair ſhepherdeſſe, that the reaſon why ſometimes we ſee one whom we doe not love, yet afterwards do love; is, either becauſe our eyes and our ſenſes, whoſe office is to preſent theſe things unto the ſoule, are not faithful in the functions; or elſe the Mediums by which they act, have ſome imperfection which hinders them from doing their duties faithfully; which imperfections being removed, they come to diſcover the truth, and relate it unto the ſoule, which then finding this reſemblance, brings ardently to love that which before ſhe ſaw and did not care for.

Diana, who hearkened very attentively unto Adamas: Reverend Father, ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled, I would gladly propound one queſtion unto you, did I not thinke I ſhould be too troubleſome in it: No, ſaid Adamas, whatſoever ſo ſweet a ſhepherdeſſe ſhall ask, I ſhall anſwer if I be able: Surely, ſaid ſhe, the wiſe Adamas is able to anſwer many more, then ſuch a filly ignorant ſhepherdeſſe as I am can aske. Tell me, I beſeech you, ſince love proceeds from ſympathy, which is an image repreſented in us, of that Intelligence and Planet under which we were born; how comes it to paſſe, that faire ones are commonly loved by every one? For it ſhould ſeem that all thoſe who love, are born under one and the ſame planet, which we know they are not, being borne at ſeverall times.

I ever expected, anſwered Adamas that this ſubtil ſhepherdeſſe would aske ſome queſtion which was not common; but I will try if I can anſwer it. All fair things, although they be differing, yet have ſome conformity amongſt themſelves, as all good things have; and therefore ſome have ſaid, That there is but one good, and one faire, after the ſimilitude of which all things good and faire are judged to be ſuch. Now theſe Planets, and theſe Intelligences which govern them, are neither good nor faire, but onely as they reſemble moſt the ſupream good and faire. And though they are amongſt themſelves ſeparate and differing; yet they are not amiable nor eſtimable, but as they are good and fair: And this Goodneſſe and Fairneſſe having alwaies conformitie, though they be in divers ſubjects; it need not be thought ſtrange, if many doe love thoſe perſons who are faire, though they be not born under the ſame Planet, ſince every one obſerves in their [Page] beauty ſomething which is conformable unto their owne.

I am now, replyed Hylas, the moſt contented man in the world, for I have learned one thing which will be highly advantagious unto me. And you Silvander, ſaid he, and turned towards him, you have reaſon to be mute at this diſcourſe, for it nothing concernes you. I do not know, anſwered Silvander, wherein it will much advantage you. O ignorant ſhepheard, replyed Hylas, didſt thou not hear the wiſe Adamas ſay, that the reaſon why faire ones are loved by ſo many, was, becauſe their beauty had a conformity with all the Planets and Intelligencies? I heard it very well, anſwered Silvander; but what does that advantage you? In this, replyed Hylas, ſince I do love ſo many ſeveral beauties, it argues that I have conformity with them all; ſo conſequently am fairer then you are, who never looks but upon one. I think, replyed Silvander, and ſmiled, that if your argument be good, you are not onely fairer then I am, but then any in the Country, nay then all, put them all together; but you muſt not underſtand the diſcourſe of the ſage Adamas in that ſort; but on the contrary, if you remember what he anſwered Daphnide, you will finde that it is a ſigne of a great defect in you, who has the portraiture of your Intelligence and Planet ſo ill made, as there is not one of theſe faire ones who does not diſdaine to ſee in thee ſo great imperfection of a thing ſo perfect.

This moved all to laughter, and Hylas had replyed ſomething in his own defence, had they not riſen from the Table, it being very late, and becauſe Aſtrea did very well remember the counſell which Leonide gave her, to entreat Adamas that he would be pleaſed to come unto their Town, and offer the ſacrifice of Thanks for the fortunate Misſletoe; ſhe took Diana, Phillis, Celidea, Stella, and the reſt of the ſhepherdeſſes a part, and propounded to them, that ſince the ſhepherds had already ſhewed their forwardneſs in requeſting Adamas to offer this ſacrifice; it was fit they joyned with them in the ſame deſires, and to try if they could carry him with them when they returned. Every one approved of the motion; and after a conſultation, who amongſt them ſhould be their ſpeaker, it was agreed, that Diana ſhould be the mouth of the Company, which ſhe accepted of, though at the firſt ſhe made ſome difficulty. So then addreſſing themſelves unto Alexis, they intimated unto her their deſires of ſpeaking unto the ſage Adamas, they deſired that it might be by her meanes. Alexis never asking what the buſineſſe was, went preſently unto Adamas, letting him know the deſires of theſe diſcreet ſhepherdeſſes. Then Diana in the Name of all her Companions, delivered their Petition in very elegant terms. And added thereunto, that they would eſteem it as a high favour, if he would be pleaſed without any longer delay, to go now along with them; alſo did humbly beſeech him, to let the fair Druid his Daughter, and the Nimph Leonide, honour the ſacrifice with their preſence.

Unto which ſupplication, they received this Anſwer from the Druid: Fair and diſcreet ſhepheardeſſes, your requeſt is ſo juſt, and I am obliged ſo much to ſee the honour of the great Tautates performed, that upon one condition, I am ready to do as you deſire, I am moſt confident anſwered Diana, that there is none here, who are not pleaſed with any thing you ſhall be pleaſed to command. I deſire then, replyed Adamas, that you will ſtay with me all this day, that I may take order for all things neceſſary for the ſacrifice, and I promiſe you that to morrow I will conduct you to your Town: And I ſhall moſt humbly deſire, that this Lady (ſaid he, and addreſſed himſelfe unto Daphniae) will do us ſo far honour, as to be an aſſiſtant at this ſacrifice of Thanks, as well to render this honour unto our great Tautates, as to oblige us all, in not parting ſo much good Company. The condition upon which our Petition depends, replyed Diana, is ſo much unto our advantage, as we cannot deſire a more noble favour.

Thus the voyage of Adamas was concluded upon, and he at the ſame time in order to his promiſe, beſeech' [...] the fair Daphnide ſhe would be pleaſed to be an aſſiſtant, which ſhe freely conſented unto, as well out of her complacency, as out of her great deſires to ſee the manner how theſe ſhepherds and ſhepheardeſſes do live, of whom ſhe heard ſo much. Alexis was a little ſtartled at her returning unto her Town, being ſtill in extream feares of being known: Yet ſeeing it was a thing reſolved upon, ſhe diſſembled her feares as well as ſhe could. Aſtrea, after thankes returned unto the Druid for this great favour, ſhe came to rejoyce with Alexis, becauſe they ſhould enjoy her company a long time. 'Tis I, fair ſhepherdeſſe, replyed Alexis, who ought to rejoyce the moſt, and, who can moſt truly ſay, that I was never better pleaſed at any thing, ſince I came from the place where [Page] I had my education, than I am in my contentments of ſeeing you. Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, heaven forbid I ſhould ever doubt of any thing you ſay: but I muſt needs confeſſe that if I could, it is of this, becauſe I can hardly perſwade my ſelfe that I, inconſiderable I, who am ſo very unfortunate, ſhould have any thing in me, which can merit, or which is capable of receiving ſo high a favour.

Faire ſhepherdeſſe, anſwered Alexis, you may very well beleeve what I ſaid, for I never uſe to lie, and beleeve it alſo, that I had rather dye than either lye or diſſemble unto you whom I love ſo well. Does it pleaſe you then Madam, replyed Aſtrea, that I ſhould beleeve it ſo? Not onely pleaſe me, ſaid Alexis, but I doe infinitely deſire it with all my heart. Then Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, I would with all my heart alſo, it would pleaſe you to let me live with you as long as I live, which if you doe, you will make me the happieſt and moſt contented woman in the whole Univerſe.

Aſtrea, ſaid Alexis, and tooke her hand, I am affraid you will quickly repent of this reſolution: Did you Madam but know Aſtreas humour, replyed the ſhepherdeſſe, you would never thinke ſo, for ſhe is of ſuch a Nature that never alters a reſolution once taken. Alexis upon this ſtood ſtill and ſpoke not, and going a pace or two backe, did looke upon her with the ſame eye ſhe did, when ſhe commanded her never to ſee her again, and this thought did ſo freſhly bring into her mind all former paſſages, as it was impoſſible for her not to give ſome knowledge of her ſelfe, by the teares which trickled from her eyes, which yet ſhe had ſo much power over her ſelfe as to reſtraine after a few drops.

Aſtrea ſeeing ſuch a ſudden alteration in her, was much aſtoniſhed, as not being able to imagine the cauſe, nor conceive that any thing ſhe had ſaid could poſſibly diſpleaſe her: And in this perplexity they both ſtood a long while ſpeechleſſe; at laſt the ſhepherdeſſe was the firſt who began to ſpeake: Madam, ſaid ſhe unto her, I ſee that you are changed upon a ſudden, and I cannot poſſibly chuſe but be exceedingly troubled at it; if I be the cauſe, either by my diſcourſe, or otherwiſe, I doe vow by that ſoule which loves you above all the World, that I will preſently be revenged upon my ſelfe for it; if I be not, then tell me I beſeech you, if my life can doe you any ſervice, and you ſhall ſee there is nothing ſo deare unto me, which I would not ſacrifice unto it. Alexis, knowing her fault, and checking her ſelfe; did endeavour to excuſe and hide it as well as ſhe could, and therefore with a deepe ſigh, ſhe anſwered thus; Tis true, faire ſhepherdeſſe, that the alteration which you obſerved in my face, did proceed from you, and yet you are not to be blamed, but onely my owne ſoule, which is too ſenſible of a thing which your words did bring into my memory: And to give ſatisfaction unto your perplexity, you muſt know, that I being brought up amongſt the Virgin Druids of Carnutes, amongſt the multitude that was there, I made choice of one, whom above all the reſt ſeemed unto me moſt amiable, and thought my ſelfe not miſtaken in my choice, ſhe being eſteemed ſo amongſt all our Companions, and having all deſirable qualities which uſe to create love: She was faire, hanſome, and as well extracted as any in all the Country, her wit was ſutable to the perfections of her body, everyway accompliſhed, and all her actions were ſweetned with affability and civility; her ſweetneſſe flowed ſo upon me, that I loved her, and becauſe I thought ſhe loved me, I loved her extreamly, and this love came to that height betwixt us, that I could not live without her, nor ſhe without me: Thus we paſſed over many yeares with abundance of content and ſatisfaction from each other; but whilſt I thought my ſelfe more happy in this condition of friendſhip, than the greateſt Monarch can be of his Dominions, this faire one quitted me, and ſo ſeperated her ſelfe from all termes of friendſhip with me, as ſhe would never ſee me againe, and without ever telling any cauſe fell into ſuch hatred of me as ſhe would never come neere me

My perplexity at this alteration was ſo great, and the blow ſo ſenſible, as I becoming all ſorrow, I fell ſicke, and ſo dangerouſly, as I beleeve you have heard, that I thought I ſhould never recover it. Now when you fell into expreſſion of your conſtant and unalterable humour, I remembred the like expreſſions which this faire and wiſe Virgin uſed unto me, and which were ſo ill obſerved, and this cauſed the alteration which you obſerved in my countenance. Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, I am ſorry that I ſhould be any way the cauſe of your perplexity; but I hope you will thinke me innocent, for had I knowne it, I would never have committed this fault: But who would ever have thought, that you who are ſo faire and full of all perfections, enough to invite and keep the whole world in love with you, ſhould ever find a woman ſo ſimple and inconſiderate, as to let a happineſſe [Page] voluntarily eſcape her hands, which every one ought to deſire and covet? Oh God! Oh Heavens! Oh all thats ſacred! how carefull ſhould I be in keeping ſo great a happineſſe, if Heaven beyond my merit ſhould ever raiſe me to ſo high a fortune? And with how much carefull aſſiduity ſhould I court it, if by my care, paines, and travell I had any hopes to obtaine it? But Heaven, which has looked upon me with a frowning eye ever ſince I was borne, will I feare never be ſo favourable to me as long as I live. Faire ſhepherdeſſe, ſaid Alexis then, let me intreat you, that unleſſe you will exceedingly diſoblige me, accuſe not this faire and wiſe Virgin of any crime in treating me after this manner: For I cannot endure without much diſpleaſure ſhe ſhould ever receive any blame, for that which is only my fault, and the ill influence of that planet under which I was born. And as to your deſire of my ſucceeding in her place, beleeve it Aſtrea, it is I that would covet it with any Art, but for one thing which gives me a checke. And moſt aſſuredly were it not for that conſideration, my deſires of it ſhould exceed yours But, faire ſhepherdeſſe I fear, that though now at the firſt, you judge me worthy of your amity, yet when you do particularly know me, your judgement will find it ſelfe miſtaken, and looke aſquint at me as this faire and wiſe one did, whoſe loſſe I doe ſo ſadly reſent; and if ſuch a fatall chance ſhould befall me I know not what would become of poore Alexis, being able to ſay, and truly, that I doe find my ſelfe ſo weake againſt ſuch fatall blowes, as I know not whether my life will laſt after I have received them. And ſince it hath pleaſed the great Tautates to recover me from the danger of the laſt. I muſt confeſſe that my feares of falling into the like, makes me tremble, and turnes my blood to ice. It does not pleaſ [...] you Madam, replyed Aſtrea, I ſhould ſay that this faire one was to blame in treating you thus, and therefore becauſe I will not upon any conſideration whatſoever diſpleaſe you, I will not ſay it; but by your permiſſion I will ſay, that ſhe will never find ſuch a jewell as ſhe has loſt; and that if Tautates as a moſt particular bleſſing would preferre me unto her roome, I would not part from it for a thouſand worlds. Ah faire ſhepherdeſſe, ſaid Alexis, and ſighed, if ſuch a happineſſe ſhould befall me, I ſhould vaule your amity at as a high rate, as you can mine: But beleeve me faire one, you know not what you deſire, when you deſire my amity. I confeſſe Madam, what you ſay, anſwered Aſtrea; for the happineſſe which I deſire is ſo high, as the weakneſſe of my underſtanding is not of capacity to comprehend it: But Madam, ſince it is not the meaneſſe of my merit, what is it which hinders you from doing me this high favour, ſince I doe call Tautates to witneſſe, that if I be ſo happy as to obtaine it, I will preſerve it deerer than my life; nay, even that life which would be an infinite happineſſe, if you thinke me worthy of it. Alexis upon this, ſwelling with contentment, ſhe tooke her hand, and graſping it a little, ſaid unto her; faire ſhepherdeſſe, remember where we leave this diſcourſe, and we will finiſh it to morrow, as we goe unto your Towne; in the mean time, be aſſured that I have a greater inclination and will to love you and ſerve you, than you can tell how to deſire.

The reaſon why Alexis referred this diſcourſe untill another time was, leaſt lookers on ſhould have any ſuſpition, had it continued longer; beſides, ſhe could not there hide her bluſhes and alterations in her face, as ſhe hoped to doe by the way, when every one would imploy their eyes in looking at their feet, and chuſing the way: And beſides that, ſhe intended to adviſe with Adamas and Leonide what to doe upon this occaſion: And by fortune, Hylas, as if he had been ſome expreſſe Envoy, came to interrupt their diſcourſe. Miſtreſſe, ſaid he, if you continue talking thus long with this ſhepherdeſſe, I ſhall beleeve you thinke the ſhepherdeſſes of this Country more amiable than the ſhepherds. Never doubt that, ſaid Alexis, and lay the blame only upon Nature which inclines every thing to love its like; but Servant be not angry nor troubled at it, for I have love enough for you yet. I thought, replyed Hylas, that being brought up amongſt the Druids and learned Virgins, you had knowne the Lawes of Nature better than you doe; but ſince you come from amongſt them ſo ignorant, I will inſtruct you Miſtreſſe a little better than they have done. Perhaps Servant, anſwered ſhe, and ſmiled, you will loſe both your time and your paines as well as they; and therefore I adviſe you to let it alone: Yet I cannot endure the wrong you have done me, replyed Hylas, without complaint, ſince you will not be told of your faults and inſtructed in your errours. I ſhould be ſorry, ſaid Alexis, that Hylas ſhould complain of me in earneſt, but I hope he is onely in jeſt. How can you thinke I ſhould chuſe but be angry? replyed Hylas, when I heare you ſay that you have love enough yet left for me, after you have loved theſe ſhepherdeſſes? It ſeemes [Page] I muſt be contented with the refuſe of others, and take what they leave: I do expect, Miſtreſſe, that they ſhould have what I leave, and all reaſon requires it ſo. If that be it which angers you, replyed Alexis, and ſmiled, we ſhall make all ſtraight. I will divide my amity into two, one half ſhall be to love ſhepherdeſſes, and the other ſhepherds; and amongſt all the ſhepherds you ſhall be in the firſt place. But of theſe two parts, ſaid Hylas, Which ſhall be the prime and the greater? There is no queſtion, anſwered Alexis, but it muſt be that which is to be imployed amongſt ſhepherdeſſes; and with reaſon, becauſe of ſhepherds, you are the onely one whom I will love: and of ſhepherdeſſes, there is not one whom I will not love and ſerve. Then (ſaid Hylas) I muſt confeſſe you are in the right, and that I am too blame for accuſing you of ignorance, ſince I ſee you are more knowing then even Silvander is.

Whilſt they were talking thus, the reſt of the company were diſcourſing upon ſeverall ſubjects in the Great Chamber; and Phillis who had her eye continually upon Aſtrea, ſeeing Calidon going towards her, and knowing he had a deſigne of particular diſcourſe with her, ſhe advanced to interrupt them, and left Silvander alone with Diana; for as fortune was, Paris deſiring to conſult with Leonide, he was gone with her to her Chamber, ſo as Silvander had the opportunity of coming nearer this ſhepheardeſſe, with whom Phillis alwayes ſtayed, until Calidon cauſed her to go away: And becauſe there was continual conteſts between them, Miſtreſs (ſaid ſhe as ſhe went away) I would not have you think me jealous, ſo as I dare not leave this ſhepherd with you; for I am ſo confident of my good fortune, and of his ſhallow merit, as I do not at all fear him: And to ſhew the truth of my words, I will leave you both together, whilſt I go and helpe Aſtrea in a great Combate which I ſee ſhe is preparing for, againſt an approaching enemy; ſo without ſtay for any anſwer, ſhe went towards Aſtrea, who imagining the occaſion of her coming, took her by the hand, and pulled her ſo near, as Calion could not well accoſt her. But that young ſhepherd who was really wounded with the beauty of Aſtrea, could not forbeare from coming to her: and becauſe his addreſſes unto her were known unto Phocion, who liked very well of it, and was adviſed unto it by Thamires, he thought it no matter, though he ſpoke unto this ſhepherdeſſe in the preſence of any other; and that Phillis perhaps would help him out in the declaration of his minde, becauſe ſhe might think it a match advantagious to her companion. Phocion had already declared himſelfe to be of the ſame judgement, who was held to be one of the wiſeſt Paſtors of his time, and Uncle unto the ſhepherdeſſe, and who ſince the death of her Father and Mother, had ever as much care of her, as if ſhe had been his Daughter.

Approaching therefore with this aſſurance unto this faire ſhepherdeſſe; Shall I not be too troubleſome (ſaid he unto her after a ſalute) if uncall'd, I make a third in your Councell? Never Calidon, anſwered Aſtrea, for he cannot be troubleſome in what place ſo ere he comes, eſpecially unto us who highly eſteem him: I could wiſh, anſwered the ſhepherd, that this Epithete of Eſteem, had been changed into Love. Sometimes we doe wiſh (ſaid the ſhepherdeſſe) things that are prejudicial unto others, and not advantagious to our ſelves. I do believe (ſaid Calidon) that what you are pleaſed to ſay, may fall out in any other occaſion ſooner than in this which preſents it ſelfe. For, fair ſhepherdeſs, give me leave to tell you, that you may believe, my deſires are not diſadvantageous to you, ſince the ſaid Phocion is of another judgement: Phocion, who in prudence and wiſdome, is reputed for the Oracle amongſt all the ſhepherds of this Country, and who did me the honour to grant my requeſt which I made unto him by Thamires. Alſo, to ſay it is any prejudice unto my ſelfe, it cannot be, for on the contrary I ſhall never enjoy contentment until it be brought to paſſe. I cannot tell (replyed Aſtrea, with a little anger in her eye) what the requeſt whereof you ſpeak may be; But if it be any thing that concerns me, there is none who either ought or can promiſe any thing for me againſt my will and conſent, ſince my Father and my Mother, to my ſad misfortune, are both taken away. And as to what you ſay concerning Phocion, you cannot tell me any thing of his prudence and wiſdome, more then I do know; but this does not conclude him and I to be both of the ſame judgement: and though that his may be the better, yet it muſt be ſome time before I can conſent unto it Alſo to tell you truly, I do believe that if this wiſe Paſtor did know my mind, he would quickly change his opinion; and that is it, which makes me entreat you to change yours; for if you do continue in it, beſides the doing of your ſelf no good, it will draw much diſcontent both upon your ſelfe, and me. [Page] Fair ones, replyed Calidon, are like unto Gods, they will be overcome by ſupplications. I cannot tell what fair ones you meane, replyed Aſtrea; but I am moſt ſure, that neither your words, nor your prayers, will ever obtaine any thing from me that will pleaſe you. Perhaps, ſaid he, that when you ſee me even ready to die before your faire face, you will not be ſo extreamly cruel as to let no pitty be found amongſt ſo much beauty. If you continue, anſwered Aſtrea, you will make me believe, that you think you are ſtill talking to the fair Celidea. But Calidon, to be free and plain with you; ſince death hath taken from me, him whom I deſired, I will never give death ſo much advantage as to deſire any more; do not think but that I do eſteem and honour your merit, as much as I do any ſhepherd in the Country: I do acknowledge my ſelfe obliged unto you for this addreſſe, but never thinke that theſe conſiderations, or any other whatſoever, can ever make me alter my will: And take this as a Doom written by immutable deſtiny. Since Aſtrea hath loſt her firſt Love, ſhe ſhall not love any other but Tautates, unto whoſe ſervice ſhe ſhall devote all the reſt of her life. Conſider this Calidon, and believe this Prophecy, which if you doe not, time will tell you how true it is, and make you repent of your incredulity.

This Anſwer was ſo reſolute, that Aſtrea amazed the ſhepherd, ſo as ſhe ſtroke him dum, and could not reply; and the ſhepherdeſſe ſeeing him in ſuch a confuſion, ſhe roſe up and left Phillis in her room: Then ſhe went towards Alexis, who ſeeing her coming, and knowing by her looks that ſhe was troubled, ſhe left Hylas to aske her what the matter was. Madam, ſaid Aſtrea unto her, with a ſmile mixed with diſdaine, you may think that it is eaſie for me to ſupport my burthen, but I was never more weary of it in all my life; for the importunities of theſe Lovers are abominably troubleſome. Calidon knows how to chuſe his time, and he knowes how well diſcourſes of Love does pleaſe me: I adviſed him to continue, if he did intend to loſe his labour and his time, and that perhaps he thought he was ſpeaking unto Celidea. Then ſhe related unto the Druid all the diſcourſe, and the anſwer ſhe had given him, with ſo much paſſion, as Alexis ſaw that there was no feare of this Rival.

In the mean time, Silvander was with Diana, ſhe ſat, and he kneeled, and ſo over-joyed to ſee himſelfe with her, in the abſence of Paris and Phillis, as he could not be thankful enough to Love for ſo great a favour. Miſtreſſe, ſaid he unto her, How ſhall I begin to thank you for this high favour, in ſtaying here with me, whereas you might ſpend the time in talk with theſe kind ſhepherds, and fair ſhepherdeſſes? Silvander, ſaid ſhe, though I would oblige you, yet in this I do not do it ſo much as you ſay; for I am confident there is none in all the company, who would not be glad to change places with me: and I ſweare ſhepherd, that I think my ſelfe ſo well, as I would not with them. Did I think, replyed Silvander, that your heart is conſentant to the harmony of your tongue, I ſhould think my ſelfe the happieſt ſhepherd in the Univerſe. If that be all thats wanting to make you happy, replyed ſhe, be confident Silvander, that then you are as happy as you can wiſh. What aſſurance, ſaid Silvander, can I have of it? You are a perſon of ſo much judgement, anſwered the ſhepherdeſſe, as you will quickly find the truth of it, if you will but be pleaſed to look for it; or if you could not, what elſe, do you think could ſtay me here? I could find excuſes in abundance to go away; But I rather fear, Silvander, that I am wearyſome to you, and that it is onely civility which keeps you here with me: Faireſt Miſtreſſe, ſaid Silvander preſently, This exceſs of kindneſſe which you are pleaſed to ſhew me, does but offend me, ſince if you have that opinion of me, or think me a man of ſo weak a judgement, you doe a manifeſt wrong unto your and my affection; for certainly I were a man without common ſenſe, if I did not ſee the perfections of the faire Diana, which every one that ſees, confeſſes, and admires. Is it poſſible that Silvander ſhould be the onely man that is blind? Can he not ſee the Sun when it ſhines? But the truth is, I am ſo dazled with ſo great a light when I am with you, as I have no eyes but onely to ſee, nor ſpirit, but onely to adore divine Diana upon earth, whom I hold tranſcendent to her in the heavens, ſince the one is ſurmounted in Glory by the Sun her brother; but the other ſurpaſſeth all that is in the Univerſe. Silvander, ſaid the ſhepherdeſſe and ſmiled, I permit you to ſay what you will of me, who knows well enough what I am: but who would ever have thought, that the wager which you undertook, could inſpire you with ſuch fained expreſſions. But as to your wager with Phillis; how long ſhepherd, muſt I be your Miſtreſſe? when muſt I change that Name to that of your Judge? Thoſe expreſſions wherewith I am inſpired, replyed Silvander, are ſo full of [Page] reallity, as they have no dependance upon the wager: And as for the name of Miſtreſſe, whereof you ſpeake: beleeve it faire Diana, that you may take the name of Judge when you pleaſe, but never can ſhake off the name of Miſtreſſe, which not the wager, nor fiction, but your perfections and my affection have ſo juſtly gotten upon my ſoule. I have formerly told you, replyed the ſhepherdeſſe, that I allow you to ſpeake thus untill the wager be decided; but pray tell me, when ſhall we all three be diſcharged of this buſineſſe? For it has continued ſo long that the term of three Months is almoſt doubled. For my part ſaid Silvander, I ſhall neither prolong nor retard the time, being aſſured that come when it will, I ſhal not alter my condition. Do not talk of the future, ſaid Diana, but with doubt, ſince none but the gods can tell what it will produce, but tell me Silvander, ſhall we imploy the afternoon in ending the difference? I conceive it a convenient opportunity, and we ſhall have as good aſſiſtance, as we can deſire.

Silvander knowing that he could not hope to live with her in ſuch freedome, when this fiction was taken away, he made a ſtop, and did not returne an anſwer to the ſhepherdeſſe, which ſhe perceiving how he was perplexed, it did the more aſſure her of his affection; but feigning, as before accuſtomed; why do you not give me an anſwer, ſhepherd, ſaid ſhe, would you have us take this convenient opportunity, or would you have it deferred untill to morrow when we are at our owne Town? See what a tractable Judge I am, I refer it unto your will. My Judge, ſaid Silvander, and ſmiled, before I give an anſwer I beſeech you let ſome Articles paſſe betwixt us; promiſe me that your judgement ſhall paſſe to my advantage, and that the thing which is moſt pleaſing to me, may not be forbidden me, and then if you pleaſe I will receive your doome before I depart from this place. My judgement, ſaid Diana, ſhall be juſt; and as for the forbidding which you ſo much feare, let me underſtand what you meane, and I will anſwer you. Silvander then aſſuming a more ſerious looke: I never had the leaſt doubt, ſaid he, but that you would be moſt juſt; but give me leave to tell you, that extream juſtice, is extreame injury; and becauſe you deſire an expoſition upon my ſecond requeſt, I conceive Miſtreſſe, continued he, and ſmiled, that it is beſt to defer the buſineſſe untill another time, to the end, I may have the more time to informe my Judge: Upon this, they were interrupted by Adamas, who invited Daphnide and the reſt of the company to goe and walke; for the heat of the day being over, it was more pleaſant abroad than in the houſe. And moſt of the company being deſirous to take the Aire, the delightſomeneſſe of the place inviting them, they all ſet forward, ſome ſinging, and others diſcourſing upon ſuch ſubjects as beſt pleaſed them.

The Cavalier who was cloſe by the Temple of Aſtrea, taking the ſame way that Paris went, he came preſent to the bridge of Botereux, and a little after to the height of the Plaine which diſcovered the Caſtle, and great Cittie of Marcellies. The Country ſeemed very delectable unto him: For on the one ſide he ſaw the fertile Hils of Couſant, which from the tops to the bottomes were enricht with many Vineyards, and upon the tops of all, great Woods, which Nature had placed there to fence them from bluſtering winds; The Plaine extended it ſelfe as farre as Mont Briſon, and following thoſe delightfull Hils enlarged it ſelfe towards Surida, Mount Round and Feurs, with ſo many little Rivolets and Lakes, that the variety made the proſpect beyond imagination pleaſant: And becauſe the way in which he was, conducted to Marcellies, and his face being that way, it was the firſt place his eye fell upon. The Caſtle, ſcituated upon the point of a Rock, which made it obvious to the eye, and ſeen farre, did preſently bring into his memory, the place where he firſt ſaw Madonthe: For its grandure, its Towers and magnificence of ſtructure had a great reſemblance of the place where ſhe dwelt. This Memorandum brought into his fancy the many pleaſing paſſages which formerly he had ſeen with her, and the extream perplexities and ſorrows he had ſuſtained ſince his diſgrace: And becauſe this compariſon could not chuſe but much trouble his mind, this poor Cavalier was conſtrained to lite from his horſe, and reſt himſelf under the firſt ſhade he found, where leaving his Horſe with his Servant, he went under a ſhady tree, he lifted his eyes up to heaven, & ſtood ſo raviſhed in contemplation, as he could neither hear, nor ſee anything about him

The Servant, who did exceedingly love his Maſter, and was ſorry in his ſoule to ſee what a miſerable life he lived, did heartily curſe love, and her that was the cauſe of it. By fortune at the ſame time, hearing a voice, he began to liſten, and ſtepping a little neerer ſaw a Cavalier complaining againſt the ingratitude and inconſtancy of a Lady. And becauſe he thought this would be a good excuſe to make him retire from his ſad thoughts. Sir, ſaid he unto him, hearken I beſeech you unto the Cavalier is ſinging who [Page] is neer you. Away, away, ſaid he, I care not for medling with the matters of another: Doſt thou not thinke I have enough to doe with my owne? The buſineſſe of another, Sir, replyed the Servant, may doe good if good uſe be made of them: Upon this they hearkned, and heard the Cavalier ſinging a very invective ſong againſt his owne Lady, and againſt all others.

The one Cavalier hearing the other blame all women againſt reaſon for the fault of one was much offended againſt him for it, taxing him with indiſcretion and injuſtice: And thinking that if he ſhould ſuffer it without revenge, and let ſuch blaſphemies paſſe unpuniſhed, he ſhould commit a great fault againſt the faire Madonthe: And therefore he would preſently make him eat his words, and cry mercy for the injurious language he had uttered; but upon better conſideration he thought it more expedient to give him occaſion of ſeeking Combate; for, ſaid he, if he be couragious, he will reſent the offence I ſhall give, and require ſatisfaction, and if he be a Coward, he is not worthy my fighting with him. In this reſolution, the Cavalier roſe up, and turning towards the other Cavalier, after he had a little conſidered what he ſhould ſay, he ſung in as loud, and diſtinct a voice as he could, a ſong which intimated, That ſince he ſaw how inconſtant his Lady was, it was his part either to die, or elſe cure himſelfe with diſdaine of her.

This being diſtinctly heard by the other Cavalier, he could not chuſe but thinke that theſe words were intended againſt him. And being one of the moſt couragious Cavaliers in all that Country, he tooke it for ſuch an affront, that without more adoe, he pulled downe his Helmet (for he was armed Capape) and went through the Wood to the place from whence the voice came.

The other, who expected to ſee what effects his anſwer would produce as ſoone as he ſaw him coming, and being reſolved that if he did not reſent his words, he would adde ſuch as ſhould provoke him to fight But the arrogance of him with whom he had to do was ſuch, as he needed ſmall provocations, as well becauſe he was confident of his own ſtrength & skill, as becauſe he was Nephew unto Polemas, whoſe authority was ſo heighted ſince the departure of Clidemant and Lindamor, as he was neere the capacity of making himſelfe abſolute Lord of the Seguſians. The name of this Cavalier was Argenteus; he was taller than the common height, and ſo well proportioned every way, as it was eaſie to judge him a man of great ſtrength and courage. He had long courted one of Galatheas Nimphs, and whether it was true or no, I know not, but ſo it was, that he thought ſhe loved him: her name was Silere, one that was very faire and highly hanſome; but when he was urgent with her for ſome teſtimony of her good will, and when ſhe denied him, he according to his arrogant humour would needs uſe a kind of authority over her; which ſhe taking very ill, ſhe choſe rather to break quite off with him, than any longer to endure his arrogancy. He ſeeing himſelfe deceived in his hopes, fell into ſuch a paſſion of anger againſt her as he conceived an extreame hatred againſt all women whatſoever for her ſake, and ever ſince, did vent the moſt bitter invectives againſt them, that he could invent.

Argenteus then, according to his cuſtome, arrogantly approaching the other Cavalier without any ſalute or action of civility, was it to me Cavalier (ſaid he) that you intented your ſong. The Stranger who naturally could not put up any incivility, and being already ill ſatisfied with him; Take it as you will, ſaid he unto him, I perceive by your armes and your language, (ſaid Argenteus) that you are a Stranger: For did you know me, you would give me another anſwer; but ſince it is ſo, either get upon your Horſe, or elſe be as you are on foot, and I will make you know your folly and raſhneſſe. Then loſe no time (ſaid the Stranger) but on foot let us end the difference: Upon this he ſtept into the high way, he drew his ſword, and ſtood in ſuch a bold poſture that Argenteus judged him to be a brave Cavalier.

When they were ready to begin fight, they heard a great noiſe of Horſes and Coaches, which came from Marcelleis ſtraight towards them. This moved Damon to ſay, that he thought it better to goe into the Wood, and let the Company paſſe, leaſt they ſhould be interrupted: But Argenteus who did imagine that it was Galathea or Amaſis, and was very deſirous to ſhew his valour: No, no, Cavalier, ſaid he, never let us hide our ſelves but when we do ill, and therefore as you ſay, let us loſe no time, unleſſe your heart faile you to maintaine your quarrell My quarrell, ſaid he is ſo juſt, that though in other occaſions I had no courage, yet I ſhould in this, not only againſt you, but againſt all men [Page] living. But if as you ſay, ill actions ought to be hid, I know not a place dark enough to hide yours, who maintaines a thing ſo unjuſt, and ſo unworthy the name of a Cavalier, in blaming Ladies whom every Cavalier is obliged to maintain, ſerve, and defend. Alas my good friend, ſaid Arganteus, and mocked him, how long have you been a high-way Orator:▪ It is with this, ſaid he, and ſhewed him his ſword; that I uſe to ſpeak; and if you have courage, you ſhall find that I can doe better then you can ſpeak.

Upon this, they fell on very furiouſly, and as ſtout a Combate it was, as could be ſeen betwixt two valiant Cavaliers: They were no ſooner warmed in the fight, but all the company, whom they ſaw coming, arrived at the place: And becauſe the Combat was in the high way, and every one knew Arganteus, they ſtopped to ſee what would be the iſſue. Galathea, who was in the Coach with the Nymphs, did hate the arrogance of Arganteus, and they all wiſhed he might be puniſhed for it by this ſtranger. But knowing his great valour, ſtrength and skill, they were much afraid he would be too hard for this unknown Gavalier, though his hanſome preſence and good beginning got him a good opinion amongſt them. Galathea ſeeing Polemas near her Coach, called unto him, and asked who it was which was fighting with Arganteus, and what was the cauſe of the quarrel, and whether it were not beſt to part them? To which he anſwered, That it was injurious to hinder them from ending their difference, ſince they fought upon equall terms, and without treachery: And as to the Cavalier and their Quarrel, he could meet with none that could inform him, but the ſervant unto the ſtranger. Polemas anſwered thus, becauſe he was very confident in the valour of Arganteus, and that the ſtranger would not be able to reſiſt him: and he was very deſirous that Galathea might ſee the valour and courage of thoſe that had relation unto him. But ſhe according to the curioſity of all Ladies, being deſirous to know who this ſtranger was, cauſed his ſervant to be called unto her, whom ſhe asked who that ſtrange Cavalier was, and how the quarrell began. The cauſe of their quarrel, Madam, anſwered he, is very juſt on my Maſters ſide; For he hearing that other Cavalier ſpeaking very ill of all women, he could not endure it, as thinking it againſt the honour of a Cavalier: But as for telling you who he is, I am ſorry it is forbidden me; yet I aſſure my ſelfe, that as ſoon as the Combat is ended, he is ſo civil as to ſatisfie your demands. Polemas laughed to hear him ſpeak thus, and in mockery ſaid unto him; well ſaid my good friend, thou art in the right, when thou ſaidſt, my Lady ſhould know, when the Combate is ended; for his Epitaph upon his Tomb will tell her. Sir, ſaid the ſervant to him, if my Maſter had not come off a more dangerous enterpriſe then this, he would never have been able to come ſo farre as he hath done upon this he retired to the place where he ſtood before.

During this diſcourſe, the two Cavaliers continued the fight moſt furiouſly; and Damon had ſuch a deſire to come off with honour, as there was not a by-ſtander, who did not eſteem him a very brave Cavalier, eſpecially Galathea, and her Nymphs, in whoſe eyes might their contentments be ſeen, when Damon got any advantage, which they would not diſſemble though Polemas ſtood by, becauſe it was their cauſe in which he fought.

It was now near half an hour ſince they firſt began blows, theirs Arms were broken and ſhattered in ſeveral places, when Argantens felt himſelfe ſomething faint, and was not ſo nimble, nor laid on ſuch vigorous blows. On the contrary, Damon did not onely ſeem hearty and freſh, but did rather increaſe in vigour and agility, which did exceedingly trouble Polemas, but more Arganteus, who did now begin to eſteem his enemy very highly; but preſenly after, the ſtrangers ſword did reach his body almoſt at every blow, ſo as Arganteus fainted down right, either by reaſon of the loſſe of blood, or greatneſſe of his wounds. Now Polemas did heartily repent that he did not part them at the beginning of the Combate, and wiſhed that ſome good genius would move Galathea to interrupt them: ſhe who perceived how Polemas was troubled, although ſhe did not love him, yet would give him this ſatisfaction in reſpect of the ſervice he did her Mother; and knowing no better way to part theſe Cavaliers, then by entreating them her ſelfe, ſhe came out of her Coach, and withal her Nymphs came to the Combatants; At the very ſame time Arganteus not being able to ſuſtaine himſelfe, fell on his knee, and ſeemed as if at the ſight of theſe Ladies, he had done it purpoſely to ask them pardon for the injury he had done unto women. But becauſe Polemas thought Galathea too ſlow, and that his Nephew who drooped already, would be quite diſhonoured if he ſtayed [Page] any longer; he made a ſign unto ſome of his ſervants, who preſently gallopped, and fell upon Damon, who never ſuſpecting ſuch treachery, nor had ſo much as looked back but for the cry of Galathea and the Nimphs, towards whom turning his head, he ſaw ſeven or eight Cavaliers coming towards him with ſwords in their hands, and menacing him. All he could do, was to recoil unto his ſervant; but his courage was moſt high and admirable ſince coming out of this Combate, after which he ſtood in need of reſt; as ſoon as his ſervant brought him his Horſe, he vaulted into the ſaddle without any ſtirrup; and he ſtood in need of all his agilitie to ſave himſelfe from the hurt they would have done him; for he was no ſooner in his ſaddle, and the bridle in his hand, but he had them all upon him, do what Galethea could, who was much terrified with all her Nimphs amongſt all the horſes. As for Polemas, he faigned that he never ſaw the confuſion, being with Arg [...]nteus, and taking order concerning him.

In the mean time, theſe Cavaliers did ſo aſſault this ſtranger, as though at two blowes he ſent two of them out of the Combat, yet could he not prevent a wound in his ſhoulder, and his horſe from being killed under him, with ſeveral blowes which they gave him in his flank. The ſtranger perceiving him to faint under him▪ let go his ſtirrops, and jumped nimbly upon the ground, which helped him very well, for the Horſes of his enemies would not come near unto his being dead; yet it was impoſſible to ſave himſelf long, without ſome unexpected helpe.

The Nimph who ſaw ſuch baſe injury done unto this Cavalier, and not being able to endure it, ſhe cryed, and threatned the men of Polemas; but one amongſt their who commanded the reſt, and to whom he had made a ſigne, knowing his maſters will, and ſeeming as if he did not heare Galathea, did ſtill command them to kill the Cavalier; when, as fortune was, one of the Lions of the Fountain of Loves Verity, ſeeking for his prey came amongſt the horſes.

This Lion was ſo great and terrible, that all the Horſes when they ſaw him come amongſt them, took ſuch a fright, as there was neither Cavaliere nor Servant that could be maſter of his own, but all ran away. That of Polemas and the ſtrangers ſervant, getting the bridle in their teeths, they ran as far as the Town of Boen, no Bridge, no Gate, no Hedge, nothing could ſtop them; thoſe that ſtayed with the Coaches, took ſuch a flight, that they never ſtayed till they were above a league from the place, where they were overturned, and all the Coaches and Harneſſes torne in pieces; ſo as it was a thing impoſſible to bring them back that day: as for Arganteus, they had ſet him on horſe-back, but he was not able to hold himſelfe on, ſo as being forſaken by all thoſe who held him, at the firſt ſtart of the horſe he fell down, and ſo unluckily, as he broke his neck: Thus ended the proudeſt, and moſt arrogant Cavalier in all the Country, and his horſe by fortune running away for fear, and almoſt over the ſtranger, he ran him through the body with his ſword, and he fell down dead by his Maſter. The Nimph thanked God for this encounter, for ſhe knew that the Lion would not doe any harme, being ſo inchanted as he could not offend any, but thoſe who would try the adventure. And yet preſently after ſhe was driven into feare; for the Lion who came onely to ſeek for his prey of food, ſeeing the ſtrangers horſe dead, he began to eat upon him: But the Cavaliere having received ſo much good fortune from him, thought it a kind of ingratitude to ſeen him torn in pieces without defending him; he went towards him with his ſword drawn, which the Nimph ſeeing, and fearing leſt the Lion being provoked ſhould hurt him, ſhe cryed out, and entreated him not to go any further: But he could not endure this indignity, he went ſtraight to the Lion, but becauſe his back was towards him he would not ſtrike him behind, and made him turne the other way: The furious beaſt, ſeeing himſelfe threatned with a ſword, he leapt aſide, as if he would have run towards the Nimphs, which the Cavalier fearing, he was much more exaſperated to interpoſe betwixt them, ſo as the Lion who was ſtill before him, began to roar out extreamly, beating his taile againſt the ground, grinning with his teeth and ſparkling eyes, he ſeemed as if he would preſently fall upon him, and but for the inthantment, doubtleſſe, he had; But that force being above his, he was conſtrained to turne aboue, and went to feed upon the horſe of Arganteus, of which after he was ſatisfied, he carried part of the reſt, according to his cuſtome, unto the other Lion which guarded the Fountaine. The Cavaliere ſeeing the Lion going towards Arganteus, and fearing leſt he ſhould devour his body, he ſtood by it, and guarded it, not being willing the Corps of ſo crave a Cavalier ſhould be abuſed▪ [Page] But when he ſaw him gone, then he went to the Nymphs, who having beene Spectators of all his generous actions did highly eſteem him. He addreſſed himſelf firſt unto Galathea imagining it to be her, as well by her Majeſtical deportment, as by the honour which all did doe unto her; and after civill ſalutation, he beſeeched her to pardon the inconveniency which upon his occaſion ſhe had received.

I am very ſorry Sir for yours, anſwered ſhe, and extreamly angry againſt the indiſcretion of thoſe who have ſo unworthily and inconſiderately aſſaulted you in my preſence; but I promiſe you, Sir, that beſides the correction which you have given them, I ſhall cauſe them to be puniſhed according to their merits. Madam, anſwered the Cavalier, I ſhould be very ſorry that any who are in your ſervice ſhould receive any diſpleaſure by reaſon of me: I deſire rather to ſerve them all, and beg your favour upon them, Madam, and beſeech you not to refuſe it at my requeſt Sir, ſaid ſhe, it muſt be you that muſt forgive them, ſince it is you whom they have offended; It is not the part of theſe Ladies and my ſelfe to deny you any thing you ſhall pleaſe to aske, ſince you have ſo well defended us againſt this diſcourteous Cavalier; and would have defended us from the Lyon; but we will ſpeake of this another time. In the interim I thinke you have received a wound in your ſhoulder, it is requiſite the blood ſhould be ſtopped, untill we come to a place where the wound may be dreſſed. The wound whereof you ſpeake Madam, replyed he, is but a ſcratch; and all that you pleaſe to ſay I have done for you, is farre ſhort of what low, and which I would moſt willingly pay in your ſervice: But ſince all your company is ſcattered▪ I beſeech you give me leave to conduct you unto ſome place of ſafty, for I perceive this Country is not without very dangerous Beaſts, ſo as it is not ſafe to go without good guard. Galathea ſmiled, and ſaid: I perceive Sir that you are a Stranger ſince you doe not know this Lyon to be inchanted, ſo as he will doe no harm unto any unleſſe unto ſuch who will try the adventure of the Fountaine which he guards, and had you not provoked him, he would not ſo much as have looked towards us. I could not endure, ſaid he, that he ſhould tear my Horſe in pieces before my face, much more that Cavalier, who though indiſcreet, yet was very valiant and couragious.

Silvia, who paſſed behind this Cavalier to looke upon his wound, tooke notice that it bled ſtill which cauſed her to ſay unto Galathea; Madam, you talke too much unto this Cavalier, for he bleeds very faſt: Then they went all unto him, and almoſt by force bound up his wound with their Handkerchers and made him a Scarfe to hold up his arm. Then Galathea conceived, that ſince their Coaches came not, that it was the beſt courſe to walke gently unto Mount Verdan, where they might conveniently ſtay, doubting that the Coaches were overturned and broken: And becauſe the way was but ſhort and very faire, all the Nymphs approved of the motion; and therefore the Cavalier tooke Galathea by one arme, and Silvia tooke her by the other; and all the reſt followed, diſcourſing upon nothing elſe but the valour and merit of this Stranger: ſome extolled his combate; others blamed the wrong that had beene done him; Some admired his boldneſſe, and others could not highly enough eſteeme him for defending his dead Horſe, and his intention to defend the Corps of Arganteus? But all deſired moſt paſſionately to know who he was, ſuch extraordinary favour had his valour purchaſed him amongſt the Ladies.

He had not yet pulled up his Helmet, and walked on as if he did not intend it; when Silvia obſerving the curioſity of all her companions: Is it not ſtrange Madam, ſaid ſhe, that we ſhould be ſo much obliged to this brave Cavalier, and neither know his Name nor his face: If you pleaſe, we will make tryall of his courteſie as we have already of his valour: for he walkes on with his Helmet downe as if he were yet in hand with Arganteus. The Cavalier not ſtaying for Galatheas anſwer, anſwered: For my face, Madam, it ſhall not be concealed from you if it pleaſe you; but as for my name, I beſeech you let it be concealed ſtill, becauſe I am ſure you know it not. To which Galathea anſwered; You may, noble Cavalier content us in both, if you pleaſe, and indeed you ought not to make any difficulty of it: For ſince you ſay we doe not know it, you may ſhew it and ſatisfie us, and yet it is no more known than before. I ſee Madam, replyed he, that it is an eaſier thing to vanguiſh Cavaliers, be they never ſo valiant, than to defend ones ſelfe againſt faire Ladies. I will therefore addreſſe my ſelfe unto ſupplications; and of two things which you aske I will ſatisfie you in one preſently, and beſeech you to d [...]er the other untill we come to Mount Verdan. It ſhall be then, replyed Galathea, upon condition of granting one thing which I will aske you.

[Page] There is nothing Madam, which you can command, replyed the Cavalier which I will not obey, and ſatisfie withall my power. Upon this, lifting up his Helme, he appeared to be very faire, he was young, and his paines in the combate had put ſuch a freſh colour in his cheekes, as none could by his face ſee the ſadneſſe of his ſoule; and this was the reaſon, that all ſeeing him ſo very faire, they were the more impatient to know who he was: And had they not ſeene the aged Cleontine coming with a great number of Virgin Druids, with ſome of the Vaci and Eubagi moſt certainely they had gotten him, not onely to tell his Name, but alſo what fortune brought him thither: But he anſwered, how one ought never to deſpaire of aſſiſtance from heaven, eſpecially when one has right on their ſide.

Whilſt they were talking thus, the ſage Cleontine was come ſo neer, as Galathea ſtepping a little before, received her in her armes, and held her ſo whilſt ſhe ſaid; What doe you thinke Mother of the Equipage in which we come? I doe not thinke you expected us in this manner I did not expect Madam, ſaid Cleontine, that you ſhould take ſo much paines as to come ſo farre to ſee me, for when you have any ſervice for me, you may command me to come unto you; but you doe honour our great Tautates in condeſcending unto ſo much humility, as coming unto this ſacred place, where it pleaſeth him to render Oracles. I muſt confeſſe, ſaid Galathea, that my deſign was to come hither, but not ſo ſoon. Upon this Galathea ſaluted the Virgin Druids; and afterwards, continuing her way towards Mount Verdan, and not ſeeing Celidea amongſt the reſt, ſhe asked where ſhe was: Madam, ſaid ſhe unto her, never was a more happy marriage, than that between Thamires and her; and I doe not thinke that any who ſees them but doe deſire to marry: And what's become of Calidon, ſaid the Nymph: Oh Madam, anſwered Cleontine, he is perfectly cured of the diſeaſe which ſhe cauſed in him, he has now no other thoughts but of marrying Aſtrea. How, replyed the Nymph, will Calidon marry Aſtrea, and is ſhe conſenting? who is it that makes this match? It is, ſaid ſhe, Phocion, Uncle to Aſtrea and Thamires, who is very ſolicitous in it, but I am affraid it will hardly be a match: For Aſtrea is ſo averſe unto it, as they will have much adoe to get her conſent. And why, ſaid Galathea does ſhe love any other Shepherd? We do not heare, replyed Cleontine, that ſhe loves any yet, for ſhe is too buſie in lamenting her loſſe of Celadon, and erecting him a Tombe. What is become of that ſhepherd, ſaid the Nymph: I thinke Madam, ſaid Cleontine, that about ſeven or eight Months ſince, he was drowned: And why, ſaid the Nymph, doe they make him an empty Tombe? Becauſe Madam (ſaid Cleontine) that the learned Sarronides and Druids tell us the ſpirit of him who dies, will wander and walke many ages if thoſe who ſurvive doe not pay the office of Sepulture: And becauſe the body of Celadon was not found, they erected him this empty Tombe of which I told you: How, replyed Galathea, when he was drowned, and his body loſt, was it never ſince found? Never Madam, ſaid Cleontine, that we could hear of, and it is to be beleeved that all the ſhepherds about uſed all endeavours poſſible; for never was any ſhepherd in this Country more beloved, nor any truly more deſerved it: And Madam had he been ſo happy as to be known unto you. I am confident you would have thought him ſo. And as I hear, this ſhepherd had a long time beene a devoted ſervant unto Aſtrea, but carried the matter ſo cloſe and diſcreetly as none could perceive it; and the leſſe becauſe it was unlikely ever any love ſhould be betwixt them by reaſon of an inveterate enmity that had long been betwixt their Fathers: And becauſe cloſe and ſmothered love is alwayes moſt violent, probably ſo was theirs, both in that reſpect, and in reſpect of both their merits: For I dare ſay Madam, and with abundance of truth that I never in all my life ſaw a fairer nor more accompliſhed ſhepherdeſſe. Now Phocion, who is her Uncle, and who, as next of kin, has the care of her, would gladly marry her unto Calidon, who indeed is a very fine ſhepherd; but there is ſo much difference betwixt him and Celadon, as it is very unlikely, that ſhepherdeſſe will ever conſent eſpecially having yet Celadon ſo freſh in her memory; yet Calidon ſtill hopes, and keepes as cloſe to her as poſſibly he can▪ As for Thamires, he lives the moſt happily and beſt contented of any man in the world, and ſayes that the ſcars of Celideas face being teſtimonies of her vertue, doe make her so faire and amiable, as he cannot deſire her otherwiſe; and in this contentment, he is ſo well ſatisfied, as he cannot be an inch from her: I am very ſorry ſhe is not here, that ſhe might have the honour of kiſſing your hand, as much disfigured and ill favoured as ſhe is. But Aſtrea, Diana, Phillis, and other ſhepherdeſſes of the [Page] neighbouring Towns, are the cauſes of her miſſing this honour, having yeſterday invited her to viſit the Daughter of Adamas, who is returned from the virgin Druids of Carnutes, and reputed one of the faireſt Ladies, and the moſt diſcreet in all the Country. Perhaps, ſaid Galathea, Celidea will return at night, then we may ſee her. I wiſh it, Madam, anſwered Cleontine; but I am afraid that Thamires who accompanies her, is the cauſe of her ſtay; for it being late, he will not let her travell, becauſe he is extreamly careful of her health; beſides, I know the venerable Chriſante will not let her part from Bonlieu.

Thus Galathea, without ſeeming to take any great notice of things, gleaned from the diſcourſe of Cleontine, all the ſtate of Celadon, and of his love; yet much wondring that none ſhould know what was become of him. Then conſidering with her ſelfe that this ſhepherd not being in this Country, ſhe was to blame in accuſing Leonide, ſhe intended to call her unto her again, and in order thereunto reſolved to paſſe by the houſe of Adamas, as well to bring her away with her, as in hopes to meet Aſtrea there, of whom ſhe had heard ſo much, to the end ſhe might judge, whether her beauty was ſuch as might invite Celadon ſo much to ſlight hers. In theſe thoughts ſhe could not refraine from ſighing very loud, which Cleontine obſerving; Oh Madam, ſaid ſhe, why do you ſigh? Is there any thing which troubles you? Galathea having no mind ſhe ſhould be the ſecretary of her thoughts, anſwered her; I ſigh Mother, to think of Clidemant, you know where he is, and there are many occaſions of danger to cauſe feare of his being well. It is many dayes ſince either Amaſis or I heard from him; and of late the Vaci tell us, that when they look into the intrals of the Victims, they find the moſt noble parts defective: Moreover, I have had ſome very horrid Dreams, and believe it, theſe things much trouble me. My Mother alſo, who is fuller of apprehenſions then I am, hath thought it fit we ſhould offer ſome ſacrifices, and that I ſhould come to conſult with this Oracle, whether I intend to come at my return from Bon-lieu, where I am going to offer ſome ſacrifices unto the Gods in lieu of her, who this morning deſigned it her ſelfe, but being prevented by ſome intervenient and important buſineſſe, ſhe commanded me to go in her room. Madam, anſwered the ſage Cleontine, our Great [...]autates, is ſo tranſcendently good, that when our ſins doe call for chaſtiſements, he gives us advertiſement of it, to the end that the feare of future evill may make us turn to him, and that with ſacrifices, ſupplications, and amendment, we do appeaſe his anger, and divert the puniſhments from us. And therefore, Madam, theſe advertiſements are not to be deſpiſed; for if they ſhould, it would make his hand more havy upon us, for having ſo little care of his advice: Let Amaſis and you, lay theſe things to your hearts, ſince it is to be believed they are not without great reaſon. Examine well all your actions, and if upon a ſtrict ſurvey you finde any that is not good, reprove them your ſelves, and not tarry till Tautates make you more ſenſible of them: Afterwards make a ſtrict inquiſition what is done in your houſe, and if you find any offences in it, reform them ſo as they may be no more committed: Then let your eye be over all the Country, and diligently inform your ſelves what abuſes are predominant and uſed there; chaſtife thoſe that are the Authors of them; for that ſtate where vice goes unpuniſhed, and vertue unrewarded, is very near deſolation. Know Madam, that the Prince and the State are but one body, whereof the Prince is the head And as all the paine which the body reſents does come from the head, ſo all the paine which the head endures, does proceed from the body: My meaning is, that as Tautates does chaſtiſe the people for the fault which the Prince commits, ſo he does puniſh the Prince for thoſe which the people commit. This Madam is the counſell which I give unto you, and which my profeſſion would not ſuffer me to be ſilent in▪

Galathea thanked the ſage Cleontine for her prudent and religious admonitions, promiſing her, not onely to obſerve them her ſelfe, but to acquaint Amaſis with them, that ſhe alſo might follow them: Afterwards, ſhe related unto her the accident which had hapned, and how much it troubled her; for beſides the death of Argenteus, the inſolency of Polemas in her preſence was very diſtaſteful to her, ſo as it wounded her to the very ſoul. Madam, anſwered Cleontine, ſuddain paſſions are often to be excuſed, becauſe they are often not in our own power; and if we do not bear with one another in the infirmities of our humanity, how ſhould we thinke Tautates will bear with us. But ſaid Galathea, for Polemas to doe thus unto a ſtranger, one that had right on his ſight, and in my preſence; let me tell you Mother, that it is a boldneſſe which proceeds from ſomething [Page] elſe then courage, and induceth me to thinke, that he who dares do theſe things does think he may do ſomething which is worſe. Indeed, ſaid Cleontine, when a ſubject does faile in that reſpect which he owes unto his ſoveraigne, he does it either out of defect in his judgement, or elſe becauſe he thinkes himſelfe ſo powerfull, that he feares not not any diſpleaſure, and therefore it concerns him to take good heed.

With ſuch diſcourſe as this, they came to the houſe of the ſage Cleontine, into which Galathea entred, as well to reſt ſelfe as to get the ſtrangers wounds dreſſed, unto whom all the Nymphs could not do too much honour, nor ſhew too much demonſtration of good will: eſpecially Silere, who when the time was, would have been ſorry for his victory, before Arganteus tranſgreſſed the limits of his diſcretion; but ſince his love was turned into diſdaine, ſhe fell into ſo great a hatred of him, as ſhe had courage to look on him when he was dead, without beſtowing upon him one ſingle tear; ſo much did the preſent injury deface the memory of all his paſt ſervices.

The Cavalier was preſently diſarmed, and ſearched by the Chyrurgions, who found onely one wound in his ſhoulder, which was ſo ſlight that they made no matter of it, onely advlſed him to keep his bed that day, by reaſon of the loſſe of blood. Galathea deſiring to offer the ſacrifice which ſhe reſolved upon before ſhe went from the place, ſhe ſent to provide bulls and other things neceſſary againſt the next morning: Alſo ſhe reſolved to enquire of the Oracle, and the Cavalier beſeeched her, that he might conſult with the Oracle alſo, and joyn their ſacrifices together: She was pleaſed to gratifie him ſo far, as to permit him, although it was not altogether the cuſtome: In the mean time, they ſent out every way to enquire of their Coaches, and the ſervant of the unknowne Cavalier.

After they had dined, and every one expected to heare ſome newes of thoſe that were thus ſcattered, Galathea ſitting on the Cavaliers bed-ſide, and ſeeing all ſilent in the Chamber, ſhe ſaid unto him; Although, ſir, we are much obliged to you for the Combate you undertook againſt the inſolent Arganteus, yet you are in one thing obliged unto us; for when we entreated you to pull up your Helmet, and tell us your Name, and what fortune brought you into this Country; you were pleaſed to ſatisfie us in letting us ſee your face, but the coming of the ſage Cleontine hindred you from anſwering the other part of our deſires; but ſince we have ſeen your face, it does the more inflame our deſires of knowing unto whom we are ſo much obliged; and what was the cauſe of your coming hither: And all this, that we may the better ſerve you in any way we are able. Now is the time convenient; there is no feare of any prejudice to your wound, and therefore we hope that you will ſatisfie our deſires. Madam, anſwered the Cavalier and ſmiled, Does the demanding of a thing make it a debt? Sir, replyed the Nymph, It is the peculiar priviledge of Ladies in this Country; and you know that every one is obliged to the obſervation of the Lawes belonging unto that Country wherein he is. 'Tis true, Madam, ſaid he, but my greateſt difficulty is, not without reaſon; That I cannot imagine you ſhould take any delight in hearing the diſaſterous fortune of the moſt miſerable Cavalier that lives, if it be living, to conſume his life amongſt all the miſfortunes and miſeries that a man can poſſibly meet wi [...]hal. Let not this be any difficulty, ſaid Galathea to him, ſince in acquainting us with your misfortunes, we are deſirous to ſerve you, and may help you. Madam, ſaid he, If my misfortunes be contageous, we had abundance of reaſon to fear them. No, no, Sir, replyed ſhe; let every one beare their owne burthen, and I am ſure there is none in all the company but thinkes their own the greateſt: open therefore your wound unto us, ſometimes one may meet with another, who is able to give unexpected remedy. It is not the hopes of any Remedy, replyed he, which will move me to ſhew mine, for I know there is none but death: But it is onely, Madam, to obey you, and ſatisfie the curioſity of theſe Ladies: Then raiſing himſelf up a a little in his bed, he began thus:

The Sequell of the Hiſtory of Damon and Madonthe.

[Page]

I Should thinke that I had great reaſon to complain againſt my ſad fate, which hath ſo inceſſantly purſued me ever ſince I was bome, at least ever lince I knew my ſelfe, if I did not conſider, that thoſe who complaine and murmur are ſinners againſt the great Tautates, as if we were not all his, and would not ſuffer him to have the free diſpoſition of his owne, and all that is in the Univerſe: This conſideration has often tyed my tongue, when extremity of ſorrowes would have moved me to murmu [...] againſt my Fortune; yet if in the violence of my paine it be permitted to let go ſome ſad ſighes, wonder not Madam I beſeech you if in the ſequell of this diſcourſe you obſerve me ſending forth ſome ſad ſighes at the memory of ſo many misfortunes▪ And beleeve, that if it were not your expreſſe command, I ſhould not relate my miſerable life, the memory whereof cannot chuſe but make my wounds bleed afreſh.

Be pleaſed to know then, Madam, that my Country is Aquitane; I was educated by King Thoriſmond, one of the greateſt Princes that ever reigned over the Viſigots: A Prince ſo good and juſt, that he got the peoples love as much as if they were Viſigots. This King raiſed his Court unto a higher pitch of glory than any other neighbouring Kings, both by his arms, and the civility of thoſe that were about his Perſon: We were a jolly company of young boyes brought up under him with as much care and indulgency, as if we had beene his owne: Of this Volley was Alcidon, Cleomer, Cel [...]das, and many others who all became very brave and gallant Cavaliers; it was my fate to be brought up amongſt them, and I may ſay, that this education was the onely peece of good fortune that ever I had. My Father, whoſe name was Beliantes, and who by his vertue was raiſed unto great Authority about Thierry, he left me an Orphan in my cradle, there begining the fortune which ever ſince hath purſued me: For, not being willing I ſhould ever arrive unto that credit which my Father had gotten, ſhe deprived me of it when I was ſucking my Mothers breſt, and preſently after tooke away my mother alſo, and made me mourn in my cradle.

At my coming out of my infancy, I caſt my eyes upon a faire Lady, whoſe name I deſire to conceale, as well as my owne, becauſe I would not diſcover all my miſery. Nay, nay, ſaid Galathea, we muſt needs know both her name, and yours alſo; for there is nothing you can tell us which we more deſire. Then, ſaid he my name is Damon, and hers Madonthe. How, replyed the Nymph preſently; Damon who ſerved Madonthe, Daughter unto the great Captaine of Aquitane, whoſe name was Amorant, and killed in the Battle of Attila upon the body of the valiant King Thyerry, and whom Leontidas would have married to his Nephew? Are you that Damon, who out of jealouſie fought with Therſander a little before the death of Thoriſmond? I am the very ſame Damon of whom you ſpeake, replyed he, that is the moſt unfortunate Cavalier that lives, or ever did live: You doe infinitely aſtoniſh me, ſaid ſhe, for every one beleeves you to be long ſince dead, and that you ſent your ſervant with a Hankercher full of your blood, unto your Miſtreſſe, or rather unto the wicked Leriana, as a teſtimony of your death. Tis true, replyed the Cavalier with a deep ſigh, but fortune intending to perſecute me more yet, would not let me go ſo good a way: Truly, ſaid the Nymph, many are deceived; for the opinion of your death is ſpread all the Country over, and nothing is thought more certaine.

I do remember, that when the newes of your death came hither, and relation was made of your Love, of your Jealouſie, and of your death, many did pitty you, not only becauſe you were dead by ſo ill a way, but becauſe you did not live to ſee the revenge which was upon the wicked Leriana, every one thinking that your fidelity and your affection did merit ſo much ſatisfaction before you dyed, as to know the innocency of the poore Madonthe. But how was it poſſible you ſhould be ſaved from that moſt deſperate danger? Madam, anſwered the Cavalier, ſince I perceive you are informed of all paſſages as well as my ſelfe, I will only relate unto you what hath chanced unto me ſince my combate with Therſander, and ſo abridge a great part of my dyſaſtrous life.

The truth is, I received in the combate which I had with Therſander very many wounds, and amongſt the reſt two very great ones, which put me into good hopes of [Page] dying, having no deſire to live, ſince ſhe for whoſe ſake onely my life was deer unto me had ſo cruelly betrayed me. In that deſigne, I took the blindeſt way I could chuſe, thinking that when my blood failed me, I ſhould end this miſerable life; and in this reſolution, when I found my ſelfe begin to faint, I commanded Hall [...]dine my ſervant to carry unto Madonthe the Ring which I tooke from Therſander, and unto Leriana my Hankercher full of my blood: The one, to ſhew unto her whom I loved, that ſhe was to blame in preferring one before me, who did leſſe deſerve it, and the other to glut the cruelty of Leriana. I perceived by the anſwer which Halladine gave me, that if I had followed his directions he would have gotten me unto ſome place where wholeſome remedies might have hindred me from what I deſired, my death.

This conceit, and finding my ſelfe faint, did make me ſtrive to get unto the River of Garrone, and by chance I came unto a place where the bank was very ſteep, and under it ſo full of points of little Rocks, that I thought when I fell I ſhould certainly be daſhed in pieces before I came to the water; but my faithfull Servant whoſe eye was never off me, perceived my deſigne, as I thinke by my eyes which perhaps were ſtartled at the horrour of death, and to prevent it, ſtepped neerer, and catched hold of me. But ſee Madam, what a man will doe that is reſolved to dye: I forced my ſelfe ſo ſuddenly and vigorouſly from him, as I fell, and never touched any of thoſe ſharp Rocks, becauſe I over leaped them: Thus Fortune was pleaſed to ſave me againſt my will, and my extreame deſire of dying may be ſaid to be the cauſe of my not dying. My Servant cryed, and ran preſently about to looke for me at the bottome, and finding me neere the ſide, he took hold of me; but the ſtream was ſo ſtrong as it pulled him into the water after me, and it was a very miracle that he eſcaped drowning, for the place was ſo full of weeds as his feet were intangled in them; but it is to ſhew others that the Gods never forſake thoſe as are faithfull to their Maſters; he was ſo intangled that he loſt me, and knew not what was become of me, for I being further in the water than he, the ſtream was ſo ſtrong and impetuous, as it carried me away, ſometimes under, and ſometimes above the water, neer halfe a mile from the place; and doubtleſſe I had beene carryed into the Sea, had I not been ſtopped by ſome Fiſhermen, who by fortune were upon the River in their little boats: They ſpyed me afar off, and not knowing at the firſt what it was; a deſire of gain moved them to ſeparate, ſome one way, and others another, to be ſure of catching me; but when I was a little neerer them, they plainly ſaw that I was a man; and then, beſides aſſurance of booty, a charitable diſpoſition moved them unto their beſt endeavours, and with a long hooke catched hold of my clothes, and then pulling me into one of their little boats, they carried me on ſhore, where laying me along upon the ſand, and ſtripping me, they perceived that I had ſeverall wounds, and that they were freſh; at this they were much aſtoniſhed, and much more when rifling my pockets, they found a good quantity of money, and on my fingers three or four Rings of good value: Upon which, one of them ſaid, that this day was either their enriching for ever, or elſe their utter undoing: For, ſaid he, here is riches enough to ſerve us all as long as we live: But if ever this come to the eares of juſtice, it will be ſaid that we killed him, and condemne us for not revealing it; ſo as if we conceale it we are made for ever, and if revealed we are all undone, all of them apprehended the ſame, and knew not what courſe to reſolve upon; at laſt, one of them having a little more reſolution than the reſt: Brothers, ſaid he, let us bury him, let us ſhare and keep the riches which Tautates hath ſent us, & not reveal it unto ſuch as who doubtleſſe will take them from us; we know that we are not guilty of this miſhap, and ſince we are not, be aſſured that God will protect the innocent, and therefore let us divide what we have found, and live happily all our dayes after it.

As ſoone as this motion was made, it was conſented unto by the reſt, and preſently they fell to divide, but in the firſt place they made a grave, in which they would inter me, and till then would not divide, to the end every one ſhould worke at it with the better will.

Whilſt they were thus buſied, there was an old Druid, who ſeeing theſe Fiſhermen afar off, he had an opinion that they were dividing their Fiſh; this Druid was a holy man, lived a very godly and exemplary life, and faſted almoſt every day and therefore he was loved honoured and reverenced by every one. This grave old Druide, had in his younger dayes followed the gliſtering follies of the world, as others did; but having found them all to be but empty pleaſures, he retired himſelfe from the frequent ſociety of men, and [Page] lived in a little Cabin upon the top of a Rocke cloſe beſides this River, and that he might the more freely be devoted unto his contemplation, he deveſted himſelfe from a good eſtate which was deſcended unto him from his Anceſtors an action which brought him ſo much eſteem in all the Country, as he was reputed, loved and feared as a ſacred Servant, and reall friend unto Tautates.

This Druid then, ſpying theſe fiſhermen digging in the ground, he came unto them, and they were ſo buſie at work, as he was very near them before they ſaw him, and ſo near, as he could ſee a naked body, riffled from its clothes; I know not which were moſt aſtoniſhed, they in ſeeing him ſo near as they could not hide my body, or he in ſeeing as he apprehended, ſo many murderers. For he verily believed that they had killed me; and the rather, becauſe coming nearer, he ſaw the blood freſh; for blood ran ſtill out of my wounds, as freſh as if the wounds were newly given. When he was come up unto them, and ſaw theſe wounds thus freſh, and them bloody, he began to reprehend them very ſeverely, and menace them with the puniſhments of God and men. Doe you think, wicked wretches as you are, ſaid he unto them, that though you ſhould hide this body in the very center of the earth, Tautates would not diſcover it to the ſight of all? Can you think this blood does not cry to heaven for vengeance? and that you can fly into any any part of the earth where juſtice will not find you? How durſt you for a little miſerable gaine which will deceive you, commit ſuch an execrable wickedneſſe? Theſe Fiſhermen, who were not of any wicked temper, as afterwards they ſhewed, did bear a very great reſpect unto this Druid; fell down upon their knees before him, proteſted themſelves innocent of the blood, told him how they drew the body out of the water, what their deſign was, that they had no arms to make theſe wounds, and that if they had been guilty, they could eaſily have fled when they ſaw him coming, and paſſed unto the other ſide of the River, but they ſtayed ſtill, and would ſtand upon their juſtification.

The Good man conſidering all theſe circumſtances, he began to think they ſpoke truth; but the better to know it, he came unto my Corps, and ſeeing the wounds ſo freſh; Doe you tell me, ſaid he, that you are innocent of his death? We do ſweare it, ſaid they, by the ſacred Misſleto: Then, ſaid the Druid, you may doe well to looke out for the Murtherer, for doubtleſſe he cannot be far from hence; and beleeve it, if you do not find him out, you your ſelves will be accuſed for it: And becauſe I would not have the innocent puniſhed, and the guilty go free, where are his clothes which he had when you firſt found him? The Fiſhermen, as if they had been already in the hand of the Judge, and never thinking upon their reſolution, they did not onely produce what the Druid demanded of them, but alſo the money and Rings, and all that they found. Then the good Druid, ſaid unto them; Now friends, I doe thinke, you really innocent, ſince you doe ſo freely produce theſe pretious things; be certain that God will aſſiſt you both in this occaſion and all others. Then preſently falling downe upon his knees, and making a ſigne unto them to doe the like.

Oh great Tautates, cryed he out, and lifting up his hands and eyes to Heaven; Thou who haſt a particular care of men, we beſeech thee to turne thy vengeance from us for the death of this Man, and let thy infinite goodneſſe forgive and amend them that did commit this ſinne.

And becauſe my wounds ſtill bled, he commanded them to waſh me, and then do that charitable office which they had begun in burying me: According to his command, they did waſh me, then he asked of them a peece of money, which he intended according to the Cuſtome when any was buryed, to put into my mouth: The poore Fiſhermen did all as he commanded them; and the good old Druid, weak though he was, did take me in his arms, and thought that he found ſome heat in me, which made him lay his hand preſently upon my heart, which he perceived to move and tremble. Courage, my Children, ſaid he, I hope this man has life enough to cleere you from the Calumny which may be laid upon you, and to lay the fault where it rightly deſerves, for he is yet warm, and I perceive his heart to beat: Then letting my head hang a little downe, the water came out in great abundance, and the good Druid bound up my wounds with Hankerchers as well as he could; then he commanded them to make a deviſe with their Oares, whereon they might carry me with more eaſe; and whilſt they were working about it, the good Druid went to ſeeke out ſome hearbs by the bank ſides, which he knew were [Page] good to be applyed unto my wounds, and which would a little freſhen and invigorate my ſpirits; he was not long about them, but bruiſing thoſe Simples betwixt two ſtones, he put ſome of them into my wounds, and applyed ſome to my heart, and preſently the blood ſtayed: Preſently after, I began to breathe, and my pulſe came unto me, whereof they were all ſo glad, that after thanks unto the great Tautates, they carried me upon their Oars into the Cell of this good Druid, and laid me upon a good bed, where one of his Nephews uſed ſometimes to lye, when he came to viſit him; for as for himſelfe, his bed was onely a few dry leaves without any order or delicacy.

I was all the reſt of the day and never opened an eye, or gave any ſigne of life, but onely my breath and my pulſe: The next morning about breake of day my eyes opened, and I was never in my life more aſtoniſhed, than to ſee my ſelfe in that place; for I remembred the Combate which I had, and my reſolution of throwing my ſelfe into the River; but I could not poſſibly imagine how I ſhould come there. I continued long in this thought; at laſt, the room growing lighter, and the little loophole which was in lieu of a Window being towards the ſun riſing, I looked about, and the ſight made me wonder more, for my Chamber was onely a Cave, the roof Rock, and Ivie my hangings: Seeing all theſe things as I lay on my bed, I endeavoured to raiſe my ſelf a little, the better to conſider them; but I was not able, both in reſpect of my weakneſſe, and alſo by reaſon of my wounds. Bening then forced to lie ſtill as I was, and as they had laid me, I began to put my hand to the places where I found my paine, and finding the Napkins and ſuch other things as they had applyed unto me, I was ſtill more amazed. Then, not being able to imagine how all theſe things ſhould come to paſſe, I began to think upon ſuch ſtories as I had heard of concerning Water-Nymphs, and Goddeſſes, who dwelt in Rivers, almoſt condemning my ſelfe of incredulity that I had not believed them, and now thought that this place could not poſſibly be any other, then one of their habitations: But as a wandring mind does uſually rove immediately from one thing to another; I preſently began to think upon the injuries and ingratitude of Madonthe. The memory of which went ſo near my heart, as it forced from me ſo deep a ſigh, as the good man of God heard me; for he was ſet at the door, attending till it was time to come and ſee me. As ſoon as ever he heard me, he came into the Chamber, and without ſaying any thing, after he had a little looked upon me, he went and opened the window wider, that he might the better ſee in what condition I was: Afterwards coming to me, feeling my pulſe and my heart, and finding me much amended, did ſeem to be very glad of it: Then ſitting down in a Chaire which ſtood by my beds ſide, and looking a while upon me, he began thus to ſpeak. My Son, ſince the great God hath made his love unto you evidently appeare by ſending you ſuch unexpected Aſſiſtance, you are the more obliged unto th [...]nkes for ſo great a mercy and favour, and to be obedient unto whatſoever he command [...]: For as the acknowledgement of favours received from him, does invite his hand unto more liberality, ſo ingratitude provokes him to ſlack his mercies, and in lieu thereof, to chaſtiſe. Take good heed of this my Son, and let us ſee how you will expreſſe your thankes by your words, and with what demonſtrations you will acknowledge the particular Cure which hath been over you: upon this he was ſilent to ſee what I would anſwer. This good old man, had a very venerable and grave aſpect, a pleaſing look, a ſweet Phyſiognomy, and ſo mild a voyce, as it ſeemed as if ſome God had ſpoken by his mouth: But yet my amazement was ſo great, as it was long before I returned him an anſwer; He fearing that it was my weakneſſe, or the pain of my wounds, which hindred me. Son, ſaid he, if your paine and weakneſſe will not permit you to anſwer; yet make a ſign in teſtimony of your deſire, and God will ſo well accept it, as he will give you further ſtrength. Then recollecting my ſpirits, I forced my ſelfe to anſwer him with a feeble voyce, in theſe words: Father, it is not the wounds of my body hath brought me into this condition wherein you ſee me; but it is the wounds of my ſoul, which expecting no other cure or remedies, but ſuch as death uſeth to give unto thoſe that are miſerable, made me look for an end of my life from a River, which it ſeems is ſo pittileſſe, as ſhe will not not afford me that help which ſhe never denyes unto others. Theſe things are ſtill in my memory, but I cannot tell how I came out of that River wherein I threw my ſelfe; nor how I came into this place, and in your preſence.

Son, replyed the Druid, I perceive your crime, and the favour of Tautates are greater then I did imagine them: For I had an opinion, that ſome of your enemies had thus uſed [Page] you, and that the great God had ſaved and delivered you out of their hands but for ought I ſee you would have procured your own death, a ſin ſo great & execrable both unto God & man, as his mercy is infinitely abundant in not chaſtiſing you in his anger▪ Fratricide & Patricide are [...]innes of a very high ſtrain, becauſe they are neere unto us: How monſtrous then is the murther of our ſelves, ſince none can be ſo neer us as our ſelves are. Madam, ſhould I relate all his inſtructions I ſhould be too long; and he would have continued longer, if he had not been prevented by the Fiſhermen who came into the Chamber, and brought with them a man tyed with cords, ſo as at the firſt I did not know him, as well becauſe my mind was diſtracted another way as becauſe he looked with a ſtrange affrighted looke, and his habit had ſo diſguiſed him, as he was much changed.

As ſoone as ever he ſaw me, he would have falne upon his knees, but he could not becauſe he was bound. At laſt looking more earneſtly upon him, and hearing him ſay A [...] my Maſter, my Maſter, I knew him to be Halladine my Servant: You may imagine Madam whether I was amazed to ſee him in that condition; for I could remember how I pulled him into the water, and thought he had been drowned but I was much more amazed when I heard one of the Fiſhermen addreſſe unto the Druid, & aſſure him, that this was the man who had brought me into the condition I was, and that he was not content with what he had done, but he was looking about for the corps that he might hide it and his wicked act together. The good old man would have ſpoke, when I interrupted and told him▪ No, no, my friends, you are miſtaken, he is innocent, he is my Servant, and the moſt faithfull Servant I ever had, ſet him at liberty I intreat you, and let me imbrace him once more. The poore men wondered to ſee me hug him ſo affectionately, and he falling downe upon his knees at my bed ſide, with eyes ſhowring tears, he was ſo tranſported with joy, that he could not ſpeake: But when he was unbound, I embraced him as tenderly as if he had been my borther.

I was extreamly deſirous to know whether he had delivered my meſſage as I commanded him, and how he came to be brought thus unto me, but I durſt not aske him, leaſt I ſhould diſcover what I deſired to keepe ſecret. The Druid who was diſcreet and wiſe did perceive as much; For preſently upon it, ſeeming as if he would go and enquire the manner of their meeting with this Servant, he went out of the Cell, and carryed with him all but us two. My curioſity would not ſuffer me to be any longer without asking him whether he had ſeene Madonthe, what ſhe and Lerian [...] had ſaid and done, and how he fell into the hands of theſe men? He anſwered me a farre off that he had accompliſhed my commands, and failed in nothing, that all thoſe who heard of my death, did extreamly lament me, that had he thought to have found me alive, he would have brought me an anſwer unto my letter; but being deſirous to doe me the laſt ſervice he could; he came to looke for my corps along the River ſide, that he might give it buriall, intending afterwards to retire himſelfe from that Country and all habitable places: And this morning going along the River ſide, he met theſe Fiſhermen, of whom he enquired for what he ſought: And they, after they had looked upon him, and whiſpered a while together, they fell upon him and bound him, as I ſaw he was▪ thinking it was he who had treated me in that manner; that doe all they could; he would not tell my name, nor give them any light by which they might know whom I was▪ But Sir, ſaid he, I beſeech you by what good fortune came you hither, and what good God was it that reſtored you unto life againe? Then joyning his hands together, and lifted up his teare ſwelled eyes to Heaven; for ever happy may he be, ſaid he, that did this good worke. Halladine, my Friend, ſaid I unto him, I thanke thee heartily for thy good will, and I am very glad thou haſt not revealed my name, for I would not have any know me to be alive: And as to thy queſtion, how I came hither, you muſt enquire of ſome body elſe than me, for I am as ignorant as thou art. And yet let me tell thee, that though Heaven has preſerved my life againſt my will, I cannot chuſe but thank it, ſince I can by thee heare of Madonthe, Madonthe whom I beſeech the Heavens to preſerve, and unto whom I wiſh all happineſſe and contentment. Oh Heavens (ſaid Halladine) is it poſſible you ſhould continue ſtill in this errour? you have little reaſon to make that prayer for her, or ever to remember her, unleſſe to deteſt her and to be revenged both of her, Leriana, and Therſander: And were I as you, I would doe it, and be as eager to diſpleaſe her as you have been to do her ſervice. Were't thou, as I, replyed I thou wouldſt not give harbour unto any thought ſo ill; and be aſſured that were I not confident thy language proceeds from thy love unto [Page] me, I would never looke upon thee againe with a good eye, ſo extreamely contrary are thy thoughts unto mine; and therefore if thou wilt continue, with me unto the end of my dayes (which will beere long: if it be as I deſire) never offer any ſuch language unto me againe, nor againſt a perſon whom I love, as ſhe deſerves above all the world.

Upon this, I was ſo weake that I could ſay no more; for whether it was my ſudden ſurprize of joy to ſee Halladine, or my anger to hear him utter ſuch language, I cannot tell, but my wounds began to bleed ſo freſh, as I grew cold and pale, and almoſt without pulſe. I perceived it, at the beginning of my talke, but becauſe I did not much deſire to live, I would not ſpeake of it, and but for Halladine who tooke notice of my changing colour, doubtleſſe I had then put an end unto all my miſeries; but that faithfull Servant ran preſently to the Druid, and told him: He who during all the time of our talke, was preparing what he thought beſt for the dreſſing of my wounds, and ſtayed but for the terme of fifteene houres, before he would apply the firſt plaiſter, he came preſently into the Chamber, and finding me all in blood, did conceive that ſome extraordinary emotion was the cauſe of it; yet not ſeeming to take any notice of it then, but alter he had carefully dreſſed me, and made me take ſome broth, he ſhut the window, and bad me reſt a little; for this ſecond loſſe of blood had brought me ſo low, as I was not able to lift up my hand.

In the meane while he took Halladine aſide, did put into his hands all that he had taken from the Fiſhermen, and enquired very particularly who I was, and by what accident I came to be in that condition, and thereupon related unto him all circumſtances, how I was ſaved. My Servant gave him very many thanks for the aſſiſtance he had ſhewed unto me, and aſſured him, that he would not be ſorry for the paines he had taken; conjured him by the great Tautates to continue it, and that both God and men would reward him for ſo good a worke; as for the other queſtion which he asked him, they were things he durſt not anſwer without my permiſſion, becauſe I had expreſly forbidden him; but he might aſſure himſelfe, I was ſuch a one, as when he knew me, he would not repent of his paine and time imployed in my ſervice; all he could ſay, was, that I was one of the principall men in all Aquitane▪ Is he then a Gaul, replyed the Druid, and not a Viſigot? Moſt true, replyed Halladine, but he was brought up by the King of the Viſigots in his houſe: It is enough, ſaid the good Druid, all I deſire to know more, is onely what beliefe he has in the great Gods, for I tooke notice that he is extreamly troubled in his mind, and moſt aſſuredly, the mind muſt then be cured before the body can. Indeed, Father, anſwered Halladine, you have rightly obſerved his diſtemper, for never was mind more poſſeſſed with a deepe melancholy, than the mind of this Cavalier: And for my part I beleeve there are onely two remedies to cure him. What doe you thinke them to be, asked the Druid? The one, ſaid Halladine, is God who is able to doe any thing: Then replyed the good old man, we muſt have recourſe unto God, and pray unto him to direct us in his cure; but what is the other? Death, ſaid Halladine: Still I ſee no way, ſaid the holy man, but to have recourſe unto God. And ſince this time, he had ſo great a care of me, as he would never be from me, at leaſt as little as poſſibly he could: And one day when he perceived me to be a little better, he uſed ſo many arguments unto me, and alledged ſo many reaſons as in concluſion I did acknowledge that nothing did come to paſſe but by the appointment of God, who loving us better than we can do our ſelves, it is to be in common reaſon ſuppoſed, that whatſoever he does is to our advantage, though the Phyſicke he gives us be ſometimes bitter, and hard to be ſwallowed. As ſoon as I was grounded in this knowledge, I preſently rejected my barbarous reſolution of dying, and reſigned my ſelfe ſo into the hands of great Tautates, as I began to think all things ſweet ſince they came unto me from the Soveraign goodneſſe. This reſolution did operate ſo well, that in a little time, I was paſt danger, and within a few dayes after that, ſo recovered, as I wanted only a little more ſtrength; which indeed by reaſon of my loſſe of ſo much blood, was ſo great a want, as I muſt refer it unto time for my recovery.

During which time, having nothing to buſie my ſelfe in, but my owne thoughts, I was moſt commonly out of the little Cell, under the excuſe of taking the freſh Air, though it was only becauſe none ſhould interrupt me. The good old man ſpent moſt of his time in prayers and contemplation; and Halladine went out unto the neighbouring Townes and Villages to provide Victuals, and other neceſſaries, whilſt I in the meane time, was [Page] upon the top of the Rock, looking alwaies towards the place where I left Madonthe.

As ſoon as it was day, I was alwayes wont to leave my little Cell, and crawl a weak march to the top of this Rock; where ſitting upon a moſſy Cuſhion, I ſummoned into my memory all paſſages unto that very time, not forgetting neither my good fortune, nor my bad, which went deep to my heart; for the miſery paſt did wound me, as much as the miſery preſent; and I reſented the happineſſe which once I had, and then had not, as a loſſe which was preſently raviſhed moſt injuriouſly from me

After dinner, retiring my ſelfe under ſome Trees which made a pleaſant ſhade not far from the Cell; there I contemplated the miſerable condition unto which fortune had reduced me: my own miſeries, and the happineſſe of another did equally offend me: the one, by my own reſentment; the other, by envy and jealouſie of that contentment which was raviſhed from me. But after Supper, walking along the River ſide, my contemplation was buſied in conſideration of thoſe miſeries which might fall upon me for the future; and what little hopes there was of preventing them, ſo as all my dayes journey was divided into three kind of conſiderations; the morning, in things paſt; the afternoon, in things preſent; and the evening in things future: and the laſt of theſe would laſt ſo long, as they would take moſt of the night; being invited thereunto by the ſolitude of the place, or by the ſilence of the night, or by the pleaſure I took in thinking upon my diſpleaſures. For, Madam, life was a thing of ſo little value to me at that time, as there was nothing I deſired more then to ſee the end of it: And being now reſolved to uſe no violence againſt my ſelfe, I wiſhed that ſome accident or other would be ſo friendly to me, as to doe that good office for me, without my contributing unto the homicide of my ſelfe: And I had an opinion, that if ſorrow increaſed on, as it had done of late, it would doe the worke for me; ſo as I ſuffered this opinion to ſway ſo much in my mind, as I could ſeldome begotten unto my lodging, unleſſe the good old man or my ſervant, came to fetch me.

This kind of life, was ſo agreeable to my humour, as I was oft in a mind to quit both Arms and Fortune, and ſtay here all the reſt of my dayes. And in order to this deſigne, I acquainted my ſervant, adviſing him to retire himſelfe with thoſe goods which fortune had given me, which I would freely beſtow upon him, if he would leave me in this place where I would deſpiſe fortune, and bid her defiance. But Halladine in a flood of teares, could ſay nothing elſe, but that nothing under heaven ſhould ſeparate him from me, unleſſe onely death; and that he wiſhed for no greater wealth then to ſerve me. Then preſently after he had gotten me to bed, and hearing me ſigh he came unto me; and ſince he perceived I could not ſleep, he ſaid thus unto me▪ Is it poſſible, Sir, you ſhould harbour ſuch ſtrange thoughts of ruining your ſelfe? Ah my friend, ſaid I unto him, I ſhall not be ſo ruined here, but griefe and ſorrows will find me out. And ſo they may very well, ſir, (ſaid he unto me) as long as you doe thus forget your ſelfe, and what you were wont to be, in ſo much as you will not endeavour your happineſſe, and try if you can reſtore your ſelfe unto that ſtate which you have loſt. Halladine, (ſaid I and ſighed) It is the height of imprudence, to attempt things impoſſible. Why, ſir, ſaid he, ſhould you give the name of impoſſible unto that which you have not tryed, nor has any reaſon to be ſo perſwaded? For my part, I have ſuch an opinion of my ſelfe, that any thing which a ſervant can doe is not impoſſible; and I am much more certaine, that whatſoever any Cavalier in Europe can obtaine, you can if you will. If this Therſander who is the cauſe of your miſery, had this conſideration, he would attempt to remove you from Madonthe. And why ſhould not you doe as much for him? you were once in her favour, and he removed you; and believe it, ſir, ſo may you him▪ for that which has once been done, may be done againe. Doſt thou not know, (ſaid I unto him) that Madonthe loves him? Yes, ſaid he, And did ſhe not once love you? But now, anſwered I ſhe wiſhes me ill. Have I not ſeen, ſir, anſwered he, her ſcorn him, and ſcorn is much further from love then hatred? Hatred, replyed I, is further from friendſhip then ſcorn: 'Tis true, replyed he, but there is much difference between love and friendſhip; for Love is more proud, and never looks upon things that are deſpiſeable, but alwaies upon the rareſt, higheſt, and moſt eſtimable things. And this is it which makes me thinke, that Madonthe after ſhe had ſcorned Therſander ſo much as ſhe did, and afterwards did love him; ſo ſhe may as well you, againſt whom ſhe had onely hatred, but never the leaſt ſhadow of ſcorn. Friend, replied I, It is the love thou beareſt unto me, moves thee to talke thus in [Page] my advantage. I talk, Sir, replied he, as any that is without paſſion may: Well, ſaid I unto him, what is it thou wouldſt have me do? My affection, ſir, ſaid he, is it which moves my tongue; and I beſeech you ſir, receive my language as proceeding from thence: And ſince you command me, let me tell you, I would have you aſſume the ſame kinde of life you were wont to live, and try if any happy encounter will help you to recover that happineſs which is raviſhed from you: For I cannot ſee how it ſhould any way advantage you to ſtay here: I have ever had an opinion, that Madonthe does not hate you; or if ſhe doe hate you, yet that ſhe does not love Therſander ſo well as you imagine: or if ſhe doe love him, yet as ſhe has changed once, ſo ſhe may change againe: For I have heard ſay, that the whole world is nothing but change; but ſay ſhe ſhould change, and yet believe you dead, this change would not availe you at all; whereas if ſhe doe but ſee you, it is impoſſible but ſhe ſhould revive her firſt ſparks of good will unto you. Put out a Candle, Sir, and bring it to another that is light, you ſhall ſee how ſuddainly it will light againe: The heart of one who once loved, is of the ſame nature, when it comes in the preſence of the perſon loved; whereas abſence puts all hopes out, and is the very ruine and death of love.

Well, well, Halladine, ſaid I unto him, we will thinke upon it, and ſee what the heavens will adviſe us unto; then turning me about, I ſeemed as if I had an inclination to ſleep; and yet it was onely becauſe I would not heare any more diſſwaſions from my ſolitary humour: but the Candle being put out, and I not being able to ſleep ſo ſoone, I began to conſult and conſider upon the reaſons and arguments which Halladine urged; and finding them upon ſerious conſideration to be very ſolid and good; I was almoſt in a mind to leave this place, being eſpecially invited unto it out of a puiſſant deſire of dying. For I hoped, that being in queſt after adventures, I might perhaps meet with one that would bring me to my death. Beſides this, I conſidered that it was impoſſible for me to ſtay long there and not be known, ſince certainly thoſe Fiſhermen would be blabbing out all they knew of me: And being not far from the place where Thoriſmond kept his Court, I could very hardly conceal my ſelf any longer.

Theſe conſiderations, and ſome others which I will omit, leſt I ſhould be too tedious in my diſcourſe, did move me to take the advice which Halladine gave: And as ſoon as it was day I walked, then told him that I would take his counſell; and that he ſhould look out to buy Horſes for himſelfe and me, alſo to provide me Arms and other things requiſite. Away he went immediately, the gladdeſt man in the world to ſee me in this mind: and though he made all the haſte that poſſibly he could, yet he ſtayed ſome twelve or fifteen dayes before he could get my Arms fitted unto my directions. During his abſence, I grew more ſolitary and private then before, in ſo much as the good old man did wonder at me. I muſt confeſſe, that at this time, I often diſputed with my ſelfe, whether I ſhould break Priſon, and ſhake off my ſhakles or no, and uſing ſuch arguments as might be urged by Generoſity unto a man of courage, I was a while ſtaggering in my reſolutions. But this all-commanding Love, whom none is able to reſiſt, unleſſe by flying, did out of ſpite, load me with new Fetters, and renewed my chains by new meanes, ſo as I plainly ſaw there was now no hopes of ever having liberty.

The Fiſhers, Madam, with whom I often talked when they came to ſee me, as well to know how I did, as in gratitude for the money which I had given them for their paines: and becauſe they carried their Fiſh once a week unto the Town where Thoriſmond dwelt, to ſell them there, they would oftentimes bring me the news of the Town. There was one amongſt them, who was elder then the reſt, and ſhewed to have more wit, of whom I uſed to enquire; and asking him what was the talk of the Town, he anſwered, that all the talk was of a great Lady, who was brough to bed of a Childe; and becauſe the Lawes of the Viſigots was to puniſh ſuch by fire, ſhe was condemned unto it. Obſerve, Madam, how the heart will ſometimes ſoretell ſuch things as it feares: and though I did never in my life, ſee any action in Madonthe which could in reaſon move me to ſuſpect her guilty of ſuch a fault; yet I did preſently think it was ſhe? And for more aſſurance, I asked him the name of this Lady, but he told me that he had forgotten it; yet he aſſured me ſhe was one of the principal Ladies who was unmarried.

Then did I take my ſuſpitions for certainties, when I reflected upon the kindneſſe which was betwixt her and Therſa [...]der; and becauſe I would have no notice taken of my diſpleaſure, I was conſtrained to leave their company, and retired my ſelfe under ſome Trees [Page] that were neere the houſe; and there being alone, oh what contrariety of thoughts came into my mind to torment me? My vexation or rather my rage that I had been ſo extreamly guld, moved me to a deſire to revenge for this injury: But how ſuddenly did I check my thoughts when I conſidered my affection unto her: I muſt confeſſe, that ſtifling all thoughts of revenge, I could not reſtraine my teares, which flowed moſt abundantly when I thought upon the miſerable condition unto which Fortune had brought me: I had continued longer in this Labyrinth of confuſed thoughts, if Halladine who was returned, had not come to fetch me away. At firſt when I ſaw him, I did imagine that he had ſomething to tell me, but durſt not, yet ſince the old Fiſherman had broke the ice, I was ſo bold as to aske him. Come Halladine, ſaid I unto him, haſt thou provided Armes and Horſes? Yes Sir, ſaid he, all are ready, and I thinke you will be well fitted▪ I have brought the Horſes hither, but I have left the Armes at the Townes end, where I have cauſed them to be locked up: Thou haſt ſtayed ſo long, replyed I, as I was almoſt out of all patience▪ But good Halladine, I charge thee upon thy Fidelity, to tell me truly, haſt thou heard any newes of Madonthe? Shall I tell you Sir, ſaid he what I know? With all my heart, replyed I, for I doe extreamly deſire it; I feare, replyed he that I ſhall but vex and grieve you Sir, if I ſhould. Oh Heavens, Halladine (cryed I out) thou haſt told me enough, my ſuſpitions are all truths; Is ſhe condemned to the fire for having a Child? tell me truly. Whoſoever told you ſo, replyed he, told you the truth; but Sir, how came you to know it? The Fiſhermen, replyed I, who uſe to goe and ſell their fiſh, are my informers: But Halladine I conjure thee to tell me all thou knoweſt, and conceal not any thing, as thou loveſt me. Sir, ſaid he, ſince you are pleaſed to command me with ſo many aſſeverations, I will; though I know that this new Newes will vex you as much, as it ought to doe the contrary. Then he related unto me, how ſince the workmen required ſo much time, before they could finiſh my Armes, he thought that he could not ſpend his time better, than in going to Court, being confident that I would be glad of newes at his returne; that being there as privately as poſſibly he could, he was put unto no great matter of paines for newes, becauſe Madonthe was the Towne talke all over; that Leriana was her Accuſer, and that Leotaris and his brother would maintaine what Leriana ſaid, concerning her and Therſander. How, replyed I preſently, is it poſſible that Madonthe ſhould looke ſo low, as upon a man ſo baſe? Halladine, who thought that this conſideration might make me ſcorne her. Yes Sir, ſaid he, it is ſo held for certaine, and conſidering what proofes Leriana makes, none beleeves the contrary.

I muſt confeſſe Madam, that hearing this newes confirmed, I was ſo aſtoniſht at it, as but for Halladine, I had falne to the ground. At laſt, recollecting my ſelfe, and retiring a pace or two, I folded my armes one with the other, and lifting up my eyes to heaven, with a deep ſigh I ſaid: Oh God, how deep are thy judgements? and by how many ſtrange wayes doſt thou diſcover truth? Then ſtanding a while ſilent, as raviſhed with admiration, at laſt I broke out againe. Oh Madonthe, is it then true, that you have made choice of Therſander, and preferred him before me, was your ſpirit ſo low, as to make him Lord of your will, whom your Predeceſſors did highly honour in making him their Servant? Is is poſſible that generous heart which heretofore I have ſeene in you ſhould be thus changed, As not to die rather than endure the ſhame of ſuch a choice? Oh God, oh Heavens, why would you infuſe ſuch a baſe diſſembling ſpirit into ſo faire a body?

After this, I ſtood a long while ſilent, as having ſo much to ſay, that I could not ſpeake at all, reſembling a bottle that is full which will not come out but with ſome difficulty. Halladine who conſidered my affection, thinking to comfort me, and ſeeing me ſo long ſilent, he took occaſion to ſpeak unto me. Had I thought Sir, ſaid he, that this news would have reliſhed ſo ill, you ſhould never have known it by me: Why Halladine, ſaid I unto him couldeſt thou ever thinke I would not be ſenſible of her ſhame whom I loved above all the world? And why ſhould you doe ſo Sir, replyed he, ſince ſhe proves a perſon who has given you occaſion to hate her above all the World. Love, replyed I, is greater in me, than any wrong can be in her, and doſt thou not know that the wound which is once made will never heale? If maladies may be cured by Antipathy, and contrary medicines, replyed Halladine, then that love which was cauſed by vertues and favours may be cured in you by the injuries which you have received from her, and by the knowledge of ſo [Page] foule a fault. That which cauſeth love, ſaid I unto him, is fate and deſtiny unto whom the heavens have ſubmitted it, and therefore there is no thought that it will change, untill the very heavens and deſtiny themſelves doe change: And as for matter of ſhame I am reſolved to be her Champion againſt all thoſe who ſhall oppoſe her fame with any Calumny. Heavens forbid it Sir, ſaid he unto me, for you will have to deale with two of the ſturdieſt Cavaliers in all Aquitane; beſides you will too apparently wrong your ſelfe, and exceedingly offend a juſt God in maintaining a quarrell that is unjuſt. As for the valour of Leotaris and his brother (ſaid unto him) it is not unknowne unto me, and it ſhall not be that which ſhall divert me from the Combate: But as to the offence which you mention to be againſt God, I doe referre it unto him, ſince it is his pleaſure to make me love Madonthe ſo paſſionately, as it is a thing impoſſible for me to doe otherwiſe. Good Sir, ſaid he, will you offer to imploy your courage in taking arms for the defence of one who has moſt unworthily uſed you? are you not ſenſible of ſuch injuries, and would you have all the World take notice of this inſenſibility? Doe you not remember how inſupportably rigorous ſhe was to you, whilſt ſhe was in the arms of Therſander, and loaded him with more favours than he could deſire? Will you againſt all reaſon expoſe your life in defence of one who to content another, ſcorned you? Shall it be ever ſaid that you did unjuſtly arme your ſelfe to preſerve the pleaſures and delights of Therſander? He would have continued longer had not I interrupted him. Enough, enough Halladine, ſaid I unto him, no more of this language to me; the ſtone is already throwne, and it cannot be recalled; I am fully reſolved upon it, all that thou haſt ſaid or can ſay, cannot unreſolve me

When I doe thinke upon Madonthes death, and that I ſhall never ſee her more whom I doe love ſo well; when I conſider the paine and confuſion in which ſhe is, and the ſhame which is prepared for her, and when I doe remember, it is ſhe whom Damon hath ſo long ſerved, and that ſhe muſt now be throwne into the Fire. Oh God, oh Heavens, Halladine, doſt thou thinke I am able to indure it? and can any injury or ſcorne hinder me from giving her all the aſſiſtance I can? No, no, Halladine, Damon muſt either ceaſe to live, or elſe he muſt not ceaſe from doing what is his duty: It is the duty of a Cavalier to relieve afflicted and diſtreſſed Ladies, whether this Lady be accuſed juſtly or unjuſtly God knows; as for us we ought rather to think the beſt, than to ſuſpect the worſt: And ſince Leriana is her accuſer, I muſt thinke Madonthe wronged, knowing the extreame malice which ſhe beares unto her; I will therefore render Madonthe this proofe of my affection. I know, Halladine, thou wilt ſay that ſhe will thanke me no more for this ſervice than for others ſhe hath received from me but, friend, it is no matter if ſhe do not; I ſhall ſatisfie my duty in it, and then I have the recompence I expect. My Servant ſeeing me ſo fully ſetled upon it, he told me, that ſince I was ſo reſolved, he could doe no more but pray unto God for a bleſſing upon my intentions and endeavours; but if I would execute my deſigne, I muſt not loſe a minute of time: For the laſt hour which the King had given unto Madonthe, would expire to morrow by noone, and that from the place where we were, the neereſt way was five Leagues at the leaſt unto the Towne of Tectoſages, and above eight Leagues to paſſe by the place where my Arms lay; ſo as it was full time to depart that very hour.

Upon this intelligence, I reſolved to take Horſe preſently; and leaſt the good old Druid ſhould make me loſe any time, I thought it beſt to depart without acquainting him untill afterwards, and then if I proved victorious, I would make my excuſe, and thanke him for the great obligations wherein I was bound unto him. I tooke Horſe then, and made all haſte I could to the place where my Armes lay, I tryed them, and found them to be very good and fit, they were blacke, and on the Shield a Tyger feeding upon the heart of a man with this Motto. ‘Thou giv'ſt me death, and I ſuſtaine thy life.’

Then, without more delay, I rode to the Town of Tectoſages, and made ſuch haſte, as I came a little before noon: I alighted, to give my Horſe a little reſt, for indeed he was weary; and this might well have been Madonthes ruine; for when I came to the liſts, I found the Combate already begun, but one Cavalier againſt two: and certainly had I ſtayed never ſo little longer that Cavalier had dyed, and Madonthe been convicted; for [Page] he fell into a ſwoon when I was entred not ten paces into the liſts; and had he falne before I had entred, the Combate had been ended, and it would not have been permitted me to begin it againe: But God was pleaſed I ſhould arrive ſo opportunely, as the innocency of that Lady was made known: For to omit the particulars of the Combate, it will ſuffice to tell you, that it pleaſed God to give me victory over theſe two valiant Brothers, who were overcome rather by the innocency of Madonthe, then any ſtrength or virtue in me, unleſſe ſo, that being armed for the life and honour of my miſtreſſe, the whole Univerſe could not reſiſt me.

Thus I was victorious; and when I leaſt though of it, the truth was manifeſted; Leriana detected, Madonthe cleared; the Childe known to belong unto one that was Neece unto Leriana: and to be briefe, all things ſo cleared, that the wicked Leriana was caſt into the ſame fire which ſhe had prepared for Madonthe; Madonthe ſet at liberty, and I the gladdeſt man that ever was, to ſee ſhe had beene wrongfully accuſed: and that though ſhe had injured me, yet it was without the leaſt ſtaine unto her honour or chaſtity. This was ſuch a high contentment unto me, as I eſteemed all the paines I had taken in her ſervice, more then recompenced.

Seeing this thus ſettled, and thinking it not expedient to make my ſelfe known, untill I knew a little better whether or no ſhe loved Therſander; or whether all that I had ſeen concerning it, was onely the artifice and ſubtilty of Leriana, I went unto her ſcaffold, to know whether I could ſerve her in any other occaſion: She gave me many thanks, and had two requeſts unto me; the one was, to tell her who I was; & the other, to conduct her unto her houſe: As for telling her my Name, I excuſed it as well as I could; and as for conducting her, I ſaid I would, upon condition it might be preſently: And becauſe at the ſame time, a throng of Ladies came to congratulate her delivery, and alſo becauſe I feared the King would cauſe me to declare my ſelfe, alſo becauſe I had ſome wounds which required dreſſing▪ I went into the croud and ſo ſtole away; ſo as every one being diverted another way, none took any notice which way I went: And ſo I came to the place where I left my ſervant, where binding up my wounds as well as I could, and letting my Horſe graze a little, I got up againe, and went to my good old Druid.

I forgot to tell you, Madam, That meeting a man going to the Town, I entreated him to make my excuſe unto Madonthe; and, leſt ſhe ſhould think me uncivil, I feigned to be engaged another way by promiſe, but if ſhe had any further ſervice to imploy me in, ſhe might hear of me towards Mount d'Or, and that I would ſtill weare my enſigne of a Tiger. My deſigne was, to make her believe I was gone that way, though I did not intend it, leaſt the Kings curioſity ſhould be ſuch as to find out who I was.

I cannot, Madam, expreſſe unto you, with what joy the good Druid received me, nor his thankes, when he knew the cauſe of my voyage, and the ſucceſſe and ſervice I had done Madonthe in her great neceſſity: For he told me, that her Father brought him up; and that in this action I had over paid him, for all the paines and care he had taken about me. And becauſe he ſaw my arms bloody, he took them off, and looked about every part of me; then finding ſome wounds, he was ſo careful of me, and took ſuch courſes, as I was well again in a little time.

But ſince the beſt Phyſick, and no other could cure me, but to hear more of Madonthe, I intreated the good old Druid to ſend one of the Fiſhers unto the place where Thoriſmond was, to inquire what newes. The good man did as I deſired, and the Fiſher inquired ſo well, as at his return he brought me but too much newes for my contentment: That Madonthe was gone to her houſe, and carried Therſander with her wounded as he was; for it was he who before I came, was in Combate with Leotaris and his Brother. I underſtood farther, that a little after the departure of Madonthe, how King Thoriſmond was killed by his Chyrurgion, who in letting him blood had cut the vein, and that his brother Eurick ſucceeded him. I cannot expreſſe, Madam, how near theſe two accidents went unto my heart; onely thus far, I never think upon them, but the memory is ſo ſad, as I conclude no reſt belongs unto me but in my Grave.

Thus every thing from whence I expected comfort, augments my miſery; all my hopes are now quite blaſted, ſolitary places diſpleaſed, becauſe there I thought upon nothing but the Towne of Tectoſages, and my thoughts grated upon my very ſoul, when they repreſented unto me the ingratitude of this woman. To be brief, I was angry with my ſelfe, becauſe I loved her againſt reaſon, and could not chuſe but love her. My condition [Page] grew worſe then ever; my wounds indeed being but ſmall, did heal in a few days; but I became ſo pale as if I were dead, and this paleneſſe preſently after turned into ſuch a yellowneſſe, as if I had rubbed my ſelfe with Saffron. Halladine, who had heard ſomthing of Madonthes actions, did ſuſpect what the cauſe was of my being thus diſordered, and watched for an opportunity of ſpeaking unto me But the good old man not knowing what to thinke, he adviſed me to change aire, hoping that exerciſe and diverſion might recover my health; and I according to the advice of this good man, reſolved to ſee the world, and wander from place to place, and reſt no where, till death arreſted me.

After then, I had given moſt hearty thankes unto this good man, I departed, without any other deſigne in my voyage, than continuall wandring: yet as fortune was, our way did lie towards Madonthes houſe, where we heard ſuch newes, as did more and more aggravate my miſery. For we heard▪ that this ill adviſed woman (as Halladine calls her) was gone, or rather ſtolne away, without any in her company but her Nu [...]ſe and Therſander. Imagine what operation this report had upon me; my Servant would have perſwaded me, that ſhe did me no wrong in it, but onely herſelfe; for ſhe believing me to be dead, as all Aquitane did, I had no reaſon to blame her: But however, my diſpleaſure was ſo great, as not being able to endure the ſight of ſuch places where formerly I found ſuch delight, and now diſpleaſure; I reſolved to leave Europe, and never to leave wandring till I met with ſomething that would ſhorten my ſad life. So I paſſed into Africa, there I ſaw King Genſerick and Honorius his Son, and found every where that Love works the ſame effects that it did in me: I meane, that it augments and diminiſheth, changes and rechanges, delights and diſpleaſures, in all thoſe that are ſubjects unto it, according to its own pleaſure without any reaſon. For being amongſt theſe Vandals, I heard of the fortunes of Urſaſes and Olimbres, and of young Placidia, and her Mother Eudoxe, wife unto Valentinian, all whom by their examples, could not divert me from ſtill loving; but I learned rather this leſſon, That whoſoever will love, muſt prepare themſelves for good and bad, and receive them both with the ſame viſage. And conſidering the various changes in the fortune of Eudoxe, the long perſervance of Urſaſes his love, the prudent behaviour of young Olimbres, and the happy concluſion of their loves; I reſolved not to afflict my ſelfe ſo much at the croſſes which I had in my affection, but thence forward, to endure them with more patience. And becauſe Halladine who was tired out with my long and tedious travels, did adviſe me not to love her any longer, who did not think me ſo much as in the world, thinking that if he could bring me to this conſideration, I ſhould eaſily be perſwaded to return into Aquitane: I told him, to put him out of all hope, that I would love her ſtill.

In concluſion; finding no reſt any where, nor ſatisfaction in any diverſion, I ſaw that all humane prudence was to no purpoſe, and therefore I would have recourſe unto divine Counſells; ſo as hearing that at the further end of the Pirenian hills towards the Sea, there was an Oracle which was called the Temple of Venus; I returned into Europe, and enquired of the Oracle, of which I asked nine dayes together, what it was which would either put to an end, or elſe cure my [...] The Oracle anſwered, Forreſts: The next morning I asked where Forreſts was? it anſwered againe, Forreſts; and notwithſtanding my importunity, the Oracle was mute, and would give no other anſwer but Forreſts; ſo as I reſolved to look for Forreſts all Europe over. I will not tell you, Madam, how many ſeverall places I paſſed, and all in vaine, onely in generall; how after I had run through all Spain, Cantabria, Gaul, Narbon, and Aquitane, I came into the Country of the Gebennes, and reſolved to ſee Hircania and Ardennes, and all other places through the world: For I cannot be perſwaded, that this God who is moſt true and juſt unto all other men, ſhould be a deceiver unto me alone: but on the contrary, I hope that in theſe ſolitary places I ſhall finde that contentment which is promiſed unto me.

Thus Damon concluded the Hiſtory of his miſerable life. And Galathea, who had formerly heard the firſt part, was very glad ſhe had heard the reſt, and deſired to give him all the contentment this Country afforded. Therefore when he had finiſhed, ſhe ſaid thus unto him. I muſt needs confeſſe, ſir, you have reaſon to complaine againſt your fortune, having without any reaſon been ſo long afflicted, but ſtill you muſt not let your hopes droop: for the Gods are no Impoſtors, nor deceivers; and having received ſuch an [Page] anſwer from them, you muſt beleeve that you ſhall find that contentment which you deſire. Tis true they are pleaſed ſometimes to give ambiguous and obſcure anſwers, and that to teach us, that there is no happineſſe to be obtained without a mixture of miſery, and that they are pleaſed humane wits ſhould buſie themſelves in finding out the truth, and true meaning of their Oracles; and if you will have my opinion upon this anſwer you have received, I think you have not rightly underſtood it, in conceiving that this word Forreſts, does ſignifie Woods and ſolitary places, peopled only with Trees; but you muſt know that this Country wherein you now are, is not only called the Country of the Seguſiaus, but more particularly called Forreſts, ſo as I do beleeve, it is this Forreſts in which the Oracle intends you ſhall find that happineſs which you are to receive. And to tell you truly it is very probable that this is the Country and place, and not in Woods & places ſolitary: For it may ſo fall out that Madonthe may come hither upon ſome occaſion which may be hid from you; therefore take heart, and beleeve, that as one evill never comes alone, ſo one good is alwayes accompanied with another. It is a happineſſe you ſhould light upon the place which the Oracle foretels ſhall put an end unto your miſeries, and ere long it will be ſeconded with ſuch another as may afford you the effects of all.

Madam, anſwered Damon and ſighed, I find all you ſay to be grounded upon great reaſon, and I doe believe I ſhall ſhortly ſee the accompliſhment of the Oracle which promiſeth that in Forreſts I ſhall finde an end of my miſery: For I hope Death will doe that which Love could not. No, no Sir, ſaid the Nymph, you muſt have better hopes than ſo, and being to inquire with me to morrow of the Oracle in this place, I hope you will receive better contentment; and in this opinion, I have taken order to provide all things neceſſary for the Sacrifice, both for you and me. In the the meane time our Coaches and your Servant may returne, but I have one requeſt, unto you, Sir, which is, that you will not leave me untill you have brought me unto the houſe of Amaſis my Mother, who I am ſure will bid you moſt heartily welcome. The Cavalier, anſwered her, That it was his intention to conſult with the Oracle of this place, and that he tooke it for a great honour ſhe would permit him to inquire with her; alſo he would wait upon her unto Amaſis, and tender his ſervice unto her, that as for the hopes which ſhe gave him, truly he did hope, but it was onely in death, which could not come ſo ſoone as he did paſſionately deſire.

In the mean time Galathea diſpatched a meſſenger unto Bonlieu to the venerable Chryſante, to acquaint her that ſhe would come unto her, and upon the meſſengers returne underſtood that Aſtrea, Diana, Phillis, and all the ſhepherds dined there, and intended to goe and viſit Alexis, the daughter of Adamas: This meſſenger was a young fellow that had been brought up in her ſervice from his infancy, and therefore being very familiar with her, he uſed to acquaint her with all the newes he met withall in any place where he had been. At this time, after he had delivered the anſwer of the venerable Chryſante, he followed his cuſtome, and ſaid.

I aſſure you Madam, that except your ſelfe, I never ſaw any ſo faire as Aſtrea and Diana: Galathea, deſirous to make him ſpeake on, and to heare more of theſe ſhepherdeſſes, hoping to find ſomething concernin [...] [...]er beloved Celadon, and to heare what was become of him, ſhe ſpoke alowd before Damon, and ſaid unto him: How Lerindas, (for that was his name) doe you thinke thoſe ſhepherdeſſes ſo faire, that you prefer them before all my Nymphs? It is not I who prefers them, ſaid he, but it is truth. But how canſt thou make us believe, replyed Galathea, that ſuch Country wenches as they, are ſo very faire? Madam, ſaid he, I vow, that were I a Cavalier, I would maintaine their beauties againſt all the World; and did you ſee them, I am confident, that for all your valour you would not enter into the Liſts againſt me upon ſo bad a quarrell. But tell me Lerindas (ſaid Galathea, and ſmiled) which of them does pleaſe you moſt? Doubtleſſe, anſwered he, Aſtrea is the fairer, but ſhe is ſo ſad and melancholly, as therefore Diana pleaſeth me beſt: For thoſe wenches that are ſo deepely in Love, never pleaſed me ſo well as others. Who is it, replyed Galathea, whom Aſtrea loves? I can onely tell you, Madam, replyed he; that ſhe is ſad and melancholly, and they ſay ſhe is ſo becauſe a Shepherd was drowned about four or five Months ſince. And Diana, ſaid the Nymph, is ſhe in love with any? They ſay No, anſwered he, & yet there are two about her who torment her much if ſhe doe not love them; the one is called Paris, and the other Silvander; the truth is, if I were to chuſe, I ſhould give my voice for Silvander; for though he be but a ſhepherd, [Page] yet I never ſaw one more Gentile, nor civiliſed. If thou goeſt on, ſaid Galathea, thou wilt make us all deſirous to become ſhepherdeſſes, onely to enjoy ſuch good company. Madam, anſwered he, you may chance beleeve theſe to be but Fables, but I am confident two or three dayes could not, be better imployed then amongſt them. Then Galathea turning towards the aged Cleontine. Mother, ſaid ſhe, I am halfe in a mind to ſtay here two or three dayes, that Damon may a little eaſe his wounds whilſt in the interim walk towards Lignon, and ſee whether all theſe reports of the ſhepherdeſſes be true. Madam anſwered Cleontine, their converſation is the ſweeteſt and pleaſanteſt you can imagine; and beleeve it, there is nothing of Ruſtique in them but the name, ſo as if you deſire to take that pleaſure, now is the moſt conveniency; for the great Druid is to come and offer a ſolemne ſacrifice of thankes unto Tautates for the Misſleto, which is found neer their Towne, What kind of ceremony is that? asked Galathea; for they uſe to gather this Misſleto the ſixteenth of the Month of July. Tis true, anſwered Cleontine, but this is only a ſacrifice of Thanks, that Tautates would be pleaſed to honour that place with it, before any other, and making it to grow, as they ſay, upon the goodlieſt Oake that ever was ſeen, and in thus favouring that Towne it is a ſigne he loves it above others. How do you know (ſaid the Nymph) that the great Druid comes now to performe this Sacrifice? becauſe, ſaid Cleontine, he promiſed it ſhould be within eight dayes, whereof four are already paſt, ſo as if he keepe his word, he cannot deferre it no longer: And I am certaine, his haſte would be the more, did he know it was your pleaſure to honour the ſolemnity with your prefence.

This made Galathea reſolve to retard her journey unto Bon-lieu, as well to eaſe Damon, as to ſee theſe ſhepherdeſſes; and becauſe ſhe had not yet ſent to acquaint Amaſis with the accident which had hapned, and likewiſe becauſe ſhe might wonder at her ſtay ſo long, ſhe diſpatched one of Cleontines Servants, to acquaint her with all that had hapned, with the cauſe of her ſtay at Mount Verdan, by reaſon of Damons [...]ounds, and the occaſion of his coming into this Country. Asſoone as Amaſis received this Newes, ſhe was much pleaſed, and much diſpleaſed both: For ſhe was very glad to heare that Damon was alive, whom ſhe thought dead, becauſe he was her Kinſman in a near degree, and the carriage of Polemas did extreamly diſpleaſe her, it being againſt a perſon of ſo much merit, and in the preſence of her daughter, whom it was his duty to reverence: And to ſhew how ill ſhe reſented it, ſhe tooke Coach immediately, and went as faſt as ſhe could unto Mount Verdan, where her daughter was amazed at her ſudden coming, and asked her the reaſon of her ſudden reſolution. She told her that ſhe came to ſee Damon, and offer him whatſoever was in her power, as her Kinſman, and as one who had much obliged her.

Damon being advertiſed of her coming, he aroſe out of bed to meet her for his wounds were ſuch as he might doe it without danger, but being ſurpriſed upon ſuch a ſudden he accoaſted her onely with excuſes, and thankes for ſo great a favour. I am obliged, ſaid ſhe, unto you more than this, as well by conſanguinity, as by memory of him who gave you life, who at the returne with Thoriſmond King of the Viſigots, made unto Tectoſages, after he had fought Attilas in the Catalaunique fields with ſo great an Army, did prevent the ruine of this Country, turning his paſſage by the Sequanois, by the lower Allobroges, by the Veblomiens, and by the Mountaines of Gebbenes, and ſo into his own Kingdom. And this Obligation was not ſo little as it was thought of: For the young King I know not how, did fall in love with one of my Nymphs, who having no mind to marry he raviſhed her away by force, doubtleſſe upon my inſtigation of her unto that deniall.

Madam (anſwered the Cavalier) all men are obliged to ſerve Ladies, particularly thoſe of your quality and merit: And my father in doing you this little ſervice, which you are pleaſed to remember, did right unto the title of a Cavalier; and I ſucceeding him, doe offer unto you my blood and life.

Much more diſcourſe of civility paſſed betwixt them, & in concluſion ſhe told him, that ſhe would have him carryed unto Marcelles in a Litter, that his wounds might be there better looked unto: But he excuſed himſelf ſo, as ſhe permitted him to ſtay there for ſome dayes till his wounds were better: and this he deſired, becauſe he would be more quiet, and out of the world, ſince Madonthe was not in it for him, reſolving that as ſoon as he had conſulted with the Oracle, and conducted Galathea to her Mother, he would get himſelfe ſo farre as where he ſhould not be known, nor the name of Madonthe mentioned [Page] by any. Galathea was very glad of his not going to Marcelles, becauſe ſhe might the more conveniently ſtay at M [...]unt Verdun with him, under a pretence that ſhe might ſpend ſome dayes amongſt the ſhepherdeſſes, where ſhe hoped to heare ſome newes of Celadon, or at the leaſt to ſee the beauty of Aſtrea, which had cauſed that ſhepheard to diſdain hers.

Amaſis ſeeing he would not ſtir from the place where he was, and fearing to be too troubleſome unto him if ſhe ſtayed any longer, becauſe the houſe was little; ſhe returned unto Marcelles after many excuſes, for the diſcourteſie which Polemas had ſhewed unto him, and which ſhe proteſted ſhould not paſſe unpuniſhed. Damon who was all ſweetneſſe and civility, and who had often paſſed the like hazards, he beſeeched her to think no more upon it, becauſe it was a thing above his merit; and becauſe the offence of Polemas was ſufficiently puniſhed by the loſſe of his kinſman. He did ſo extenuate the fault, that though Galathea who was extreamly offended at Polemas for being ſo inſolent in her preſence, did give the crime all due aggravations; yet Amaſis promiſed Damon to doe whatſoever he deſired, intending to give him all the ſatisfaction and contentment ſhe could: Yet at her return unto Marcelles, ſhe did let Polemas ſee how much this action diſpleaſed her, though he excuſed it as well as he could, ſaying it was not done by his command: but whilſt he was buſie in helping Arganteus, his ſouldiers ſeeing him in that caſe, would needs revenge his death. Amaſis who was very well informed how all paſſed, commanded him to turn off his ſervice all ſuch unworthy perſons, as would offer ſuch a baſe act; which Polemas did with ſo ill a will, and was ſo vexed againſt Damon, as he reſolved to be revenged upon him. Beſides, he being of an envious nature, and ſeeing how much the Nymph did eſteem him, he was not able to endure it. But that which came neereſt the quick, was, that having ſome hopes of marrying Galathea, and finding that he could not with all his tricks make her love him, he began to contrive the meanes how he ſhould mak [...] himſelfe ſoveraign Lord of the State, and to compaſſe that by force which Love denyed him: he was the more induced unto this enterpriſe, becauſe he ſaw much facility in bringing it about; Clidemant being abſent; with Lindamore, Gugamant, and all the Grandees of the Country: All the chief places of ſtrength in his hands, and all the Souldiers liſted; and being backed by a great number of his kindred and allies, both within and without the State: Alſo, on the contrary, Amaſis having nothing but juſtice on her ſide, having conferred all the power upon that faith and confidence ſhe had in him.

He thus aſpiring unto this enterpriſe, and being prompted thereunto by Love and Ambition, he could not ſee any able to give him a ſtop; for Amaſis had not one Cavalier which had not dependence upon him, and were under his Authority, except Damon, who though ſingle, made him afraid of his valour: And fearing that Amaſis being diſpleaſed by this laſt action, ſhould keep him in the Country, and confer Authority upon him by the ſun-ſhine of her favours, he reſolved to prevent it. For he remembred that heretofore, the Father of this Cavalier ſhould once have married Amaſis, and all the great value and eſteem which ſhe now ſet upon him, he did attribute it unto the remembrance ſhe had of that. This conſideration was a cauſe, why taking aſide ſix of the Souldiers whom Amaſis had commanded him to diſcharge; he ſpoke thus unto them, after he had made many a complaint againſt her.

Friends, ſaid ſhe, It is a thing impoſſible to change the nature of any thing, uſe what art, or doe what one can: you know with what care and paines I have ſerved Amaſis, and how I have not ſpared any thing which depended upon meor my friends, which might contribute to her ſervice: And this, not once, but upon all occaſions that ſel out. I muſt confeſſe I have not given my beſt friends all that ſatisfaction which I owe unto them. But it is a thing abſoutely impoſſible, take what paines, and uſe what art one can, to ſtay a wavering mind, which is naturall unto all of her ſex She is now ſwayed wholly by a young ſtranger, who by killing Arganteus, has got a little reputation; he who by chance, and not by any vertue that is in him, killed my Nephew before our faces; probably he had uſed ſome treachery before we came, otherwiſe it is not likely he ſhould by plaine ſtrength vanquiſh the valour and skill of Arganteus. Your reſentments of it at this time has ſo much obliged me, as I ſhall never forget it as long as I live, but will be ready upon all occaſions to require you. But I am much afraid the meanes of doing it will be taken out of my power ere long, unleſſe you will arme your ſelves with ſtout reſolutions, [Page] and follow my directions. Amaſis to gratifie this new up-ſtart, has commanded me to caſheir you out of my Liſt of Souldiers, with expreſſe charge to baniſh you this Country, your own natural ſoil. This blow, though it hit you by the by, yet it will ſtrike me down, and is done purpoſely to eſtabliſh this new comer in this Province, which ſhe is no way able to doe, but by taking from me that Authority which my Services have gotten. She conceives that if ſhe ſhould do it all at once, and upon a ſuddain perhaps I might oppoſe her; and therefore ſhe undermines me by degrees, thinking that the greater the building is, it will the ſooner fall by its own weight: And to begin her worke, ſhe firſt takes from me my beſt friends, ſuch as you are: I know her drift well enough, and if all things go well, as I hope they will, I ſhall ere long prevent theſe diſorders▪ but as things are at preſent, if the remedy do not proceed from your courage and reſolution, I am afraid you will be forced from u [...] for a time, which would be one of the greateſt diſpleaſures that can befall me, but if you have ſtill the ſame courage which I have ſeen in you, I am confident you will ſend him out of the world, who would ſend you out of your native Country: It is a matter of no difficulty, for he is a ſingle man; he is not able to reſiſt one of you, much leſſe all ſix. Do but kill his Horſe that he cannot run away, and the victory is yours. As for Amaſis, ſhe will be highly enraged at the firſt, and would be revenged upon thoſe that tooke from her her vnew Adomis; but her anger will be onely a blaſt of wind, and quickly over: For he being a ſtranger, none will proſecute in his behalf: I mean, none will care for his death; beſides, I know your diſcretion, as when you have done the buſineſſe, you can be cloſe, ſo as none ſhall have the leaſt ſuſpition of you. Then, when all the power is in my own hands, be aſſured that you ſhall not feare any danger, whatſoever become of my ſelf. Conſider well upon it, and be reſolute, that I may know what to doe, both for you, and for my ſelfe, in a buſineſſe of this importance.

Theſe Souldiers were ſoon perſwaded by ſuch an Orator, and promiſed to attempt upon this ſtranger what he had propounded; as for their parts, they had no other conſiderations, but to obey him; and at the danger of their lives, to keep up his grandure and authority.

This attempt being thus reſolved upon, the next morning, he aſſembled together all thoſe who were with him that day, and who had aſſaulted Damon; and told them, that by expreſſe command from Amaſis, he commanded them, not onely to retire from his ſervice, but to depart the Country within ſix days; that he was ſorry to treat them ſo but he muſt obey; that they muſt not fail upon paine of death; and yet not being able to forget thoſe good ſervices which he had received from them, he promiſed to obtaine the favour of Amaſis for them, as ſoon as he could, and to get them reſtored into their former ſervice. And that they might be better able to ſubſiſt in the meane time, beſides their pay which Amaſis allowed for the time paſt, he would out of his own purſe give them three moneths pay: deſiring them not to be angry with him for it; but to believe that he did execute this command with much griefe, being very ſorry to part from thoſe that with ſo much valour and fidelity had ſerved him, and in whom he had great confidence. By this ſmooth language and ſhew of ſorrow to part with them, he did not onely get the good will of thoſe who were diſmiſſed, but of all the Souldiers beſides; and on the contrary, did ſteal away their hearts from Amaſis, which was no ſmall advancement to the deſign which he had plotted in himſelfe; for what he took from her, redounded unto his advantage.

Adamas, who was extreamly deſirous to welcome all the good company in his houſe, and particularly to make good his promiſe unto thoſe faire ſhepheardeſſes, in going unto their Town to offer the ſacrifice of Thanks; as ſoon as it was day, he ordered the Sacrificers to go before with their Cattle, and other things neceſſary; and to give notice unto all the neighbouring Towns to be preſent. And whilſt he was putting all things in order, the fair Daphnide, and all the reſt of the company, did dreſſe themſelves, and took the way unto the place where the Sacrifice was to be offered. Alexis, amongſt all the reſt, was moſt out of tune; for at firſt going out, when ſhe caſt her eye upon the River of Lignon, and ſaw the place of her habitation: She did imagine that this voyage was not reall, but a dream onely. As ſhe was walking down a little hill with Aſtrea, Hylas did ſo awake her by his diſcourſe, as ſhe perceived it no dream, but a reall voyage; and then ſhe was ſo full of contentment, that every one might perceive it in her eyes and face. [Page] Aſtrea on the other ſide, who could not wiſh for more happineſſe then to be with this diſguiſed Druid, in whoſe face was ſuch a lively picture of Celadon, ſhe was ſo fully contented, as almoſt forgetting the averſeneſſe of her paſt fortune, ſhe was now the happieſt ſhepherdeſſe of Lignon. And becauſe Adamas did let her underſtand that he intended to lie this night with Phocion, and that Leenide and Alexis ſhould be there alſo; ſhe diſpatched a meſſenger to give them notice.

In the meane time they all walked on, a gentle but a merry pace, ſome ſinging, others talking, all doing ſomething or other to beguile the length of the way. Calidon who ſtill had in memory the cruel anſwer which Aſtrea gave him, not having ſo much confidence as to accoaſt her, yet not being able to conceale his diſpleaſure nor his extream affection, he walked ſometimes before her, and ſung ſome verſes, which imported that to love her, was recompence enough.

Hylas who was next him, and could not endure any of theſe obſtinate affections, as ſoon as Calidon ended, he ſung ſome other verſes which imported, that Let them change that that would, for his part he would never change. Every one did laugh at the ſong of Hylas, and becauſe Stiliana, who walked with Carlis and Hermantes next them, did hearken very attentively unto what Hylas ſaid; ſurely Hylas, ſaid ſhe unto him, thoſe who accuſe you of inconſtancy, doe you much wrong, ſince never was man more conſtant than you are: For from the very firſt time I ever ſaw you untill now, you were ſtill the ſame: Oh, good old Miſtreſſe, (ſaid he unto her) I wonder you ſhould not know this before now, have all the men and women of our age ſo little wit, as not to know this truth? This, replyed ſhe, and ſmiled, is a bad recompence for a good office; you call me old Miſtreſſe, and doe you not know Hylas, that there is nothing under the Sun more offends a woman than to be called old. I doe beleeve ſo, ſaid Hylas, but it is ſo long ſince we were acquainted, that I thought it no injury. Daphnide, who was talking with Adamas hearing thoſe that were about Hylas to laugh ſo heartily, and being deſirous to know at what; ſhe inquired of Diana, who was next her, and ſhe acquainting her with the cauſe; I muſt confeſſe ſaid Daphnide, that his humour is the moſt pleaſant that any one can meet with, in his kind; and I beleeve all the company would be very ſorry to loſe him. But I beſeech you tell me, how long is it, ſince firſt he came amongſt you; what moved him to come, and what buſineſſe has he here? To which Queſtions, Diana anſwered, it is about four or five Months ſince firſt he came; as for the cauſe of his ſtay, I thinke it is ſuperfluous to tell you, knowing his humour ſo well as you do, for you may eaſily imagine it; but for the occaſion which brought him hither, I think none knowes, except himſelfe, not that he is of ſo cloſe and retired a temper, as that he will not tell any thing, but becauſe alwayes when he began to tell us his ſtory, either he has been interrupted, or elſe time would not ſerve him to tell it out: And I aſſure my ſelfe, Madam, if you would but intimate the leaſt deſire of knowing it, he would without any difficulty tell it, for he thinkes himſelfe obliged unto any that will hearken unto him in the relation of his fortunes.

I thinke, ſaid Daphnide, that it would be a very good diverſion, if he would entertaine us with it, and the way would ſeeme leſſe tedious unto us: but the beſt way to bring him to it, will be this faire Druid, ſaid ſhe, and pointed at Alexis, if ſhe would be pleaſed to command him. Alexis hearing her ſelfe named, and ſeeing Daphnide point unto her, to ſhew that ſhe was not too ſerious in her diſcourſe with Aſtrea, did aske her if ſhe had any ſervice to command her, and knowing by Diana what ſhe deſired, I aſſure you Madam (ſaid Alexis) that none has more power than your ſelfe, yet ſince you are pleaſed to put me upon it, I will try what I can doe: Then calling unto him, Servant, ſaid ſhe, I am growne very jealous. Faireſt Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, you have no occaſion for it. Yes, (ſaid Alexis) the occaſion is very great: For beſides the beauty of theſe faire ſtrangers, which is occaſion enough; you know there is good reaſon to ſuſpect one of theft who is accuſtomed to ſteale: You meane, anſwered Hylas, and ſmiled, that I have been accuſtomed to ſteale away the hearts of thoſe who looke upon me, and you feare I ſhould doe the like by theſe new ſhepherdeſſes; but never feare it, faireſt Miſtreſſe; for it may be I ſhall commit this theft, but though I doe take their hearts, yet I promiſe you, they ſhall not take mine, for it is only yours. This aſſurance, Servant, ſaid Alexis, does pleaſe me very well, but that is not my meaning: For it is, that theſe ſtrangers are very fair, and you doe make it your glory and boaſt to love all thoſe who have any beauty. Hylas [Page] then going neerer Alexis, I perceive Miſtreſſe, ſaid he unto her, that you doe not yet know after what manner I uſe to love. You muſt know that I uſe to doe as Merchants uſe; when any of them has an intention to buy any commodity, they looke well upon it, and conſider what it is worth, and lay by ſuch a ſtocke of money as is equall to the worth and as far as that ſum will go, they will bid, and no farther, and when they have bought the commodity, they value it at ſuch a ſum as they gave, and ſpend accordingly: Now I uſe to doe the like; for when I firſt intend to love a Lady, I preſently looke upon her beauty (for you muſt know that it is beauty which ſets the worth and value upon a woman) and when I have conſidered the full value of it, preſently I lay by a ſtocke of Love in my ſoule, equall unto the price and value of beauty which ſhe has, and when I love, I bid ſo much as that ſtocke comes unto, and ſpend upon it. Then, after I have ſpent all that ſum in her ſervice, for whom I firſt laid it by, I have no more for her; but if I will love, I muſt looke out for another beauty and lay by another ſum for it, ſo as in this, my money and my love are alike; I mean, that when I have ſpent them, I can ſpend no more; therefore Miſtreſſe, you might have ſome reaſon to feare, if I never had loved theſe new ſhepherdeſſes before, but it is ſo long ſince I ſpent all ſtocke which I laid by for their beauties as I have none left for them, my money is gone, and it will not come againe. But Servant, ſaid Alexis, Merchants that are rich, though they have once or twice emptied their purſes, yet will they fill them againe, to buy that at the ſecond bidding, which they could not at the firſt. Perhaps they may, replyed Hylas, but Miſtreſſe, ſuch rich Merchants and I am not alike; for they will chaffer and bid two or three times, whereas I bid all at the firſt: beſides, if they have no money, they will borrow upon their credit, and I ſpend and trade only upon my owne ſtock; This, replyed Daphnide, and ſmiled, is the fineſt way of loving that ever it was my fortune to heare of. It is ſo, ſaid Alexis, but not very advantageous unto me, for I am affraid that you will quickly have ſpent your ſtocke of Love, which you laid up for me, and then you will love me no longer. Tis true indeed, ſaid Hylas, that, ſhould I ſpend it all, you could not hope for any more in me, but that is abſolutely impoſſible; for when I firſt lay by a ſtocke of Love, I do make it equal unto the beauty which I love, and yours being infinite, you muſt thinke that the heap that I laid up to equall it, is a vaſt Mountaine. I am glad of it, replyed Alexis, and eſteeming you as I doe, ſhould be very ſorry to loſe you; and this moves me to intreat you, that if this Mountaine be not ſo big as you doe ſay it is, you will abate a little, and leſſen your expences to the end your Proviſion may hold out the longer; I had rather you would ſpend a little leſſe, and imitate thoſe good Husbands who ſpend one day, as it may hold out the whole year. Miſtreſſe, ſaid he preſently, if that be all your care, ſet your heart at reſt, for my mountaine of Love to you, will laſt as long as I live. But good Servant, ſaid Alexis, though your mountaine be as bigge as you ſay, yet methinkes you ſhould deſire mine ſhould be as big to you, leaſt this love ſhould be lame, and let downe of one ſide? You ſay very well, replyed Hylas, and I doe deſire it with all my heart. Then ſaid Alexis, you muſt uſe ſome meanes whereby you may come to the knowledge of it▪ I have heard, that nothing is more requiſite unto Love, than the knowledge of the thing loved; and how doe you thinke I ſhould love you, unleſſe I know you? Hidden treaſures are not eſtimable; your actions, I make no queſtion would render you of high eſteem, if they were once known; and therefore if you do deſire that I ſhould love you, than you muſt let me know the Story of your life, eſpecially at this time when you may have ſo good an Auditory, and therefo [...] I would not have you let ſlip the opportunity. What Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, is all this long preamble onely for this? the very leaſt ſyllable you could have hinted would have commanded it, and you ſhall ſee that my affection is above your curioſity, though let me tell you▪ I hold the maxime in Love to be falſe, that one muſt know before one can love, as well as I doe all the reſt which Silvan [...]er moſt abſurdly vents. But to ſhew my obedience I will tell you all I know of my ſelfe. Then placing Adamas in the middle of the Company, every one was very attentive, and to heare the better, ſome almoſt trode upon his heeles. And then ſeeing all ſilent, he began thus.

The Hiſtory of Chryſide and Hylas.

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IGnorance has this quality, that it cauſeth many things to be condemned, which in themſelves are laudable: And this I have often found to be true, ſince I came amongſt theſe ſhepherdeſſes about the River Lignon, where the falſe Tenents of Silvander are ſo much followed, as all he ſayes is Oracle, and it is held an offence againſt the very Gods, not to believe what ere he ſayes. This is an error ſo rooted in the opinion of all that fect, as it is, in matter of Love, a crime of the higheſt nature, to contradict him. Yet I, who am not ſwayed by opinion, but by truth; and who will not be convinced by words, but by reaſons; I have ever followed that which reaſon dictates unto me, and bids me doe. Can any be ſo irrationall as to blame experience, which is the mother and the Nurſe of Prudence? yet talke to Silvander, or any of his hereticall ſect, and they will maintaine it even with their lives that all experience is vicious and fallacious; and that they muſt cleave unto their own errors, like ſnailes which once ſticking to a wall, muſt not part from it: As if the Gods had not given us a judgement and reaſon to diſcern things that are good, things that are better, and things that are moſt perfect.

Theſe Conſiderations, I beſeech you, faireſt Miſtreſſe, ſet before your eyes, when you ſee that I have ſometimes loved and changed; and yet do not feare I ſhall change you for any other, becauſe it is impoſſible to find one that is better or more perfect; For when I am come once to the higheſt ſtep, I cannot go any higher. You are not the firſt, faireſt Miſtreſſe, that has deſired to underſtand the ſequell of my ſtrange fortune; many others have had the ſame curioſtry, and ſome in this company. What I have formerly related into them, I will not relate now, becauſe they can inform you as well as I: And therefore I will onely tell you, that I am originally of Carmargues, where I began my Apprentiſhip with Carlis, and ended it with Stiliana. Afterwards, being but yet a noviſt in my trade, I quitted that place and came to Lions, after that I had by the way loved the faire Aymea, the fool Ploriante, and the ſad Cloris,. Then being come thither, I ſaw Circena, whom, as my love unto her began in the Temple, ſo it dyed as ſoon as I was out againe, and revived it ſelfe in the charitable Palinice; and from her was transferred unto the kind Parthenopea, afterwards to the crafty Dorinde, and the proud Florice. And becauſe Florice is the laſt I named, I will begin my diſcourſe where my love to her ended, that you may the better underſtand what you deſire to know concerning my life.

Periander, a very brave Cavalier, and one that was paſſionately in love with Dorinde, to pleaſe her, was a cauſe of my declining Florice, by ſtealing from me (though my friend) ſome Letters which ſhe had written unto me: And Dorinde to be revenged both of her and me, ſhewed them (like a ſpitefull woman as ſhe was) unto Theombres the husband of Florice, who upon this, fell into ſuch a ſuſpition of her, as he carried her out of the the Town, ſo as in a little time I began to forget her: for Miſtreſſe, I muſt ingenuouſly confeſſe, that as my love began firſt by my eyes, ſo it ended as ſoon as it wanted nouriſhment from my eyes, according to that true Maxime Out of ſight, out of mind, and what is far from the eye never troubles the heart. Florices ſtay out of Town a whole moneth (a term long enough to kindle and extinguiſh a dozen ſeverall loves in me) had been enough to quench all my flames to her. But her ſtay being to continue a longer time, I reſolved with my ſelfe to take my leave of her: for I could never like thoſe loves, that can feed themſelves with thoughts and fancies, and fond imaginations. But finding Love to be a fire, and my ſelfe burned with it, I thought the beſt Cure was by ſympathy, and to cure my ſelfe by another fire; and in order to this, I ſought out for ſome new beauty which might cure my old burn; and at laſt, heaven which alwayes favours deſignes that are juſt, ſent me ſuch a fire as I ſtood in need of.

One evening as I was walking without any other deſign, but taking the air by the River Arar, cloſe by a Bridge, and looking about, I eſpied three Coaches drawn by ſix Horſes apeece: And becauſe that was amongſt us an equipage unuſual, I drew neerer the bridge to ſee them paſſe. In one of them was four Ladies habited much different from our Mode, and very rich; and their uncouth habits made me look upon them with more curioſity and eagerneſſe. The firſt whom fortune fixed my eye upon, did keep it upon her as long as [Page] I could ſee; She was in the firſt Coach, and ſeated in the beſt place; her hair was faire, ſomething inclinable to Cheſnut; her Complexion, no dye could make a mixture of ſuch perfect vermilion upon ſnow; her eyes black, but ſo quick, ſweet, and piercing, as no heart had humour good enough to reſiſt them; her lips exact Corrall, her N [...]ck a Column of pureſt Alablaſter, and every part proportionable in perfection: as for her ſtature, I could not perfectly ſee it, but as near as I could judge, it was neither tall nor little: as for her Hand, which ſhe often ſhewed in lifting up her haire which lay upon her ſhoulder in curles, it could not be equalled unto any thing ſo well as to the whiteneſſe of her neck.

Judge, Madam, whether ſuch a beauty could be looked upon and not loved; ſhe was the fire by which I cured all my other burnings, ſo as quite forgetting Circinea, Palanice, Dorinde, and Florice, I devoted my ſelfe wholly unto her. But perhaps you will thinke it ſtrange, that ſhe being in a Coach, and onely paſſant, I ſhould obſerve ſo many particulars in this beauty; but you muſt conſider, that I looked upon her with more eyes then my own, and had thoſe of love to help me in looking upon this wonder. Nor muſt you believe any ſuch thing which Silvander is often alleadging, that Love is blind: but on the contrary, that thoſe who look with his eyes, can look through dreſſes and ſee ſuch beauties as are hid from others. But it ſeems that love had a deſign upon me at this time, for he would not let me make uſe of his eyes and my hands, but loadned the Coach heavier then it was before, becauſe it carried my heart away with it.

I ſee Silvander, you laugh; and I know you would ſay that the Coach was not a jot more loadned for having my heart in it; but know, that my heart as light as it is, yet is as heavy as yours. I know not that, ſaid Silvander, but I am ſure the Coach which carried your heart, had need go very faſt, or elſe your heart would quickly be out, for it cannot endure to be long in a place. This ſaid Hylas, was Perianders opinion, when he found me looking upon theſe ſtrangers as they paſſed. This good friend of mine perceiving me halfe out of my ſelfe, did begin to ſuſpect the cauſe; and coming unto me, Courage, Hylas, ſaid he unto me; you will recover of this, I warrant you, as well as you have done of others.

I anſwered him with a love ſick look; I ſee Periander, you mock me; but did you know how great my pain was, you would pitty me, though I muſt confeſſe it proceeds from love, Ah, ah, my friend, ſaid he and laughed, have a good heart; this is not the firſt time you have been ſick of the ſame diſeaſe and never dyed. 'Tis true, ſaid I unto him, then I did know who was the cauſe, but now I am ignorant of it: How friend? ſaid Periander and laughed; What? in love, and knows not with whom? So it is, ſaid I unto him, and I cannot help it, Love has catcht me. That you do love, ſaid he, I doe believe, but that you ſhould love, and not know her whom you doe love, though I ſhould believe you in any thing elſe, yet in this I am incredulous: And if it be true, I ſay it is a thing as eaſily done, as to perſwade any to believe it. Whether you believe it or no, ſaid I, and ſighed, yet I am ſure it is ſo. How long, ſaid he, have you been ſick of this fantaſtical diſeaſe? A little longer, anſwered I, then we have been talking of it. Upon this, Per [...]ander laughed, and laying his hand upon my ſhoulder, ſaid; Well friend, if you be long ſick of this diſeaſe, I will pay your Doctors: then he offered to go away, but I laid hold upon his Cloak: What? ſaid I unto him, is this all the helpe and conſolation I muſt expect from your friendſhip? What can I doe for you, anſwered he, as long as you doe not know her that is the cauſe of your malady? You may help me, replyed I, and contrive it how I ſhould come to the knowledge of her whom I adore. This is ſtrange folly, ſaid he, Can I know her better then you doe? Why not, replyed I; Is it not ordinary for people in health, to tell ſick folks their diſeaſe, and to give them ſuch remedies as they themſelves knew not? Ah, Periander, did you love me as well as you profeſſe, you would not deny me that aſſiſtance which friendſhip requires. To which he anſwered; In the name of Heaven, Hylas, what would you have me to ſay or doe? upon my faith I think you are become a fool. A fool, ſaid I, is it folly to love her whom I adore? ſhe whom I am ready to die for, will not yeeld unto any Goddeſſe in beauty; ſhe has more Graces, then all the Graces themſelves; and if Love were not hood-winckt, doubtleſſe he would dote upon her: but the truth is, I know not who ſhe is. This is fine folly indeed, replyed he; where, and when did you ſee her? Oh Heavens, ſaid I, are you blind, that you could not ſee the Sun when it ſhin'd? Did you not ſee the Coaches which [Page] paſſed by? In the firſt of them was ſhe whom I love, and know not, Is it ſo, ſaid he unto me, then friend know, that you are a Priſoner unto a Priſoner; Gondebunt our King did take them beyond the Alpes, and hath ſent them hither as Trophies of his Victory.

Thus I underſtood who this faire ſtranger was, and had it not been very late I had endeavoured to have ſeen her that night, but deferring untill the morning I retired to my lodging ſo tormented that I could not reſt all the night. As ſoone as day appeared, I left my bed: And becauſe Periander promiſed to accompany me to the Pallace, where we might ſee them as they went to the Temple, and ſtaying in my Chamber till he came, I took my Glaſſe, and trimmed my ſelfe up as gay as poſſibly I could, and kept ſuch a ſtirre with curling my haire, and ſetting my ſelfe in a right quirpo, as none about me were able to pleaſe me. Then taking the Glaſſe into my hand and and finding my haire appeared a little too much of the gilded hue, alſo thinking that it would make but a bad impreſſion in the fancy of women, I loaded my head with ſo much Cypreſſe powder, as it looked more like the head of a Miller than the head of Hylas: And Periander ſuprizing me, looked on a long while before I perceived him; at the laſt, turning about, and lifting up my eyes, I ſaw him laughing. Periander, ſaid I unto him, you are no good friend of mine, ſince in lieu of help and pitty, you laugh at me. And ſo I may very well, ſaid he, and I cannot beleeve your paine to be ſo great, unleſſe Love in revenge of your folly, doe make you find that in your ſelfe, which you would hardly beleeve in another. Wherein, ſaid I, have I beene ſo incredulous? In that ſo great an affection cannot be found, ſaid he, as will efface all other cares but ſuch as concerne, and depend upon it.

You are in the right (ſaid I unto him) but did you ever ſee me ſo deſirous to pleaſe any of thoſe I loved? Nay, put all the Loves I ever had unto this time together, they cannot all equall the affection which I have unto this one, and therefore you need not think it ſtrange I ſhould be ſo carefull, and take more paines with my ſelfe for her, then for all the reſt: For I know very well that the firſt impreſſions which are made in the minds of women, are not eaſily blotted out. Thus talking to him, and ſtill tricking up my ſelfe as fine as poſſibly I could▪ Come, come, ſaid he, and make an end of all your finerye, for otherwiſe they will be gone before you come; then taking my hand, and pulling me almoſt by force from my glaſſe, he conſtrained me to follow him unto the Pallace, where thoſe faire ſtrangers were lodged, unto which we were no ſooner come, but we ſaw them going to the Temple, two and two together, holding hands.

I was ſo attentive in ſeeing them paſſe along, and obſerving which was ſhe who had thus wounded me, that Periander, by way of mockery whiſpered me in the ear; take heed, ſaid he, that ſhe whom you admire ſo much, doe not paſſe by, and you not know her; ſhould my eyes commit ſuch a fault, ſaid I, I would pull them out, and they ſhould never deceive me againe. Well, well, ſaid he, I am much miſtaken if ſhe be not paſt already: Is it poſſible, replyed I preſently, doe you not mocke me? Upon this, not ſtaying for any anſwer, I ran a little forward, that I might ſee them paſſe againe; but then I found Periander onely mocked me, for preſently after, I ſaw her whom I expected, the laſt of them all, adorned with ſo many beauties, as ſhe attracted the eyes of all upon her. This ſecond viſion did ſo raviſh me, that I knew not what I did, onely I remember that when ſhe paſſed before me, I could not chuſe but ſay with a deepe ſigh; Here comes the faireſt of all; and it hapned, of all theſe Strangers none but ſhe underſtood the language of Gaule, ſo as I obliged her without diſobliging the reſt, becauſe they underſtood me not; for moſt certainly to undervalue a womas beauty is a wound almoſt incurable. And on the contrary, of all flatteries none more pleaſing unto them than thoſe that applaud their beauties, for let it be never ſo groſſe, yet it will be beleeved true. The Temple was a good diſtance from the Pallace, and yet I found it ſo ſhort, that I thought the way ſo ſhort, as they were there before I imagined it halfe way, and I thought the Sacrifice ſo ſhort, as it was ended before I thought it begun, and this becauſe I received ſuch extreame contentment in looking upon this fair ſtranger, and my eye was never off as long as the Sacrifice laſted. Theſe Ladies alſo were as full of curioſity as we, and were not ſo fervent in their devotions, but they would ſometimes looke round about the Temple, and it hapned that this faire Stranger never turned her eye towards me, but ſhe ſaw mine fixed upon her.

[Page] Then Diana ſmiled and ſaid, Hylas I muſt needs interrupt you a little, and put you in mind you doe not blaſpheme Veſta and the good Goddeſſe. Temples were made to pray unto the Gods and not for any amorous deſignes; Why, ſaid Hylas, will not the Gods permit us to doe that on earth, which they themſelves doe in Heaven? Then, not ſtaying for Dianas anſwer, he full into his diſcourſe again.

The Sacrifice being ended, they returned in the ſame order as they came; and as fortune was, at their coming out of the Temple, which as you know ſtood high, and had many ſteps to deſcend from it, this Faire one looking another way, and wearing very high ſhooes, ſhe fell at the laſt ſtep, but without receiving any hurt: I who had my eye continually upon her, ran preſently to her, and taking her by the arm, I helped her up, with ſo much contentment unto my ſelfe, as I thought all the paines I tooke that day very well imployed, having done her this triviall ſervice, which as ſhe ſince confeſſed was the firſt knowledge ſhe had of my good will; and this was the reaſon why ever ſince in all my other affections, I did never omit the leaſt occaſion, though never ſo triviall, which might be any way ſerviceable unto thoſe I loved, obſerving from hence, that in imitation of good Fencers, it is better to make many blows, though they be not mortall, then to ſtay all the day for one ſingle blow, becauſe he is very ignorant in the miſtery that cannot defend himſelfe from one blow; but when he fals on pell mell, and gives blow after blow; it is almoſt impoſſible but ſome ſhould take effect. In this I doe hint particularly at Silvander, who is ſo proud, that he will never doe any leſſe ſervice unto his Miſteſſe than the ſaving of her life, thinking that other leſſe ſervices doe not deſerve to be put upon accompt.

S [...]lvander, leaſt he ſhould interrupt, would not anſwer, but ſeeing the eyes of all the Company upon him, eſpecially Diana, as if ſhe expected ſomething from him, he thought himſelfe obliged to ſpeak. Hylas, ſaid he, I doe confeſſe part, and part diſavow what you doe ſay of my humour; for ſuch trifling ſervices as doe not merit the name of ſervice, and are no more than common Complements, they are not worthy of ſuch accompt, as you doe make of them, ſince the greateſt ought to be blotted out of the memory of him who renders them. How, ſaid Hylas, and ſhoke his head, muſt one blot out of memory a long ſervice? Why then ſhould one ever doe them, if things paſt muſt be forgotten? Beleeve it my good friend Silvander, women will eaſily conſent unto ſuch a Law, for Ingratitude, which is their Nature, is the mother of Oblivion; but I have ſo obſerved the ſervices which I have done them, as if they doe ſeeme not to remember them, or to take no notice of them, I ſhall tell them of it, as they ſhall be deafe if they doe not apprehend them. And to tell you truly, I beleeve if your ſervices did merit as much as mine, you would not ſet ſo low a rate upon them, or to ſay better, you would not make ſuch good uſe of them: As for me, I doe thinke the very leaſt ſervice I doe, does deſerve a great recompence Did I not know, ſaid Silvander, and ſmiled, that the Iſle of Camargue is your Country, I ſhould thinke ſeeing you ſet ſo great a value upon a little, that you were borne in a certaine Country of the Gaules where the Inhabitants have three qualities which are not much unlike your humour. What are they? ſaid Hylas. I would not willingly tell them, ſaid Silvander, but ſince you urge me, you ſhall know.

The firſt is, that they are rich, yet have but a little; The ſecond is, they are Doctors, yet have but a little learning; And the laſt is, they are extreamly proud, yet have but a a little honour. Hylas would have anſwered halfe in anger, but the laughter was ſo lowd that he could not. And afterwards when he offered to ſpeake, Silvander was before him, and with a ſmile, ſaid, let it ſatisfie you Hylas, that I ſaid not this of the Province of the Romans, where you were borne; but if you thinke your ſelfe obliged unto ſome reſentment of it, I give you leave with all my heart to ſay as much of the place where I was borne, if you pleaſe. No queſtion, replyed Hylas preſently, but that if your Country were not as much unknown to me as to your ſelfe, I ſhould not be long mute, but ſhould ſay as much for you, and with more truth, yet not knowing where this ſtrange Land is, one may eaſily judge that it produces nothing but ruſhes and thiſtles, ſince it hath ſent forth ſuch pricking and biting ſpirits as yours. To which Silvander having no mind to reply, becauſe he would not hinder him from his ſtory; Hylas after a little ſilence, continued thus.

The cuſtome of the ancient Towne of Lyons which is to welcome and entertaine all ſtrangers, and moſt religiouſly to obſerve all Lawes of Hoſpitality, was a cauſe that Amaſonte [Page] Aunt unto Periander, a few dayes after the arrivall of theſe faire ſtrangers, did enquire of thoſe who had the guard of them whether it would be permitted to viſit them, and underſtanding that the King was very well pleaſed to allow it, ſhe went unto them, and offered unto them all manner of aſſiſtance and ſervice; ſhe had a daughter called Orſinda, who was not unhanſome: This daughter was at the firſt viſit ſo much pleaſed with theſe Ladies, and ſo was Amaſonte, that they went very often afterwards to ſee them. By fortune the greateſt intimacy they had, was with that Fair one who had ſo captivated me. And it was, as I beleeve, beſides thoſe perfections which ſhe had above the reſt of her companions, becauſe ſhe ſpoke the Gaul language, and becauſe ſhe had been brought up in thoſe Countries, Periander acquainting me with theſe paſſages, I told him, that he muſt needs contrive it ſo by any means, that this good Aunt of his did might us admittance without acquainting her with any deſign.

And we parting in this reſolution, that ſame day Periander dining with his Aunt, ſeemed to be inquiſitive in hearing her to tell of theſe ſtrangers, and enquired very particularly how they behaved themſelves, and whether they were civill and affable, to whom Amaſonte and Orſinda, both giving very high and advantageous Characters of them, he feigned an extream deſire of ſeeing and talking with them. If you will, anſwered Orſinda, you may go with my Mother and me, ſo ſatisfie your curioſity. 'Tis true, ſaid Amaſonte, if men may be permitted to viſit them, and of that I have not enquired: but to morrow I promiſe you to ask the queſtion, whether any men have yet or may be admitted, and if any have been allowed, you ſhall I warrant you, as ſoon as any. And indeed; the good Aunt was as good as her word; for the next morning ſhe underſtood that any might come and viſit them; for the King did not feare any could ſteal them away, having them ſo farre from home.

When Periander brought me this newes, it was not unwelcome unto me, as you may well imagine, eſpecially when I heard, that the next day in the afternoon, they would conduct us thither. The day ſeemed ſo long to my impatience, as I asked what a clock it was, above a hundred times, thinking the Sun a ſluggard and ſlower then uſual: I was no leſſe unquiet all the night, nor had any more patience all the morning, untill the hour came, when Periander was to go unto the Palace Royall; there I ſo well meaſured my time, as when they came to the Gate I met them, and ſeeming as if the meeting was meerly accidentall; I asked Periander whither he was going? He anſwered, that he was to wait upon his Mother (for ſo he called Amaſonte) then ſhe addreſſed her ſelfe unto me, and ſaid, If, Sir, you be a friend, you will not leave Periander alone upon this occaſion, I will never enquire what it is, ſince you command me, anſwered I, and ſince it is to ſerve my friend. And as I ſaid ſo, I took Orſinda by the arm; Periander could not chuſe but laugh, when he ſaw me ſeem ſo ignorant of the voyage, and the readineſſe I uſed in taking hold of the occaſion. Thus we entred into the place where the ſtrangers were; and at the firſt, I ſaw the faire one whom I ſo much admired come with open arms, a ſmiling countenance, and great demonſtration of good will unto Orſinda, whoſe happineſſe I envied.

After the firſt ſalutations and complements of courſe, Amaſonte deſiring I ſhould receive ſome good looks from this faire Priſoner, by her meanes, did let her underſtand who we were, acquainted her with the great intimacy betwixt Periander and me, and with the deſire we had to doe them any ſervice: and therefore addreſſing unto us, ſhe ſhewed her ſelfe as ſweetly kind, as civility would permit her: Then turning towards me, ſhe remembred how I helped her up when ſhe fell at the Temple ſtairs. I perceive, Madam, ſaid I unto her, One ſhall never complaine of any ſervices done unto you, ſince you can ſo well remember ſo ſmall a matter; Though our Ladies in Gaul either out of pride or want of memory, doe not onely forget ſmall ſervices, but alſo the greateſt one can do them. I pray, Sir, ſaid ſhe unto me, how can you attribute this unto their pride. They have ſuch a high opinion of their own merits, anſwered I, as they thinke all the world is obliged to ſerve them: [...]nd receiving all our ſervices as but due debts, they deſpiſe them, and deſpiſing them, [...] not daign to remember them. Sir, ſaid ſhe unto me and ſmiled you deſcribe your Ladies to be of a very ſtrange humour. But take heed leſt what you ſay, doe not proceed from ſome other occaſion: Our ſex is ſo the Butt of detraction, that we are very often conſtrained to ſeem as if we did not ſee things, which yet we doe ſee as well as men themſelves; and in this, we are rather to be pittied then blamed.

[Page] Periander and Orſinda, were retired a little on the other ſide, and purpoſely that might have ſome diſcourſe with her, whilſt Amaſonte entertained the other ſtrangers: This incouraged me to be more bold in my anſwer. Had theſe Ladies, whom you, Madam, excuſe ſo much, replyed I, but ſuch bodies, and ſuch wits, and ſpirits, as you have, though they were much more cruel then they are, yet would they need no excuſes; for then, be they never ſo auſtere, yet would they not onely be ſerved, but even adored by all men.

This language did not at all ſtartle her, but with a ſmiling eye ſhe anſwered thus: I ſee, Sir, flattery is in uſe here in Gaul, as well as amongſt the Romans: I thought it h [...]d only been beyond the Alpes, but I perceive the Gaules who are reported to ſpeak from their hearts, have it amongſt them, as well as other people. Madam, anſwered I, I cannot tell whether your Nation doe call truth flattery, or whether to flatter be in your language to ſpeak truth; but I doe ſweare and proteſt by our Great Tautates, which is the deepeſt oath I can take, that I did never in all my life ſee any face comparably ſo fair as yours, nor any wit ſo good and perfect as yours is.

Thus, Miſtreſſe, I continued my diſcourſe, and before we parted, I did let her underſtand, that I had a deſire to doe her particular ſervice: perhaps you will think it ſtrange, I ſhould thus at the firſt make this remonſtrance unto her; but you muſt know, that my humour was not to languiſh it out in amorous Trances, nor to let my eyes be Orators as long as my tongue could tell her my heart. For I ever thought that delayes doe rather marre then make it better, and that in love, not to vanquiſh quickly, is to be vanquiſhed; but the principal motive why I would no longer deferre the declaration of my affection unto this faire ſtranger, was a double conſideration, which at that time I had in my mind: I conſidered that ſhe was in the power of another, and not as others are under a Mother or Parents: but a Priſoner of War, and kept by command from Gondebert, as the reſt of her companions were. And becauſe it was hard to know what deſigne he had upon her, I feared leſt this opportunity ſhould be taken from me, either by being guarded more ſtrictly, or removed unto ſome other place. I conſidered alſo, that ſhe came from beyond the Alpes, where the women are much bolder to attempt what they deſire, and execute what they attempt, then our women of Gaul are: I ſound this to be their temper by my converſe in Camargue, and in the Town of Arles, which made me think that this faire one would not derogate from her Climate, nor thinke this ſuddain declaration ſtrange.

Following therefore the genius of her Country and my own, I did acquaint her with my affection. And though perhaps my words were not at the firſt taken as proceeding from love, but civility; yet however, they did break the Ice, and facilitate the way to my enſuing addreſſes, and made her believe that which I did deſire to perſwade her of: I had an opinion that ſhe had no thoughts which tended unto what I deſired; and yet ſhe took more pleaſure in talking with me, then with Periander, or any that came to viſit her; ſhe thinking that this affection which tyed me unto her, did oblige her to truſt more in me. And though I had no other knowledge of her good will then this, yet I can truly ſay, that there were very few things which ſhe did not communicate unto me, though never ſo private or important; and within a moneth after the firſt time I had ſeen her, there was ſo great familiarity betwixt us, as ſhe advertiſed me, how ſhe and her companions intended to walk in the Athenian Iſle at the evening, in a Garden which was where the Roſne and Arar met, a place very pleaſant, both in variety of Wal [...]s, and Groves of Trees. I reſolved not to miſs this appointment, as well becauſe I had no other exerciſe nor deſign, as becauſe I thought ſhe would be much offended if being ſo ſecretly advertiſed of it, I ſhould let ſlip that opportunity which ſhe gave me. When ſhe ſaw me firſt, ſhe ſeemed unto her Companions, as if the meeting were by chance and not deſigne. What fortune brought you hither, Hylas, ſaid ſhe unto me, where my companions and my ſelfe did think to paſſe away the reſt of the day unſeen by any? This diſſimulation of the matter, did pleaſe me very well. For it is a good ſigne of love, to hide from others the addreſſe which is made unto any Lady. And to ſecond her in her artifice, I anſwered very faintly. It is impoſſible▪ Madam, but that the fortune which brought me hither ſhould be good, ſince I am ſo happy in meeting ſuch company; and it would be much better, if I knew any way how to doe you any acceptable ſervice.

Thoſe who began to underſtand a little of our language did thanke me in moſt pittifull [Page] broken words, yet as kindly as they could, and went away into ſeverall walkes, leaving us two together as we deſired to be. I tooke her therefore under the Arm, and began to walke, but leaſt ſhe ſhould thinke ſo much familiarity ſtrange, I ſaid unto her, though this Madam be not the cuſtome and faſhion of your Country, yet it is in Gaule, and therefore I beſeech you take it not ill, if I uſe our owne priviledges, and by taking your arme doe helpe you to walke, Hylas, anſwered ſhe, your kindneſſe unto me obligeth me unto more familiarity than this: Tis true, that the condition wherein I am will not let me acknowledge it more than in words, ſo as I cannot require your amity as I ought to doe; upon this I obſerved her to ſigh and change colour, as if the thought of her condition did exceedingly trouble her: And being very deſirous to know the particular cauſe of her ſadneſſe, after many thankes for her kind expreſſions, I beſeeched her to let me know what Fortune brought her into this Country, and what ſtayed her in it: And becauſe it is no ſmall advantage (marke well Silvander what I ſay) to know the fortunes and humours of thoſe, whoſe favour we deſire, I was the more urgent with her: For I ſhould be thereby the better inſtructed what will pleaſe, and what will diſpleaſe her▪ Hylas, ſaid ſhe, doe you not know that I am a Priſoner unto King Gondebunt, and how much my Companions and I am obliged unto him? And I anſwering that I knew it onely by vulgar report. Then anſwered ſhe, I ſhall acquaint you with thoſe particulars which you deſire; and you ſhall heare the moſt lamentable Adventure that ever befell a poore woman; onely I beſeech you to be very ſilent in it, and impart it unto none.

The Hiſtory of Cryſeide and Arimant.

FOrtune is pleaſed to trouble not onely Monarchies and great States, but alſo to ſhew her power upon private perſons, to let us know that all things under heaven are under her laſh; the miſeries I have indured, and the lamentable life I have hitherto led, does but too well manifeſt this truth, as you may judg: For, I being but a poor ſilly woman, yet his ſtudy is to croſſe me, and not to let me injoy a minute of quietneſſe, never ſince I had the judgement to diſceme betwixt good and evill. I am of a Country whoſe people are called Salaſſes, a place confined by the golden Baltea and the Libices on the Eaſt, by the Po, on the South; the Taurinois, Centurons and Catur [...]es on the Weſt; and the Alpes on the North.

This Country is very well known unto the Romans by reaſon of the many Gold Mines which are in it, and for which the Inhabitants of the place have beene forced to revolt ſo often. I have made this deſcription of my Country unto you, that you may the better underſtand what was foretold my Father when I was borne, by a female Druide, who came out of Gaw into this Country, by the command (as ſhe ſaid) of a great God, whoſe name was unknown unto us, and I think it was by him whom you did ſwear. Is it Tautates; ſaid I unto her? The ſame, anſwered ſhe whom this woman ſaid was a great God, and all others depended upon him, Now this female Fortune teller came to my Fathers houſe, at the ſame time when my Mother was delivered of me: And my Father ſeeing her look very earneſtly upon me, he asked her what my fortune would be: It will be, anſwered ſhe, like unto the Country where ſhe is borne. This anſwer was very darke: But ſome yeares after ſhe chanced to come againe unto the ſame place, and my Mother being very inquiſitive did preſſe her to explaine her former prediction. To whom ſhe anſwered, that this woman ſhall have the ſame fortune which the Country wherein ſhe was borne hath; the Romans by reaſon of the Gold found there have ſo harraſſed the people by wars, as it is almoſt depopulated, ſo as her abundance is the cauſe of her poverty; even ſo ſhall this your daughter be very much troubled by reaſon of her beauty and merit. And certainely this Druid was very knowing; for I have found ever ſince, that never was woman more croſſed by fortune than my ſelfe, as you may judge by the enſuing diſcourſe.

I was born, as I told you, amongſt the Sallaſes, in a Town called Eporides, ſeated between two great Hils, where the golden Baltea runs: my Father was called Leander, and my mother Luira, and though my owne praiſes be not hanſome out of my owne mouth, yet that you may the better underſtand the ſequell of this diſcourſe, you muſt know, that [Page] there was none in all the Country, who did not yeild unto my Father, in grandure, in antiquity of Family, in offices which he poſſeſſed, or in authority which he had gotten, as well by his owne merit, as by the favour of Honorius, and ſince of Vaelentinian, and all thoſe who ſince him ruled over Italy, who advanced him unto that height, that if his death had not prevented it, when the Empire was in decline, doubtleſſe he had not only made himſelfe Soveraigne Lord over the Sallaſes, but alſo of the Libices, of the Centrons and of the Veragrois.

This his death was the firſt blow which I received from Fortune & did not reſent it, for want of capacity: For, being but nine yeares of age, I knew not what it was to loſe a Father, and to be at the diſpoſition of a mother who was more carefull of her ſelfe than her Children, yet I lived very contentedly till I came to be fourteen of fifteen years old, for till then. Fortune did not thinke me able to feele the weight of her blows; and ſee how ſubtilly ſhe undermined me: for ſhe gilded over her bitter pils of poyſon with a gloſſe of good, knowing very well (cruell one as ſhe is) that any miſery that comes under the ſhrowd of a happineſſe, makes it ſelfe much more ſenſibly reſented.

In the ſame Towne where I was, did dwell very many Cavaliers: for that Gaul, which is called Ciſa [...]pine is not as it is here, for I have heard, that here Cavaliers and men of quality doe live in the Country. Amongſt the reſt, there was one young Libicinian Gallant, who certainly was as much favoured by Nature in all the graces ſhe could beſtow, as was poſſible; nor did he want any nobleneſſe of Anceſtors, nor alliance to the beſt Families, nor any other good quality that could poſſibly be deſired, but only Riches; and in that, he was little beholding to his Father, who was all his life more thirſty after the acquiſition of Honour than Wealth, little conſidering that the one without the other is like a bird that has good wings, yet has ſuch a clog at her foot that ſhe cannot fly. This young man did dwell in Eporides by reaſon of the hatred which Rhithimer bore unto his Father. I ſuppoſe, Hylas, you have heard, how this Rhithimer though a Goth by Nation, yet through his valour and good conduct was made a Citizen of Rome; afterward, Patrician, and laſtly Governour of Gaul Ciſalpine, or indeed, rather the Lord of it; for his Commiſſion was ſo large, and his authority ſo abſolute, that he might be called Lord as well as Governour. The Father of Arimant (for ſo was the young man called) had moſt juſt occaſion to feare his Enemy; For though otherwayes he was very well accompliſhed, yet he had ever in him the Nature of a Goth: And this was the reaſon why he came into this Towne that he might ſo much the ſooner goe out of Italy, in caſe he was forced to it, either by the Centrons, by the Veragrois, or by the Helvetians.

This young Cavalier of whom I ſpeake did accidentally ſee me at a marriage which was kept in the houſe of one of my Cozens. The cuſtom of the Country is, that upon ſuch occaſion, entrance is permitted unto all as freely as into Churches. I ſay that as ill lucke was, he ſaw me there: For there he fell in love with me, and this love was the ſcource both of all his miſeries and mine. He tooke occaſion to declare his love unto me in a Ball, wherein many uſe to dance at once by two and two, walking only round the roome, and obſerving the cadency a little. The name of it was the great Ball, and invented purpoſely to give a hanſome opportunity unto Cavaliers of talking unto Ladies. Arimant tooke me out, and though it was with a deſigne of diſcovering his affection, yet was it long before he durſt begin; yet at laſt, leaſt he ſhould loſe ſuch an opportunity as was hard to be met with againe, he forced himſelfe, and ſaid thus unto me. Fair Chryſiede ſaid he unto me (for he had enquired my name) the Iawes of this Country are too rigid, if not unjuſt, in keeping ſo cloſe, that which is moſt faire: I doe not know (ſaid I unto him) upon what you doe ground your ſpeech. Upon cuſtome, anſwered he, which is to keepe the Ladies up ſo cloſe: as that they ſhew themſelves ſo ſeldome, as a man can hardly ſay he ſees them, and not to goe farre for an example: Is it not extreame cruelty I ſhould be ſix Months in this Towne, and this is the firſt time I have the happineſſe to ſee you? Faire Ladies Sir, ſaid I unto him, doe conceale themſelves upon very good conſideration. For too often ſeene, too much contemned: But why ſhould you put me in the Catalogue of faire ones, or complaine of ſeeing me ſo ſeldome? Since certainely the ſight of me muſt needs be very indifferent unto you? It is too much, ſaid he and ſighed, to overcome one perſon twice; it was enough your eyes had already got the victory over me, without doubly ſurmounting me by the ſweetneſſe and charms of your refined wit.

[Page] This ſuddaine declaration did ſurpriſe me, yet I cannot tell how, it did not offend me, and I anſwered him thus. You are eaſily overcome, Sir, if vanquiſhed by ſuch ſimple arms, as your Conqueror is owner of; and ſince ſhe never ſo much as thought of obtaining this victory. However, ſaid he, I am vanquiſhed, and I am neither aſhamed nor ſorry, for being vanquiſhed by ſuch arms.

I knew not all this while, who this young Cavalier was, having never ſeen him before: yet ſince he was ſo confident as to addreſſe himſelfe unto me, I did imagine him a man of principall Rank amongſt the Sallaſes; his hanſome preſence, and the expreſſion of his affection, made me very deſirous to know his name: And I muſt confeſſe I had been put hard to it for an anſwer, if the Ball had continued longer. But it being ended, I had opportunity to enquire of what I deſired. He who began to be ſenſible of loves firſt blows, which commonly are full of impatience, and who thought that perhaps it would be long before he had ſuch another opportunity, he took me out to dance againe although it was not the cuſtome; but being grown more bold, and a better husband of his time, he ſaid thus unto me; I have been aſſured, that faire ones will never believe things that are true, and rather hearken unto things things that are not ſo. Though I ſhould leave it unto fair ones, to give you an anſwer (ſaid I) yet ſince they doe not hear, I will aske you, why you accuſe them of that fault? Becauſe, anſwered he, I find it ſo in you. Pardon me, fair Cryſide, if I offend you. Why do not you believe me, when I ſay that I am your moſt devoted ſervant, for it is moſt true? Ar [...]mant, ſaid I, words onely cannot perſwade me to believe what you ſay, ſince reaſon gives your tongue the lye; and ſince I know that men make profeſſion of giving much for a little money. If it be ſo, ſaid he, then I doe proteſt that I am not a man. What are you then, replyed I preſently? I am, ſaid he, your ſervant, and the moſt faithfull and zealous ſervant that ever was. I muſt needs confeſſe, Hylas, that his noble extraction, and his neat wit, had obliged me to give him another kind of anſwer then I did, but for ſome other conſiderations which hindred me, and therefore I onely ſaid thus unto him; we ſhall ſee Arimant, whether you continue in the ſame mind the next time we meet, and I will deferre my anſwer until then.

The Ball now ended and the company parted, for it was ſupper time, and doe what he could, I would not give him any opportunity of ſpeaking unto me againe, thinking that for the firſt time he might be very well contented with ſuch anſwers as he had received. And becauſe the joy for this marriage continued many dayes, the next day, and as oft as the meetings continued, he did not omit any opportunity of teſtifying the truth of his expreſſions: which at the laſt, I was perſwaded to believe, and to ſatisfie him ſo farre, as to let him thinke I loved him. 'Tis true, I ſtayed until the very laſt day, before I did ſo declare my ſelf unto him, leſt if I had done it ſooner, he ſhould pretend to any greater favour, and had I tarried any longer, I could not have told him ſo much; but I would not upon any terms, let him go without ſome aſſurance of my good will.

Since this time, it was long before we ſaw each other, except in Temples and publique places, which I muſt confeſſe did trouble me, becauſe indeed, I did begin to love him, conſidering his diſcretion in the carriage of the buſineſſe, ſo as none could ſuſpect his deſigne. He would come often in the night to my window, and preſent me with ſome Serenades: but that was all the viſits I had from him.

My diſcourſe, kind Hylas, would be too long and tedious, if I ſhould relate all the particulars of this Courtſhip. Let it ſuffice, that Arimant could not with diſcretion teſtifie the good that he wiſhed unto me, although he ſought out all wayes, and neglected no opportunity of doing it. Oh Hylas, how full of ſubtilty Love is? and though they paint him but a boy, yet what old tricks he has? They are very ignorant who know it not, or who think to maſter him. I know, and I know it by experience, and to my grief, that they who would overcome him, muſt fight as thoſe doe who get their victory by flying, for otherwiſe if they come to handy-blowes, he will get the better, it is abſolutely impoſſibly to reſiſt him: for he has ſo many tricks, and can uſe ſo many ſeverall ſorts of Arms, as with one or other doubtleſſe if he doe not wound, yet at leaſt he will foile and make ſcratches, and his weapons are alſo impoyſoned, that as ſoon as ever they draw blood, there is no hope of health for him that is ſo wounded, for his wounds will ſo itch, as he himſelfe will ſcratch them and make them ſore. Oh that I had known this before? For, Hylas, at the firſt I did not admit of this addreſſe, but onely to ſee Arimant languiſh [Page] before my face, as a teſtimony of my beauty: Afterwards, his obſequiouſheſſe and kindneſſe, moved me to look upon him a little better, and then his Noble Extraction, his Merits, his Generoſity, and his Diſcretion, made me thinke very well of him, and a little after, to eſteem him ſo, as I ſhould be ſorry to loſe him And love was no ſooner poſſeſſor of heart, but preſently I was conſtrained to render it unto him, ſince time did put me out of all doubt of his loving me. But I beſeech your conſider how ſuddenly my humour changed, when love had gotten this victory over me: As long as I did not love him, I cared not at all who knew of his affection to me: but on the contrary, was very glad it ſhould be divulged, as thinking that the more paſſionately he loved me, and the more it was known, the more was the honour of my beauty. But then, as ſoon as I began to love him, I cannot expreſſe how I was offended at the leaſt knowledge of it, in ſo much as every time I talked of him, my principal charge was to be ſilent and ſecret, and carry all cloſe. Our affaires then ſtanding upon theſe terms, and our affections growing every day to a higher ſtraine, our onely endeavours were for hanſome occaſions to teſtifie them unto each other. But ſuch was the conſtraint in which the women beyond the mountaines lived, being kept as it were Priſoners, as it was impoſſible for us to ſee one another, unleſs by chance, nor to ſpeak together but in the preſence of ſome, and that too, very ſeldome. This made him think upon an old woman, who got her living by going unto houſes and ſelling Laces and Ribbands; that by her meanes we might ſpeak unto each other by Paper, though not by voyce. He eaſily gained the woman, what by promiſes, and what by Gifts. And ſhe coming to the houſe where I was, ſeeming to take meaſure of me for a piece of Lace to a Gorget, and to that end drawing me to the window, ſhe would have thruſt a Letter into my hand, ſaying not a word but onely Arimant. I knew well enough it was a Letter from him, but being unwilling to be obliged unto the diſcretion or fidelity of this woman whom I knew not; and knowing well enough, that ſuch kind of people being inſinuators into the ſecrets of ſuch as are ſo fond as to truſt them, would afterwards prove very Tyrants, or elſe ſell their ſilence at ſo dear a rate, as it was impoſſible to content them; I would not receive it, but on the contrary rejected it with ſuch ſharpe language, yet low, that the poor woman was quite out of countenance, and carried it back unto him that gave it her, intreating him to imploy her nomore in any ſuch matters. He who thought it would have been very welcome to me, and hoped for ſome aſſurance of my good will in the anſwer to it; ſeeing this refuſall, and hearing what ſharpe words I uſed, he was the moſt aſtoniſhed man in the world; and not knowing unto whom to complaine, he came that very night into our ſtreet with a conſort of Muſick, after they had played a leſſon or two, and ſuppoſing I was come unto the window, he came juſt under my window, and ſung ſome Verſes which contained a complaint that ſhe would not receive his Letters.

I eaſily apprehended the reaſon of his complaint; and becauſe my refuſal did not pro [...]oed from want of affection, I thought my ſelfe obliged to advertiſe him of it; ſo as taking Pen preſently, I writ theſe lines as faſt as I could, and threw it out of the window.

Cryſeide's Letter unto Arimant.

MY complaint would be more juſt, if my affection to you would give me leave to complain of you; and if yours be equall to mine, it will not give you leave to complain of me for my laſt refuſall; nor to take it as an argument of little love, ſince it proceeded from no other deſigne but the preſervation of my honour and your tranquillity, which in that act you put in danger: I doe not accuſe you of want, but rather exceſſe of affection, which would not ſuffer you to conſider the danger into which you put me, by putting me into the hands of one unknown unto me, and perhaps not faith full to you, ſince mercenary, end no more yours, but as your money makes he [...]; Be hereafter not leſſe loving, but more prudent, and be contented that I know you love me.

Now Hylas, you muſt know, that conſidering with my ſelfe, it was impoſſible to continue this ſecret affection long, without a third perſon, becauſe as I told you before, the conſtraint of women was ſo great as we knew not which way to meet: Therefore I thought it a neceſſity to truſt my ſelfe unto ſome diſcreet perſon, who might both comfort [Page] and counſell me. In order unto this, I caſt my eye upon all that were in the houſe where I lived, and found none more fit than my Nurſes daughter, who was brought up with me and loved me ſo very well, as ſhe thought her ſelf happy in any ſervice ſhe could do me. This wench was of my owne age, and ſuch a one, as I ſtood in need of; for ſhe had more courage than I, and was ſo ſtout as ſhe would often laugh at my feares and doubts. Moreover, ſhe had wit at will, and was full of ſuch petty contrivances as I ſtood in need of. As for her fidelity and diſcretion, I was ſo confident of them, as I durſt truſt her as ſoon as my ſelfe with any ſecret: Moreover, ſhe did govern [...] her owne Mother, who had the guardianſhip of me, and lay in my Chamber. This was ſhe whom I made choice of for my aſſiſtant, and acquainting her with what I thought expedient, I found her ſo ſutable to my deſires, as at laſt I imparted the very b [...]ttome of my heart and that my reſolution was never to love any but Ar [...]mane.

Now Clarina (for ſo was her name) conſidering the danger unto which I expoſed my ſelfe, in throwing the Letter ſo out of the Window; ſhe found out an invention to write with leſſe danger, and it was this. The evening before I intended he ſhould receive my Letter from me it was agreed betwixt us, that I ſhould hang out a Hankercher out of my window as if it were to dry, and by which we underſtood, that the next morning at the time when others went unto the Temple, he was to go alſo; and where we ſaw the greateſt throng of people there we would be, to prevent ſuſpition. If I could let a little Book fall, in which I ſhould ſeem to be at devotion, and none ſee, then I ſhould doe it: otherwiſe when I went away, I ſhould pretend that I had careleſly left it behind me in the place where I kn [...]eled, or to let it fall ſome way or other when he ſaw me; and he who had his eye ſtill upon me and who at that time was to be as near me as he could, he ſhould preſently reach it up: if none ſaw, then he was to look into it; but if any did perceive it, then he was to give me another which reſembled mine, and which was made purpoſely alike. Now in theſe Books we writ our Letters, but with ſuch devices as were not eaſily diſcovered: my Mother and my Nurſe, have had theſe Bookes in their hands ſeveral times, but could not make any thing of them, becauſe they underſtood not the Charracters. Since this way was agreed upon, not a day paſſed, but we writ unto each other, which was no ſmall comfort unto us in the conſtraint wherein we lived. But Love was in this reſemblant unto Fire, which the more you feed it, the more it augments; ſo did my favours unto Arimant, for they did ſo inflame his deſires, as not contented with what I had done, he importun'd me by a thouſand ſupplications, to admit him into my Chamber, unto which at laſt I conſented, ſo the meanes could be contrived, and ſo he would promiſe to require no more of me, then I was willing to permit. This permiſſion being given unto him, his wits were at work, how to facilitate all theſe difficulties. The firſt was, how to enter, but that was eaſily contrived; for by a Ladder made of a Rope, which he would give unto Cla [...]ina, he might eaſily get into the window of her Chamber when the caſement was open. But my Norſe whoſe bed was cloſe to mine, and who was not of our conſpiracy, was a much greater difficulty unto us, and yet he found out a remedy for that. There was in Epocedes, a very famous Mountebanke, who had many moſt excellent receipts. This man was ſo much obliged unto Arimant, that he was infinitely deſirous to ſerve him. Love adviſeth this young man to make addreſſes unto him, and to ask him for a Receipt which would cauſe ſleep; he who made a particular profeſſion of ſuch ſecrets, did give him an ointment, which being put under the Noſe of the party that was faln aſleep, would ſo ſtupifie the ſenſes, as no noiſe whatſoever would awake the party until it was taken away. Before Arimant would make uſe of it upon this occaſion, he tryed the operation of it upon one of his Domeſtiques, who ſlept ſo foundly, that no ſhouting at his eare could awake him; but he removed him from place to place, and he never ſtirred, until taking away the Box, and throwing a little water in his face, and then he awaked.

All things being thus prepared, execution onely wanted. I muſt confeſſe, my heart began now to faile me; and when I conſidered the danger into which I ſhould put my ſelfe, I wiſhed that a ſtop might be in the proceedings: But Clarina who was more couragious then I, told me that I was gone too farr to retreat now; that had I put the Cavalier out of hope at the firſt, he would not have been offended; but now as things ſtood, it was a manifeſt wrong unto him and knew how to argue the matter ſo well, and to ſhew the eaſineſſe of it, as at laſt I reſolved to goe through. Bed time being come, we all retired [Page] and ſeemed to take our reſt: and my good Nurſe who never dreamed of our buſineſſe, by chance did fall aſleep ſooner then her cuſtome.

As ſoon as Clarina heard her ſnore, as ſhe uſed to doe when firſt ſhe ſlept, ſhe laid the Box under her noſe, and called upon her as if ſhe was affrignted at her dream: but the good old woman was ſo faſt, that if the houſe had falne, ſhe could not heare it. Clarina joyed at this good beginning, did riſe from her ſleeping Mother, and helped me with my Night-dreſſe, as ſhe pleaſed ſo to have it; For I proteſt Hylas, I was ſo farre beſides my ſelfe, as I knew not what I did: The Candle uſed alwayes to burn in our Chamber, and therefore C [...]a [...]ina brought me my Glaſſe, and bad me trick up my ſelfe [...] fine as I could, telling me that when Souldiers go to fight, they muſt put on their Arms that they may get the victory.

Clarina ſaid unto her, you are a fool, for if the victory were not already gotten, we ſhould not now trouble our ſelves as we doe. But take heed ſaid ſhe unto me, that the victory be not on both ſides. I am more afraid, ſaid I, that the loſſe will be on both ſides. Nay, nay, replyed ſhe, never think ſo, heaven loves you better then to uſe you ſo hardly: but pray tell me, ſince the victory will fall on your ſide, what Ranſome muſt the Conquered pay into you? His heart, ſaid I unto her. His heart? anſwered ſhe: but if he part with his heart, what ſhall he have for himſelfe? and how can he afterwards love you? In lieu of that I take from him, ſaid I unto her I will give him mine. Yours? replyed ſhe and ſmiled? if he have your heart, he will be the verieſt cowardly Cavalier that ever lived. Come come, ſaid I unto her, you are a ſcold, and ſtand and ſpend the time in tattling whilſt he ſtayes. Upon this, we went to the window, and no ſooner looked out, but I ſaw Arimant at a corner of a ſtreet over againſt us. He had his eye ſo continually up in the window, as it was impoſſible to look one and he not ſee us; and therefore the Caſement was no ſooner open, but he was under the window, expecting when the Ladder would be thrown out. I began to tremble ſo, both for contentment and fear, as I was conſtrained to fit down upon my bed, leaving Clarina to all the paines, who with abundance of confidence, faſtned the Cord, and threw out the Ladder, by which Arimant ſo ſuddenly mounted, that he was in my Chamber before I thought his foot upon the firſt ſtep. As ſoon as he was entred, he fell down upon his knees before me, whom he found in ſuch a maze, as I could not ſo much as ſpeak unto him. Clarina pulled in the Ladder, ſhut the window, and then came to ſee what we did; but finding the Cavalier ſtill upon his knees, and I ſpeaking not a word to him, nor he to me; I to ſee a man in my Chamber at ſuch an hour, and he with an extaſie of contentment to have this aſſurance of my affection, ſhe ſaid unto me; Methinks, Miſtreſſe (for ſo ſhe called me) you are not very civil towards this Cavalier, in letting him be ſo long in this uneaſie poſture: for God ſake, ſaid the Cavalier, let me alone where I am, for I am where I moſt earn ſtly deſire to be, and think my ſelfe beyond all expreſſions, happy in it. Then recollecting my ſelfe, I muſt needs confeſſe, ſaid I unto him, that Clarina is in the right, and if my aſtoniſhment doe not plead my excuſe, you may very well tax me with incivility, and indiſcretion. Upon this I ſtood up, and taking him by one arm, whilſt Clarina took him by the other, we forced him to ſit in a Chaire which was by my beds ſide. Then Clarina taking Arimant by the hand, Sweare Cavalier (ſaid ſhe unto him) and promiſe me upon your honour, to obſerve the conditions, upon which you were admitted into this place. Then Arimant ſtood up, and ſaid, I doe promiſe and ſweare, not onely to performe all I have ſaid, but alſo not to faile in my very thoughts; I call God, Heavens, Earth, and all the world, to witneſſe my Oath, and pray them all to inflict their moſt ſevere puniſhments upon all perjured Perſons.

Theſe Oathes and imprecations, Arimant, ſaid I unto him, are needleſſe, your owne word would have ſatisfied: As for my part, I have ſo great a confidence in you, as I daie truſt my ſelfe with you as much as with my ſelfe. Then we both ſat down, and Clarina ſtaying by her mother, leſt by any accident the Box ſhould tumble from her noſe, Arimant ſaid thus unto me:

It is the quality of Gods and Goddeſſes, fair Cryſ [...]ide, to conferre the greateſt favours, to the end that their power and their goodneſſe may be ſeen and acknowledged. So you, Madam, reſembling them both in beauty and in virtue, you have done me a favour which does not onely infinitely tranſcend my merits, but alſo all the hopes that ever I could imagine. Since it is ſo, and fince I muſt needs acknowledge it ſo; what ſhould I [Page] doe, not to acquit my ſelfe, for I cannot pretend unto it, knowing it to be impoſſible; but onely to avoid the brand of ingratitude? I muſt confeſſe, the more I think upon it, the more I am confounded and aſhamed, that my fortune ſhould he to receive ſuch high benefits, and have ſo little underſtanding as not to know, how I ſhould be thankful as I ought▪ I have no other way to come out of this Labyrinth, but this only refuge, which is to referre my ſelfe wholly unto your will; that as at my requeſt you were pleaſed to doe me this favours ſo▪ that I may by your commandment do what I ought, to acknowledge it. After this expreſſion, he was ſilent, in expectation of my anſwer, which was this: Arimant, ſaid I unto him, that you ſhould acknowledge that what I have done for you, to be ſomething that is great and extraordinary, is as full ſatisfaction as I can deſire; but I cannot endure you ſhould eſteem your ſelfe at ſo low a value, as to thinke that you doe not deſerve this favour; for in ſo doing, you doe not onely offend againſt truth, but againſt that judgement which I had of you, when I thought you worthy of my amity. Doe not thinke, Arimant, that I have done any thing at random, or without ſound deliberation. When I firſt gave entertainment to your good will, I muſt confeſſe it was without any deſign, and onely becauſe your addreſſe did invite me to it: But when I beſtowed my good will upon you, doe not thinke unleſſe you have an ill opinion of me, that I did it without long and ſerious debate in my ſelfe: whether I ought to doe it or no, and whether I ſhould be blamed for ſuch a choice. I conſidered your family, becauſe I would not diſparage my own Anceſtors; and I found it ſo full of nobleneſſe, as I could not chuſe but be contented with it, I looked upon the perſon, and I could take no exception againſt it, either in your body or mind: I have obſerved your behaviour, and I could not find any thing which was not noble, and to be eſteented, all your actions being full of honour and virtue. Briefly, I have caſt my eyes upon your affection, and I find that you doe really love me. Now, Arimant, can you think that he who is owner of theſe qualities, does not deſerve any favour from the perſon whom he loves? Madam, anſwered he, and kiſſed my hand, this favour which you are pleaſed to doe me now, is greater (if it can be) then the firſt; and I ſee you will put me out of all hopes of ever being able to pay ſo great a debt. I received all thoſe applaudes which you are pleaſed to beſtow upon me, not than I am ſo vaine as to think them my due, but becauſe I deſire you ſhould think them ſo, that they may ſo much the more oblige you to continue unto me the honour of your favours▪ Arimant, replyed I, you know very well, and I alſo, that what I ſay of you is true; and this may be a great teſtimony of your merit, that Cryſeide loves you; for you muſt either think her without wit or knowledge, or elſe think your ſelfe amiable▪ becauſe ſhe loves you. But let us leave this diſcourſe, and tell me I entreat you, whether the report be true that you are to marry? and whether, as I am told, you intend it? At this queſtion Arimant bluſht, and though I ſpoke it ignorantly, yet ſo it was, that his Father had made ſuch a motion to him not long before, and therefore he anſwered me, 'Tis true indeed, Madam, ſuch a thing is talked of, but my Father ſhall ſooner make me die, then ever conſent unto it, for I am reſolved never to marry any but the fair Cryſeide, if ſhe will bleſſe me with ſo much happineſſe. I would not be any meanes, replyed I unto him, of your diſobedience unto your Parents. Madam, ſaid he I am obliged to obey God before a Father, and it is he who hath commanded me to be none but y [...]s: but why ſhould we ſpend time, or conſult upon a thing which is already done? Then kneeling down before me, I doe ſweare and proteſt before all the Gods, ſaid he, and call them all to witneſſe what I ſay, That I will rather die then not be yours; and that I will never riſe off my knees, untill you receive me for the husband of the faire Cryſeide. Ar [...]mant, ſaid I unto him, I am obliged unto you for your good will unto me; and you may think I would never have permitted you entrance into this place, [...] I had not the ſame [...]tention. But being both of us at the diſpoſition of others, this is a promiſe which we neither can nor ought to make ſo raſhly, but it deſerves to be more ſeriouſly, thought upon. Why, Madam replyed he preſently, have you given me all there ſignal favours and deny me this which I ask with ſo much reaſon? but you muſt reſolve either to have me continually kneeling before you, or elſe grant my ſupplication. I could not chuſe but ſmile when I heard his laſt words, for he uttered them with ſuch an action, as ſhewed him to be in good earneſt, Yet, I ſaid unto him, Perhaps, Arimant, you may quickly reperit, if I ſhould take you at your word. Oh God? Fair Cryſeide, (ſaid he do not offend ſo extreamly againſt my affection, and your own beauty. And to put you out [Page] of all doubt, I call Hymen and Juno to witneſſe, that I will never be husband unto any but the fair Cryſeide: and upon this word, I perceived that he would have put a Ring upon my finger, which cauſed me to draw away my hand, and riſe up; but he held me by force, and ſaid unto me; Will you, Madam, make me perjur'd, and riſe from hence, where I have vowed to ſtay eternally, unleſſe you accompliſh my requeſt? Your requeſt, replyed I preſently, is unjuſt, and your vow invalid ſince your firſt which you made at your entrance is contrary to it. Why ſaid he unto me? You promiſed, anſwered I, and bound it with an Oath, that you would move me unto nothing but what I was willing unto; and ſince I am not willing you ſhould make this requeſt, you are obliged to preſs it no further, and what vowes ſoever you have made ſince, which are contrary unto that firſt, is of no force nor cannot bind. It is moſt impoſſible, ſaid he, (and then roſe up) to reſiſt either your beauty, or your will: And I know, I ſhould receive but too great a load of happineſſe, if this were added to the number of the reſt. Arimant, ſaid I then unto him, doe but ſtill preſerve your affection unto me, and I will freely promiſe, that if I can make thoſe who have the diſpoſition of me conſent unto it, I will marry you, and give my ſelf entirely unto you. It is impoſſible I ſhould expreſſe how this young man was joyed when he heard this; and I was as glad as he, though he made greater ſhew by words, and all the thanks that could be invented. But yet, this was the cauſe of our ruine, for calling Clarina to witneſſe what I promiſed, and ſo ſhe coming haſtily towards us, did draw the Box from the noſe of her Mother, and ſo unluckily, as it fell off the bed, was broke, and the liquid ointment ran about the floor.

It was a thing very ſtrange, for almoſt as ſoon as ever the Box was from under the noſe of my Nurſe, ſhe awoke, but her head ſo dizzy with the ſmell, that ſhe knew not what ſhe did, and was like one that was drunk. As ſoon as Arimant heard the Box fall upon the floor, he doubted it, and ſaid unto me haſtily, riſe Madam, and ſtand before the old woman, whilſt I get out at the window, for certainly ſhe is awake. Upon this, I ran to the bed, [...]he to the window, and Clarina to the Ladder; and I coming to her, I laid me down upon her bed, began to embrace her, laid my hand upon her breaſt, and ſeeming as if I thought her to be very fick; I bad her take good heart, told her, ſhe would be well againe preſently; called for Clarina, and ſent her for ſome Vineger or water to throw in her face, and make her come to her ſelfe againe: I did ſo deceive her by my talke, and by rubbing one while her Pulſe, and another her Noſe, as I gave Arimant time to be gone, and Clarina to hide the Ladder: Then ſeeming to be very buſie about her, we threw water into her face, and did ſo daſh her, as ſhe had been ſoundly aſleep, had ſhe not awaked with it. Then in a great aſtoniſhment, aſſuming her ſpirits: Oh my God, ſaid ſhe, where have I been? how ſtrangely have I been taken, what in the name of God is the cauſe of it? Oh my good Children, I thank God and you, for bringing me to my ſelf again, for but for you I had dyed. Oh Mother, ſaid Clarina, you have been in a ſwoone above two hours, we have held you in our Arms, and done all we could to revive you, and I believe if you had not vomited, you had dyed. And good Children, ſaid the good old woman, what did you doe to waken me? Why, ſaid Clarina, as I was lying by you, I heard you keep a great ſtirring and a rattling in your throat as if you were choaked; upon which, I called upon you two or three times, and ſeeing you did not anſwer, I leaped out of bed and waked Cryſ [...]ide; then taking the Candle, we came both to help you, and thanks be to God you came to your ſelfe againe. And did I vomit, ſaid the old woman? Vomit? ſaid Clarina, Yes certainly, and happy you did, for if you had not, I believe you had dyed, ſince ſuch black and filthy ſtuffe did lie upon your ſtomack. Oh God, ſaid ſhe, and held her Noſe, doe you not ſwell it? This ſhe ſaid, becauſe of the ointment which was ſpilt upon the floor, and ſmelt very ill: Yes, yes, (ſaid my Nurſe) I doe ſmell it; Good Clarina, ſaid ſhe, take the beſome and make it cleane, leſt it ſhould doe you hurt, Clarina, who deſired ſuch a command, did fetch ſome water, and waſhed the place as clean as poſſible, and afterwards threw it out of the window. But the accident of the next morning, may move one to laugh a little; for this ointment falling in the ſtreet, and a Dogge paſſing by and ſmelling at the oyle, he licked it, and there lay as if dead. Clarina, who ſaw this out of the window, and doubted the cauſe, ſhe threw a little water upon him, then the Dog roſe up, ſhook his eares, and went away. The evening after, Arimant, according to his cuſtome, came with Muſick under the window, and after they had played a while, he ſung ſome Verſes which intimated, that he would moſt inviolably [Page] keep his promiſe. And while we lived in this manner, both our affections encreaſed to ſuch a height, as I cannot tell which was the more loved. But now fortune begins to mix many bitters amongſt our ſweets, or rather to raviſh from us all our ſweets, and leave us none but bitters. Alas, alas, well may I phraſe them Bitters: for ſince this time, I cannot ſay I enjoyed any delight or contentment. Rithimer of whom I have already ſpoke, a great Captain and a Favorite of the Emperour Majoranus had obtained, not onely to be a Citizen of Rome, but alſo to be a Senator and Governour of Gaul Ciſalpine, and he attained unto ſuch high eſteem, as he diſpoſed abſolutely of all that was in Gaul. This large Authority did not proceed onely from good will and favour of the Emperours, but much from the great exploits which he had done againſt the Vandals, for the preſervation of Italy. This valiant Prince, married one that was of kin to my Mother; and deſiring to ſee me well matched, did caſt his eye upon a young man, a little of kin unto Rithimer, very rich, but of a moſt vicious ſpirit, and the moſt ugly and deformed body that was in all Gaul Ciſalpine. My Mother who deſired to be rid of me, becauſe ſhe thought me to be a rub in her way of marriage, ſhe took occaſion by the foretop, and reſolved to carry me unto this Princeſs, hoping at the leaſt to leave me with her as ſhe deſired.

This being reſolved upon, and unknown to me, it was almoſt as ſoon executed without my knowledge. For beginning to obſerve how I did much favour the addreſſe of Arimant, ſhe thought to prevent me, which doubtleſſe ſhe would not have done, had his eſtate been equall to his merit and nobleneſſe. But ſince it was not, ſhe thought that ſending me away, was the beſt remedy ſhe could uſe againſt it. Yet ſeeing her ſo bufie in ſetting her houſe in order, and ſo carefull, that I ſhould dreſſe my ſelfe in my fineſt trim, I did imagine that ſome voyage was intended. And becauſe I could not depart without advertiſing Arimant, I commanded Clarina to let him know it, and give unto him the Book which was accuſtomed to paſſe betwixt us, and in it was this Letter.

Cryſeide's Letter unto Arimant.

THey are hurrying me away from hence; I ſhould have ſaid from you, had you not been alwaies in my heart; and had not my affection been ſuch, as it is impoſſible I ſhould live and not be near you. However, change places we muſt, though I know not into what part of the world: but let it be the beſt in the world, it will be but a place of torment to me, if I doe not ſee you in it. When I know where it is, I ſhall advertiſe you, to the end that if it be poſſible, you may be there in perſon, where you ſhall be alwayes in my thoughts.

Arimant read this Letter with abundance of disſatisfaction; my going away vexed him to the very ſoule, and much more, when he heard from one that was my mothers kinſman, how I was to go unto the wife of Rithimer; becauſe then he thought that his Father would not ſuffer him to go thither, by reaſon of the enmity betwixt Rithimer and him. But he writ this Letter preſently back, and gave the Book unto Clarina.

Arimants Letter unto Cryſeide.

IF this be not the moſt hard piece of fortune that ever could befall, I know not what can deſerve the name. I underſtand you are to go unto Rithimer, the only place in the world which is forbidden me. But however, ſince it is your command, I will ere long be there, and make it appeare unto you, that my affection is greater then all impediment that can oppoſe it.

I received this Letter, as we were taking Coach to begin our journey; ſo as I could not read it, becauſe I had not time to look it out, it being mingled amongſt many others in the Book, which was no ſmall diſpleaſure unto me. Arimant on the other ſide, knowing I was to depart that day, met us upon the way, as if accidentally with two Cavaliers his friends, whom he had not acquainted with his affection unto me; and who yet were not altogether ignorant of it; and who upon this occaſion, being very familiar with my [Page] Mother; as ſoon as they met the Coach, they ſaluted us, and enquired of her voyage. She who now did not care who knew it, did freely tell them, and began to talk of Rithimers Grandure▪ of the power her Couſen had with him, and of the hopes ſhe had of doing great matters for me. In the meane time, Arimant had got himſelfe on my ſide, but in ſuch a ſad and afflicted poſture, as he moved me to pitty him: and was ſo tranſported out of himſelfe, as he began to rove, and talke very idlely; and yet to augment our miſery, for feare of making known the good correſpondency betwixt us; he durſt not addreſſe his ſpeech unto me, though his eyes were never off me; thoſe who heard him, and did not know the cauſe which thus diſtracted his mind, they began to laugh at his ridiculous language.

I who confidered that ſometimes to be over ſubtle ſpoiles all, I thought it expedient to ſpeake unto him as a perſon indifferent; and therefore I asked him, from whence this great ſorrow proceeded, which cauſed every one to take notice of it? I doe aſſure you, ſaid he, and ſighed, it proceeds from nothing but envy. I did not thinke, anſwered I that a perſon of your merit could envy any one; but of whom and why are you envious? I envy your Coach (ſaid he unto me) that is going towards the I [...]bices, and becauſe I may not go with you, although it be my Country. Why, replyed I, are you ſuch a lover of your Country, as you ſhould envy things that are inſenſible? What ſhould I doe, ſaid he, ſince ſuch inſenſibles are more happy than I am? Heaven, I hope, ſaid I, is better unto you than ſo. This is the conſolation, anſwered he, which is given unto thoſe who are miſerable, yet I aſſure you any better ſhall never be deſired by me, but rather the contrary. Thoſe who are ſicke, ſaid I, doe the like, they thinke all medicines bitter, and ſuch Phyſicke is commonly given unto them, as is contrary to their deſires, though conducing to their health. Great is the difference, ſaid he, betwixt the diſeaſes of the body, and diſeaſes of the mind: For thoſe of the body are cured by contraries, but thoſe of the mind, by the poſſeſſion of that thing which cauſes the diſeaſe. If ambition wound us is there any better cure than to arrive at the thing aſpired unto? If beauty offend us, will any thing ſo quickly ture, as the injoyment of that beauty? And therefore they ſay, that deſires ſatisfied doe coole at the very firſt, afterwards are quite glutted; ſo as to the maladies of the mind muſt be applyed ſuch remedies as have the qualitie of the Scorpion, which can cure the wound it makes. It is long ſince you were in your owne Country, ſaid Clarina; and what makes you thinke upon it ſo freſhly now? Your journey, ſaid he, and ſighed, brings it freſh into my memory.

Thoſe who heard our diſcourſe did not underſtand it, though if my Mother had not been diverted by the queſtions of thoſe two Cavaliers, doubtleſſe ſhe would have ſmelt out ſomething, but ſhe ſeeing us thus talking, ſhe would not ſuffer them to goe any farther with us, although they told her their way did lye that way, but ſhe was ſo urgent with them, that they were conſtrained to leave us. Now did I find, that to part from a perſon loved might well be called a death, both by my owne reſentments, and by Arimants, for he looked as pale as death it ſelfe, and was ſo out of himſelfe, that he could not bid adieu unto me: or any in the company, which my Mother interpreted to be incivility, and perhaps on purpoſe, though ſhe beleeved the contrary; as for me, I knew the cauſe finding in my ſelfe the ſorrowes of this cruel ſeparation.

I cannot at this time tell you Hylas, how ſadly both Arimant and I reſented it; onely this, that both fell ſicke, and Arimant much worſe than I; for mine was only a certaine languiſhment, and drooping of ſpirits, which many feared would in a little time bring me into a Conſumption: But his diſeaſe was ſo violent as none looked for any life; every one came to ſee him dye; he himſelfe was of the ſame beliefe: but having a deſire to take his leave before he left his life, he forced himſelfe to write theſe lin [...]t unto me.

Arimants Letter unto Chryſeide.

FOrtune ſeemes to be weary of tormenting, and will put an end unto my paines, out of which I beſeech you, Madam, give me leave to go: I beg thus with that affection which brings me to my grave, and which ſhall never Ieſſen whatſoever becomes of my aſhes.

[Page] This Letter ſo ſhort, and ſo ill written, together with the common report of his ſicke eſtate, was a very death unto me: And when Clarina had enough to doe in giving me comfort, I gave her this anſwer, that his death and mine ſhould be both together, and therefore I deſired her to ſend this Letter unto him and to command the meſſenger to return with all haſte poſſible, and bring me News how he was.

Cryſeide's Letter unto Arimant.

IT was ever your promiſe to doe whatſoever I appointed; and now I doe command you to live, that yon may the longer love me, I ſhall ſee whether any thing have more power over Arimant than my ſelfe: live therefore and love me.

We underſtood by the returne of the Meſſenger, that the ſame day he came, Arimant was at the height of his diſeaſe, and that the Phyſitians had good hopes of his recovery; and alſo that the next day he was out of all danger. For my part, I flattered my ſelfe ſo far as to beleeve, that the contentment which he found in my Letter was the cauſe of it; but whether that was true or no, I know not, but it is certaine, that he perfectly recovered, which was ſo great a joy unto me, that I alſo began to mend of my malady, as if there was ſome ſympathy in our Diſeaſes, both falling ſicke, and both recovering at one time.

When I came to the houſe of Rithimer, and his wife ſaw me ſo much out of temper, what through my long journey, and what through my ſorrows to be ſo far from him I loved, ſhe thought it beſt to recover me before I was expoſed to the view, and not to ſpeake of the marriage which ſhe intended till then, thinking that it was beauty which would bring on Cloringus (for ſo he was called whom ſhe aimed for my Husband). My mother cheered me up as much as ſhe could, and told me that within few dayes I would recover, and to my miſery it hapned ſo as ſhe ſaid: For I was told that Arimant would come and ſee me, either in diſguiſe, or ſome other way, in which he ſhould not be known. This hope gave me health, and my face became as it was wont to be, ſo as I began to ſhew my ſelfe; and indeed many began to caſt amorous eyes upon me, eſpecially Rithimer, as ſince I underſtood, his wife at the ſame time ſolicited the match, propounded unto Rithimer, and deſired him, that in reſpect I was her Kinſwoman he would be aſſiſtant He having a ſelfe deſigne upon me, and knowing Clorangus to be a man of that deformity, he did approve of it, thinking that the leſſe I loved my husband, the more it would make for himſelfe; ſo as faigning all that he did was at his wifes inſtance and deſire, he ſent for Clorangus, propounded it unto him, adviſed him to imbrace it, and at the ſame time got his conſent. I know not whether that which they call beauty in me, or my misfortune was the cauſe, but ſo it was, that the match was concluded upon, before a ſyllable was ſpoke of it unto me. Obſerve how Heaven does mocke at all humane intentions; when I fancied unto my ſelfe the fulleſt contentment, even then was I overwhelmed with the greateſt misfortune that could befall me.

My mother came one night into my Chamber when I was undreſt and ready to goe into my bed; and after ſhe repreſented unto me the miſeries of poverty, ſhe extolled the happineſſe that would accrue unto me by matching into a very rich Family; ſhe propo [...]nded Clorangus, and told me, that Rithimer and his wife had made up the match, that within two dayes the marriage was to be ſolemnized, and that ſhe thought good to acquaint me with it, to the end that when Rithimer did me the honour to ſpeake unto me of it, I ſhould be prepared to ſet a good face upon it, and to thanke him, as the paines he had taken in my behalfe deſerved; that though Clorangus was a little defective in his body, yet he had many other qualities which ſupplyed thoſe defects, and rendred him amiable▪ and eſtimable; that he was in love with me, and ſo deeply, that if I would but flatter him a little, I might make him doe what I would.

To be ſhort, Hylas, ſhe neglected no argument which might induce me to this marriage; and not ſtaying for my anſwer, ſhe went preſently to bed, thinking that I would not reliſh it at the firſt, but hoping alſo that my Pillow-cogitations would make me reſolve according to her deſires.

Oh Heavens, Hylas, in what a ſtrange dumpe was I ſtruck when I heard this, and yet [Page] it was ſome comfort that my Mother was gone, for I could cry with more liberty; I threw my ſelfe upon my bed, and leaſt my complaints ſhould be heard I ſtopped my mouth with the ſheet, but all would not hinder Clarina from hearing me, who being advertiſed of it, came unto me, and would have given me ſome good counſell; but turning towards her, I ſaid; Away, away, Clarina, I am tormented enough without any addition from you; let me weepe away that little time I have to live, and lament that misfortune, which cannot be lamented enough; ſhe who did moſt tenderly love me, and knew well enough what it was I thus grieved at: I come not, ſaid ſhe, with any intentions of comforting you, but onely to helpe you into bed to the end none may moleſt you. I had rather, replied I▪ that you would helpe me to my grave: Upon that I ſuffered her to undreſſe me, and lay as ſtill as if I had been dead: For ſo deepe were my reſentments that I could not cry; but when I was in bed, and the Light taken away, then teares began to flow in ſuch abundance downe my cheekes and breſt, that my bed was all water: Sometimes my thoughts were all upon Arimant, his merits, and all thoſe teſtimonies of his affection to me; otherwhile I reflected upon Clorangus and his crabbed deformities, and finding ſuch a vaſt difference between them, I was in ſuch an extream Labyrinth of griefe, that truly the Gods were mercifull unto me, that I did not fall into a moſt violent deſpaire; all Night long I did nothing but lament, and Day found me in bed without ever cloſing an eye; and ſee what a violent affection may ſometimes doe. I was fully reſolved to dye, knowing that my Mother would not be ſtirred at any prayers, ſo as ſtill thinking upon Arimant, and his affection to me, I thought it better to dye once, than be dying every hour as long as I lived.

The next morning when I ſaw Clarina and moſt of the houſe were gone to the Temple according to cuſtome leaving none to looke unto me but a young Boy, who ſerved me, I deſired him to goe preſently and fetch a Chyrurgion, without telling any one. When he came, Sir, ſaid, I am much troubled with a paine in my head; and I deſire you to let me blood in my left arme, for I have uſed to doe ſo when the paine tooke me, finding alwayes preſent eaſe by it. He ſeeing me looke red, and my eyes heavy, verily beleeved me, ſo as he bound my arme, opened my veine, and went away; he was no ſooner out of the houſe, but I called the little Officer, and deſired him to fetch another, for this laſt had done me no good; the Boy made haſte, and brought another, I told him the ſame tale I told before; I opened my other arme, keeping the other cloſe, he did as I deſired, and went away.

Thinking that this was enough to end my miſerable dayes, I cauſed the Curtaines to to be drawne, and the windowes ſhut, as if the light offended me; then thinking how ſad the Newes of my death would be unto Arimant, but withall thinking it would be a great comfort unto him to hear I dyed loving him, I tooke my Hankercher and ſpreading it upon the bed, I dipt my finger in my blood, and writ in it theſe words, Arimant I dye thine, which was all I was able to doe, for preſently my eyes began to faile me, and my heart fainted, ſo as I loſt my knowledge, yet I doe remember, that my laſt thought being of Arimant, I ſaid aloud, Now Fortune the Victory is mine: After this, I remained as dead, and certainly had been ſo if Clarina had not come into the Chamber, who knowing that all my griefe proceeded from my loſſe of Arimant, ſhe came to bring me a Letter from him, brought by him who uſed to bring them before; but when ſhe drew the Curtaines and found me ſwimming in blood: Oh God (cryed ſhe out ſo loud as was heard into my Mothers Chamber) Oh God, ſhe is dead, Chryſeide is dead, and wringing her hands together, ſhe ran out of the room all in tears, not knowing what ſhe did. The windowes were immediately opened, and every one ran unto me; they ſaw I was all in blood, but not imagining it came from my arme, they were long in ſearching for the wound. Clarina in the mean time laying her hand upon my Hankercher, and opening it ſhe ſaw what I had writ with my finger; and though it was ſo ill written as ſhe could hardly read it, yet ſhe put it in her pocket leaſt any elſe ſhould ſee it, and running out of the Chamber to my Mother told her of the accident: By fortune, as ſhe went, ſhe met him that brought the Letter from Arimant, who asked her for an anſwer, becauſe his Maſter had commanded him to returne as ſoon as he could, to whom ſhe anſwered all in tears, it is a ſad anſwer which you muſt carry to your Maſter at this time, Chryſeide is dead, becauſe they would have forced her to marry Clorangus. Carry him this Hankercher, there will he find writ with the hand and blood of Chryſeide the cauſe of her death: [Page] Upon this, ſhe went all teares to tell my Mother, who was then with the wife of Rithimer: when they heard this ſaid newes, they were extreamly aſtoniſhed. But the Prince, like one that was tranſported, ran preſently to the place where I was, and ſeeing me ſo in blood, by chance he took me by the arme to lift me up, and finding my ſleeve full of blood ſhe has cut her veines (ſaid he); and then turning up the ſleeve of my ſmock, he found that the bloud did not run, becauſe my ſleeve ſtuck to the wound (and I believe that ſaved my life) for as ſoon us it was pulled away, he ſaw it began to bleed afreſh; he put his finger upon it, and bad Clarina doe the like to the other arm, for he obſerved the other ſleeve bloody alſo; then cauſing ſome cold water to be brought; for certaine (ſaid he) ſhe is not yet dead, for I find ſhe is hot: Then throwing ſome of it into my face, and rubbing my Temples and pulſe with ſome imperiall waters, and ſuch like, my Pulſe began to returne, and I began to breathe. Then ſending in all poſt haſte for Phyſitians, and they coming before it was [...]ight, I returned to my ſelfe againe, and recover'd my knowledge. Rithimer never ſtirring from me all the while, till he ſaw me out of all danger: Afterwards he told me, that he never ſaw me ſo faire as then; for the loſs of blood making me look pale and white, and that whiteneſs being as it were painted with blood, one ſeemed to adde beauty to the other. Moreover, his pitty of me did augment his love, and his love was covered under the vail of compaſſion.

But when I was a little better ſettled, his wife and my Mother, asked me, what, and who it was that had brought me into that condition? but I knowing that they were the cauſes of all my miſery, to avoid their importunity, ſeemed not to heare them, and would not ſpeak. And one of the Phyſitians told them, that it was better not to trouble me, for ſpeaking might doe me harme; but it was requiſite I ſhould take ſomething, and be left unto my reſt, which accordingly they did; and in the meane time Rithimer enquired of the boy who waited upon me, whether he perceived what I did unto my ſelfe. The boy fearing a beating if he confeſſed, anſwered; No, and that onely I commanded him to ſhut the windows, and draw the Curtaines. This cauſed Rithimer to call for Clarina: Doe not leave Cryſedd, (ſaid he) for if you doe, ſhe will make her ſelfe bleed againe and die, therefore be very carefull of her. Sir, ſaid ſhe unto him, you may if you will ſave her life, which certainly ſhe will now, or ſome other time loſe, unleſſe you doe remedy it. I doe vow and ſweare (ſaid he) by the life of Anthemius, that I will do all I can to ſave it: Clarina thinking ſhe had found a fit opportunity. Sir, ſaid ſhe, I beſeech you in the firſt place, not to diſcover me; and next, be aſſured that Clorangus is the cauſe of her death, and ſhe will rather chuſe a Grave then him. Thinke you ſo? ſaid Rithimer. More then think. Sir, ſaid ſhe, for I am ſure, and if you will know the truth, obſerve what alteration will be in her face, when I tell her of it in her ear. Then both going to the bed and cauſing all others to retire from us, ſhe ſaid unto me in a low voice; Be of good courage Cryſeide, Rithimer ſweares by the life of Anthemius, that you ſh [...]ll never marry Clorangus. I was ſo weake, as I could not move any thing except my eyes: but this newes was ſo welcome unto me, as lifting them up towards heaven, I ſeemed to give hearty thankes for ſo great a favour: Afterwards, turning towards Rithimer, I forced my ſelfe to ſpeake. Sir, ſaid I unto him, is it true. Yes ſweet heart (ſaid he unto me) and I ſweare it, not onely by Anthemius, but alſo by the head of my Father, and all that is holy. Then replyed I, I will live. Live then, anſwered he, and be aſſured I will ſooner conſent unto my own death, than break my promiſe of it. Upon this I changed countenance, and moſt miraculouſly aſſumed vigour. Rithimer admired this reſolution in me, and calling his Wife and my Mother: I tharge you, ſaid he unto them, that there be no more talk of marriage between Cryſeide and Clorangus; for I vow and proteſt, I will ſooner conſent unto the loſſe of all my fortunes; then unto a match ſo unſutable. They offered to reply, but he interrupted them by ſaying, I have ſworn it by the life of Athemius, by the head of my Father, and by all thats holy. Not a word more of it; and whoſoever ſhall doe otherwiſe, ſhall find my diſpleaſure. Upon this, both of them went away, and ſpoke not a word, Rithimer highly eſteeming my generous reſolution, his good will unto me did ſo augment, as from thence forward it may well be ſaid, be was in love with me. He went away, and viſited me a hundred times in a day, and moſt commonly by himſelfe. And becauſe he durſt not ſpeak unto me, leſt it ſhould be prejudicial unto me, he talked with Clarina, would ſometimes aske her how ſhe came to know that the marriage with Clorangus made me take that reſolution; other whiles he [Page] would thanke her for acquainting him with it, and did ſo manifeſtly make the greatneſſe of his affection appear, as his wife perceived it, and Clarina alſo. As for me, I took all his actions as proceeding from that compaſſion which ſuch an accident cauſed in his generous ſoul. Beſides, the condition wherein I was, would not permit me any diſcourſe with him; for I was ſo weakned as I did nothing elſe, but ſleep and reſt my ſelfe.

I reſted thus two or three dayes, and never remembred my Hankercher wherein I had written with my blood; but one morning when I found my ſelfe a little better, it came unto my mind; Clarina obſerving that ſhe never went from me, but ſhe heard the [...]igh, ſhe asked me whether I felt any new pain. My paine, anſwered I faintly, is in my minde: But, good Clarina, were you the firſt that found me in that condition, into which I had brought my ſelfe? Who doe you thinke, ſaid ſhe, has the greateſt care of you [...] I know very well, ſaid I, that it is Clarina; but if you were the firſt, did you not ſee a Hankercher which was ſpotred with my blood? Yes, anſwered ſhe, I did ſee it; and alas now you put me in mind, I have committed a great fault, which I muſt preſently remedy For Miſtreſſe, that unhappy morning, Arimant had written unto you, and I came with all joy to bring the Letter, when I found you in that ſad condition, I ran through the houſe like a fool, crying and tormenting my ſelfe; and being thus out of my ſelfe, I met the meſſenger which Arimant ſent with the Letter, who not knowing of the accident which had hapned unto you, he was urgent with me for an anſwer: I told him you were dead, and gave him the Hankercher whereof you ſpeak, to carry unto his Maſter in teſtimony of your affection to him. How? ſaid I, Has Arimant the Hankercher? Doubtleſſe he has, anſwered ſhe, for it is three dayes ſince I ſent it to him. Oh God cryed I, I feare it will ruine him; what will become of him, Clarina, when he ſees that aſſurance of my death? Upon this, ſhe ſtood mute a while, and at laſt anſwered, 'Tis true, Miſtreſs, ſaid ſhe, that if the meſſenger did depart without any further enquiry of the particulars of your death, it might perplex Arimant. Of whom, replyed I, could he enquire but your ſelfe? Indeed Clarina, you were much to blame: and if when you ſaw me paſt danger, you did not advertiſe him of it, your ſecond fault was worſe then your firſt. Miſtreſſe, ſaid ſhe, I beſeech you pardon me: my griefe was ſo great, as when I ſaw you dead, I was reſolved to follow you; and I muſt confeſſe, that I ſent the Hankercher unto Arimant, purpoſely to invite him unto the ſame. But ſince that danger was over, I have been ſo buſie about you, as I have hardly remembred to eate my meat. Go, ſaid I unto her, and write unto him preſently from me; if I can, I will adde a word with my owne hand, Clarina upon this, ſhut the door left any ſhould ſurpriſe her, and taking Pen, Ink, and Paper, did write theſe words.

Clarina's Letter unto Arimant.

I Do give my ſelfe the lie; for, Arimant, Cryſeide lives ſtill, and has commanded me to acquaint you with it; the truth is, ſhe was dead when I ſent you that meſſage, but the Gods have revived her for you. You are the moſt happy Cavalier that lives, in the love of the faireſt Lady in the Univerſe; and unhappy onely in this, that you cannot be a witneſſe of your owne happineſſe.

Then with much ado, I took the Pen, and poſtſcribed theſe words (Arimant, I doe live, and live onely for Arimant) Then ſealing it up, ſhe went with all haſte unto him, whom ſhe had formerly imployed upon ſuch occaſions, commanding him to make all poſt haſte. Afterwards ſeeing none in the Chamber but our ſelves, we opened the Letter, which Arimant had formerly ſent, and found in it theſe words.

Arimant's Letter unto Cryſeide.

IN the day, I am nothing but a compoſition of frights and panique feares; in the night, I doe nothing but dream that you are going to die, and I am going to follow you; this does ſo much trouble me, that I cannot call this a life, which I live ſo distane from you. I have ſent this meſſenger to know how ſhe who is my life does, I will follow him as [Page] ſoon as I find by his returne, my way to be ready: and at this time the hatred which Rithimer beares unto me, muſt yeeld unto the love which I bear unto you.

This Letter did infinitely comfort me, upon ſeverall conſiderations; the one, becauſe I thought the neerer he was this place, the ſooner he would hear the reports of my death to be falſe; Another was, becauſe I found that he did really love me; and laſtly, becauſe I hoped ere long to ſee him, and to communicate unto him a deſigne which I had in hand. But in the mean time, his meſſenger made ſuch haſte, that travelling both night and day, he found him in bed, intending to depart that day: And the meſſenger coming unto him: Sir, ſaid he, I have very great Newes to tell you, and therefore let all the men retire: Then commanding all to goe out, and to ſhut the doore, and ſeeing the Man ſtand and ſtare as if he were out of his wits, he ſuſpected to heare of ſome great accident: Then riſing up in his bed, and as it were divining it; What, ſaid he, is ſhe dead or alive? Then the Meſſenger falling into tears, and preſenting the Hankercher unto him: Alas, Sir, ſaid he, this will tell you that which my griefe will not ſuffer me to relate, and then he weeped and ſighed as if he would have dyed. Arimant ſpreading the Hankercher, and reading what I had written with my finger. Oh God, ſaid he, ſhe is dead and then falling a croſſe the bed, there he lay as if he were dead: The Man taking notice that the Cavalier ſpoke not, did run unto him, and finding him in a ſwoone, he raiſed him up, called upon him, and pinched him to make him come to himſelfe; but ſeeing all would not doe, and fearing he ſhould dye in his arms, he preſently laid the Hankercher upon the bed teſter, and ran to call for helpe: All the people in the houſe ran to him, and brought ſuch remedies as at laſt they recovered him; the firſt word he ſpoke was, Alas; but preſently taking notice that the Chamber was full of people, he reſtrained both his ſighes and his teares, leaſt he ſhould give knowledge unto any of the cauſe. And becauſe his conſtraint did almoſt trouble him as much as his malady, he intreated the [...] all to leave him unto his reſt, telling them that he deſired to have none with him but that young man. They who had not the leaſt ſuſpition of the cauſe, and thought it nothing elſe, but ſome faintneſſe cauſed by faſting, they obeyed him. Then ſeeing the roome cleer; What is become, ſaid he, of the Hankercher? Sir, ſaid the young man; I am unwilling to let you ſee it again, ſince I know the ſight will but greeve you the more. No, no, ſaid he, let me have it, for in lieu of augmenting my griefe, it will be a comfort unto me, ſeeing ſhe had a memory of me unto the l [...]ſt minute of her life. Then giving it unto him; Oh moſt deer Hankercher, ſaid he, the dire meſſenger of the greateſt dyſaſter that could befall me, what name ſhould I beſtow upon thee? Then being ſilent, and fixing his eyes upon the blood: Well, ſaid he, ſhe has ſhewed me the way, and I am ready to follow it; I grieve at nothing more than that I did not goe before, at leaſt keepe her company. Then turning himſelfe towards the young man; but Friend (ſaid he unto him) you have not yet told me how this accident came to paſſe. Sir, ſaid he, if you will be pleaſed to give me a little time, and promiſe me that it ſhall not afflict you more, I will tell you all I know: No, no, replied Arimant preſently, nothing can either augment or leſſen my griefe, therefore tell me all. I ſhall then tell you Sir, ſaid the young man; That I came thither betimes in the morning, and according to your inſtructions, I watched when Clarina went to the Temple, where I found her and conveyed the Letter ſo cloſely into her hand that none perceived me, and deſiring her to diſpatch me with an anſwer as ſoone as ſhe could, ſhe told me, that tomorrow morning I ſhould have it. Preſently after, I went into the houſe of Rithimer where ſhe lodged, and I was no ſooner entred, but I heard a great biſling on every ſide, and Chryſeide, Chryſeide, continually named. I went up the ſtairs, and found Clarina all in tears and great diſorder, who as ſoon as ſhe ſaw me; It is but a ſad anſwer (ſaid ſhe) that you muſt carry your Maſter at this time; alas Chryſeide is dead, and onely becauſe they would needs force her to marry Clorangus, carry him this Hankercher, wherein he will find written with the hand and blood of Chryſeide, cauſe enough to love her memory. After this ſhe cryed, and went into another Chamber. Oh Heavens! cryed out Arimant, can I live, and heare this? But go on, I intreat you. You may imagine Sir, ſaid the meſſenger, that this did much amaze me, and to know the more certainty of the matter, I ſtayed a little longer, and ſaw three or foure perſons come out of Chryſeides Chamber all in tears, holding up their hands, and ſaying, that truly ſhe dyed very ſtrangely. This inſpired me with more curioſity and boldneſſe to enter into the room, ſeeing all the houſe [Page] did the like. There, Sir, I ſaw her; Oh diſmall ſight! I ſaw her dead on her bed, and it ſo full of blood, that it ran downe upon the ground. At this time Rithimer and many women entred; and I heard Rithimer cry out and ſay, ſhe had cut her veines. I was then afraid leaſt any ſhould know me, and becauſe you had expreſly forbidden that, and thinking I could hear no more, I came preſently out of the Towne, and made all haſte that poſſibly I could, becauſe you had ſo commanded, though with much ſorrow to be the meſſenger of ſuch ſad Newes. Alas, alas, (cryed he) I ſee it is but too true that Chryſeide is dead, ſince you have ſeen her ſo with your owne eyes; could the Gods ever conſent unto ſuch a cruelty, and can I heare this Newes and ſtill live? He would have continued on, when his Father hearing of his being ill, and who loved him moſt tenderly, being his onely Son, came and knocked at the Chamber door. The young man knowing his voice, he advertiſed Arimant, who ſetting as good a face upon it as he could, bad him open the door. The windows were yet ſhat, and the curtaines drawne, ſo as when his father came into the Chamber, he could not well ſee the ſadneſſe in Arimants face; but coming to him, and taking his hand, he asked him how he did? Well Sir, anſwered he, but only for a little faintneſſe which proceeds from repletion of humours, for want of exerciſe, but if you thinke it good, I deſire to ride abroad and take ſome journey, as well to diſſipate thoſe humours, as for change of Aire. I like it very well, ſaid the Father; but whither would you goe? My greateſt fancy, anſwered Arimant, is to the Libicens, as well becauſe it is the place of my birth, and naturall aire, as to ſee my kindred and friends. I ſhould like it very well, ſaid the Father but that I feare the hatred of Rithimer. Sir, replied Arimant, never fear it; I muſt confeſſe, that for you to goe would be dangerous, but not for me, for there will not any advantage acrue unto Rithim [...]r by me, if I were dead; beſides, being there amongſt ſo many kindred and friends, he could not have any intention againſt me, but it would be told me and eaſily prevented. The Father beleeving what he ſaid, was eaſily brought to his opinion, which was not a little happineſſe unto us all, eſpecially unto Arimant: For having before reſolved to kill himſelfe, he now deferred the execution of what he intended unto the end of this voyage. He accoutred himſelfe therefore as well as he could, and the next morning ſet forward, taking none with him but this man, and another to walte upon him in his Chamber, telling his Father it was more ſafe to goe with a ſmall Traine, than if better attended, becauſe leſſe notice would be taken of him. His deſigne of going to the Libicens, was to meet with Clorangus, and when he had diſpatched him, then to go unto the place where I was interred, there to ſacrifice himſelfe unto my aſhes. And truly it was happy that this revenge was thus intended, for it retarded his intention of killing himſelfe, and the meſſenger whom I ſent had more leaſure to carry him our Letters.

The ſame day he departed from his Father, halfe of it was gone before Arimant thought either upon eating or reſting himſelfe; and the meſſenger whom I ſent met him at a paſſage over a River which is called Teſin, and not knowing him, paſſed on, as well becauſe he did not thinke of finding him in any place but Eporedes, as becauſe his grief had much changed his face, and was but ſlenderly attended, ſo as he never ſo much as dreamed of Arimant. And Arimant he rid on ſo penſive, and his eyes ſo fixed to the ground, as he did not ſo much as ſee him when he paſſed by: But as good lucke was, the meſſenger who came unto me from him, was not heedleſſe, for he ſeeing the meſſenger who came from me, acquainted his Maſter, telling him that if he would he might heare all the ſtory of Cryſeide, for yonder was the man who once brought Letters from her. What can I hear, anſwered Arimant, more than I have? Is it not too much that I have heard ſhe is dead? ſo never ſo much as turning his eye towards him, he rid on; but the young man being deſirous to know how I was interred, and all other paſſages, he went unto the meſſenger whom I had ſent, and taking acquaintance, asked him of Clarina, and how ſhe took the death of Cryſeide? Cryſeide, ſaid he, why, ſhe is alive, and thanks be to God very well. [...] replied the other, Cryſeide alive? Yes, yes, replied he, ſhe is alive, and has ſent [...] your Maſter; then imbracing him; Oh moſt welcome Newes (ſaid he) and [...] thee for it: Come, come, follow me a little, and I will ſhorten your voyage a great deal.

Upon this, the young man putting ſpurs to his Horſe, cryed out to his Maſter, Stay, ſtay, Sir, ſtay, and I will tell you good newes: Arimant hearing his voyce, though not underſtanding what he ſaid, and ſeeing him clap his hands as an action of joy, he was amazed [Page] at it: and when he was come a little nearer, What is the matter, ſaid he; and what would you have with me? Sir, ſaid the young man, Good newes, Cryſeide is not dead but alive, and has ſent this Meſſenger to you. Cryſeide alive? ſaid he and tranſported, is it poſſible? Sir, ſaid the Meſſenger whom I ſent, it is certaine, and I am a Meſſenger from her; upon this, Arimant lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven. Oh ye good Gods, continued he, be ye for ever bleſſed, for this favour you have done me. Sir ſaid my Meſſenger, Clarina commanded me to give you this Letter; Arimant was ſo much out of himſelfe, as he took it with a trembling hand, and knew not what he did. But at laſt, recollecting himſelfe, he asked him how I did. Sir, ſaid ſhe, ſhe is very well, and in good health, Clarina commanded me to tell you as much. They told me, replyed Arimant, that Cryſeide was dead: upon this, opening Clarina's Letter, though he would have diſſembled it, yet his countenance betrayed his joyes, eſpecially when he ſaw my Poſtſcript, without which, he ſhould have thought that Clarina deluded him; but ſeeing my hand, and knowing it, he aſſured himſelfe I was alive, although he imagined I was very weake. But tell me, my friend, ſaid he, Was it true that Cryſeide was in ſuch a condition as I heard? Sir, anſwered the Meſſenger, ſhe could not be well worſe reported then ſhe was; for it night well be ſaid ſhe was dead, and afterwards returned to life: Then he related unto him how I had been, how I was, and what they had done unto me. I muſt confeſſe, (ſaid Arimant then) that Cryſeide tranſcends all Ladies in beauty, and all Cavaliers in grandure of courage: but fearing leſt he ſhould ſay too much, he held his peace, and riding on repaſte I himſelfe at the next Town, where he did nothing but repeat unto himſelfe all that had paſſed.

New Accidents cauſing new Counſells Arimant ſtaying in this place all the reſt of the day; all the night took up his thoughts in contriving meanes how to ſee me. And not being able to reſolve upon it alone, he called for the young man whom he was wont to ſend unto me, and who beſides his love to his Maſter, wanted neither wit nor judgement. Unto him he did communicate his deſire of ſeeing me, and that he ſhould never enjoy himſelfe till then: And yet he told him, that Rithimer did ſo extreamly hare his Father, as he could not with any ſafety come where I was, much leſſe into my Chamber. The young man after he had a little conſidered upon it: Sir, ſaid he, you muſt make a Virtue of Neceſſity: firſt ſend away this Meſſenger, that he may not diſcover your deſignes: Next, diſguiſe your ſelfe in the habite of a Merchant; ſo may you ſafely enter the Towne, and remaine there a while unknown; and being there ſuch opportunities may happily preſent themſelves, as you cannot here imagine.

Arimant liking the opinion of the man, as ſoon as it was day, he diſpatched my Meſſenger away, who the next day brought me Letters from him, told us where he met him, and by what chance he knew him; I will not now, Hylas, tell you what his anſwer was, but you may imagine it full of thankes and extream contenment; and in the concluſion of it, aſſured me, that he would ſee me ere long what fortune ſoever he ran; in the interim, he loſt no time. For thinking it no diſcretion to come into the place where I was without a diſguiſe, he cauſed there ſuits to be made in the mode of Merchants, with all poſſible haſte; and going into a wood, they ſhifted themſelves, and put their owne clothes in a Portmantle. Thus clad, and diſguiſed as well as they could, they came into the Towne where I was, and lodged in an Inne near the Gate. As for Arimant, he kept his Chamber all the reſt of the day, but he ſent his Valets abroad to heare newes: he commanded him whom he was wont to ſend unto me, to enquire how I did, and to ſee Clarina if it were poſſible. At night both of them returned to him, and told him what they heard; and he whom he imployed unto my lodging, told him that he had ſeen Clarina, and ſpoke with her, none perceiving him; that ſhe carried him to her Miſtreſſe, who was ſo weake through loſſe of blood, as ſhe ſtill kept her bed, and ſwore unto him, he never ſaw her ſo faire in all his life: That by fortune none being in the room, he talked to me along while, and to tell me how he was diguiſed for feare of Rithimer, or ſome of his [...], conſidering the old enmity he had to his Father; that Clarina and I laughed he [...] heare he was in that habite: And that I told him; ſince he was ſo diſguiſed, he [...] ſome good Laces, and extraordinary Ribands, and ſuch knacks, and pretend that he would ſell them; that if he found any in my Chamber, to excuſe it, and ſay he would come againe when I was more at leiſure; but if I was alone with Clarina, at it hapned very often, he might enter, and ſpeak to me with all freedome and confidence Arimant [Page] hearing this direction, did finde it very good, and in order to the execution of ie. he [...] into queſt of ſuch Merchandize as was requiſite for him As for his man, the newes he brought, was the feares of the Townſmen, of a certaine ſtrange King, who they ſaid, came into Gaul to plunder the Country as he had done divers times heretofore; then falling into particulars, he ſaid, the Townſmen murmured, becauſe whilſt this King was Pillaging and Ravaging all the Country, and carrying away both men women and children Priſoners. Rithimer was making love to a young Lady called Cryſeide, and did not only neglect the people over whom he governed, but loſt that reputation which formerly he had gotten by ſo many martial exploits.

This laſt part touched Arimant to the quick, yet being ſo near me and hoping ere long to ſee me, he waved the thoughts of it; but giving his mind wholly to provide ſuch Merchandize as would admit him to my Chamber, he loaded both himſelfe and his man with the fineſt Laces and Ribands he could poſſibly procure, and pretended to come from Gaul, from whence ſuch things commonly come: beſides, having that language, he might the better be taken for a Merchant of Gaule. He ſpent all the next day in triming up his equipage of Merchandize; and having very well furniſhed his Packes, he came to the houſe of Rithimer, and paſſed for a Pedler. The young man who had been already there, conducted him to my lodging: Thoſe who ſaw him go up with his Packs, never queſtioned whither he went; for taking them for Pedlers, and many uſing to come thither, they thought it not ſtrange to ſee them there. They ſtayed with their Packs in the Anti-chamber, where the little boy which waited on me, paſſing by chance, did ſee them; and coming into my Chamber, told Clarina, that there was Pedlers in the Anti-chamber, who asked if any would buy any Laces or Ribands. Clarina did preſently apprehend it to be Arimant, and coming unto me: We will ſee, Madam, ſaid he, whether or no they be our Merchants; Go and ſee, ſaid I unto her, and if it be they let them enter, for we are at leiſure to ſee what Wares they have, ſince none is in the Chamber. Clarina went preſently; and becauſe the little boy followed her, ſhe ſeemed as if ſhe knew him not, but asked what Wares they had? very fine Laces, Madam, anſwered Arimant, in the language of Gaule, and very cheap. You come in very good time, ſaid ſhe, for my Lady is alone, and will be glad to ſee what Laces you have; and upon this ſhe conducted them to me.

I muſt confeſſe, Hylas, that I was ſtrangely tranſported, and he alſo when I ſaw him come into my Chamber, and none but we three in it: For Clarina had ſent the little officer into the Town of an errant. At the firſt when he entred, I held out my armes, and he kneeling down by my beds ſide, I held him a long time cloſe to my breſt, ſo ſurpriſed with joy, that I could not unlooſe my armes. My deareſt friend, ſaid I unto him, here is thy Cryſeide, whom the Gods have retuſed, becauſe they would not be ſo unjuſt as to rob thee of her. I doe acknowledge, Madam, ſaid he, that they are Gods, ſince they are juſt But, Madam, ſaid he, what doe you meane, when you ſay my Cryſeide? Arimant, replyed I, be aſſured, that if Cryſeide be not yours, he is no bodies. I writ it in my blood, and if you would have a greater▪ Teſtimony, you ſhall have all I can give, and that honour will permit me: For I thinke it reaſonable that ſince I expoſed my life to preſerve my ſelfe yours, I ſhould reſerve nothing but render my ſelfe wholly unto your diſcretion.

He would have anſwered, when Clarina took him off, becauſe ſhe heard ſome walking in the Anti-chamber. Retiring therefore with all haſte, he went to his Companion, who was begun already to lay open his Merchandize, and to ſhew them unto Clarina, who ſeemed to be very buſie in looking upon ſeverall Laces, when Rithimer came into the Chamber. He uſed to come unto me very often; as if the report which went about the Town, of his love to me, were not falſe: ſoever ſince the accident which hapned unto me, his affection to me was increaſed to ſuch a flame, as his Wife perceived it; ſhe being naturally jealous; and unwilling any ſhould ſhare with her in that which ſhe ſhould enjoy alone ſhe began to hate me extreamly, and was reſolved to remove me from Rithimer, as ſoon as I was able to go abroad: And ſeeing my Mother extreamly angry with me for refuſing Clorangus, ſhe told her of it. As for the was, Clarina heard their diſcourſe unknown to them, and told it unto me.

This remove which was intended did not trouble me at all; but on the contrary I was rather glad of it, hoping it would be a meanes of my returne unto Eporedes, but I was [Page] much perplexed at the cruelty of my Mother, who ſwore and vowed that as ſoon as I was out of Rithimers reach, ſhe would, whether I would or no, make me marry Clorangus.

This reſolution of my Mother moved me unto another, which otherwiſe perhaps I ſhould not; it was to give my ſelfe wholly unto Arimant, and avoid that tyranny which ſhe threatned againſt me.

But to returne unto Rithimer; ſeeing him enter into my Chamber, I deſired Clarina to tell the Pedlers that they ſhould go away now, and come againe in the morning, and that then I would buy their Laces. This I did purpoſely, becauſe if Rithimer ſaw him againe, he ſhould not think it ſtrange. Arimant knowing how reports went, concerning this Princes love unto me, ſeeing him very amiable, and conſidering what favour his Quality might procure him, he looked upon him with an eye not like a Pedlers, and vexed he was to quit his place unto him; yet ſeeing there was no remedy, he put up his ware, made a low leg, and went away; and I ſeeing him going, ſaid unto him; Farewell good Friend, be ſure you come again to morrow.

This was the firſt interview, but to ſhorten my diſcourſe; Know, Hylas, that the next day he came againe, when all was gone to the Temple, and when none was in the room but Clarina and my ſelfe. But to loſe no time, ſeeing my Mother was reſolved as ſoon as I was well, to marry me by force unto Clorangus, we thought it expedient to be beforehand, and that in the habit of a man Arimant ſhould ſteale me away, and carry me where he thought fit, upon a promiſe to marry me at the firſt place where it could conveniently be done, and that in the mean time we ſhould live as Brother and Siſter. This being the reſolution, Arimant provided clothes, as well for Clarina, as for me; he brought them unto us, and promiſed without faile to be in the houſe where he lodged, the fifth day after, which he ſhewed unto Clarina, that ſhe might conduct me thither. See Hylas, unto what the ſeverity of Parents may drive their Children, and ſee what came on't: The five dayes being expired, and making no queſtion but Arimant was at his lodging according to appointment; I trimmed my ſelfe up like a man, and Clarina alſo, and diſguiſed our ſelves ſo well, as meeting my mother when ſhe came from the Temple, ſhe knew us not; but I was much amazed when I came to Arimants lodging, and found no Arimant there, and much more when night came upon us, and could heare no newes of him: Then did I begin to repent of my raſh act, and being ſo haſty as to ſtirre out of the houſe till firſt I knew he was in his lodging: But the greateſt trouble was the report ſpred abroad all over the Towne that I was loſt, and could not any where be heard of; that I was ſearched for all over; This made me tell Clarina, that come what fortune would, we muſt ſome way or other get out of the Town, and that ſince Arimant was not there, certainly ſome great miſchance had hapned unto him: When we were thus conſulting, extreamly perplexed and knew not which way to turne our ſelves, I ſaw the young man who waited upon Arimant enter into the Chamber; imagine Hylas, how great our contentment was when we ſaw him: Oh my good friend, ſaid I unto him, where is thy Maſter? He is in his owne houſe, ſaid he unto me, but ſo wounded as he cannot come unto you. Who wounded him? (replied I, and trembled every joynt): One, anſwered he, whom he has kild, and to be ſhort, you muſt know that my Maſter not being ignorant of the deſigne which Clorangus had upon you, he challenged him, they fought, and he killed him; but yet he came not off without two great wounds, which though not dangerous, yet are ſo troubleſome that he can neither ride nor go, the one is in his thigh, and the other in his leg. Now ſeeing he could not come hither as he promiſed, he ſent me to wait upon you, and conduct you where he is, having furniſhed me with horſes and all things neceſſary. Friend, ſaid I unto him, I knew ſome great occaſion hindred thy Maſter from being here, I am glad both he and I are rid of the trouble of Clorangus, but I wiſh it had not coſt him ſo deare; when thou wilt, we will be going that we may the ſooner be with thy Maſter, and ſee his wounds dreſſed: Truly, ſaid he, I thinke there is no better ſalve than your ſelfe; then calling Clarina we conſulted what we ſhould doe to eſcape, it being probable, ſtrict guards would be at the Gates: and after a long debate we concluded that the young man ſhould goe unto the Pallace of Rithimer to heare what people ſaid, and to learne if it was poſſible, in what manner they ſearched for me, and that in the mean time we ſhould cut our haire, to the end that if they did ſearch for us, they might not ſo ſoon know us.

[Page] This being reſolved upon, the young man went accordingly, and was ſo nimble and ſubtle, as he mingled himſelfe amongſt the Domeſtiques of Rithimer, where he heard all their diſcourſe to be of nothing but upon me; ſome ſaid I was fled, and had good reaſon for it, becauſe they would needs force me to marry Clorangus, the uglieſt fellow amongſt all the Ciſalpine Gaules; others who thought themſelves more wiſe, murmured againſt the wife of Rithimer, ſaying ſhe had packt me away, being jealous of her husband and me, and this opinion went ſo far that Rithimer beleeved it, remembring ſhe had ſerved him ſuch a tricke before, and this was the reaſon that when my Mother fell downe upon her knees and beſeeched him that a ſtrict ſearch might be made for me, he anſwered her with an angry ſmile: Go, go, Madam, if you doe not know where you daughter is, aske your Cozen, and without further anſwer turned away from her. This was the reaſon, that my mother telling this unto his wife, and how Rithimer ſlighted the ſearch for me, ſhe beleeved that Rithimer had ſent me away, and hid me in ſome place for his pleaſure.

As for my Mother, ſhe knew not whom or what to ſuſpect; one while ſhe thought Rithimer had raviſhed me away; another while, that it was his wife, who out of jealouſie had done it; and to thinke of Clorangus, ſhe could not imagine he ſhould be any inſtrument in it. And ſo not knowing which to be the cauſe, ſhe ſuſpected both Rithimer and his wife. Hence it was that all three being jealous of each other, they were not very hot in ſearching for me, but rather laughed at one another when ſuch a thing was propounded.

This gave we the opportunity of getting out of the Towne by noone, for it being the market day, we eaſily paſſed amongſt the crowd, none being at the Gates who had any charge to looke or take any notice of us. So when we were out of the Suburbs of the Towne, we tooke Horſe, and when we came to a Wood we fell to eat ſuch Victuals as the young man had provided for us: Then ſetting forward, we travelled all the night, and the next day till noone; then the young man brought us into a Houſe, the Owner whereof was a friend unto Arimant, and unto whom the young man delivered a Letter from him, for whoſe ſake we were entertained with all poſſible welcome; but I was ſo weary with my travell, as I fell aſleep almoſt with the meat in my mouth, ſo as we went all to bed, and reſted our ſelves here all that day▪ and the night following; For my part I doe not thinke I ever wakened all the time, at leaſt I am ſure the Sun was up before I opened my eyes, and before I got out of my bed; then the young man called me, and methought the night had been ſhorter than uſuall: As ſoon as we were all ready, we ſet forward againe and travelled untill night, when we came to the Towne of the Libicians with all contentment. But I cannot expreſſe the joyes of Arimant, when I came unto his bedſide; it was ſuch, as his wounds did open again, and began to bleed afreſh as he was forced to keep his bed ſtill; his joyes were ſo great to ſee me in the houſe, as I beleeve, if I had not taken notice of it, he had ſaid nothing for fear of affrighting me; but ſeeing his colour to change, I asked him whether he did not find himſelfe ill: It is nothing, Brother ſaid he (for ſo it was agreed we ſhould call each other) onely I beſeech you let a Chirurgion come to me whilſt you pull off your boots, for though I be in bed, yet I will ſup with you. Then after I had imbraced him, I called for the Chirurgion, and retired my ſelfe a little to my Chamber: But oh how jocund were Clarina and I when we were together: for, having paſſed over ſo many frights, we now thought our ſelves returned even from death to life. Whilſt we were thus rejoycing together, one came to advertiſe us that Arimant had loſt ſo much blood, that his wounds were much worſe than they were before, and he in great danger. I ran in a fright unto him, and found that the blood was ſtopped, but the Chirurgion deſired me to let him reſt all that night, and told me that there was no great danger yet, but that there might be, if good heed was not taken. Then was I forced to retire my ſelfe without ſeeing him: And ſee, Hylas, what love can doe; the day before I was ſo weary with travelling, as I was not able to keep my eyes open, but now after as much more pains taken, I could not cloſe an eye all the night long, but was ſtill ſending to know how Arimant did, and could not reſt till the next morning it was permitted me to ſee him. Brother, ſaid I unto him, were you ſo ill and would not tell me? I muſt confeſſe indeed, ſaid he, that I did perceive my wounds to bleed, but I muſt confeſſe withall, that I was deſirous to loſe a little blood for you, as in payment of the abundance which you loſt for me. Oh Brother, ſaid I unto him, our deſignes in that were much different: [Page] for in loſing mine, the intent was to preſerve my ſelf for you, but you by this would take your ſelfe from me.

But, Hylas, why ſhould I ſtand relating all theſe paſſages, ſince this time, which I muſt accompt the happieſt of all my life, is thus changed, and nothing remaines of it, but ſo much memory as to lament the loſſe of it? But however, let me tell you, that after we had ſtayed ſix weeks in this place, for the recovery of Arimant, his Father ſent for him; for he hearing of the Duell with Clorangus, he was in continuall feare of him, not onely in reſpect of the wounds he had received, but alſo of Rithimers hatred. His being thus ill of his wounds, was the cauſe why he deferred all his deſigns that he had upon me, until he was better recovered, and quitted his bed. And now when he was recovered and well, he began to urge me further then I would permit him: I told him, that he might conſider, I was his, and that thoſe Teſtimonies which I had given, might well put him out of all doubt of it: That what he deſired was not reaſonable, unleſſe upon ſuch conditions as might be free form all manner of blame: That he might well thinke, that when I put my ſelfe into his hands, it was with a deſigne of giving up my ſelf entirely unto him, as I had done, and yet would doe; but yet I beſeeched him to have regard unto what both of us ought to doe; for as I owed unto him all manner of contentment and ſatisfaction, ſo he owed unto me the preſervation of that thing, which onely could make me worthy of him, which was my chaſtity. And when he anſwered, that he never had any other deſigne; and that he had rather die then move any thing unto me, but upon conditions of marriage, I told him, that it was impoſſible the marriage could be in that place, but Rithimer would know it, and purſue his revenge, and therefore it was requiſite to deferre unto ſome other time and place which was out of danger. Beſides this conſideration, it were good that his Father were acquainted with it▪ And though we were both reſolved to go through with our deſigne, yet it was but fit and reaſonable to render him that duty. I put him in minde that the Gods were well pleaſed with the reverence and obedience of Children to their Parents; and that if we did ſo, they would bleſſe our intentions and actions the better.

To be briefe, Hylas, I uſed ſo many arguments and reaſons to him, as he taking me in his armes, and kiſſing me; It is impoſſible (ſaid he) to reſiſt againſt any thing you pleaſe; and therefore order and diſpoſe of my life and contentment, as you ſhall think good. And when he received his Fathers command to go unto him; doe you not ſee, ſaid I unto him, how God begins to proſper our deſigne, ſince we are going unto that place where we may more eaſily accompliſh it?

He therefore went unto him, and carried me alſo; but being unwilling his Father ſhould know me, before he had conſented unto his marriage, he changed my name, and called me Cleomires, ſaying I was a Tranſalpine Gaul, and that I having that language, I ſhould the better paſſe ſo. Then for a better colour of keeping me with him, he ſaid I had ſaved his life in his Combate with Clorangus, having hindred two of his men in ambuſh from falling upon him, and forced them to fly; ſo as this generous act forced him never to part from me.

Thus we ſet forward in our journey, and arrived at Eporedes, where Arimants Father received us with ſuch welcome, as did manifeſt the affection which he bore unto his Son: And when he underſtood me to be Cleomires, of whoſe valour and aſſiſtance his Son had informed him, I cannot expreſſe thoſe thankes and offers which he made unto me: for truly he was a very noble minded Cavalier, full of virtue, and worthy of the Title which he had.

Both Arimant and I were very glad of ſo good a beginning, hoping that ere long this good entertainment would bring us to a happy concluſion of our deſires. Some dayes being paſt, and Arimant not able to reſt until our marriage was concluded, we conſulted together how to bring it about; In concluſion, we did all foure concur in opinion, (for Clarina and the young man, were alwaies admitted to our Counſells) that the beſt way was, for me to make the over [...]ture unto the Father; becauſe ſince I came, I had inſinuated my ſelfe ſo farre into his good opinion, us he believed whatſoever I ſaid, and would be counſelled and adviſed unto any thing I would. I took this charge upon me much againſt my heart, thinking it to be againſt cuſtome for me to be the wooer, it being ordinarily the mans part: Yet having already broken the cuſtomes of other women, and aſſumed the habit of man, I thought my affection at this time, might well make me undertake [Page] it; and ſeeing it was Arimants mind, I thought it a crime to contradict it.

I went therefore unto the Father, who was walking by himſelf in the Garden; and after a ſalute, and ſome diſcourſe of the fine ſcituation of the place, I fell at length to talk upon the contentment which every one had in ſeeing themſelves perpetuated in their Children: And afterwards hinting unto him that it ſhould be his alſo, when [...]e conſidered Arimant as the moſt nobly accompliſhed Cavalier, not onely of all the Salaſes and b [...] bicians, but alſo of all Aemilia; he anſwered me, that my affection to him, made me blind, and moved me to think him ſo. I muſt needs confeſſe, Sir, ſaid I unto him, that I doe love him above any Cavalier I ever knew: but I doe aſſure you, Sir, before I did love him in that high degree, I did eſteem and thinke him ſo, and all thoſe that ever ſaw him are of the ſame judgement. But Sir, ſince I am gone ſo farre, give me leave to tell you, I cannot chuſe but wonder, that it ſhould be ſo long before you marry him; It is full time, his age requires it; and I believe it would be a great addition of contentment unto you, to ſee your ſelfe a Grandfather of many ſweet Children it is very true, anſwered he, and I deſire nothing more; but good wives are ſo very rare, and I ſee ſo few of them, [...] we muſt of neceſſity tarry till heaven find ſuch a one out for him. Perhaps Sir, ſaid I, you are too curious in your choice. I beſeech you pardon me, ſaid he, for truly I am not; provided I could find out a noble and a vertuous woman, in whoſe family there is no blemiſh, I ſhould not inſiſt muſt upon Riches. Methinkes, Sir, ſaid I unto him, that you omit one principall quality: What is that, ſaid he, it is, Sir, ſaid I, that they doe love each other very well. Moſt true, replyed he preſently; but I did not inſert that quality, becauſe it is to be firſt preſuppoſed; proteſting unto Cleomires, I had rather die, th [...]n to ſee my ſelfe driven to ſuch a neceſſity, as to force Ariman [...] to marry a woman unworthy of himſelfe, or one he could not love: having already broke off one marriage, becauſe it was not according to his fancy. In this ſaid I, you are a good Father: But, Sir, what will you ſay, if I that am a ſtranger, ſhould propoſe one in this Country, who has all the qualifications and conditions which you mention? and [...]one with whom it ſhall be long of your ſelfe, if it be not a match. I will then ſay, replyed he, that you do know more then we doe. No, Sir, ſaid I, not that I know more; but becauſe perhaps I have had more opportunity of knowing her better then others: and if you pleaſe I will propoſe her unto you, but it ſhall be upon condition, that you honour me ſo farre, as to take all I ſay, to proceed from one who infinitely honours you, and loves Arimans above all the world. You have already given, my Son, good teſtimony of what you ſay, anſwered he, and I have ſuch a beliefe of your affection unto me, as you need not queſtion but I ſhall take whatſoever you propound; as coming from one whom I ought to love, honour, and belive, before any that I know.

In this aſſurance Sir, replyed I, I ſhall tell you, that there is one in this very Towne, whoſe nobleneſſe of Family, virtue, and ſuch love as ought to be betwixt Husband and Wife, may be found in her; and as for her Portion, it is ſutable to ſuch as are of her quality▪ Theſe things altogether, are not inconſiderable. Good Cleomires, ſaid he, name her quickly. It is, Sir, replyed I and bluſhed, Cryſeide. Truly, ſaid he then, as for her Family and Portion I muſt needs confeſſe it; but as for the reſt, I know not what to ſay: and I muſt tell you, the time was when I thought to motion it unto her mother, and had done it, but that ſhe was ſo neare of kin unto the wife of Rithimer, who is my mortall enemy. Sir, ſaid I unto him, will you be pleaſed to let me ſpeak in her behalfe, without offence unto your judgement? unto which he anſwering, yes, I went on thus:

Cryſeide has done two things, which may well make you change your judgement of her: The firſt is, The cutting her veines▪ and chuſing rather to die, then marry Clorangus: And the other is, Her flight out of the hands of her Mother. But to cleare theſe two things unto you, Sir, I muſt diſcover a thing unto you, which I believe you did not know, and which I beſeech you not to take ill, ſince all due reſpect was ever preſerved unto you. Be pleaſed therefore to know Sir, that Arimant having ſeen her of whom we ſpeak, and conſidering her beauty, he fell in love with her, and uſed all wayes to make himſelfe loved: She being ſenſible of the honour which you Son did her; after long Courtſhip, and ſuch addreſſes as are uſuall amongſt perſons that love, ſhe aked him what his intention in it was, Arimant, in this, as well as in all other his actions, ſhewed himſelf a noble Cavalier, and one that did not degenerate from the vertue of his illuſtrious Predeceſſors, but anſwered her, that his pretenſions were to obtaine her favour in way of marriage:

[Page] And when ſhe ſet before him the hatred which Rithimer bore unto you, and the neer relation betwixt his wife and her mother; Arimant anſwered, that the Gods who would not have this emnity perpetuall, perhaps intended to reconcile the two Houſes by this alliance; and aſſured himſelfe, that when you Sir were acquainted with it (for he would do nothing without your permiſſion) you would like of it, and commend his juſt deſign. After this, Love did every day ſo increaſe on both ſides as they promiſed each other to marry, provided your approbation could be procured, and in the mean time both of them to uſe their utmoſt endeavours to obtain the conſent of their Parents.

When things was brought to this paſſe, Chryſeide was carried away unto Rithimers houſe, where they would needs force her to marry Clorangus; you know Sir what kind of man he was, the moſt deformed and vitiouſly minded of all men living, but though he had been the moſt compleat and pleaſing, yet Cryſeide could not marry him, having already given her ſelfe unto your Son: Yet in this, you may ſee her vertue, becauſe ſhe had promiſed nothing but upon condition of their conſent upon whom ſhe depended, and finding their minds ſo far from her deſires, ſhe reſolved to dye; this was an act of vertue beyond Lucretia's; for Cryſeide would prevent the crime before hand and dye; but the other dyed not till after the crime committed. If this be not a great demonſtration of her love to Arimant, and whether ſhe was not reſolved to preſerve her affection intirely for him, I refer it Sir, unto your judgement. But ſo it was, that ſhe being miraculouſly reſcued from the grave, and began to recover the great loſſe of her blood, ſhe was advertiſed by one of her Mothers maids, that her Mother and Rithimers wife would packe her out of the preſence of that Prince to make her marry Clorangus whether ſhe would or no. Now ſhe thought it high time to have recourſe unto the laſt remedy, and doubtleſſe had if Arimant had not come unto her, and with tears in his eyes diverted her from that mortall reſolution, and told her that moſt certainly if ſhe did dye he would follow her, and therefore it was better to retire her ſelfe from this cruell tyranny of her Mother; that if ſhe would truſt him, he would vow by all ſacred and inviolable oathes, he would carry her amongſt the Veſtals, where ſhe might ſtay untill he could obtain your approbation of their marriage.

Now Sir, I beſeech you judge whether theſe two actions can be diſliked, or whether there wanted any either generoſity or love in this woman, or any other quality or condition which you can deſire?

And thus I ended, extreamly aſtoniſhing the father, who walked two or three turnes without ſpeaking one word [...] whilſt I was in expectation of the ſentence either of life or death: At laſt lifting up his head which he had all the while hung downe, he anſwered thus.

I muſt confeſſe Cleomire you have told me moſt ſtrange things, which may well plead my excuſe for being a little penſive. But conſidering that there is nothing in this world which comes by chance, but by the wiſe providence of the Gods, I will beleeve that all theſe things which you have told me, have happened by their wils, & ſince it is ſo, I ſhould be very harſh if I offer to croſſe them. My Son, you ſay, loves Cryſeide, and I do beleeve it, for I have heard that his voyage to the Libicians, was only to make addreſſes unto her, and fight with Clorangus who pretended unto her. Cryſeide hath alſo given very great teſtimonies of her love to him. I doe conclude from hence, that the Gods do never make ſuch contraries to meet, and ſympathetically agree, but they are contented with the good will which is betwixt them. Friend, I do commend my Sons choice, for Cryſeide doth highly deſerve to be loved, and now I know her reaſons which induced her unto what ſhe did, my eſteem of her is double unto what it was. Tell therefore my Son as much, for I ſee that it was he who imployed you to ſpeak unto me? Tell him, that ſince according to his duty he has reſpected me ſo much as not to contract with Cryſeide without my conſent, I doe take it ſo kindly, as I both approve and commend his choice, and pray unto the Gods that I may ſoon ſee them both together: And though I doe foreſee that Richimer will rage more hatred againſt me, and colour it with my Sons offence in raviſhing his wifes Cozen out of his houſe, yet that ſhall not make me alter my opinion being reſolved to countenance and maintain them in ſpite of all danger that can come unto me.

I beleeve Hylas, you thinke that this anſwer did give me as much contentment as I could deſire, and well you might; for after I kneeled downe and thanked him in behalf [Page] of his Son and Cryſeide (not daring to declare my ſelfe without the advice of my dear Arimant) I thought he would never have ſatisfied himſelfe with thanking me, hugging and kiſſing me. Then I parted from him, and went to acquaint Arimant with my happy ſucceſſe which raviſhed him beyond all expreſſion: At laſt it was reſolved amongſt us, that ſince I had told his Father I was amongſt the Veſtals, I ſhould not yet declare my ſelfe, leſt I ſhould be taken in a lie; For all lies have this quality, that when they are known, they make truth it ſelfe ſuſpected. And to avoid the rage of Rithimer and my mother we thought it beſt to conceale our marriage for a while, whilſt in the mean time endeavours were uſed to pacific them: Arimants Father approved of this, and from thence forward referred the whole matter unto the will of his Son.

Now Hylas ſee, how men purpoſe, and God diſpoſeth, who would have thought but that their buſineſſe was brought to as good a paſſe as we could wiſh or expect? And yet all our croſſes hitherto were but playes in compariſon of what enſued; For Arimant and I deſiring to conſummate our deſign, pretended to go unto Cryſeide, and after we had provided womens cloths, and all that was neceſſary for our marriage, and were come into a Towne of the Caturges, we intended to ſtay there ſo long as to make the father beleeve we were gone unto her whom we had with us. But as ill luck was, Gundehunt King of the Burgundians having paſſed over the Alps with a puiſſant Army, did fall into the Territories of the Taurinois and Caturges ſo unexpectedly as he found them without any defence, or thoughts of any Enemy: And by fortune, the very next day we came into this Towne, he fell upon it, where all they could do was to ſhut the Gates againſt the ſurpriſe of the firſt Comers; but when the maine body of the army came up, all the inhabitants could then do was to render their Town upon ſuch pittifull condition as little mended the matter, unleſſe that the women were not raviſhed nor their Temples pillaged as they were in other places, and all the reſt left to the diſcretion of the ravenous Souldier. [...] Oh heavens! Hylas what a lamentable ſight was it to ſee women carried away Captives out of the arms of their husbands: No intreaties, no tears, nor no offers could redeeme them: So ſadly did I reſent this miſery, as I can ſpeake it experimentally: as fortune was, I was that day in woman [...] habit, and as I thought not ill dreſſed, though my haire was ſo ſhort that I could not trim my ſelfe ſo well as I deſired; and poor Arimant did caraſſe me, as if he did foreſee it ſhould be the laſt time: The Towne was preſently diſtributed into quarters; and every place aſſigned unto ſome troope, who by degrees turned the Owners out of doors, both men, moveables and horſes▪ Arimant hearing of this baſe capitulation, went crying through the Towne, that it was better to dye than ſubmit unto ſuch unworthy termes, telling the people that their wals were yet up, that the Enemies had no wings to fly over them, that their arrowes were not all ſpent, nor their bowes broken: he promiſed them that he would defend their Towne till Rithimer came to relieve them, who was already upon his march, and that they ſhould never be branded with ſo much ignominy. But ſeeing there was no remedy, and that none ſtirred upon his words, he drew his Sword, and cryed in the open ſtreets that the principals of the Towne had betrayed and ſold the people; that for their parts they would receive no harm, but all would fall upon the poor people, ſo as it was better to give them up to the Enemy, and ſave the reſt: And thus he cryed out ſo lowd, as he was followed by ſome, with whom he ſeized upon a Gate, which he defended ſo well, that Gondebunt was forced to retreat, and fall on upon another Quarter, where the Inhabitants did let him in: And thus betrayed by thoſe of the place, whilſt he was repulſing thoſe Enemies which were before him, he was aſſaulted ſo furiouſly upon the backe, as at laſt, vertue being over powred by number, and he receiving many wounds, he was taken and killed, though he would never yeild, chuſing rather to dye, then fall into the hands of thoſe, whom he called Barbarians. As for me, to my miſery, though I may call it good fortune, that part of the Towne where I hapned to be was aſſigned for the Quarter of King Gondebunt; and thoſe who were with him tooke me and many other Ladies priſoners, and all committed to ſafe cuſtody; where we ſtayed untill the coming of this great King, in hopes his generoſity would give us liberty, as well as his vertue had preſerved out chaſtity.

Now Hylas you know both me and my fortune which I beleeve you will thinke to be very ſtrange; ſince when I was even at the very top, heaven daſhed them, and took away my [...]berty, and thus you ſee my miſerable condition.

Thus has the fair Cryſeide (ſaid Hylas) related her fortune unto me, and I was ſo delighted [Page] with it, as I did not thinke it a quarter of an houre ſince her firſt beginning, when it was ſo late, that all her companions came to tell her it was time to retire. And waiting upon them unto the ſide of the River Arar, I then retired as full of love, as I was of ſatisfaction, to know that this faire one had learned how to love, and that her affection was not ſettled any where, ſince the death of Arimant, which gave me abundance of hope to arrive at the Port of my deſires.

All the company ſtood very attentive, and deſirous to heare the concluſion of this Relation; Hylas ſtood ſilent, and ſo as it ſeemed as if it was onely becauſe they were then come unto a place where onely one could paſſe at once: And when all were paſſed, thy flocked about him, as deſirous to heare the continuation of his diſcourſe, giving great attention unto it. What? what doe you expect more from me? ſaid he, and wondred they ſhould expect it: If there be any amongſt you, that knowes any more of the ſtory then I have related, I ſhall willingly lend them audience; but if you look for any more from me, good friends, you will be miſtaken, for I have not a jot more to tell you. All the company broke out into laughter to ſee their expectations thus fruſtrated. Servant, ſervant, ſaid Alexis, did you thinke that you performed your promiſe with this ſhort come off? Did you not promiſe me a relation of your ſeverall loves? and you have related onely the misfortunes of Cryſeide and Arimant: you have told us what you did not promiſe, and left untold that which you did promiſe; reſembling thoſe who had rather give where they doe not owe, then pay their due debts. Hylas being thus twitted, ſmiled, and ſaid not a word, knowing that Alexis was in the right. At laſt caſting up his head; Miſtreſſe, ſaid he, I doe confeſſe all you ſay, but the fault is your own: but if the money which I payed you was not good, why did not you refuſe it: I mean, if you did not like what I told, why did you not interrupt me? for my part, I thought the money ſo good, that when I received it from Cryſeide it contented me, and was pleaſed with the repetition of it unto you. However, ſaid Alcidon, and interrupted, ſince you have begun the ſtory of this generous Lady, you ſhould have ended it: I aſſure you, Sir, ſaid Hylas, I have emptied my Purſe of all that money: I mean, that I know no more of Cryſeides ſtory, onely this, that ſhe went away without bidding adieu unto any, and I could never hear, whither. Madam, ſaid Florice then, and turned towards Alexis, are you deſirous to heare the concluſion of that ſtory? Yes, anſwered the Druid, and I ſhould be obliged unto thoſe that would tell it me, and I believe the reſt of our way will permit it. I ſhall be very glad, replyed Florice, to ſatisfie your curioſity; for Cryſeide ſince the departure of Hylas, related unto me at Lyons, all that he hath, and that I ſhall tell you, But it ſhall be upon this condition, that Hylas ſhall make good his promiſe another time; and he aſſuring her he would, ſhe began thus:

The ſequell of the Hiſtory of Cryſeide and Arimant.

BE pleaſed to know, Madam, that this generous Lady being detained a Priſoner in Lyons as you have heard, going one morning unto the Temple, a young man came unto her, and in the croud did put a little Book into her hand, and ſaid unto her in the Italian language, To morrow about this time you ſhall ſee me here, and ſuddainly thruſting himſelfe among the people he left her in the greateſt aſtoniſhment that ever was; for ſhe knew him not, not underſtood the meaning of this little Book; yet being very diſcreet, ſhe made no ſhew of her amazement onely as long as divine ſervice laſted, ſhe beſeeched Mercury to grant that it might be good newes. The Sacrifice ſeemed longer unto her then ordinary; and being extreamly impatient to know what this Book was, ſhe opened it: her Companions who ſaw her very intent upon it, thought it to be a Prayer Book, as indeed it was, and never took notice of any thing elſe: After ſhe had turned over many leaves and found nothing, ſhe was more zealous in her devotion unto Mercury and Apollo, who is the revealer of all obſcurities, to direct her in the underſtanding of this, never remembring all this while the way of conveying Letters betwixt poor Arimant and her ſelfe: ſhe thought him dead, and therefore could not imagine any uſe of ſuch a Book; but at laſt, looking upon it more preciſely, and turning over more leaves, ſhe found a Letter, the ſuperſcription of which ſhe knew; Oh how ſhe was ſtartled [...] it; ſhe bluſht, her hands and legs began to tremble; and all being ready to go away, ſhe remained [Page] ſtill upon her knees not knowing what ſhe did, nor what ſhe ſhould doe; yet none took great notice of it, onely thought that her ſtay proceeded from her devotion. At the laſt, her companion pulled her by the ſleeve, and made her follow the reſt who walkked two and two, as Hylas related.

She was no ſooner in the houſe, but ſhe went into a Cloſet, ſhut the doore after her, and looking upon the Letter; alſo imagining Arimant to be dead, ſhe thought it ſome trick of Hylas; but opening it ſhe found theſe words.

Arimant's Letter unto Cryſeide.

MAdam, I live ſtill, if it can be called life to be from you: I have ſent this faithfull meſſenger to know how you doe, and to tell you how I am: Oh ye Gods, preſerve Cryſeide, and grant Arimant patience enough to endure all his misfortunes.

Till now, ſhe knew not what to thinke; but when ſhe found the name of Arimant, ſhe knew that he was alive: ſhe fell down upon her knees, and lifted up her eyes to heaven. Bleſſed be the Gods, ſaid ſhe, for this tranſcendent happineſſe, when I had the leaſt hopes of it. Afterwards riſing up, ſhe ſat down upon the bed, where ſhe kiſſed the Letter a hundred times, accuſed her ſelfe of oblivion, for not knowing him who brought it; and calling her memory to account, ſhe knew him to be the faithfull Bellaris, that young man who uſed to bring Letters from Arimant, and brought her from her Mother unto Arimant. Where were my eyes (ſaid ſhe to her ſelfe) and where was my judgement, that ſeeing him, and hearing his voice, yet I ſhould neither know his face nor his tongue? Then looking upon the Letter againe, and knowing moſt certainly that it was the Character of Arimant: Oh ye Gods, ſaid ſhe, I thank you moſt heartily for preſerving my life ſo long, as to heare this good newes. I praiſe ye, oh ſoveraign Goodneſſes, and I now deſire no more, but onely to be ſo happy as that theſe eyes may ſee him, and that this mouch which hath ſo often lamented him, may kiſſe him. She had continued longer, if Clarina who would neverforſake her, had to come to look her; ſhe opened the door unto her▪ Oh Clarina, ſaid ſhe, and kiſſed her; I have good news to tell you; but Clarina telling her that dinner was upon the Table, and that every one ſtayed for her, ſhe could not then tell her any more; but the joyes of her face did ſufficiently ſpeak the inward contentment of her ſoul.

Cryſeide did love Clarina very well, but though ſhe had loved her leſſe, ſhe would willingly have loſt her dinner to tell her this newes; for it is the quality of all thoſe who receive any great contentment, never to thinke it compleat, until they have communicated it unto thoſe they love. On the other ſide, Clarina was ſo netled with impatience, that ſhe no ſooner ſaw her Miſtreſſe from the Table, but ſhe followed her into the Cloſet where ſhe found her before; and the door being ſhut, Oh Clarina, ſaid ſhe, and took her about the neck, Oh my deare friend, I have great newes to tell you. Know, my wench, that A [...]imant it alive: Oh heavens, ſaid Clarina, Arimant alive! Yes, yes, Clarina, replyed Cryſeide, he is alive, and has ſent me this Letter: and now I value not all my miſeries, ſince he is alive to helpe me in ſupporting them. But, Madam, I beſeech you, ſaid Clarina, How came you to know all this? Here ſweet-heart (ſaid ſhe, and gave her the little Book) here is the meſſenger of the welcome newes. Clarina then tooke the Book, and kiſſed it a hundred times, and did ſo wet it with teares of joy, as Cryſeide ſaid unto her; Oh Clarina, you ſpoile it with your teares, methinks you ſhould better preſerve it: Then whilſt Clarina took the Letter in it, and read it, Cryſeide related unto her all the paſſage in the Temple, and how ſhe did not know Bellaris, whom yet ſhe hoped to ſee againe the next day when ſhe went againe; but if by fortune I cannot ſpeak unto him by reaſon of my companions, and others who have eyes upon me. Then Clarina, ſaid ſhe, you muſt by any means go unto him, and enquire how all ſquares go with my dear Arimant: In the mean time, provide me Pen, Ink and Paper, that I may return an anſwer. I ſhall not faile, Madam, anſwered Clarina, and it ſhall go hard but I will ſpeak with him; for in this Country they are not ſo circumſpect over us, as in ours. But, Madam, let us not ſtay too long together here, leſt we ſhould give any cauſe of ſuſpition unto thoſe who guard us. True, Clarina (anſwered Cryſeide) the Gods have [Page] ſent thee into the world to be my comfort and Counſellor.

Upon this, they went out of the Cloſet unto the reſt of the Ladies Priſoners, who began already to aske where Cryſeide was; for ſhe having the firſt rank, ſhe could not be well miſſed; and beſides ſhe was ſo exceedingly loved of them all, as there was not one amongſt them who would not ſerve her with their lives. She began therefore a hundred pretty ſports amongſt them, to paſſe away the time of their Dete [...]ion, or rather impriſonment: For Gondebunt had in his abſence commanded they ſhould be ſo treated, as that they ſhould have no cauſe to grieve for being out of their Country.

This day ſeemed long unto Cryſeide and Clarina, and the night longer; and the morning being come, they both thought that they went unto the Temple later than accuſtomed: At laſt, the ſo much deſired hour being come, they went together: And Cryſeide caſt her eyes on both ſides, in hopes of ſeeing Rellaris; and ſhe had no ſooner received the holy water at her entrance into the Temple, but ſhe eſpied him, ſtaying there purpoſly the better to ſee her when ſhe paſſed. Cryſeide going as neere unto him as well ſhe could, had no more leiſure as ſhe paſſed by, but to ſay unto him; Clarina followes me; he quickly underſtood her meaning, and conceiving it the beſt way to avoid ſuſpition; he looked about for her paſſing by, which was after all the Ladies; and becauſe the women went without order, he thruſt in amongſt them, and going neer her, he ſaid unto her, and looked another way as he walked; Where may I meet you Madam? In the Athenian Garden, anſwered ſhe, if we go thither this evening: but how does Arimant? He is in good health, anſwered he [...] Upon this, ſhe lifted up her eyes unto heaven, and went on, to avoid ſuſpition: Bellaris went preſently and enquired about the Towne v [...]ry warily, to know where this Athenian Garden was, and being informed of every thing, he went unto the Gardiner, and for money got leave to walke there, when he would: For the Gardiner never refuſed ſuch a courteſſe unto any that ſeemed to be of any kind of quality, eſpecially he pretending that he was ſicke, and the Phyſitians had preſcrib [...]d him to walke for recovery of his health. Having therefore put his buſineſſe into ſuch good order, he went to the ſide of the River Arar, that he might ſee when they went unto the garden.

In the mean time, as ſoon as Sacrifice was done Clarina acquainted her Miſtreſſe with the diſcourſe ſhe had with Bellaris, and how it was appointed to goe that day unto the Athenian garden; how he aſſured her, Arimant was in good health, and could not have any more particulars from him, the reaſon was, becauſe the place was not convenient, and it may be he deſired to tell the good News unto you firſt: I do like very well of the Athenian garden, anſwered Cryſeide, becauſe there none will interrupt us. They had talked longer if dinner had not beene upon the Table, and becauſe Cryſeide did paſſionately deſire to ſpeake with the truſty Bellaris, ſhe went to walke ſomething ſooner than uſuall, and all the Company did like well of her humour.

As ſoon as Bellaris ſaw her enter into the boat, for the River Arar was betwixt the houſe and the garden, he got before them▪ and entring in, walked in an Alley neer the door. When the Ladies went to walke, Clarina and the reſt of the women who waited in their Chambers did not go with them, but might goe into the Towne with any of the guard, and this was the reaſon why Cryſeide went alone. As ſoone as ſhe was entred, ſhe caſt her eye on all ſides, and preſently eſpied Bellari [...], and he ſeeming to be very inquiſitive, firſt looking upon one, and then another, as they walked; then as if he were extreamly moved unto compaſſion, he ſpoke aloud in Italian: Oh what a loſſe hath Gaule Ciſalpine, being deprived of ſo many faire and virtuous Ladies? But when Cryſeide paſſed by; Oh heavens [...] cryed he out, Is this Cryſeide? Oh moſt unfortunate Mother, can ſhe endure this loſſe? then ſpeaking ſtill Italian, and falling down upon his knees before her, Madam, (ſaid he aloud) I ſhould think my ſelf the happieſt man alive, if I could do you any ſervice, being ſo much obliged unto it, as I ſhould thinke all my misfortunes nothing if I could but have that contentment; for having received my education under your family, I thinke my ſelfe commanded unto it, unleſſe I were the moſt ungrateful perſon that lives. Cryſeide was a little ſurpriſed, and not knowing how to ſpeak, was a little ſilent; and this made thoſe who looked upon her to be leſſe ſuſpitious. And becauſe Bellaris ſaw ſhe was ſurpriſed; It ſeems, Madam, ſaid he, you have forgotten poor Bellaris, who was brought up in the houſe with you, and who had not left you, if a fond deſire of ſerving men when they travell into ſtrange Countries, had not moved me to follow the Noble and Generous [Page] Martiantes: Oh my friend Bellaris (ſaid Cryſeide then, as if ſhe remembred him) who could expect to ſee you here? what is it which brought you hither? Until now, Madam, ſaid he, I thought that [...] bad fortune brought me hither; but now I ſay, it is the greateſt happineſſe I could wiſh for, ſince I have the honour to ſee you, and offering my ſelfe unto your ſervice. I thanke thee good Bellaris, ſaid ſhe unto him, but we can expect no helpe but onely from God; for being in the hands of King Gondebu [...] who but God can take us out? Why, Madam, doe you not try to [...]anſome your ſelfe ſaid he? I offer my ſelfe to go to Eporedes unto your friends, and [...] any thing I can for you. Friend, anſwered Cryſeide, I doe not refuſe your helpe; but we muſt ſtay untill the King return, and then we will ſee what may be done.

The reſt of the Ladies hearing this man ſpeak Italian, they gathered about him, as very deſirous to know what he was. One of them did aske him the queſtion; Madam, ſaid he, I am a Sallaſſia [...], brought up under the family of Cryſeide, and one who does ſo well remember the benefits I have received, as I would at the perill of my life doe her any ſervice: I was brought into this place not as a Priſoner, but as a ſervant unto Martiantes, a Cavalier well known in that Province: he was taken and killed by a company of Souldiers, at the foot of the Pirennian hills, who left me for dead by him, but the Gods Kept me alive, to bring the ſad newes unto his friends, and to lament the loſſe all the dayes of my life. Alas (ſaid Cryſeide, ſeeming to be ſorry) is Martiantes dead? He is, Madam, anſwered Bellaris. I aſſure you, ſaid he, I am very ſorry for it, for he was a Cavalier of great merit. Upon this, all the Ladies divided themſelves into ſeverall walkes, leaving Cryſeide alone with Bellaris: and when ſhe ſaw none were in the compaſſe of hearing; Ah my friend Bellaris, ſaid ſhe unto him in a low voyce, now tell me, how does my deare Arimant, and through what fortunes has he paſſed? Madam, anſwered he, Arimant is in health; but as for his fortune, it hath been very various, and I doubt I ſhall not have time to relate it I believe we ſhall anſwered ſhe, and if we have not, we will take another time for the reſt. Then, Madam, ſaid he, I will be as briefe as I can: Be pleaſed to know, that Arimant being ſo baſely forſaken by the Townſmen where we were, he ſtill defended himſelfe moſt valiantly a long time, and at laſt was left for dead: Doubtleſſe but for me, he had never eſcaped; but I being near him, I uſed ſuch care as I was obliged unto; though I was much wounded, yet not being ſo bad as he I feigned my ſelfe dead and fell at his feet, for he was faln to the ground: The enemy having other deſignes then riffling the dead, all the Plunder of the Town being theirs, they left us; and when I ſaw the coſt cleare, I roſe up, and bound up my wounds as well as I could; afterwards went to my Maſter, and by the help of a young man of the Town, I carried him unto an uninhabited ſtable which was neare, not daring to carry him into any houſe, becauſe all were full of Souldiers; I had an opinion, that he was not quite dead, thinking the Gods would never ſuffer ſuch a brave man to go out of the world in the flower of his age; I ſearched his wounds, and to the beſt of my poor skill, I did not thinke them mort [...]ll: but not knowing well what to do, and ſeeing him bleed ſtill, I tore my ſhirt, and tyed up his wounds as well as I could, and laying his head in my lap, it pleaſed God that he revived: when he opened his eyes, he wondered to ſee where he was, and I fearing his aſtoniſhment might do him hurt; courage, Sir, ſaid I unto him, the Gods will ſend us better fortune: The Gods, Bellaris (ſaid he) are indeed very good, but my deſtiny is bad, ſo as I can hope for no reſt but in death: But Bellaris, what is become of Cryſeide? Cryſeide, anſwered I, is ſafe, the wife to the Burgundian King, who followes him all about, cauſed all the women to be put into the Temple there to be preſerved from diſorder, and keeps Cryſeide particularly with her. Heaven be her reward, ſaid he, forſo good a deed.

I feigned all this, Madam, leſt his griefe ſhould have cauſed his death. But, Sir, ſaid I unto him, doe not trouble your ſelfe too much: No, no, ſaid he, now Cryſeide is out of danger, I care not for any thing elſe. Then, though with a little difficulty, I got him upon his feet, which was no ſooner done, but we heard many Souldiers quarrelling at the ſtable door; and preſently after, drawing their ſwords, they fell to fighting, about ſome Plunder which they had gotten, and could not agree about the Diviſion: The diſpute was ſo hot that many were killed; and the noiſe encreaſing, many others aſſembled, who as ſoon as they came, took ſides; at laſt, a Captain paſſing by, and ſeeing this diſorder, he would needs regulate the matter; But the Souldiers thinking he would take all their Plunder [Page] from them, in lieu of obeying, fell upon him, and ſo, as he was forced to ſave himſelfe by running to the ſtable door where we were. The Souldiers who had laid aſide all reſpect, and knew that if he eſcaped their hands, he would have them all puniſhed; they reſolved to kill him, hoping then to be ſafe and enjoy their Plunder. In order to this deſigne, they endeavoured to enter in; which Arimant conſidering, let us defend this Captain, ſaid he, perhaps heaven ſent him for our aſſiſtance, ſo as if we doe him a courteſie, he will doe the like for us: Upon this, drawing both our ſwords, we took his part; and though my Maſter was much wounded, yet his courage which never failed him, gave him ſtrength enough to repell the fury of theſe ſouldiers; ſome were killed, others taken, and the reſt fled.

The Captaine ſeeing himſelfe out of danger, and not knowing Arimant: Cavalier, ſaid he unto him, I am obliged unto your valour for my life; and in requitall of this aſſiſtance, which I have received from you; command me any ſervice within the compaſſ of my power, and I ſhall be moſt ready to doe it. Sir, ſaid my Maſter, I was obliged unto all I did, and if I have done you any ſervice, I deſire no other recompence, but that you will take me as your Priſoner, and uſe me like a Cavalier, as both you and [...]are. The Captaine upon this looking better upon him, and ſeeing by his habit that he was no Burgundian, he ſaid thus unto him: Sir, I do receive you as you deſire, not to uſe you as a Priſoner, but as my friend, and a Cavalier of merit. Alſo I paſſe my word, I will rather die, then you ſhall receive any diſpleaſure from our Army.

Thus was Arimant and I, under the protection of this Captaine whoſe name was Bellima [...]t, a man indeed of great Credit, but much devoted unto his wealth, as afterwards we found, and who according to the cuſtome of the Viſigots did ſeldome remember any benefits; for though he was a Viſigot yet he followed the King of the Burgundians, as a perſon who ſought for fortune whereſoever he was in hopes to find it. The firſt day, we received all the kind uſage we could expect upon ſuch an occaſion; But the next day, being better informed of the quality of his Priſoner, by ſome in the Town, he began to keep us under better guard, pretending it was becauſe he would have us keep our Chambers, that our wounds might ſooner heale, forbidding any to ſpeak with us: Afterwards, ſeeing the Army was to move, and he not knowing whither, he took my Maſter apart, and told him, that in performance of his word, he was forced to ſend him over the Alpe [...]; becauſe the King being informed, that it was he who had raiſed the oppoſition in the Town, and had cauſed the death of many of his men; he has commanded him to be ſearched for throughout all the Army, intending to put him to death, as a terrour unto the neighbouring Towns: that perhaps he could make a ſhift to protect him againſt any but the authority of the King: That he would willingly let him paſſe free amongſt his own Souldiers if he durſt, but it would hazard his life if the King ſhould heare he permitted ſuch a thing without his conſent: yet on the contrary, he could without any exceptions ſend him beyond the Alpes, ſince it was permitted unto all the Souldiers to ſend their Priſoners and Pillage thither. But as ſoon as the Army was returned unto Bungundie, he would ſend him back unto Eporedes, or any other place he pleaſed. Arimant then asked him, whether the Queen had ſent her Priſoners thither alſo? The Queen, anſwered the Captaine, is not here; but they have ſent their Priſoners thither, to the end the Army may be diſcharged of them. My Maſter looked upon me, as if he had ſaid, you are miſtaken, and afterwards continued; I will go, ſaid he, whither you pleaſe, aſſuring my ſelfe that a Cavalier ſo courteous and noble as you are, will not uſe me otherwiſe then is fitting for a perſon of my quality, and as one may expect from ſuch a Cavalier as you are.

Do the next morning betimes, not without great danger of my Maſters life, by reaſon of his wounds, we were carried away by aconvoy, which guarded many other Priſoners▪ not knowing Madam, what was become of you; onely that the King had put all the Ladies together, leſt they ſhould receive any injury. After we had paſſed the Alpes, they brought us unto this Town; and preſently after, being parted from the reſt, they carryed us into the Seguſian Country, by the Mountaines of Gebennes: And at laſt, they put us up cloſe into a little Caſtle neare the Town of Gergov [...]: Well may I ſay [cloſe up] for we were guarded ſo cloſe, that we hardly ſaw any light, and ſo we continued for a time: but the merit, and ſweet converſation of my Maſter, did work ſo well upon this harſh Keeper, and the promiſes I made to gratifie his courteſie, when Bellimart gave him liberty, [Page] did move him to let me go out and treat with him about our enlargement. This, Madam, has been my Maſters fortune; but nothing touches him ſo at heart, as being ignorant of your eſtate; hearing onely in generall, that you were in the hands of the King. It was not any deſire of his enlargement, or treating with Bellim [...] which brought me hither, but only to know in what part of the world you were, or whether you ſtill retained any memory of him.

How? replyed Cryſeide, any memory of him? what ſhould I elſe have an my memory but him? Yes, yes, Bellaris, I muſt be dead, before Arimant be out of my memory. The Gods doe know, there is not a day, nor an hour, nor a minute, in which Clarina and I have not talked of him with eyes full of teares. Now my deare friend, I will declare one thing unto you, which I have not yet mentioned unto any; but finding my ſelfe in this condition, and foreſeeing that it will be worſe with me, I am forced to tell it unto you, that by your Counſell I may find a remedy. Know Bellaris, that Gondebunt the King of Burgundie, is faln in love with me; I know it both by his deportment towards me, and his expreſſions. I would not upon any termes reject him at the firſt, becauſe an incenſed love may drive a man unto violent courſes: but after I had given him many thanks for the honour he did me; I told him, that I was none of the common ſort of people, but extracted out of the beſt Families amongſt the Sallaſſes: Rithimers wife, who was ſiſter unto the Emperour Anthemius, was my near Couſin: That this conſideration might well move him to treat me according to my quality; and by this meanes [...]e might not onely make Rithimer his friend, but Anthensius alſo who was allied unto me. Unto this he returned no other anſwer than this, that I did him great a favour in telling him as much; and that upon his returne he would make it appeare, how much he eſteemed my merit, and my alliance. Now Bellaris, I do foreſee a ſharp Combate: For I am told that the King is upon his return, and I ſee all preparations are making for him: Perhaps he may change his humour and fancy to me▪ and perhaps not: Now if he doe continue it, judge you, how I ſhall be perſecuted. To marry him, I had rather die: To refuſe him, he is a young arrogant man [...] and blown up ſo high by ſo many victories obtained, and al [...]s what can I doe; ſo as I doe foreſee a moſt dangerous ſtorme of miſery hanging over my head, and know not how to ſhelter my ſelfe from it, unleſſe you adviſe me in this great neceſſity. Bellaris ſtood a while and ſpoke not a word, at laſt he ſaid unto her; Truly, Madam, theſe conſiderations doe ſpeake you full of affection unto my Maſter: and it muſt needs be confeſſed, that he is infinitely obliged unto you, in ſlighting this King to preſerve your ſelfe for him: I will moſt freely expoſe my life to doe you both any faithfull ſervice: I beſeech you, Madam, therefore tell me, Doe they keep you very cloſe? You ſee, ſaid Cryſeide: if they uſe you no worſe then ſo, replyed he, you may eaſily eſcape: But ſaid ſhe, if I ſhould make an eſcape, whither can I go? For, to paſſe over the Alpes, is the way to be taken againe, it is impoſſible to avoid it: Never trouble your ſelfe, Madam, ſaid he, ſo you could get but out of this Town; I know a place whither to carry you, where you may ſtay in ſafety, untill Arimant be gotten out of the place where he is, by a way that I have thought upon; and when you are both together, I am confident you will contrive a way how to paſſe into Italy. Oh my dear friend, ſaid ſhe, Couldſt thou but doe as thou ſayſt, my obligation to thee would be extream; if thou canſt but get a Boat upon the River Arar under my window, it is ſo near the ground, that by the help of thy hand, I could come down in the night. Enough, ſaid he, I can do it; but how ſhall we paſſe the Chaines which are at the end of the Town, before we come to the River? Friend, replyed ſhe▪ God will help us; and if thou wilt but take a little paines, thou wilt eaſily find the meanes; for I have heard that others have eſcaped the ſame way: But Horſes muſt be provided for Clarina, for thee, and for me, and that I look upon as the greateſt difficulty; for whom canſt thou truſt to hold them? That is nothing, anſwered he, for I will get one to hold him, who ſhall not know what he does: But the worſt is, I have not money to buy Horſes or Boat, or to make you clothes in the faſhion of that Country: for the ſouldiers have gotten all I had, and my Maſters alſo. Let that be the leaſt of thy cares, ſaid Cryſeide, for I have yet good ſtore of Rings: then pulling a Diamant of good value from her finger, ſhe gave it to him: Go friend, (ſaid ſhe) ſell it, and buy ſuch things as thou wilt; if that will not ſerve, thou ſhalt have more.

It is not materiall to relate every particular; Bellaris provided Clothes, bought Horses, [Page] found a Boat, and all with ſuch expedition, that in two dayes all was in readineſs.

In the meane while, he took notice of the place where they were to paſſe, where their Horſes ſhould ſtay, and of every circumſtance: And the Chaine, being onely Boats faſted together a croſs the River; he went the night before and filed the ring of one Boat, ſo as it was held together by a little ſtrength. All things being thus ready, and the hour appointed being come, Cryſeide roſe out of bed, and Clarina alſo; And being in their firſt ſleeps in the dead of the night, they went out of the window without any noiſe, and took Boat; and Bellaris being their conductor, puſhed the Boat from the ſhore, and hit right upon the Boat whoſe ring he had filed, which breaking out right, with as little noiſe as he could for feare of being heard by the Guards, he paſſed through with his Boat, though a little after they were all in great danger of being drowned▪ For the Roſne, into which the River Arar runs, it was ſo rough, and the Boat ſo little, alſo the Waterman not being very skilfull, as the danger was great, but at laſt he gained the ſhore: And though it was much lower then he aimed at, yet by the help of the Moon which began to ſhine, he found the place where a little boy held their Horſes, who alſo promiſed him to be his guid.

Whilſt they were fitting all things about the Horſes, Cryſeide and Clarina did take their new habits, which what by reaſon of haſte, and darkneſſe together, they did put on ſo il-favouredly, as if they were ſome mungrell Gentlewomen that would be fine if they knew how▪ But being as they were they took Horſe and paſſed through the Country of the Seguſ [...]ans, carrying ſtill their guid with them, leſt he ſhould make ſome diſcovery: And after they had with much wearineſſe paſſed the Cemmenian Mountaines, travelling more by night then day, and eating alwaies in ſome wood, in which the Country was abundant; they came at laſt to the Town of Gergovia, in which Cryſeide was not afraid to lodge, becauſe it was in the Dominions of Eurick King of the Viſigots. She took up her lodgings therefore in an Inn; and the faithfull Bellaris went the next morning unto Arimant, unto whom dayes ſeemed very long, little expecting to hear ſuch good newes ſo ſoon: Cryſeide had given Bellaris another Ring of very good value, to the end that if he who guarded Arimant would be corrupted, he might give it unto him, and promiſe him more if need were.

As ſoon as he was returned, the Captaine of the Caſtle brought him to his Maſter: Come friend, ſaid Arimant unto him, doſt thou bring me Life or Death? Sir, anſwered he aloud, I doe not bring any bad newes, onely that King Gondebunt being not returned, the valiant Bellimart is not returned neither, ſo as I have loſt my journey. I met with one that was your Couſin, who was very inquiſitive of you, and offers you all aſſiſtance unto the King and Bellimart, and is confident of finding favour, otherwiſe my journey is to no purpoſe: and I believe that ere long; I muſt have another; for the King is dayly expected▪ You had done very well to have ſtayed, ſaid Arimant, and not returned with ſo little contentment unto me. Sir, anſwered he, I was in feare you would have thought my ſtay too long; and having none to wait upon you I thought it better to return, then ſtay ſo long to no purpoſe. Then the Captaine began to ſpeak; you had better have ſtayed, ſaid he, then make another journey; for according to the intelligence which we have, if the King be not come already, he will not ſtay long.

But as ſoon as the Captaine was gone, and they two alone, Bellaris fell down upon his knee, took his Maſters hand, kiſſed it, and with a ſmiling countenance, ſaid unto him; I perceive▪ Sir, you are diſpleaſed with my journey, but I believe you will bid me welcome when you know all How does Cryſeide, ſaid Arimant? Does ſhe endure her impriſonment well, and does ſhe ſtill love me? Suppoſe, Sir, replyed, Bellaris, I ſhould bring you better newes then all this; would you then ſay I were welcome? What better newes (ſaid Arimant) canſt thou bring then this? I will not onely tell you, Sir, replyed Bellaris, That Cryſeide is well▪ and that ſhe loves you as well as ever: But more, ſhe is at liberty: nay more yet, ſhe is coming to you; Clarina and ſhe doe ſtay for you in Gergovia, Bellaris, ſaid the Cavalier and ſmiled, is this all true thou ſayſt? Doe you thinke, Sir, ſaid this faithful ſervant, that I would bring you any lies? The goodneſſe of the Gods be praiſed, ſaid Arimant, and lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven▪ Then turning himſelf towards Bellaris: But friend, is it poſſible all this ſhould be ſo? Can ſo much happineſſe come all at once? Sir, anſwered he, doe not make any doubt of what I ſay; and to teſtifie my affection and fidelity, you may to morrow, if you will, ſee this fair one, [Page] who has taken ſo much paines to give you contentment: but then I am afraid it will be the laſt ſervice I ever ſhall doe you: Alas, ſaid Arimant, I would not buy my contentment at ſo dear a rate as the loſſe of thee; but if it could be any otherwiſe, I ſhould be moſt heartily glad of it. I will tell you, Sir, ſaid he, what I did determine to doe▪ Then he began to relate unto him, how he met with Cryſeide in the Temple, and in the Garden; her reſolution to eſcape, how they got away, how ſhe was in Ger [...]via in the Gauliſh habite where ſhe expected him, and briefly all the whole paſſage. Then he continued; Now, Sir, you muſt make all the haſte you can to get from hence for doubtleſſe, King Gondebunt is even very now upon his return; and then you may aſſure your ſelte, that Bellimart will either come or ſend for you; you know his covetous and greedy mind, and God knowes how he will uſe you: you may remember his ingratitude towards you, and you cannot hope for any courteſie from him, who has ſhewed himſelfe already ſo unworthy. Beſides, it is impoſſible that Cryſeide ſhould ſtay long where ſhe is, and Gondebunt not be advertiſed of it; and you muſt know, how that King is ſo much in love with her, as he has declared ſome intention of marrying her. You ſee therefore it is full time to make all poſſible haſte out of this Country▪ and judge whether or no Cryſeide love you, chuſing rather to run all theſe hazards for your ſake, then to marry ſo great a King? You muſt therefore deſire the Captaine to let me return this night to Be [...] limart; you muſt ſeem much diſpleaſed with me for not ſtaying till his returne, he will eaſily grant it▪ Then as ſoon as the doors are open you may put on my cloathes, and I will ſtay in your room. Oh Bel [...]ar [...], ſaid Arimant, I am afraid theſe men will doe you ſome hurt, and if it could be contrived ſome other way it would be better. No, no, Sir, ſaid Bellaris, there is no other way: For in the firſt place, time does preſſe you, and there is no probability that this man who guards you, will be corrupted by Gifts, becauſe he thinkes your Ranſome will be very high▪ and it is probable that Bellimart has promiſed him a ſhare. And as for me never let it trouble you for I am confident the Gods will help thoſe who hope in them, and are faithful to their Maſters, by ſome unexpected meanes▪ Can I doe you any better ſervice, Sir, then in a buſineſſe of this importance? But ſuppoſe the Barbarian ſhould uſe me with the worſt of his cruelty; ſhall any danger whatſoever deter me from doing you ſervice? If I die, it is no more then I ought to doe for you▪ And I can never doe it with more honour then in gaining your liberty and contentment: If on the contrary, I ſhould not, I may be upbraided all the dayes of my life, for loſing ſo faire an opportunity of teſtifying how much I am devoted to you. Doe not raviſh from me this Glory, I beſeech you, ſir, I aske it in recompence of all the ſervice I ever did you, and onely require three things from you: The firſt, That if I die, you will remember, you never had a more faithfull ſervant: Secondly, if I live, that you will give Clarina unto me for my Wife: And laſtly, That when you are got out from hence, you will make all haſte away that poſſibly you can, leſt you ſhould be taken againe. Thus continuing his diſcourſe with ſo much urgency, he prevailed ſo far with Arimant, as not to deny him his requeſt, though it was with abundance of ſorrow to leave him in ſo much danger.

Night then being come, Arimant entreated the Captaine, as Bellaris propoſed, to give him leave to goe again, who the King knowing would ere long beat Lyons, and deſirous to be fingering of the Ranſome as ſoon as he could, whereof he was to receive a good ſhare; he did not onely give leave, but adviſed him unto it, and that he would ſend a Letter by him unto Bellimart.

Thus the departure of Bellaris was reſolved upon; and the Gate was ordered to be opened for him when he would: Bellaris informed Arimant in all things; to wit, where he ſhoul [...] find Cryſeide; in what place the Horſes ſtood, and which way he ſhould paſſe; telling him it was better to go a little about, and go more ſafely. In ſuch diſcourſe as this, they ſpent a good part of the night; another part in ſhifting habits, and taking order for all things requiſite; ſo as when it was break of day, after Arimant had embraced his faithful ſervant with many teares, and recommending himſelfe unto Mercury, he ſet forward towards the Gate in great feare of diſcovery; for though he had the clothes of Bellaris, yet he was not like him, being much bigger, and faces ſo unlike as it was impoſſible not to know the one from the other, if the leaſt notice was taken; yet he paſſed without any rub, it being dark, and ſpeciall order being given for it Bellaris looked after him out of his Chamber window, as farre into the plain as his eye could reach, and he [Page] obſerved how Arimant looked often back to ſee whether any followed him. At laſt, when he was out of ſight, then the danger wherein he was, began to preſent it ſelfe before his eyes, and he thought upon the horrors of death: But neither death nor danger, nor any thing, could make him repent of what he had done, or be ſorry for it in the leſt manner. Yet, as every one deſires to prolong his life as much as poſſibly he can; ſo ſoon as he had got his Maſter away, he would now try what he could doe for himſelfe. He turned the Doublet and the Stockings of Arimant the wrong ſide outward, and ſullied his Hat, ſo as it had a reſemblance of his own. As fortune was, Arimant had left his Cloak behind him, perhaps on purpoſe to be the lighter: To be briefe, he tricked up himſelfe as well as he could, and with a confident countenance he went to the Gate and offered to goe out: The Corporal who commanded there denyed him, ſaying, that one was already gone out, and he had no command for any more. But Bellaris ſhewing him a Letter which was directed unto Bellimart, and the Captaines hand which was known unto all thoſe at the Gates, they permitted him to paſſe. But firſt, the Corporall who was exact in his office, would not ſuffer it without a new command, and therefore ſent him with a Souldier to know the Captaines will; the Souldier went, but being very early, and they keeping ſuch a noiſe at the Captaines Chamber door, they awaked him: then he was very angry with the Corporal for not letting any to paſs who had Letters for him; ſo the Captaine being angry at his being wakened, he turned about and fell faſt aſleepe againe.

Thus Bellaris got out of the Caſtle, and taking his way towards Gergovia, he made as much haſte as if he had wings at his heels: But his Maſter having got the ſtart of him, and finding out the Inn, he went and knocked at Cryſeides Chamber door, who being but in a ſlumber did preſently hear him, and called upon Clarina to ſee who it was: Clarina ſhe aroſe out of bed, put her Petticoat on, and a Mantle over her ſhoulders, and went to the door with her eyes hardly open. Bellaris, ſaid ſhe, thou art welcome, we have long looked for thee. And Cryſeide being very impatient, did ask who it was: It is Bellaris, Madam, ſaid ſhe, let him come in, ſaid Cryſeide, perhaps he brings good newes. Yes, Madam, ſaid Arimant, I doe bring you very good newes. Cryſeide hearing him, and knowing his voyce: Oh my good God, ſaid ſhe, and ſtarted up, it is the voyce of Arimant: Then drawing the Curtain, ſhe ſaw him already upon his knees by her beds [...]ide. Imagine, Madam, how this did ſurpriſe her, and how infinitely ſhe was joyed? She caſt her armes about his neck, and kiſſed him ſo long, as if ſhe intended never to part from him againe. As for him, he was ſo over-joyed to have his deare Cryſeide in his armes, that he held her ſo cloſe againſt his breaſt, as ſhe was afraid he would have ſtopped her breath: Clarina having ſhut the door, did look upon them, and ſtood immoveable, ſo raviſhed with admiration, as ſhe knew not whether it was waking or dreaming. After ſhe ſtood thus like a ſtatue a long while, ſhe went to open the windows, afterwards went to them againe, and found them ſtill embracing, and her ſelfe as much raviſhed as before: Then fearing they would even die with over joy, ſhe thought good to part them for a while, that they might take a little breath; but checking her ſelfe, ſhe let them alone to glut themſelves with kiſſing and carraſſing; and doubtleſſe they had not ended ſo ſoon, if they had not heard one knock at the Chamber door. Clarina wondred, and could not imagine who ſhould come ſo early to trouble them. Arimant aroſe, and laying his hand upon his ſword, he went to the Chamber door; but never was man ſo ſurpriſed as he; for he ſaw Bellaris, beyond all hope or thought; Oh Heaven my dear friend, ſaid he, Is it thee? Yes, Sir, ſaid he, the Gods have delivered me, that I may doe ſome ſervice yet again. O good Gods, replyed Arimant, Can all this good fortune continue; Cryſeide at liberty, I at liberty, Bellaris at liberty too? this is happineſſe beyond all hopes. Then taking him by the hand, he carryed him to Cryſeide, related unto her how he had got him to eſcape, and unto what extream danger he expoſed himſelfe. When ſhe and Arimant began to give him thanks, he interrupted them, ſaying; ſpare your words, Sir, I beſeech you, I am obliged more then ſo to ſerve you: and loſe not your time which is ſo precious unto you: I am afraid they will follow you, let us pack out of Town and away, and when we are more at leiſure I ſhall tell you how I eſcaped.

Cryſeide approving of what he ſaid, ſhe dreſſed her ſelfe ſo ſuddainly, that ſhe was at the ſtairs feet before the Horſes were ready; Arimant helped her up, and Bellaris Clarina; and after the reckning of the houſe was diſcharged, Arimant took the horſe of his faithful [Page] ſervant Bellaris, and ſo ſetting forward with their Guide, who was already very affectionate unto Cryſeide, by reaſon of her naturall ſweetneſſe, and liberality towards him, they went a good pace at the firſt; but when they were got a little from the Town, they went ſlower, becauſe Bellaris was on foot; and who by the way, telling them how he eſcaped, did make them laugh heartily at the extream feares in which he was, when the Corporall denyed him paſſage, and at his haſte which he made when he was once out of the Caſtle.

Thus they paſſed on the way as pleaſantly as perſons in ſuch conditions poſſibly could; and being ſtirring betimes in the morning, they went over the great Mountaines of Cemenes; & afterwards through the gloomy wood, called Black-wood, and came very late unto Viveros ſhunning as much as poſſibly they could all great Towns, and high-wayes, the better to deceive thoſe who perhaps might follow them: But it hapned unto them, as unto thoſe who thinking to avoid an ambuſh, doe leave their right way to fall into it. For the Captain who had Arimant in Guard▪ hearing that he was eſcaped, took with him ſeven or eight of his men, and reſolved to purſue him, or at the worſt, to go and acquaint Bellima [...]t with it; becauſe he believed, that doubtleſſe they would goe to Lyons, either to embarque themſelves, or elſe to take the way of Heluces. They being that Country men, and knowing the ſhorteſt wayes they got before them, and that night came into the very ſame Inn where Arimant and his company were to lodge: Bellaris was alwayes wont to goe a little before and provide lodging and coming into this Inn, the Captain knew him preſently, and thought Arimant not farre of; he aſſembled his men ſlily, thinking to ſurpriſe them both together, which Bellaris obſerving, he ask [...]d for the Maſter of the houſe, and asked whether he had any lodging, and being anſwered, yes; Well then, ſaid he in a loud voyce, I will go and fetch my Maſter: The Captain who was in the next Chamber and ready to ſeize upon him, hearing this, would not diſcover himſelfe, becauſe he would catch them both together; but wary Bellaris, returning as faſt as he could to his Maſter; Sir, ſaid he, Let us ſave our ſelves as well as we can, for the Captaine is in the Inn. Arimant was extreamly ſurpriſed at this; yet conſidering what a ſhort time he had to conſult upon the matter, he thought it beſt that Cryſeide and Clarina ſhould go unto the Inn with the guard and invent ſome tale or other to excuſe their journey, and the next morning they ſhould take the way to Vienna, and to know which way they paſſed, they ſhould ſtick a little branch in the way they took, when they met with ſeverall paths; and thoſe who came firſt to Vienna, ſhould lodge in an Inn next the bridge on the other ſide of the River Roſne, and there ſtay for the reſt.

The, would have ſaid more, but they thought they heard Horſes trampling in the ſtreets, which cauſed Cryſeide and Clarina with their guide, to put on their Horſes the one way, and Arimant with his faithful ſervant the other: The Cavalier by the favour of the night and the thick wood, did eaſily ſave themſelves; and the third day came to Vienna betimes, where they lodged in the Inne next the Bridge: At night asking newes of his Hoſt, he heard how King Gondebunt was returned from Gaul Ciſalpine, loadned with victory and ſpoil; but at his return had received a very great diſpleaſure, becauſe an Ital [...]an Priſoner with whom he was much in love with, had eſcaped from him, and no intelligence could be given of her. And to manifeſt the truth of this, ſaid the Hoſt, I will ſhew you the Kings Proclamation to that purpoſe this day publiſhed: Then pulling out a great Paper printed, he read theſe words.

Gondebunt, the ſon of Gondioch, King of Burgundy, Lord of the Seguanois, Lingones, Vellaundonois, Ambarres, Heduois, Catalauniques, Matiſques, Alexens, Allobroges, Baſilians, Latobriges, Sebuſians, Secuſians, Secuſienſes, Vabromaines, Sedunois, Auguſtes, Sallaſes, Centrons, Bramovices, Ebroduntians, Segovellaunians, Galloligures, Governour of the Alpes, Sempronians, Jovinians, Pennines, Coties, Sebatians, Maritimes, &c.

Unto all to whom this our Will and Pleaſure ſhall come, Greeting, In as much as there is nothing that more offends a generous courage, nor gives it a more juſt deſire of revenge, then Ingratitude and Treaſon. And whereas, to our great griefe at our return from our [Page] long, glorious, and dangerous voyages, we are advertiſed, that Cryſeide one of our Priſoners, and one upon whom we had ſhowred abundant favours, has ungratefuly eſcaped our Guards, which was impoſſibly for her to doe, without the counſell and aſſiſtance of ſome perſons ill affected unto us, who have perfidiouſly ſtoln her away, in contempt of our royall Power and Authority▪ For theſe cauſes, and many others, thereunto moving us, and by the advice of our Great Councell, to chaſtiſe ſuch ingratitude and Treaſon, We doe Declare and Promiſe, by the Great God whom we adore, by the ſoul of our moſt honoured Father, and by the majeſty of our Crowne, That whoſoever ſhall bring unto us this ungratefull Cryſeide, our fugitive Priſoner, or ſhall reveale him or them who are the cauſe of her flight, or who does perfidiouſly keep her, give her any aſſiſtance or favour, of what quality, nature, or condition ſoever, we will grant unto him ſuch favour as he ſhall aske of us; and will not upon any cauſe, ground, colour, or conſideration whatſoever, break this our Royal word, promiſe, and ſolemn Oath: And we do enjoyne and command all our Sheriffs, and other Officers, to publiſh this our Will and Pleaſure throughout all our Dominions. Given at our Royal Town of Lyons, in the I [...]es of July, the ſecond year of our Raign.

Arimant hearing this Proclamation, was in extreame feare leſt Cryſeide ſhould be known as ſhe entred into the Town, eſpecially when the Hoſt continued his diſcourſe, and told him, that the King had ſent perſons who knows her, unto all Bridges, and advenues of Towns. This cauſed him to take Bellaris apart, and command him to provide mens habit both for Cryſeide and Clarina in all poſſible haſte; and as ſoon as they were ready, to carry them that way they were to come, that they might ſo diſguiſe themſelves before they entred into the Town. Bellaris did as he was appointed, and all being ready he went to meet them. In the mean time Arimant furniſhed himſelfe with better Cloaths, then thoſe he had from Bellaris. But fortune who was minded to vex theſe two generous Lovers yet a little longer, and to have greater teſtimonies of their love and courage, did ſo contrive the matter, that at the very ſame time Bellaris met Cryſeide; and when ſhe thanked the Gods for Arimants ſafe arrivall unto Vienna, the King Gondebunt being hunting the Hart, he rode cloſe by her, onely with five or ſix who followed him: and becauſe he obſerved that as ſoon as ſhe ſpyed him, ſhe retired her ſelfe behinde the next buſh which ſtood a little out of the way, he followed her onely out of curioſity: But Bellaris knowing him at the very firſt, he clapped himſelfe flat down upon the ground in a valley, which Cryſeide could not doe, nor Clarina neither, becauſe they were on horſeback; ſo as the King overtaking her, and ſeeing her in the Gauliſh mode, he thought at the firſt that ſhe was ſome of that Country, who becauſe ſhe would be retired, went out of the high way: but asking her who ſhe was, and whither ſhe went, as ſoon as ever ſhe opened her mouth, he knew her; for though ſhe had the language of Gaul very good, yet ſhe had the accent and tone of a ſtranger. And looking a little neerly upon her, though ſhe endeavoured to hide her face all that poſſibly ſhe could; Oh Heavens, ſaid he, it is Cryſeide: Then lighting from his Horſe, he ran to embrace her; How long is it, faire Ladie, ſaid he unto her, ſince you firſt took this diſguiſe? What good Angel is it that hath bro [...]ght you again into my hands? and what Devil was it that took you out of them? Poor Cryſeide, more amazed then is imaginable, to ſee her ſelfe in the power of him whom ſhe moſt feared, and falne from ſuch a height of happineſſe, into ſuch a gulph of miſery, ſhe ſtood a while and could not anſwer: At the laſt, ſeeing there was no way to conceal her ſelfe, ſhe reſolved to take heart, and moſt couragiouſly anſwered thus; You ask me, Sir, when I aſſumed this habit and diſguiſe? and I anſwer, ever ſince Love did command me: And becauſe you call that good Angell who got me out of your hands, a Devill, I muſt vindicate his honour, and let you know, Sir, that it is unworthy in ſo great a King, to break both the Lawes of Humanity, and the Lawes of Chivalry, which commands you to aſſiſt, relieve, and honour Ladies; and not to take them Priſoners, and keep them againſt their wills. The King hearing the freeneſſe of Cryſeides language, and his love not letting him conſent unto what he knew was the duty of a Cavalier, he anſwered her; Before any ſhould doe you any wrong, Madam, I will loſe both my Crown and my life; and in this which I do, I intend it for your good and advantage, and not to harme or wrong you in the leaſt degree. She would have replyed, but the King was ſo over-joyed at this happy encounter, and not willing to enter any further into diſcourſe, he took her Horſe by the bridle, and led him into the high-way, [Page] where taking his own Horſe, he returned to Lyons preſently, more contented with this prize, then with all his Victories. When Cryſeide was thus taken, Clarina could eaſily have ſaved her ſelfe, if ſhe would as well as the Guid; but having no mind to leave her, ſhe did follow her voluntarily. Thus was the ſad Cryſeide carryed back to Lyons, and put amongſt the reſt of the Ladies Priſoners, but under a more carefull Guard then before; although the King did really intend to marry her, as well for her beauty, as for her affinity to Rithimers wife, ſiſter unto the Emperour Anthemius▪ and commanded that ſhe ſhould be waited upon with all ſervice and civility: and his joyes that he had met with her were ſuch, as he cauſed Bonfires and great Feaſts of rejoycing to be made. In the mean time, Bellaris having eſcaped through Ruſhes and Bogges, he came in a pittifull fright, to bring this ſaid Newes unto his Maſter, who was ſo much ſurpriſed with wonder and ſorrow, that he was not able to ſpeak one word; but throwing himſelfe upon his bed, there he lay till night, and ſay what Bellaris could by way of conſolation, he would not anſwer him: Afterwards, he went into bed, and would not eat nor ſleep all the night; In the morning he called for Bellaris, bad him go unto Lyons, and enquire how Cryſeide did, and how they uſed her: This faithfull ſervant, though with much danger to himſelfe, did as he was commanded; when he came into the Town, he found no great need of any enquiry; for Cryſeide was the talk all the Town over, and the Kings favours were ſuch, as it was generally believed he would marry her▪ though ſhe was much againſt it, for ſome reaſons which yet were unknown unto them. But ſeeing ſo great a difficulty to ſpeak unto her, he returned to his Maſter, with a reſolution of perſwading him to retire into Italy, ſince it was now not likely▪ but ſhe who was courted and honored by ſo great a King; Ambition to be Queen, would quench all her love to Arimant: Being returned then unto Vienna, he related unto him all he heard, afterwards did ſet before his eyes the levity of Women, their Ambition; the gilded flattery of being Queen, and the great probability that ſhe would entertaine the honour which the King did her. He would adviſe him, not to buſie himſelfe any more in the matter, but to conſider how his Father would grieve for his loſſe: How it might be the cauſe of his death, and the utter ruine of his houſe; That to ſtay any longer here would not be ſafe, becauſe their Guid might diſcover him, and cauſe him to be taken: And that for theſe reaſons, and conſiderations, and many others, it was requiſite he ſhould with all ſpeed retire to his houſe. Arimant did heare Bellaris all this while, though his mind was quite another way. But when he had done; Bellaris, anſwered he, I ſhall perhaps follow thy counſell, after thou haſt done one thing yet more for me: Go againe preſently to Lyons, give this little Book unto Cryſeide, procure me an anſwer, and then thou ſhalt ſee what I will doe. This ſervant infinitely loving his Maſter, did aſſure him he would doe it, elſe loſe his life; but entreated him that he would not grieve ſo exceſſively; to remember that his virtue is able to ſurmount the greateſt misfortunes; that he ought to hope ſtill, and not to ſink under his ſorrows. And Arimant promiſing he would take his counſell, Bellaris departed with his little Book, in which was a Letter that contained theſe words.

Arimant's Letter unto Cryſeide.

SHall this misfortune have a greater power over you then all others? Muſt Ambition of being Queen, make you unfaithful? Doe you intend to betray me, and make me the moſt miſerable amongſt men? If ſo, then ſend me word, that my death, I may keep you from being perjured.

Bellaris had no other way to deliver this Book unto Cryſeide, but as ſhe went to the Temple; and therefore he got himſelfe as neare the Baſon of Holy water as he could, and as he had done formerly: when ſhe paſſed by, he conveyed the Book ſo nimbly into her hand, as none could perceive it: She preſently apprehended the buſineſſe, and ſpoke not a word, but onely, To morrow: In the mean time Bellaris went out of the Temple, and as he uſed, into the Town, where he heard that the King did really intend to marry Cryſeide [...] that ſhe did deny him; and that for all this, he would go through with it, aſſuring himſelfe, that when he had married her, ſhe would then change her mind.

The next day, Cryſeide failed not to return the Book again unto Bellaris, by the ſame [Page] ſubtilty, ſaying unto him as ſhe paſſed by, I will die firſt: He underſtood well enough her meaning; and admiring the love and generoſity of this woman, he returned to his Maſter, and acquainted him with what ſhe ſaid, as ſhe gave him the Letter, which was ſo great a conſolation unto Arimant, that he almoſt forgot his miſery; Then taking the Letter, he found theſe words.

Cryſeides Anſwer unto Arimant.

I Will die, before I change; I will make it appeare how farre the reſolution of a woman can go, who whether alive or dead, will never be any but yours: be the like to me.

Well Bellaris, ſaid Arimant, Canſt thou adviſe me to forſake a woman, who has theſe reſolutions towards me? I muſt needs confeſſe, Sir, anſwered he, that I doe admire her: her virtue is above my opinion of her: But good ſir, what doe you intend? and which way can you relieve her? The Kings power is too great, and his love is too violent, to afford any hopes for you? And your danger in ſtaying here is ſo great, as I will give you for loſt, if you ſtay any longer. Never feare it Bellaris, anſwered Arimant, I have thought upon a way to eſcape, and doubtleſſe it will take effect. Then he gave order for his departure, and the next morning went unto Lyons, where he arrived in the evening when it was dark, and took up the moſt private lodging he could chuſe. There he heard the continuation of the ſame reports, and more; That the next morning the King intended to offer a ſacrifice upon the Tombe of the two Lovers, in hopes that they would mediate for him unto the Great Tautates, to change the heart of Cryſeide, and move her to conſent unto his deſires; and for the greater ſolemnity, he would have her preſent with all the reſt of the Lady Priſoners.

Arimant was very glad of this newes, and thought it a fit opportunity to effectuate his deſigne, therefore he prepared himſelfe againſt the next morning. In the interim, the King ſolicited her with all manner of Courtſhip, and uſed all his Rhetorick to perſwade her unto compliance with him: But ſhe ſtood as conſtant and firme to her reſolution as any Rock againſt the waves of the Sea, which cannot be moved. And this was the reaſon why, before he had recourſe unto force, he would ſeek the favour of Tharamis, and by ſacrifices obtaine from him ſo much grace, as to change the heart of this generous Maid. When he entreated her to be preſent, ſhe willingly conſented: For, ſaid ſhe to her ſelfe, if the God Tharamis be a juſt God, he will move the minde of this King, to deſiſt from any injuſtice.

The next morning, when it was time to go unto the Sacrifice, he prepared for her a moſt glorious Chariot, and conſtrained her to weare the Royall Crown, cauſing all the reſt of her Companions to wait upon her in great ſtate, as if ſhe were already the Burgundian Queen; thinking to ſhake her conſtancy with ſuch Grandures and Pomp: ſhe appeared indeed very faire and lovely, and this dreſſe was not a little addition unto her beauty: but for all that, the inward diſguſt of her ſoule appeared in her face, and all her actions. The King was ſo much pleaſed to ſee her in this deck, as he did imagine her already his wife. Thus they paſſed through the Town, and came to the Monument of the two Lovers, where the ſacrifice was to be offered.

When they were there; and the King, Cryſeide, and all the reſt of the Ladies had taken their places; the Sacrifices came, and the Victimaries brought the white Bulls, and the Prieſts approaching as neare as they could to the Tomb, they commanded the Victims to be killed; when they were opened, and their intralls ſearched, they were found to be [...]ound and perfect, ſuch as preſaged happineſſe, of which the King was was very glad, and told Cryſeide that it was an evidence the Gods were well pleaſed with their alliance. She, who till then, had ſome hopes in the juſtice of this unknown God; and now ſeeing her intent fruſtrated ſhe knew not what to have recourſe unto you but deſpair. In that reſolution ſhe ſeemed deſirous to ſee the intralls of the Victim her ſelfe, and asked permittance to go unto them.

The King who was confident in the Reports of the Prieſts, she was very glad ſhe had ſuch a deſire, thinking that the ſight would make her more inclinable unto him, when ſhe ſaw the will of the Goddeſſe. So being helped down, ſhe went unto the place of the Sacrifice, [Page] ſeemed very buſie in looking upon the Liver, upon the Heart, and the reſt of the Noble parts. And whilſt the Sacrificers were all very buſie in ſhewing theſe things unto her, ſhe ſeized upon a Knife yet all bloody, wherewith they killed the Victims: Afterwards running as faſt as ſhe could unto the Tomb of the two Lovers, ſhe laid hold upon one of the corners, and then lifting up the Knife with a moſt reſolute countenance, ſhe ſaid aloud, Doſt thou ſee this Knife which I have in my hand, magnanimous Prince? I will preſently run it into my heart, if any one offer any force unto me; and th [...]n ſetting the point of it againſt her breaſt, ſhe continued thus.

The great God of Heaven and Earth be my witneſſe; Oh great and invincible King, that I do eſteem and admire thy perſon, and all that proceeds from thee: I ſee thou art favoured by the Gods, loved by thy Subjects, honoured by thy Neighbours, and feared by the enemies: I acknowledge Prudence in all thy actions, Generoſity in all thy enterpriſes, Juſtice towards all in generall, and a particular love towards me, which does not onely oblige me to admire thee, and ſerve thee as all the reſt of the world doe; but alſo to eſteeme thee, and love thee as much as poſſibly I can: Knowing therefore all theſe things, and being ſenſible of the honour you are pleaſed to do unto me in ſuch an advantageous marriage: It muſt needs be ſomething that has a great power over my affection, and over my duty, that can divert my will from accepting of it. Would you be pleaſed, Sir, to conſider this, I ſhould hope for a pardon if I doe any thing that diſpleaſeth you [...] for believe it Sir, could I diſpoſe of my ſelfe, I ſhould be more willing to content you, then you can be to command me.

But be pleaſed to know, Oh great King, that as ſoon as ever I came out of my infancy, the Gods would have me▪ love a Cavalier, I ſay the Gods would have me for had it not been the will of the Gods▪ and had not they written it in the unalterable Role of Deſtiny, doubtleſſe this affection would have long ſince withered away with ſo many bitter blaſts and tormenting ſtormes of fortune. Firſt, my Parents, who had power over me: Next, Rithimer, whom you know is puiſſant: and now, you oh great King, would pull me out of the arms of my Husband: for ſo may I call him unto whom I have promiſed marriage, calling both Juno and Hymen for witneſſes of our reciprocal oaths, and to ſend juſt curſes upon ſuch as break them. If all this be not true, may theſe two faithful Love [...]s who reſt in this Tombe, and whoſe ſoules are with God, and enjoy the reward of their fidelitity; may they, I ſay, puniſh me with all the rigour of divine juſtice. But if all I ſay be true then I d [...]e conjure them by that inviolable love they bore unto each other, to ſhew their power in thee, oh Great King, by obtaining of the Gods to change and divert thy mind another way. Be aſſured, oh Great and generous Prince, that this is all thou canſt obtaine of me, unleſſe by force; which if thou wilt uſe, then this knife ſhall ſend my ſoule out of my body, and leave nothing in thy power but a cold carcaſſe, without either life or love. But if thou doſt indeed love me, and art that Great King who has made all Italy to tremble at the very noiſe of thy Arms; make it now appeare, not onely in ſetting me at liberty, but alſo reſtoring him unto me whoſe I am, and from whom nothing but death can divorce me: If thou wilt get the name of juſt, thou muſt render unto every one that which is unjuſtly taken from them▪ And if thou wilt ſhew thy ſelf magnanimous, doe it in ſurmounting thy ſelfe; thy ſelfe, I ſay, who hitherto has been invincible. If all this thou doſt not doe; then O King, expect the vengeance of the Gods, who at this very hour doe ſit in Heaven, and ſee how thou wilt carry thy ſelfe in this action, and will moſt certainly either puniſh or reward thee for it: And you, oh perfect and bleſſed ſoules, ſaid ſhe, and turned towards the Tombe, who perhaps whilſt you lived here, reſented the ſame miſeries that I do, have compaſſion upon me, and let m [...] not this day before ſo great an aſſembly, embrace your Tombe in vain, or call upon you without reliefe.

Thus Cryſeide ended, and embracing the corner of the Sepulchre, ſhe held the knife againſt her breaſt, ready to ſtrike it to her heart, if ſhe ſaw any offer to pull her from thence. All the aſſembly were infinitely aſtoniſhed, when they heard and ſaw the reſolution of this Lady. But the King above all the reſt, was confounded at the Accident. For the Sepulchre of theſe two Lovers, was a ſanctuary unto all thoſe who laid hold upon it, and received any wrong in matters of Love; and was ſo religiouſly obſerved, that neither Father nor Mother themſelves could recal their own Children, when they held by one of the corners. The King could not imagine, that Cryſeid [...] ſhould make this uſe of it; or [Page] that being aſtranger, ſhe ſhould ſo much as know or thinke of it. But ſeeing it ſo, he knew not what to reſolve upon: To let her go at liberty he would not; to violate the priviledges of the Sanctuary he durſt not; both out of fear of the Gods, and tumult of the people. At the laſt, after he had conſidered and debated the matter with himſelfe, he reſolved to pull her from thence, without any regard either of the place or the aſſembly; thinking the forces which he had about him, would keep the people within compaſſe; and as for any offence to the Gods, he hoped to doe well enough with them by Sacrifices, and hereafter duties.

In this reſolution he advanced, thinking himſelfe to go unto her; and ſhe ſeeing him coming, had given her ſelfe the fatall blow, if the Prieſts had not oppoſed the King; telling him, That a Prince ſo juſt as he▪ and one that feared the Gods, ought not to violate and infringe their franchiſes. But his love which had more ſtrength in him then all theſe conſiderations, had doubtleſſe driven him beyond his duty, if Arimant, who was a ſpectator, and feared leſt Cryſeide ſhould be driven to the extremity, had not preſſed through the Guards, and ſtepped between Cryſeide and the King, and falling down upon his knees, ſaid thus unto him; Sir, I come here intrudively, unto your Majeſty, in full aſſure of your Promiſe and Oath, that I ſhall receive the favour which you have promiſed and proclamed unto him, who ſhall tell you who it was which helped this generous Lady to eſcape your Guards. Stranger (ſaid the King) I never will break any promiſe that I made: declare therefore the man, that I may puniſh him; then ask what favour thou wilt, and obtain it. Sir, ſaid Arimant then, and roſe up, The man is in your preſence, and you may puniſh him when you pleaſe, for it is my ſelfe. This, replyed the King, is inſolence in the height; and how durſt thou preſent thy ſelfe before my face? Onely in hopes, Sir, ſaid he, of the favour which I ſhall aske: Never think, Sir, that it ſhall be my life, or the leſſening of any puniſhment upon my ſelfe, which I ſhall require; but that in obſervance of your promiſe unto which you obliged your ſelfe by the great God whom you adore, by the glorious memory of your Father's ſoul, and by the Majeſtie of your Crown, you would grant me another favour which I ſhall aske. The King ſtood amazed at the reſolution of this man, and going back a pace or two: Stranger, ſaid he unto him, certainly thou art out of thy wits, otherwiſe thou wouldſt never ſpeak thus; but how wert thou the cauſe of Cryſeides eſcape? Sir, replyed he, my name is Arimant; and I am the happy Cavalier whom this faire one ſayes, ſhe loves: I was taken Priſoner when ſhe was; I was carryed Priſoner to the Town of Gergovia, where I found meanes to let her heare from me: She who thought me dead, as ſoon as ſhe heard I was alive, ſhe reſolved to eſcape and come unto the place where I was, and help me out, which ſhe did accordingly, and was the cauſe of my liberty. You ſee, Sir, how I was the cauſe of her eſcape, and having declared it unto you, you are obliged to grant me the favour which you have promiſed. The King, who was on the one ſide aſtoniſhed at his reſolution, and on the other ſide offended with him, as thinking himſelf ſleighted by this ſtranger▪ Yes, yes, ſaid he, it is very true, I doe owe thee a favour, aske it therefore, and prepare thy ſelf to ſuffer the puniſhment of my juſt indignation. Sir, replyed Arimant, I never expected leſſe from ſo great a king as you are: and therefore I doe freely put my ſelfe into your hands, not fe [...]ring any of your puniſhments or torments, provided that firſt I doe obtaine the favour which I ſhall aske. Ask it then (ſaid the King) and by all the oathes which I formerly took, I do oblige my ſelfe to grant it. Sir, replyed Arimant, then I doe aske that Cryſeide, whom I ſee at the corner of the Tombe, and who is your Priſoner, may be ſet at liberty, and ſent unto her friends, or whither ſhe ſhall pleaſe, without any force or compulſion offered unto her. Oh Heavens, ſaid the King, muſt I my ſelfe be the inſtrument of my own miſery? and having imprudently promiſed, muſt either be perjured, or elſe be the moſt miſerable Prince that lives? Then ſtanding a while ſilent, and being inflamed with anger, and aſhamed to be accuſed before all the people of breach of faith and promiſe; he reſolved to maintain it, but withall, to ſatisfie and vent his anger upon Arimant. And therefore with eyes inflamed with fury; I do declare, ſaid he, that Cryſeide is at liberty; and I do ſtrictly charge upon pain of my great diſpleaſure, that none whoſoever, doe offer her the leſt violence or injury: vowing by the ſoul of my Father, that he ſhall never obtain either favour or pardon from me: Then turning towards Arimant, Well ſtranger (ſaid he) art thou contented with me? Yes ſir, anſwered he, the moſt contented man in the world. Then turning towards the Souldiers; Take away (ſaid he) [Page] this ſturdy contemner of my anger, and let him ſuffer torment till he die, that other raſh men like him, may by his example learne to dread my anger. Arimant looked up with a cheerful aſpect, and obſerving Cryſeide to weep: Oh Madam, ſaid he unto her, I beſeech you let not your teares diſturbe the tranquillity of my ſoul: Alas, my life could never be better imployed then in procuring your liberty: Liberty? ſaid Cryſeide, I value not liberty at ſo dear a rate, I had rather ſuffer perpetual impriſonment, then ſee you ſo ruined in the flower of your age: But go Arimant, and if I have my liberty, I will not be long after you; I will make it appeare, that I can die as well to follow you, as you can to ſave my honour.

Whilſt ſhe was talking thus, and Arimant conjuring her to live as long as it ſhould pleaſe the Gods to prolong her dayes, they had finiſhed the tying of his armes with chaines. The people were all ſo moved at the conſtancy of the Cavalier at the compaſſion of Cryſeide, as they ſighed and cryed at ſuch a pittifull ſeparation. Bellimart who was with the King at this Sacrifice, and hearing Arimant ſpeak, he knew him to be his Priſoner, and ſo did the Captaine who was come to acquaint him, that he was eſcaped. And ſeeing that if Gondebunt did put him to death he then ſhould loſe all his hopes of any ranſome; he addreſſed himſelfe to the King, and ſaid; That it was not to thwart the will of his Majeſtie in any thing, becauſe all he had, his Majeſtie might freely diſpoſe of, but onely becauſe he was unwilling to loſe his right; that he beſeeched him to wave the execution of Death againſt this ſtranger, until he had informed him of his reaſons; and the King permitting it, he repreſented unto him the great paines he had taken in his ſervice▪ the hazards he had run, and the wounds he had received: And Sir, ſaid he, the ranſome of this ſtranger whom I took priſoner who eſcaped from me, was all the reward I ever hoped for: But if this ſentence of Death be executed▪ I ſhall loſe all my hopes, and all that fortune gave unto me; which I believe, Sir, is not a little; for he is one of the chiefe of the Province of the L [...]bians, and his Father who has no Children but he, is raiſed to that credit, as that great Souldier R [...]thimer has more apprehenſion of him, then any in all Ciſa pine Gaule. He had no ſooner ſpoke theſe words, but Bellaris that faithful ſervant, not knowing what his Maſters deſign was, running unto this place as almoſt all the Towne did, and hearing what he had done to ſave Cryſeide, he was extreamly deſirous to free his Maſter from this danger, by the loſſe of his own life; an [...] therefore crouded in, and caſt himſelfe at the feet of Gondebunt in ſuch a reſolute manner, that he hindred him from giving Bell [...]mart any anſwer: and when he ſaw the King hearkned towards him, he began thus:

Sir, you have this day gotten the title of a promiſe-keeping Prince; and I doe here caſt my ſelfe upon my knees, beſeeching you to be no leſſe an obſerver of your word towards me, then you have been towards this Cavalier, called Arimant. Stranger, ſaid Gondebunt, neither thou nor he, nor any living, ſhall ever have any cauſe to upbraid me with breach of word: Sir, ſaid Bellar [...]s, this action ſpeakes you worthy to be the Monarch of the whole world. Then riſing up, he continued thus: You have promiſed, oh Great King, to beſtow a favour upon him who was ayding and actually aſſiſting in the eſcape of this Lady: I have ſo, ſaid the King; Then, Sir, ſaid he, I come to inform you of him, againſt whom you have juſt cauſe to be angry, and ſeverely to puniſh: for indeed he is in all the fault, and you cannot in reaſon accuſe this poore Cavalier of any crime; though it is true, he was a cauſe of her eſcape, becauſe he did not contribute any thing toward it, farther than that he lived and loved her: I muſt confeſſe that had he not been amongſt the living, ſhe would not have had any mind to eſcape: But, Sir, is it a crime to live? Did he ever give her any counſell or adviſe her to it? or did he ever take any paines or induſtry about it? No, no, Sir, not at all, further then to let her know he was alive. But on the other ſide, he whom I ſhall diſcover unto you, is onely culpable; he firſt gave the counſell, he contrived the way; it was he who looſed the Chaine of Boat [...] which blocked up the River; he helped Cryſeide to paſſe through; he found out Horſes for her to fly away: To be briefe, Sir, he did all; and by conſequence deſerves all the puniſhment.

The King hearing this ſtranger ſpeak thus; Why, ſaid he, art thou ſo long before thou nameſt him unto me, that I may ſeverely puniſh him? Sir, ſaid the faithful ſervant, I ſhall quickly name him, and more then that, I will deliver him into your hands, when according to your Royal word, you have granted me the favour which I ſhall ask. I doe promiſe it, ſaid the King, and confirme my promiſe by atteſting all that is ſacred. Then, [Page] Sir, ſaid Bellaris, the favour which I ask is, That this Cavalier may be ſet at liberty, and that all his fetters may be charged upon me; for it was I onely, that helped Cryſeide to eſcape: It was I who brought her newes he was alive; It was I that has been with her ever ſince. To be brief, Sir, It is I onely that deſerves all the puniſhment, becauſe I was, I only, that am the cauſe of your high diſpleaſure. But now ſince I have made good what I have promiſed, it is your part, Oh great King, to make good yours and grant the favour which I asked: I was from my infancy brought up in the houſe of this Noble Cavalier, I do owe unto him all that I am; I have been a witneſſe of his affection unto Cryſeide, from the very firſt beginning of it; and I have ſeen ſo much virtue and nobleneſſe of minde between them, that I thinke the end of my dayes moſt happy, if I can be a meanes of their long living together by virtue of the favour which I ask; I ſhould think my ſelfe culpable of ingratitude, if being able to ſave the life and honour of him who gave me life, and who by his example has taught me all things vertuous and honourable, I did not freely doe it. And therefore, Great Sir, I deſire you will abſolve Arimant from all kind of puniſhment, and not onely ſet him at liberty, as you have already Cryſeide; but alſo, that you would be pleaſed, out of your incomparable magnanimity, to make them marry each other, as they are already by the conſent both of themſelves and their Parents. Let all your anger which you aimed at him, be imployed, good Sir, againſt me, and adde as many torments as you will, ſo they be ſafe; for the very Glory of doing what I ought to doe, will make them all ſo ſweet unto me, as I ſhall not reſent the ſharpneſſe of the paine.

And becauſe, Sir, I hear that the valiant Bellimart pretends to have ſome right unto my Maſter, becauſe he was formerly his Priſoner. Give me leave to contradict his pretenſion in the preſence of your Majeſtie. Firſt, What can he pretend unto my Maſter, but onely this, that my Maſter gave himſelfe unto him? When you took the Towne of Cartures, Oh great King, Bellimart knowes very well how much he is beholding unto this valiant Cavalier, for his life; I will not repeat it, leſt it ſhould blemiſh ſuch a generous courage as that of Bellimart: But I muſt needs ſay (and he knowes I ſay truly) that it was not he who took my my Maſter; But my maſter after he had done Bellimart a very notable piece of ſervice, did entreat him to take him as his Priſoner, upon condition to uſe him like a Cavalier, and a man of [...]ality: whether this make my Maſter a Priſoner of War, or a Priſoner of Courteſie, I refer it unto the judgement of your Majeſtie. But to wave this, and admit him his Priſoner; what is it he would now have? If he was his Priſoner then, why did he not keep him? Did he let him go upon his Parole? No, Sir, he guarded him as well as he could, and he could not keep him. Now if a Priſoner doe eſcape, and he who had him, do meet him in another Province, can he take him again? No, ſir, this concerns the grandure of your Majeſtie. I doe not ſay, but that if Bellimart had kept him ſtill his Priſoner within your Dominions, he might now have had ſome Law to demand him: But ſince he did not keep him ſafe within your own Realme, but ſent him into the Country of the Viſigots; what reaſon has he to take him againe now, ſince he eſcaped as for ſafety into your Dominions; and ſo much the rather, becauſe your Majeſtie having made a peace with all the poor people of Ciſalpine Gaul, there is no likelihood that all thoſe who fly hither for refuge, ſhould be ſeized upon as Enemies. This, Sir, is the laſt ſervice I am like to doe for this noble Cavalier, unto whom I doe owe much more then I am able to pay.

Thus the faithful Bellaris ended his ſpeech, which contained in it ſo much affection and reaſon, that the King could not chuſe but admire the love of Cryſeide, the Generoſity of Arimant, and the fidelity of Bellaris; in ſo much as he ſtood amazed at them along while, and began to relent; At laſt he broke out into theſe expreſſions: Great are the Judgements of Tautates, and his wayes are ſo deep, that no mortal man can find the bottome. I made choice of this ſacrifice, in hopes of perſwading Cryſeide to love me; and on the contrary, ſhe flyes to the priviledge of the Tomb of the two Lovers, I publiſhed a Declaration, thinking by promiſes to regain loſt Cryſeide, and that Declaration is it which hath raviſhed her from me, and made me quite loſe her even when ſhe was in my own hands; and all this to ſhew that all humane wiſdome is but folly, compared to the infinite wiſdome of that great God whom we adore. And though I do ſee all theſe things do conduce unto the confuſion of all my deſigns, and plainly foreſee that there is no hopes for me in the fair Cryſeide: yet muſt I needs confeſſe that all things have been alleadged [Page] upon ſuch ſound reaſon▪ as I proteſt that had I known the beginning and progreſſe of this great and vertuous affection, I would ſooner have dyed then ſuffered it to be ſeparated. And therefore, oh you happy couple of Lovers, I doe declare you free, and exempt from all manner of puniſhment or impriſonment, be it either in relation to me or unto Bellimart, upon thoſe reaſons ſo ſtrongly urged by that faithful ſervant, whoſe offence I doe alſo moſt freely remit, wiſhing rather ſuch a friend and ſuch a ſervant, then ſuch another Kingdome as I have; I do give you all three free power and liberty to live in any part of my Dominions or elſe to go whither you pleaſe; yet if you will afford me ſo much contentment as to ſee you married before you depart, I ſhall think both my Kingdom and my ſelf much honoured and very happy in it.

Upon this, he commanded that Arimant ſhould be unlooſed, who with the generous Lady and faithfull Servant, came and caſt themſelves at his feet upon their knees, ſome kiſſing his hands, others his knees, and all the Aſſembly did commend the Magnanimity and juſtice of the King, who by the grandure of his courage, knew ſo well how to vanquiſh himſelf.

Thus Florice ended the relation of the fortunes of theſe two perfect Lovers, every one admiring their virtues; ſome did highly eſteeme Cryſeide for refuſing the Scepter and Crown of Rithimer and Gondebunt, to preſerve her fidelity unto Arimant: Others admired the reſolution of Arimant, in offering ſo voluntarily to die for the liberty of Cryſeide, but all with one commune conſent commended the fidelity and affection of Bellaris. Hylas onely laughed at all three, and at all thoſe who did commend their actions. Was ever the like folly ſeen? ſaid he. Cryſeide like a fool as ſhe was might have beene a Queen, and now ſhe is onely a ſilly Country wench; Arimant alſo, like a fond obſtinate Coxcombe in his courtſhip of Cryſeide, muſt loſe his time, be wounded, taken Priſoner, and after abundance of perill and trouble, be at laſt like to loſe his life in diſgrace, and had done ſo if Gondebunt had not been more courteous in performing his promiſe, then he was wiſe in putting him to it: Had it not been better for both parties if Cryſeide had been a Queen, and afterwards given Arimant that ſatisfaction he deſired? But Silvander, all their perplexities and miſeries do proceed from that which you call Conſtancy. It is that onely which tormented them ſo pittifully; onely that, which had like [...]o have coſt them their lives, and made them the ſport of fortune and chance. Silvander hearing himſelfe named, came neerer Hylas, and anſwered him thus; All theſe things which you have named, Hylas, are indeed the conſequents of conſtancy which you doe ſo much condemn; aud how much they are accompanied with paines and dangers, ſo much more are they to be eſteemed: they are onely generous ſpirits that dare attempt difficulties to accompliſh their deſigns: They are but ſimple ſoirits, ſaid Hylas, who run after a ſhadow and leave the ſubſtance: Arimant is tyed to a thing called Conſtancy very finely; he muſt ſpend all his youth in the ſervice of Cryſeide, and when he is old, then ſhe will give her ſelf unto him, this is as much as to give a hard bone to knaw upon unto a Dogge that has no teeth: Had not this Cavalier done better if he had ſtayed in Eporedes, and comforted his poor old Father who loved him, than to break his heart with griefe, or at leaſt made his old age ſo full of ſorrows and misfortunes, as death was welcome to him: And then for Arimants own proper contentment doe you thinke there was no women in all the Town but Cryſeide? Ah my friend Silvander, what groſſe folly is it to loſe ones time, and ſpend all one has upon one Commodity? had he followed my Lawes, when he met with ſo many difficulties oppoſing his deſires he would have wiſely turned his back upon them, and have made his addreſses unto ſome other whoſe conqueſt would have been more eaſie, and perhaps more advantageous: Every one did laugh at the opinion of Hylas; and Tircis began then to ſpeak; I perceive, Hylas, (ſaid he) that you are one who will never build any Temple unto Fortune, becauſe you will not have any thing to doe with her. And I perceive (ſaid Hylas) that you are one whom onely thoſe that are old and ugly will adore. And why? ſaid Tircis: Becauſe, anſwered Hylas, thoſe who are old & il-favoured, to invite any to love and ſerve them, do propoſe you as a God: You, I ſay, who are ſo far out of your ſenſes as to love one that is dead. This, Hylas, replyed Tircis, is inhumane, to repreſent unto the afflicted the cauſe of their griefe; but be it ſo, that I ſhould be eſteemed by theſe old ones of whom you ſpeak, and propoſed as a God, what hurt is it unto me? Is it not better, my friend, to be thought a God, then to be held for an unconſtant man? And Hylas, are not Altars and Sacrifices [Page] pleaſing unto the Gods, whom we adore? and why then ſhould they not be ſo unto men? Do you think, Tircis, anſwered Hylas, that I have not as many Altars and Sacrifices as you? certainly I have; for I can make my ſelf more adoreable then you can: This onely is the difference, you are the God of the old and ugly, and I the God of the young and faire: And therefore the ſacrifices which are offered unto you are old and wrinkled, and mine are young and plump: Unto your Altar comes none but ancient Matrons, crawling upon Crutches, and crooked, their heads and hands ſhaking and trembling; but unto mine comes none but the faireſt, youngeſt, and jollieſt wenches in all the Country; ſo as I am then the God of Pleaſure, of Joy and of Life; and you the God of Envie, Sorrow, and Death. Now tell me, Tircis, without p [...]ſſion, which of theſe two Sacrifices doe you think more agreeable and eſtimable? Tircis would have anſwered, when the venerable Cryſante being advertiſed, that Adamas with his company would paſſe by very near her houſe; ſhe came through the wood which joyned to the Meadow belonging to the Temple of Aſtrea, and by her coming interrupted their diſcourſe, becauſe the Druid advanced to ſalute her, and calling Alexis, preſented her as his Daughter. The venerable Cryſante, kiſſed and embraced her with abundance of joy and ſo did the reſt of the virgin Druids, much admiring her [...]eauty and behaviour. In the meane time, the venerable Druid addreſſing her ſelfe unto Adamas, beſeeched them not to think her ſo uncivil or negligent of her duty, but that ſhe would wait upon them if ſhe could; yet being commanded by A [...]aſis to wait upon her, ſhe was afraid ſhe could not; which, ſaid ſhe, does moſt trouble me; for I perceive ſhe will come unto me ſooner then ſhe thought, by reaſon of this new accident which happened: What Accident? ſaid Adamas: I thought, replyed the venerable Cryſante, that you had been acquainted with it. You muſt know, Arganteus was killed in the preſence of Galathea and Polemas, by a Cavalier ſtranger, and in the concluſion of the combate one of the Lyons which guarded the inchanted Fountain, ſeeking about for food, came upon the place, and ſo affrighted the Horſes of Galatheas Coach, as they ran away, over [...] the Coach, and broke is all in pieces; So as ſhe, who by fortune was on foot, to ſee the Combate and part them, was forced to walk on foot unto Mount Verdune, where ſhe ſtayes, expecting her Coach, and the recovery of the Cavalier who killed Arganteus, and I believe is there ſtill. Whilſt they were thus talking, they were interrupted by the coming of young Lerindas, Galathea's meſſenger, who addreſſing himſelfe unto the ſage Druid; Father, ſaid he, The Nimph Galathea has ſent me unto you, to let you know that ſhe intends to be preſent at the ſacrifice which you intend to offer for the Misſletoe; and fearing ſhe ſhould come too late, ſhe deſires you to ſtay a little, and ſend her word in what place you will offer it.

Adamas hearing this meſſage, was a little ſurprized at it, becauſe remembring that Galathea had formerly ſeen Celadon in womans Clothes, and therefore he feared ſhe would know him now in the habit of a Druid: Yet not to give any notice of his feare, he anſwered him thus: Friend, I deſire thee to tell the Nimph, that I ſhould be very willing to obey her commands, but the time is ſo ſhort now, as I am afraid I ſhall not: For I know ſhe would not have the ſervice of Tautates retarded: all things being in readineſſe, and the ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes aſſembled upon the place, ſo as it is indeed impoſſible to defer until another time, without great diſorder and ſcandall; but if ſhe have a deſire to ſee theſe faire and diſcreet ſhepherdeſſes, I promiſe to bring them unto her within two or three dayes unto Mount Verdune: for I believe ſhe would be at the ſacrifice, only out of a deſire to ſee them altogether: I aſſure you Father (ſaid the young Lerindas) you have divined aright; For I have heard her ſay, that ſhe deſires nothing more, then to ſee whether the ſhepherdeſſes of Lignon be as faire as they are reported: I thought as much, replyed Adamas; For this Sacrifice which now we are about, is but a private ſacrifice of a few, and not worthy of her preſence; but the great Day of Solemnity is the ſixth day of July, when I ſhall be happy in her preſence, if ſhe pleaſe to honour us ſo far: Tell her therefore, Lerindas, that the ſhortneſſe of the time, and the little ſolemnity which is now to be uſed, is not enough to invite her hither, and that I know theſe faire ſhepherdeſſes will make good my promiſe. I aſſure you, Father, ſaid Aſtrea, none of us will be againſt whatſoever you ſhall promiſe, eſpecially in paying a duty unto which we are all obliged: You doe very well (anſwered the meſſenger) to ſpeak for all the reſt; for I believe that you and Diana, are the two whom ſhe deſires moſt to ſee, and you Aſtrea, [Page] above all. Had I thought (ſaid [...]) that [...] had been ſo happy [...] to be known unto ſo great a Nimph, we ſhould long ſince have paid the duty which we [...] Your Names, and your Beauties, ſaid Lerindas, cannot be [...] in theſe [...] and I muſt confeſſe that I think I have been partly a [...] of her deſire [...] ſee you having told her whom I ſaw. When ſhe ſees us (ſaid the ſhepherdeſſe) [...] ſhe will ſay, you ſpoke too high in advantage of our beauties I feare [...]plyed he that ſhe will accuſe me for ſpeaking too little in your advantage, rather than too much▪ but I know ſhe expects me with impa [...]tience, therefore I will go and tell her of you, and ſwear [...] unto her truly, that ſhe muſt hide all her Nimphs when you come, unleſſe ſhe would have: [...] bluſh for ſhame, and pine away with envy. Leonide hearing theſe words, and ſee [...]ing to be offended: How now Lerindas, ſaid ſhe, doe you uſe my companions thus? I proteſt unto you, I will tell them. If you doe, anſwered he, you will doe them a [...]double diſpleaſure▪ The one, in making it appeare unto them that they are not ſo fa [...]: and the other, in letting them heare a reproach which will offend them, and which in reaſon they cannot contradict. Upon this, without ſtaying for an anſwer [...]he ran away towards Mount Verdune. And Adamas fearing ſtill left Galathea ſhould come to the ſacrifice, to the end he might diſpatch it the ſooner, diſmiſſed the venerable Cryſ [...]n [...]e, who would willingly have been preſent, had ſhe not feared that Amaſi [...] and Galathea would come in the mean time unto Bon-leiu.

A little after all the company came into the little Meadow which was before the entrance into the Temple of Aſtrea, where there was a very great aſſembly of ſhepherd [...] ſhepherdeſſes, with their [...] Eubages, Bardes, Sarronides, and Druides of the Neighbor-hood, and all things requiſite for the ſacrifice in readineſſe. Amongſt the Paſtors there aſſembled, was the prudent Phocion, and the ſage Diamis, ſo commendable for their yet [...]erable age: Amintor alſo the Nephew of Philidas was there, and by fortune, Daphnis the deare friend of Diana, who being come the might before, would not faile to be there with Callirea, as well to ſee the ſacrifices, as her deare companion from whom ſhe had been long abſent▪ As ſoon as they ſaw each other, they left all other company, and running with open armes, they embraced one another with ſuch abundance of joy, as they made it appeare, that abſence had no power over their affections▪ After they had long embraced, Aſtrea and Phillis came and parted them, and deſired to be participants in the Carraffes. See here my companion (ſaid Diana to her) ſee what I have got ſince you ſaw me, here are two other Daphnis whom I doe love as I doe my life, and would have you love them alſo, being certaine that according to your merits, they will love you as well as you love me. Then Aſtrea and Diana, confirming that aſſurance with a hundred proteſtations of amity, and Daphnis receiving them with the like cordial affection, they contracted ſuch a ſociety amongſt themſelves, as never after was broken.

In the mean time, Adamas being deſtrous to know whether all things neceſſary for the ſacrifice was ready, he found that the Prieſts had been very careful in their offiecs. So as after they had waſhed their hands and faces in the fountaine which was at the entrance into the Temple of Amity; and being clad in white, and crowned with Vervine, He, and the Vaites, Eubages, Sarronides, and others appointed for the ſacrifice, they took all thoſe things with which they would ſacrifice. One carried the Gilden Hatchet wherewith they uſed to cut the Misſletoe: Another, the white ſilken Rope, in which they tyed it: Another a bundle of Savine: Another, of Vervine; two carried the Bread and the Wine which they were to ſacrifice: At laſt came two white Bulls, Crowned with Savine and Vervine, decked almoſt all over their bodies with Flowers, and driven by [...]ight Victimaries.

The ſage Adamas, all theſe things thus prepared and paſſing in order before him, he came with a Gravity becoming a great Druid, and taking two or three turnes about the ſacred Meadow being followed by all the ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes with great [...] rence, he ſet the Misſletoe upon an Altar which was erected at the foot of the happy [...] upon which the new Misſletoe did grow.

The place was where the Temple of Aſtrea was made, by lapping together little trees one with another in form of an Arbor, by the ſhepherd Celadon [...] And because, they muſt firſt paſſe through the Temple of Amity, as formerly I told you▪ many of thoſe who followed the ſacrifice, were conſtrained to ſtay there, becauſe the Temple of [...] was too little to hold ſo great a company: Moreover, the two white Bulls, and the [Page] eight Victimaries took up a great deale of the room; and yet Adamas was forced to offer the ſacrifice there, becauſe the Tree wherein the Misſletoe was, did b [...]are up almoſt all the roofe of this Temple▪ and according to the cuſtome, the Thanks muſt be given at the root of this Tree which heaven had ſo much favoured.

After the Great Druid had ranged every thing in order, and ſaw all the people zealouſly at their devotion, he cauſed a great Chaffing diſh of coles to be brought, and putting it on the Altar, he took three leaves of the Misſletoe, as many of Savine, and three branches of Vervine, and threw them into the fire. Laying his hand upon the Altar, he ſaid thus:

Unto thee, O great Heſus, Bellinus, Tharamis, that this people doe render thankes for the Misſletoe which thou haſt ſent amongſt them; It is unto thee as their onely Tautates, that in this Wood they offer the ſacrifice of Thanks, in this Bread and Wine, together with the blood and lives of theſe white Bulls: The one in teſtimony that we acknowledge it to be from thee, we have the preſervation of our lives: And the other to ſhew our ſincerity with which we doe adore thee, and conſecrate theſe pure and immaculate Victims. As Heſus, ſtrengthen the arm of our Cavaliers and Souldiers, and infuſe ſuch courage into them, as they may be able not only to defend us from our enemies, but alſo to get the victory over them: As Bellinus, be thou the God of men, and preſerve them: As Tharamis, clenſe and purge us from all our ſinnes: And as our Tautates, be ſtill our onely one God, and look upon us through this Goddeſſe Aſtrea, from whom we hope for all manner of Benediction.

Upon this, he threw a little of the Bread and Wine into the fire, and made a figne to knock down the Victims: Two did receive the blood in Baſons, and two held the legges of the Bulls leſt they ſhould hurt the Victimaries: Afterwards, the Prieſts cauſing them to be carried into the ſacred Meadow; they opened them, and ſearched their entralls, and found them to be very ſound, perfect, and of a good Augury▪ At which all being very joyfull and contented, they made the report of it unto the Grand Druid before all the Aſſembly, he thanked Great Tautates for being pleaſed with their ſacrifice of Thankes, beſeeching him to continue ſtill his favours towards them. Then after a Benediction the ſacrifice ended, all were full of joy and contentment, and moſt of the old ſhepherds returned to their homes.

In the mean time the Victims being cut in pieces, and the fire having conſumed a part according to the cuſtome, the reſt was dreſſed and eaten by the Prieſts and other ſhepherds as would be in their company: None ſtaying in the Temple of Aſtrea, but Adamas, Daphnide, Alcidon, aud the reſt of the ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes that came into their company. And becauſe Daphnide, who had beene accuſtomed onely unto ſacrifices after the Roman manner, was very deſirous to know, why they uſed any other ceremonies in this Country: Madam, ſaid Adamas unto her, Though this Country of the Seguſians which we call Forreſts, be in extent much leſſe then any Province in Gaule; yet the great God hath had a greater care of it then any other: For to ſay nothing of other, the Gallo-ligures, which is that Country commonly called the Province of the Romans, becauſe they had a great affinity with the Romans; and the principall Towns are Colonies of Focenſes, and are addicted unto plurality of Gods, though at the firſt as Gaules they had the Religion of their Fathers; yet as errors are apt to inſinuate themſelves by degrees into all things, they did the ſame amongſt their Ceremonies, and brought into their ſacrifices the falſe and idolatrous opinions of ſeveral people, and made a Miſcellany of the Gaule, Roman, and Greek Religion, and ſo became much corrupted. But on the contrary, this little Country of Forreſts, never having any communication with ſtrange people, unleſſe with ſome Romans, have been exceedingly careful to preſerve theſe Ceremonies which you ſee pure and entire as they received them of old from thoſe Ancients, who after they had long floted upon the waters, brought in that true and pure Religion which they learned from that great friend of Tautates, who with his family ſaved himſelfe [...] the generall inundation.

Now this man taught them, that there was but onely one God, whom he called Tautates, whom by ſeverall ſurnames, he ſometimes called Heſus, that is to ſay, God omnipotent and omniſcient▪ ſometimes Bellinus, that is to ſay, God and Man, becauſe of all mortal Creatures man onely does acknowledge him: ſometimes Thamires, that is to ſay, God purging and taking away the ſinnes of the living: and this beliefe has beene [Page] ever preſerved pure amongſt us untill this time: And we may boaſt that we are the onely people of all the Gaules, who have had this happineſſe; for ſome by compulſion, others voluntarily, and by converſe with the Romans, Viſigots, Vandalls, Almains, Picts, and Burgundians, have loſt this purity which we have ſtill retained, both in our beliefe and practice.

Whilſt Adamas was thus talking unto Daphnide and Alcidon, diſcovering unto them the ſecret myſteries of his Religion; Aſtrea ſhewed unto Alexis, the rarities of this Temple, which ſhe had ſeen before the ſhepherdeſſe, and yet ſeemed to admire them, eſpecially when Phillis told her, that this Temple was made by an unknown hand▪ and that there was not a ſhepherdeſſe in all the Country who knew him that made it. 'Tis ſtrange, (ſaid Alexis) for it is not the work of one day: and yet, ſaid Aſtrea, none took any notice of it, untill it was finiſhed as you ſee. But I beſeech you, Madam, ſaid ſhe, tell me whether your opinion doe agree with ours; look well upon the Picture of the Goddeſſe, and tell me whom you thinke it doth moſt reſemble? It does reſemble, ſaid Alexis, the faireſt ſhepherdeſſe in the world: Then, replyed Aſtrea, you are not of the opinion of us all; for theſe ſhepherdeſſes aſſure me, and I thinke they are ſomething in the right, that this face doth much reſemble mine. Moſt certaine, replyed Alexis. For the Picture does extreamly reſemble you; and yet that doth not at all hinder, but that you are the faireſt ſhepherdeſſe in the world. I receive this commendations, ſaid Aſtrea, from Alexis, becauſe I deſire to be the more pleaſing unto her, and becauſe ſhe being no ſhepherdeſſe but a Druid, I doe not any injurie unto her in accepting of it. Though I were a ſhepherdeſſe, anſwered Alexis, yet you ought to accept it, ſince it is ſo much your due: And though you refuſe it out of exceſs of modeſty, yet reaſon will force you unto it by the judgement of all. But faireſt ſhepherdeſſe, let us talk no more of that which cannot be denyed by any, and let us ſee, I beſeech you, what is upon this Altar, which I think have been dedicated unto you by the Pans and Egypans of this Country, under the name of the goddeſſe Aſtrea. The ſhepherdeſs hearing Alexis, ſhe thought that ſhe heard the very voice of Celadon, as he was wont to diſcourſe unto her; and ſhe was infinitely joyed at this reſemblance, as ſhe could not hide her joyes from her companions. And at the ſame time when they came unto the Altar, Diana and Phillis came alſo having Daphnis with them, who being aſtoniſhed at what her Companions ſaid concerning that place, went along with them, looking upon all the rarities in it: and by fortune, Diana laying her hand upon one of the little Roles of Paper, of which there were many upon the Altar: ſhe opened it, and found certaine Verſes in it, and ſhewed them unto Phillis and Aſtrea. Methinks Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto her, that I ſhould know this hand: It is Celadons, anſwered Phillis, and I cannot chuſe but be raviſhed with wonder at what I ſee in this place. Aſtrea bluſhed at the name of Celadon, and Alexis much more, who to diſguiſe it the better, did ask who this Celadon was, of whom they ſpoke; He was, ſaid Diana, one of the moſt courteous ſhepherds in all this Country, and by unhappy misfortune was drowned. In what place? ſaid Alexis: It was, ſaid Aſtrea, in the fatal River of Lignon: but, ſaid ſhe, let us talk upon ſome other ſubject, and look upon theſe other Roles; Then taking one which was in the hands of Daphnis, ſhe ſaw ſome Verſes which were written in another Character: for they were written by the Nimph Leonide, when not being able to perſwade Celadon to forſake the melancholly life he led in that place, ſhe did viſit him almoſt every day; and becauſe ſhe could not conceal her paſſionate affection to him, ſhe writ thoſe Verſes as a teſtimony of it: When Phillis heard the name of Celadon, certainly, ſaid ſhe, this is the place of wonders, for there is no queſtion but every thing in it relates unto Celadon, and yet we all know that he is dead. How do you know that, ſaid Alexis: Nay, ſaid Aſtrea, it is but too true, for I ſaw him die, and ſince have ſeene his Ghoſt, but I beſeech you let us leave off this diſcourſe: and then offering to go away, Diana ſtayed her, and looked in another Paper which was written in the ſame Characters the firſt was, and contained theſe words:

Sighs.

[Page]

I.

Sighs, the Children of that thought which ſo inceſſantly torments me; why doe you not, either blow out that fire which is in my ſoule, or elſe ſ [...] inflame it as it may quite conſume me?

II.

Sighs, which were wont to be the Cordialls of him who gives you being; why doe you now change your cuſtomes of comforting, into a courſe of tormenting?

III.

Sighs, which do come from my heart; why doe you not carry that heart unto her for whom you are created, that ſo you may either give me a death by taking it from me, or a lif [...] by carrying it unto her, who is the originall of my life?

IV.

Sighs; why doe you come from my heart, ſince all my hopes are gone, and all my deſires ought to be quenched?

Theſe faire ſhepherdeſſes had not left one Role unopened which was upon the Altar; if Adamas, who was ſhewing unto Daphnide and Alcidon, the myſteries of the Temple of Amity, and the Temple of the Goddeſſe Aſtrea, had not interrupted them. They to give him place, went all out; though none of the company knew more of them then Alexis, yet ſhe ſeemed as much amazed at theſe things as any, and was as inquiſitive to be informed in every circumſtance. When they were come out, they found Hylas at the Fountaine, and would not enter into the Temple now no more then the firſt time▪ As ſoon as Alexis ſaw him, and not knowing the reaſon why he did not follow them: How now ſervant, (ſaid ſhe) What makes you ſtay here, whilſt we have been viewing the rareſt place in all the Country? Miſtreſſe, anſwered he, my intention was to make you more deſire the ſight of me, in being a little deprived of it: That needed not, anſwered ſhe, for I cannot deſire it more then I doe: If you had, replyed Hylas, you would have ſtayed here with me, and not have preferred your curioſity of viewing a woody Grove before your contentment in being with Hylus. I had thought, ſaid Alexis and ſmiled, that my ſervant had been more religiouſly devoted unto theſe ſacred Groves, and had been the firſt that would offer himſelfe at the Altars; ſo as thinking him gone before me, I went after to ſeek him. You ſaw me when you entred in as I did you, ſaid Hylas; and if your affection to me had been equall unto mine to you, you would have ſtayed behind them. Good Servant, ſaid Alexis, may I not as well tax your affection in not following me, for I ſhould willingly have ſtayed behind, had I known your intention of doing ſo? Nay, nay, anſwered Hylas, this is but an excuſe, you might well ſee that the God of this place was not pleaſed I ſhould enter, if you had looked upon the inſcription over the door: Then Alexis ſeeming not to ſee it before, looked up, and found written, That no prophane perſons who were not inſpired with a conſtant love, ſhould not enter into that ſacred place. And what of all this, ſaid Alexis? his meaning is, ſaid Silvander, That ſince he is not inſpired with a conſtant love, he dares not ſet his foot into the ſacred place, leſt he ſhould prophane it; and in this, Madam, he ſhewes himſelfe more religious then a perfect lover Servant, (ſaid Alexis) Is this true which Silvander ſaith? Miſtreſſe, anſwered Hylas, Do you deſire I ſhould love you? Yes, ſaid Alexis, with all my heart. Then, ſaid he, Lend not any eare unto any ſuch ſowers of ſedition in love as Silvander. Then turning towards him, Do you think Silvander, ſaid he, that I did not enter into this ſacred Grove, becauſe I was no perfect lover, as well as religious? What elſe would you have me thinke? ſaid Silvander; I think you were afraid of puniſhment, and therefore [Page] durſt not enter now, no more then the firſt time we came unto it; I will not deny, anſwered Hylas, but that I do ſtand in fear of angering the Gods, and let me tell you, th [...] this my feare is more commendable then your arrogance: For is there any who have not a Tincture of ſome humane imperfections? Ah my good friend, Doſt thou thinke thy ſelfe unſullied? and therefore how [...] you be ſo imp [...]ent as to ſet [...] [...] in this forbidden place? I confeſſe my ſelfe, ſaid Silvander, ſubject unto humane imperfections, but am not ſo groſly follied with them as ſome men are: I know thou it [...] company without common imperfections, and yet for all then they [...] into this ſacred place; ſince the condition of their entrance is, that there be no fault in their love: Now I [...]m moſt certaine there is none in mine, for I had rather die a thouſand deaths then ſuffer the leſt ſtain of imperfection in it.

A very fine fancy, believe it, ſaid Hylas; Good Silvander, tell me if there be any ſuch pure pieces in the world as you doe imagine your ſelfe? and if there be any, pray tell me where they are? You may very well ask where they are (ſaid Silvander) for I doe believe you know not any, though there be many in this place? Pray tell me? What doe you take Phillis to be? She ſaid Hylas, is too merry. What then, of Aſtrea▪ ſaid Silvander: She, anſwered Hylas, in too ſad. What then of Diana? ſaid Silvander: ſhe, replyed he, is too wiſe. What do you ſay unto Alexis? ſaid he: She, ſaid Hylas, knows too much. L [...]nide (continued Silvander) ſhe ſaid Hylas knows too much, [...] too little, What faultin Celidea, ſaid Silvander: Her virtue replyed he [...] is [...] unto me. What do you ſay of Florice? ſaid Silvander; That fine has a jealous [...], answered he: What of Palanice, replyed Silvender She, ſaid Hylas, does too ſoon believe that ſhe is loved: Of [...] ſaid Silvander: She, ſaid Hylas, is [...]ſoluto: What fault in Carlis? ſaid Silvander: She loved me too much, anſwered he▪ What do you think of Stilliana? ſaid Silvander; She is too ſubtile, ſaid Hylas: What of D [...]phnide, continued Silvander; That ſhe has loſt him, anſwered Hylas, who would have made her eſteemed more faire: What do you ſay o [...] L [...]anies? ſaid Silvander. I ſay, replyed Hylas, that I do not love her: And of Ma [...]he, ſaid the ſhepherd; She, anſwered he, is too like Diana. Oh Heavens (ſaid Silvander [...]) Can I propoſe none in whom you will find no fault? You have forgotten one ſhepherdeſſe amongſt us (ſaid Diana) and that is Stella. Very true indeed, ſaid Silvander; what do you ſay of her? I muſt confeſſe (ſaid Hylas then) that if ſhe continue pleaſing me, as well as ſhe hath done this morning, I think that I ſhall find her according to my own mind. How, how? ſervants ſaid Alex [...]s preſently, will you quit me for her? Hylas, after he had thought a little b [...] ter with himſelfe, anſwered very faintly: No, no, Miſtreſſe, I would not quit you, but I hope I may let you have ſome company▪ Why, replyed Alexis, cannot you content your ſelfe with me? Fie, fie, I muſt needs complain of you to all the world. [...] you are too blame, anſwered Hylas; for have you not alwayes told me, that our loves ſhould be equall: Moſt true, replyed Alexis: Then, replyed he, if it be equall, you ſhould let me love another beſides your ſelfe, ſince you doe the ſame. Whom do you ſee me love, ſaid ſhe, beſides your ſelf? Whom? ſaid Hylas▪ What [...] you doing all the day upon this Country wench, called Aſtren? Oh ſervant ſaid Alexis, ſhe is a woman [...] ▪ Well then, ſaid Hylas, may not I alſo love a woman? Servant, ſaid Alexis, if you were a woman as I am, it were then allowable to love a woman; but ſince you are not, I have great reaſon to be jealous. I beſeech you, Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, let [...] law be equall betwixt us: No, ſaid ſhe, I can never conſent unto ſo much wrong to my ſelf▪ And believe in, Miſtreſſe (ſaid Hylas) I will not loſe any of my priviledges. I pe [...]cive (ſaid Diana) there is like to be a divorce betwixt you: For my part, ſaid Aſtrea, I ſhall be [...] ga [...] ner by it, which way ſoever it be; for if they do break off, I ſhall poſſeſſe that [...] one to my ſelfe alone; and if they doe not, yet ſince ſhe [...] Hylas to love Sre [...]a, I ſhall have the more opportunities of talking with her, whilſt he is entertaining his new Miſtreſſe: And for my part, ſaid Hylas, I ſhall be alſo a ga [...]er▪ By it; for if we be divorced, then I ſhall be free, and if we continue, then I ſhall have [...] to love me [...] of one. I perceive, ſaid Alexis, that the loſſe will be onely [...] For if Hylas doe ceaſe loving me, I ſhall loſe the friendſhip of a perſon whom I value an a high rate of eſteem: and if he do ſtill love me with a condition of loving another▪ I ſhall have but one half of a ſervant, whilſt Stella has the other▪ [...] as which way ſoever the wind blow, it will be againſt me: But ſervant, is there no meanes to make you [...], and [...] Stella from [Page] having a ſhare? Alexis ſpoke this in ſuch a reſenting manner, as one would have thought her in good earneſt. Hylas, whoſe conſtancy could not continue any longer, and fearing to offend againſt his old principles: Miſtreſſe, ſaid he, I cannot continue any longer upon uncertaine terms; you muſt either leave Aſtrea, or let me take in Stella, or elſe break all off; our Market is quite done, for I am a Merchant at a word; your own law of equality obliges me unto it. Do what Alexis could, ſhe could not chuſe but laugh at the diſcourſe of Hylas, and ſtaying long before ſhe anſwered; What? ſaid he, are you laughing in lieu of an anſwer? Truly ſervant (ſaid Alexis) I muſt tell you truly, I had rather be alone, then to have ill company: It is in your choice, Miſtreſſe, replyed Hylas: Well ſervant, ſaid ſhe, ſince I ſee you are a merchant ſo punctuall to your word, I will believe you are reſolved to quit me: Stella hearing her ſelfe named, came in, and knowing that it was of her whom Hylas ſpoke; Madam, ſaid ſhe unto Alexis, if you will but pleaſe to let Hylas ſerve me, it will redound unto your advantage; for when he finds my unworthineſſe, he will more eſteem your merit. Kind ſhepherdeſſe, anſwered Alexis, I rather feare the contrary; for when Silvander asked him what faults he found in me, he found ſome, but in you none. Nay rather, anſwered Stella, he found ſo many as he could not name them all. No, no, (ſaid Alexis) Love uſeth to blind the eyes of all thoſe who love well. Come, come, ſaid Hylas, to what purpoſe is all this talk? Miſtreſſe (ſaid he) are you reſolved; I pay tell me, for I cannot ſtay any longer. Alexis, who began to be weary of him, becauſe he often interrupted her diſcourſe with Aſtrea, ſhe anſwered thus; Servant, we Druids uſe not to be ſo haſty as others; for we uſe to conſult with the Oracle in all our affaires. But Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, do you never any thing without the leave of the Oracle? Nothing, ſaid ſhe. If as a reward of my ſerving you ſome moneths (ſaid Hylas) I ſhould ask you a kiſſe, would you conſult with the Oracle about it? Servant, replyed Alexis and laughed, we never uſe to aske leave of the Oracle for ſuch things, for we know that we ought not to do it. How, how, ſaid Hylas, not after a long ſervice, allowed one kiſſe? No, replyed the Druid. What hopes then is there, ſaid Hylas, in ſerving you any longer? The contentment, ſaid ſhe, in loving and ſerving me. Contentment, ſaid Hylas, I take no delight in ſuch a journey, as will not bear its own Charges: Well Servant, ſaid the Druid, I perceive you intend to leave me, and I will not ſtay you. Methinks, ſaid he, that ſo many ſervices as you have received from me, may very well permit me to kiſſe your hand at parting. Although (ſaid Alexis) I am very ſorry to part from you; and though the ſtrict Lawes of the Druids do in ſome ſort forbid it, yet Hylas for a parting blow, I will permit you a kiſs of my hand. Upon this, Hylas kneeled down, and ſaid, I receive this favour in teſtimony that I eſteemed Alexis the moſt perfect in the quality of a Druid that ever was; and having kiſſed her hand, he ran to Stella, and taking her hand, Unto you faire ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid he) do I come and offer all thoſe favours which I obtained from thoſe I loved; and that you may not thinke me very poor, receive in the firſt place this kiſs which this faire Druid hath given me. If you have no others, ſaid Silvander that are greater then this, I believe, Hylas, you have not many to brag of. Why? anſwered Hylas, Do not you eſteem it a favour which Alexis hath done me? I think it, ſaid Silvander, rather a Ranſome then a favour. What Ranſome doe your mean? (ſaid Hylas) I mean (ſaid Silvander) that this fair and wiſe Druid, rather then be any longer troubled with you did free and ranſome her ſelfe from you, by permitting you that kiſſe of her hand. I do believe, ſaid Hylas that you are much miſtaken: but I know Silvander, that you have been long my enemy, and I will not believe any thing you ſay, no more then I deſire you ſhould believe any thing I ſay againſt you▪ But fair ſhepherdeſſe, I beſeech you believe not a word from this ſhepherd, for if you doe, I am ſure we ſhall not long love each other. Stella who was not ignorant of the humour of Hylas, nor much diſpleaſed with it: Now ſervant, ſaid ſhe, I am ſo well acquainted with Silvander, that you need not ſay any more concerning him: But pray tell me? are you in good earneſt my ſervant? How? replyed Hylas, Do you think I diſſemble as the ſhepherds of Lignon uſe? No; no, be pleaſed to know that my heart is in my tongue, and all my words are true: do you not ſee that I have leſt loving Alexis, as I told her I would. I ſhall believe all you have ſaid, replyed the ſhepherdeſſe, and more if need be; and therefore I deſire you would do as much for me in what I ſhall ſay; And to the end we may live contentedly together, I deſire that Articles of agreement may be drawn betwixt us, which will oblige us to the obſervance of them, and which we will call the Laws of Love. [Page] And for our better remembrance of them, I deſire they may be put in writing, before we make a full concluſion. My future Miſtreſſe, ſaid Hylas, for ſo I will call you untill our conditions beſet down in black and white; I doe foreſee ſo much contentment in our future amity, that I will not delay it a jot longer: I think I have an Inkhorn in my pocket, and as for Paper, I hope to find ſome alſo ſome way or other. All the company who heard this new way of loving, could not chuſe but laugh, and were ſo deſirous to ſee the conditions, as they every one began to look for ſome Paper, and a piece being found, Hylas himſelfe would needs be the Secretary; But Stella ſaid, that it was more reaſon it ſhould be ſhe, becauſe it was ſhe that firſt made the Propoſition. At laſt, after a long diſpute, Hylas agreed that ſhe ſhould dictate unto him, and both parties ſhould conſent unto every Article: But ſtill Stella feared that Hylas would not ſet down according to her Dictates, and Hylas feared the like of her, ſo as they durſt not truſt each other.

This diſpute could not be without abundance of delight to the company; and becauſe Aſtrea ſaw her dear Druid laugh heartily at the buſineſſe, ſhe told Silvander that he might do very well to be the Secretary unto them both. I ſhould willingly undertake the office, fair ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid he) if that true and perfect affection which I beare unto Diana, could ſuffer my hand to write things ſo contrary to the fidelity and purity of my love; and truly I had rather die, than any ſuch conditions ſhould ever be ſeen under the hand of Silvander. Nay, nay, ſcrupulous Lover, ſaid Hylas, never trouble your ſelfe for an excuſe, I will ſave you the labour of it; For the true love which is to be betwixt this ſhepherdeſſe and me, cannot endure that any one of ſo different an humour, ſhould ever be Secretary unto our Ordinances. Corilas who heard all this diſcourſe, and was extreamly deſirous to ſee Hylas and Stella linked together ſince never two was more like. Hylas, ſaid ſhe, Pray put the office upon me, and I promiſe to write juſt as it is agreed upon betwixt you; unto which both conſenting, he ſat down and writ theſe enſuing Articles, as they agreed upon them.

The twelve Articles and Conditions upon which Stella and Hylas doe promiſe to love each other for the future.

EXperience being that which makes perſons the moſt prudent, and ſhewes them wayes to avoid inconveniencies, wherein we have ſeen many ruined; and ſeeing by the ſeverall events which we have obſerved amongſt Lovers, that moſt of their diſſentions and bitter quarrells have proceeded onely from that Tyranny, which the one would exerciſe over the other. We Stella and Hylas, to avoid all thoſe inconveniencies are agreed upon theſe Articles and conditions following.

1.

That the one ſhall not uſurp over the other, that ſoveraigne authority which may truly be called Tyranny.

2.

That both of us ſhall be at one and the ſame time, both the lover and the loved.

3.

That our affection ſhall be eternally without conſtraint.

5.

[Page]

That we ſhall love one another as long as we pleaſe.

5.

That the party who would ceaſe loving, may doe ſo without any brand of infidelity

6.

That without any breach of Amity, we may love whom we pleaſe, without asking any leave.

7.

That jealouſie, complaints and teares, and all ſuch pulings be baniſhed from amongſt us, as things incompatible with our perfect amitie.

8.

That we ſhall be free in our converſation, and both of us ſay and do what they pleaſe without any offence unto either.

9.

That to avoid being lyers and ſlaves, either in word or deed; all theſe termes of fidelity, ſervice, and eternal affection, be never ſo much as named betwixt us in our diſcourſe.

10.

That we may both of us, or elſe one without the other, continue or ceaſe loving one another.

11.

That if this Amity doe ceaſe on one ſide or of both, we may renew it when we pleaſe.

12.

That, leſt we ſhould be tyed unto a long love, or a long hatred, we be obliged to forget, both favours and injuries.

Theſe Articles being thus written; Well Hylas, ſaid Stella, doe theſe conditions pleaſe you? Do they pleaſe you? ſaid Hylas. Who I? replyed the ſhepherdeſſe; I would never have ſuffered them to be written, had I not thought them moſt juſt and reaſonable. If the caſe were mine, ſaid Silvander, I would add one Article more, What is that (ſaid Hylas) It is, replyed Silvander; That wh [...]n you ſhall pleaſe you may break any one of conditions which you have written, for otherwiſe you contradict your own intentions, becauſe you aim is to love without any conſtraint; Now if you be obliged to obſerve what you have writ, are you not conſtrained to follow what you have writ? [...] proteſt, my dear future Miſtreſſe (ſaid Hylas, after he had better thought upon it) this ſhepherd does not ſpeak without reaſon. Why? my future Servant ſaid Stella, will you change your opinion upon the advice of Silvander? Silvander, I ſay, whom you have publiſhed to be your pro [...]eſſed enemy: I do not think it any ſhame (ſaid Hylas) to take any counſell which I think to be good: It is a Maxime I have ever followed, That none ſo bl [...]nd as they that will not ſee: As for Silvanders being my enemy, I doe confeſſe it; But is there any thing more venemous then a Toad? and yet it is uſed in Phyſick. Wiſe men will gather ſome good from their very enemies, and ſo may I from Silvander. But let us conſider whether his advice be good or bad; for my part, I have ever lived in a perfect and abſolute [Page] liberty; and it would vex me to the ſoul, that a bit of ſcribled Paper ſhould tie me to alter my way of life, which I ſhould be if I ſhould ſubſribe unto theſe Articles; for all manner of obligations are conſtraints, unleſſe Silvanders condition he included. For my part, ſaid Stella, I am contented it ſhould be added, for my liberty is as ſweet unto me, as yours can be to you: but becauſe I am afraid leſt there be ſome hidden ſubtilty in his words, I would have them written as a condition added by Silvander: I revoke that, ſaid Silvander, for I will not be mentioned in your conditions, neither as adviſer, nor as witneſſe. You cannot chuſe, ſaid Hylas, but be both; for every one ſees you are a witneſſe of what we have done; and every one hears that we add this thirteenth condition unto the reſt by your advice. All the company did fall into ſuch a laughter, that the noiſe reached unto Daphnide and Alcidon, who were talking with Adamas: and they out of curioſity to know what the matter was, came out and asked Silvander what was the cauſe of their laughter; he anſwered, that Hylas and Stella offered him wrong, which he had rather ſuffer death than endure. Then he related unto them all the paſſage, and ſhewed them the writing which was approved of by both ſides▪ And I adviſed them, ſaid he, to add another Article, that either of them might break any of theſe Articles when they pleaſed; they will needs add this Article unto their own, under the name of Silvander. The reverend Druid, Daphnide, and Alcid [...]n could not forbear laughing at theſe fine conditions, and alſo to ſee Silvander ſo angry his name ſhould be uſed in ſuch a contract; but the more Silvander refuſed, the more earneſt was Hylas and Stella to have it ſo▪ Then Adamas began to ſpeak; Children ſaid he unto them, Are you contented that I ſhould decide the difference? For my part (ſaid Hylas) I give conſent both for Stella and my ſelf▪ And for my part, ſaid Silvander, I do not only conſent, but beſeech him unto it. Tell me then, Hylas, ſaid the Druid, Why you would have Silvander to be inſerted both a witneſs and author of that Article; becauſe (ſaid Hylas) I am [...]a lover of truth, and cannot abide ingratitude▪ Now the very truth is▪ he is a witneſſe of the Conditions betwixt Stella and me, and gave us the advice unto it, ſo as we ſhould be ungratefull if we did not acknowledge it to proceed from him. And you Silvander (ſaid Adamas) what can your object to the contrary: I ſay, anſwered Silvander that though I was preſent, yet I would not be a witneſſe, and in reaſon I ought not to be conſtrained unto it. For is not the Great Tautates witneſſe enough for all, and of all? and yet when any evill act is committed, do they uſe him for a witneſs? And why not? ſaid Hylas; becauſe, anſwered Silvander, he is to be judge and puniſh all wickedneſſe; and upon the ſame reaſon I cannot be a witneſs. But you, ſaid Hylas, are not to be our judge, for we have cauſe enough to except againſt your judgement. Though I muſt not be your judge, ſaid Silvander, yet I may be your Accuſer, which I cannot be if I am a witneſſe. And as for the ingratitude of which you ſpeak, it will be much greater, if you ſhould ſo extreamly againſt my will, publiſh that which I deſire ſhould be concealed; and I ſhould take the very concealment for a ſufficient recompence. Then the reverend Druid, after he had heard the reaſons on both ſides, he gave this ſentence. Children, ſaid he, upon ſerious conſideration of your difference, I conceive that th [...]ſe Conditions of your future Amity, being for the conſervation of that liberty which you pretend to enjoy; there is no reaſon you ſhould take that liberty from another, nor by compulſion oblige any againſt their wills. But becauſe you have thought this Article worthy to be added unto the reſt, I doe ordain, that it ſhall be written down amongſt the others, in this manner.

The thirteenth and laſt Article,

Added by advice and counſell unto the Conditions upon which Hylas and Stella doe promiſe to love for the future, and which they do ſwear to obſerve moſt religiouſly.

That notwithſtanding all the aforeſaid Articles; we Stella and Hylas, are ſo tender of our liberty, and ſo much enemies unto all manner of conſtraint, that it ſhall be lawful for us, whenſoever we pleaſe, not to obſerve any one of theſe Conditions here above written and agreed upon.

Thus was the difference ended by the ſage Adamas, unto the contentment of all parties: [Page] Corilas, ſeeing Hylas and Stella, was beyond all meaſure joyfull. Now Stella, ſaid he, thou art fitted in thy humour; and Hylas might have, ſearched all the world over, before he found one ſo fit unto his: I muſt needs acknowledge the heavens moſt juſt in preſerving them for each other, and linking them together in a mutual affection.

Hylas and Stella began to love one another in this manner; at the firſt but a little, and after in jeaſt, but at laſt it grew to be in good earneſt: For Stella was a very fine and pleaſant ſhepherdeſſe, and one of a quick and ſprightly wit: Hylas on the other ſide, was as good and jocund company as could be imagined, and theſe conditions ſo ſutable both in Servant and Miſtreſſe, that there was nothing diſlikeable in each to the other; ſo as living together in great freedom, they did by little and little, conceive ſuch affection the one to the other, as they met not with any that pleaſed them better.

But Dinner being ready, and the Table ſpred under a ſhady Tree, as near the Fountain as the conveniency of the place would permit, all the company ſat down. The Vaices, Bardes, Sarronides, Eubages, and Druids, did ſit at a Table by themſelves, where they did eat what was their due of the ſacrifice; But Adamas, to render the more honour unto Daphnide and Alcidon, did dine with them, and the beſt of the ſhepherdeſſes and ſhepherds. As long as dinner laſted, the diſcourſe was all upon the Rarities of the place, and of the ſanctity of that ſacred Grove. But Dinner being done, and the ſun too hot to ſtir from under the ſhade, Adamas thought how to paſſe away the time in the beſt diverſions; and remembring the judgement which Diana was to give 'twixt Silvander & Phillis, he thought both the time and the occaſion very fit for that purpoſe; and the rather, becauſe Daphnide who ſtayed in the Country onely to be acquainted with the ſweet lives of theſe ſhepherdeſſes and ſhepherds, would be very glad to hear this difference argued and what judgement Diana would give upon it. He went unto Aſtrea and Phillis, and having acquainted them with his deſign, he deſired them to joyn with him in obtaining Dianas conſent unto it. Believe it, Sir, anſwered Aſtrea, there will not need much ſolicitation; for I know that ſhe has deferred it ſo long, onely becauſe ſhe wanted the preſence of the Nymph Leonide, who ſince ſhe was at the beginning of that conteſt, ſhe thought it fit ſhe ſhould be alſo at the end of it. I feare, if Silvander know of your intention, he will break off company. Phillis, who thought the Druids Propoſition very reaſonable, and beſides was weary in imploying any time, but in the entertainment of her dearly beloved Licydas, which was ſomething hindred by her Courtſhip of Diana. No, no, ſiſter, ſaid ſhe, we muſt ſurpriſe our enemy when he leaſt thinks of us; then addreſſing her ſelfe unto Diana, Miſtreſs (ſaid ſhe in a loud voice) This company deſires you would be pleaſed to come hither, and hearken no longer unto the diſcourſe of him who is talking with you; for I aſſure my ſelfe, he ſpeaks nothing unto my advantage. Silvander was he who was talking with her in the abſence of Paris, when Phillis thus interrupted him; at which being very angry, Oh Phillis (ſaid he) you are an evill ſpirit which continually torments me, and at this time interrupts my happineſſe. Your happineſſe, replyed Phillis, will quickly be at an end, and my ſupream fellcity begin: For, Miſtreſs, (ſaid ſhe, and addreſſed her ſelfe unto Diana) you are entreated by all this good company, to give judgement upon the merits of Silvanders ſervice and mine. Diana was a little ſurpriſed at this; for though it was her intention to give judgement ere long, yet ſhe did foreſee that after it, ſhe could not allow any longer of Silvanders addreſſes of love unto her. But the ſurpriſe of the ſhepherd was much greater; for he ſaw there was no poſſibility of delaying it any longer, and then the fiction of his wager, which was the cloak for his, reall affection would be taken from him, and he ſhould be no longer permitted to make his amorous addreſſes unto his adored ſhepherdeſſe. Theſe conſiderations made them both ſilent for a while, which Phillis obſerving; Miſtreſſe, (ſaid ſhe) I beſeech you anſwer me; I am afraid you are loath to confe [...] that glory upon me by your judgement, which you cannot deny unto my ſervices: or perhaps you are afraid of loſing that ſhepherd, and unwilling to be exempt from his importunities. Then Diana, left ſhe ſhould let her diſcontent appear, did ſmile, and anſwer thus; I know not what glory you can pretend unto by your ſervices, ſince you doe thus publiquely upbraid me with them; nor doe I know why you ſhould phraſe the ſervices of Silvander to be importunities more then your own, ſince both do proceed from the ſame cauſe. Silvander kneeled down, and humbly thanked Diana for that favourable anſwer. Afterwards, riſing up, Miſtreſs, ſaid he [Page] unto her, This ſhepherdeſſe not knowing how to love, and finding that the longer ſhe continues, the more defects ſhe ſhould ſhew in her affection; ſhe would not be put to any further Teſt of it, but deſires an end of that which ſhe cannot prolong any longer. For, Phillis, ſaid he, and turned towards her, why elſe ſhould you ſpeak thus unto our Miſtreſſe? Your ſervices wherewith you upbraid her, are ſo ſmall that the reward of them muſt needs be accordingly; and her feares which you mention of loſing me muſt needs be leſſe, ſince moſt aſſuredly as long as I live ſhe ſhall never loſe me. Even thus, replyed Phillis, does all faint-hearted Souldiers fly all occaſions of any danger: but I on the contrary, dare look the grimmeſt dangers boldly in the face, and give teſtimony of my courage: Why good Silvander, do you ſhrink like a coward from the hazard of that judgement which is to be the touch-ſtone of our merits? And what other excuſes than thoſe I have named, can Diana have for her retarding it any longer? I am afraid, anſwered Diana, that your ruſtick diſcourſe will be troubleſome to the aſſembly, eſpecially unto the faire Daphnide, and the valiant Alcidon, who being uſed to more high and noble ſubjects, will think Country paſtimes very tedious; and becauſe Diana would have continued her excuſes, No, no, diſcreet ſhepherdeſſe, you are miſtaken, ſaid Adamas, Daphnide and Alcidon, are now become ſhepherds of Lignon, having aſſumed the ſame habits, and will conform themſelves unto us; and you muſt thinke, that as they know how to behave themſelves in their own high qualities; ſo they can as well condeſcend, and ſuit their minds unto the humble innocency of your lives: and therefore I did make this Propoſition, to the end that by your judgement, this new ſhepherd and fair ſhepherdeſſe may ſee and learn how to behave themſelves after our Country mode and the rather, becauſe the Sun does ſhine ſo hot, that we cannot yet go into the great Meadow where the ſhepherds uſe to perform their accuſtomed exerciſes after the ſacrifice: and therefore the time cannot be better imployed, then to heare the difference betweene Silvander and Phillis argued and judged. I know, reverend Father, ſaid Diana, that nothing can proceed from you but what is grounded upon great reaſon, and we are all obliged unto whatſoever you ſhall command; and therefore without more adoe, I will doe whatſoever you ſhall pleaſe; onely I beſeech Daphnide and Alcidon, to look upon the ſimplicity of our trifles with a favourable eye, and attribute them unto that obedience which we are all obliged to render both unto you and them. Fair ſhepherdeſs (anſwered Daphnide) all that I have hitherto ſeen amongſt you, has filled me with ſo much contentment and admiration, that you need not doubt but all your paſtimes will be very pleaſing unto me. Then the Reverend Druid commanded, that ſeats ſhould be ſet in a round circle, and one higher then the reſt for Diana, againſt the back of a Tree, whoſe branches doe overſhade the Circle. And when all were placed according to his deſire, he cauſed three Garlands to be made of Flowers, and put one upon the head of Diana▪ another upon the head of Phillis, and the third upon the head of Silvander; Afterwards taking Diana by the hand, he placed her in her ſea [...] of Judgement; before her, a little on the right hand, he placed Phillis, and a little on the left hand, Silvander; and after ſilence deſired, he appointed Leonide to make known unto theſe ſtrangers, the beginning of the diſpute betwixt Phillis and Silvander, to the end they might better judge of the difference: thinking it fit and reaſonable that Leonide ſhould be the relater, becauſe ſhe was partly the cauſe of it. Leonide, who little thought of being more then an Auditor in this aſſembly, was a little ſurpriſed to ſee her ſelfe an Orator; but in obedience to the Druid ſhe undertook it, and after ſhe had a little recollected her memory, ſhe turned towards Daphnide, and began thus.

Perhaps Madam, you have obſerved, that Silvander and Phillis called Diana their Miſtreſſe, and have been as officious and ready to ſerve her as ſhepherds could be; I believe you will think it ſtrange, that ſo fair and amiable a ſhepherdeſs as Diana is, ſhould be ſo free in the entertainment of that ſhepherd: I believe alſo, you wonder that Phillis who is a ſhepherdeſſe, ſhould court her as if ſhe were a ſhepherd, and uſe the ſame expreſſions and behaviour of a moſt paſſionate lover: for it is not uſual to ſee a woman ſo aſſiduous and courtly unto another woman. But to ſatisfie your wonder, Madam, be pleaſed to know, That Silvander lived long amongſt theſe fair, young, and lovely ſhepherdeſſes, yet never was in love with any; inſomuch as he got the Name of the inſenſible ſhepherd. None of all theſe young beauties having power enough to kindle the leaſt flame in his heart. [Page] Phillis admiring that a ſhepherd ſo young and hanſome, ſhould live ſo long near ſuch beauties, and never ſhew the leſt ſpark of any heat, ſhe could not chuſe but enter into ſome interrogatories with him; faigning to believe that the reaſon why he did not undertake to ſerve ſome one or other, was either want of courage, or elſe conſciouſneſſe of his owne imperfections and want of merit: And becauſe the ſhepherd whoſe delight was all hunting, and looking to his flock, maintained the contrary, and ſaid that the reaſon why he did not love, was onely becauſe he had better imployment. Aſtrea, Diana, and I, being preſent, we condemned him, to give us ſome good teſtimonie, that the reaſon why he did not love any, was not as Phillis had alleadged: And Diana being a ſhepherdeſs both of beauty and and judgement, fit to judge of his merit, ſhe was propoſed to be as it were his Miſtreſſe, and he was to court her under that Notion, unleſſe he wanted the courage to undertake it▪ Upon this he began to ſerve her, and court her as cloſe as if he had been really in love: Phillis was not exempt from the ſame task, ſhe was alſo condemned to love and ſerve Diana with all the paſſion that ſhepherds uſe unto thoſe whom they doe paſſionately love; and at the end of three moneths Diana was to judge which of them two knew beſt how to love. Ever ſince, there has been ſuch an emulation betwixt this ſhepherd and that ſhepherdeſſe, that they have neglected no manner of behaviour or expreſſion which could manifeſt a moſt ſervent and real affection: And though the prefixed term of three moneths be expired, during which time they were to demonſtrate their merits unto Diana; yet their addreſſes unto her has continued longer becauſe it was thought reaſonable, that as I was at the firſt condemnation unto that task, ſo I ſhould be preſent at the judgement which Diana was to give; ſo as it ſeems the heavens did prolong it untill now, to the end this judgement might be given with more ſolemnity in your preſence.

Thus ended the Nymph Leonide; and then Daphnide began to ſpeak: I muſt needs confeſſe, ſaid ſhe, and turned towards Adamas, that it was not without ſome wonder, I ſhould ſee Phillis court Diana with the very expreſſions of a man: But now, changing my wonder into envy, I muſt needs tell you, Father, That I never did envy the happineſs of any ſo much as yours; for heaven has exempted you from the inquietudes of wordly affaires, to live in this ſweet and harmleſs tranquillity. Infinitely happy you are in all reſpects: happy are you in this Country of Forreſts; happy in being obeyed and loved as a great Druid; but much more happy in being ſo near a Neighbour unto the pleaſant bankes of Lignon, which is furniſhed with more accompliſhed ſhepherds and beautifull ſhepherdeſſes, then ever bore the Name. Madam, anſwered Adamas, I acknowledge all you ſay, and do profeſs, that I would not change my happineſſe with the greateſt Monarch upon earth; having nothing to pray for from the Great Tautates, but onely that it may continue for many yeares. As for the commends you are pleaſed to beſtow upon our ſhepherds and ſhepherdeſſes, I am aſſured that they will not receive them without bluſhes, though they will take any thing well which proceeds from you. But Madam (ſaid he) as you have heard the cauſe of their courtſhip, will it pleaſe you to hear their judgement? With much contentment, ſaid Daphnide; Then the Druid turning towards Phillis, It was you, ſhepherdeſs, (ſaid he) who firſt provoked Silvander unto Combate, and therefore it is reaſon you ſhould alſo be the firſt who ſhall produce your Reaſons and Arguments why the victory ſhould be yours.

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The Speech of the ſhepherdeſs Phillis.

I Did not think, Miſtreſs, that amongſt all the ſhepherds in this Country, eſpecially about Lignon, any one would have been found ſo full of vanity, as to think himſelfe worthy of the eſteem and love of a ſhepherdeſſe ſo full of merit as Diana: Diana I ſay, the moſt exactly accompliſhed, and moſt perfect beauty that ever bore the name of ſhepherdeſſe. And yet, faireſt Miſtreſſe, you ſee this man, this arrogant man ſtand before you in a poſture of Love, and his head crowned with a Chaplet of Flowers, as if he had already got the victory, which he moſt unjuſtly pretends unto. But ſhepherd, I pray tell me, from whence proceeds this raſh preſumption? and what pretended reaſons can you poſſibly have? Thy hopes cannot be grounded upon thy own ſhallow merits, when thou doſt but look upon the perfections of Diana; for they are ſuch as holding no proportion with thine, love cannot be produced by things ſo farre unequall. I am confident thy own impudence cannot be ſo braz [...]n-fac'd as to deny the truth of this; but thy own ſoul muſt needs tell thee, that there is nothing in thee which can equall her perfections. How durſt thou be ſo arrogant and raſh, as dare to love her? But as this is high impudence; yet methinks that to pretend unto her love againe, is much more extream. But Silvander, what colour canſt thou have for this thy fond pretenſion? what ſhould make thee think of obtaining her love before me? Thou canſt not deny, but every thing is naturally inclined to love its like; and I being a woman, as our Miſtreſs is, certainly ſhe muſt needs naturally love me more then thee. But beſides this; what will cauſe love ſooner then long acquaintance and continuall converſe? By it, perfections come to be better known; and by it, merits being better known, love muſt needs take better and deeper root; and by it, occaſions doe preſent themſelves every minute to render reciprocall amity and devoires, which are the very Nurſes of a true and reall affection. Now thou canſt not deny, but that I have had a longer and more intimate acquaintance with her then thou haſt, ſhe her ſelfe knowes it, and is able to contradict thee if thou doſt deny it. But ſhould I wave all theſe Reaſons, yet I have one which will put thee to ſilence at the leaſt, unleſſe thou bee'ſt impudence it ſelf. You muſt of neceſſity acknowledge, that [...] whatſoever is moſt faire and perfect, is alſo moſt amiable, and to be moſt eſteemed; then ſhepherd your cauſe is quite ruined; for our ſex, being much more perfect then that of men, thou art driven to confeſſe that I ought to be loved before thee. But wave all theſe conſiderations again: can counterfeiting, lying, and diſſembling, ever cauſe love? Do you think that the faire Diana does not know that all thy addreſſes, all thy ſervices, and all that affection which thou ſtraineſt thy ſelfe to make appear unto her, is onely in reſpect of that wager which is betwixt us? and proceeds only from a deſire thou haſt to overcome me, and not from her beauty or wit? Methinks I heare the anſwer already, that it is true, and that this reaſon might not be alleadged againſt me, ſince the wager is reciprocall, and all the demonſtrations of affection which I make, may have the ſame fault. But ſhepherd, you are miſtaken, for I loved her long before our conteſt began, and I am ſure ſhe loved me, which is more then thou canſt ſay, ſince all thou didſt was onely to come amongſt us, and never look upon ſhepherdeſſe in way of love, nor I believe, hadſt thou ſo much confidence as to dare it. But ſpeak the truth, Silvande, and confeſſe that before this wager, thou didſt not diſcern any difference betwixt Diana's face and mine, or any other ſhepherdeſſe of Lignon? And doſt thou not thinke that all theſe extream paſſions which thou doſt counterfeit in thy diſcourſe, all theſe languiſhings, raptures, tranſports, and follies, does rather invite one to laughter then to love? This man [...] Miſtreſs, that is all in flame and rapture, that does▪ ſo Idolize your beauty at every word, and that is ready to die with ſuperabundant love: This is the man, that a minute before our wager began, did hardly know whether ſuch a one as Diana lived; or at moſt, had no deeper knowledge of you then what your name gave him: And yet he can at a minutes warning, be all in a flame, all affection all love, all yours; will not ſuch folly as this move more laughter then affection? But admit that your beauty has kindled ſome ſparkes of love in him: Is it not my ſelfe unto whom all the recompence is due? ſince it was onely I that am the cauſe of it? It is moſt certaine, and Miſtreſſe you know it, that, if I had not upbraided him, [Page] the wager had never been made; and if it had not, he had never been ſo bold and confident as ever to look upon you: ſo as if he will pretend unto any favour from you, for any ſervices which he hath done unto you ſince that time, is he not obliged unto me for it, for making him what he is? It is I then who in all reaſon may pretend unto any merits that are in him, [...]ince all his devices, and all his actions which made him amiable in your eye, ought to be put upon my account, and teckoned unto my advantage▪ Ceaſe then ſhepherd contending with me, for a thing which thou knoweſt to be my due; prevent that judgement which thou canſt not avoid, conſent that the glory ſhall be given unto me, which my Fortune, my Quality, and my merits have given unto me before thee; which if thou doſt, thou wilt make thy ſelfe appeare to be a man of wit, and of judgement: Thy wit, in knowing ſo well how to diſguiſe a [...]alfe affection, under a vizard of reall love: and thy judgement, in acknowledging and ſeeing the great advantages which I have above thee. But if thus thou wilt not doe, then expect the due puniſhment for thy arrogance, and doe not think to deferre the juſt judgement of our Miſtreſſe, by tedious and frivloous anſwers: And becauſe I will be a good manager of time, and haſten to receive that Glory which ſhe will confer upon me, I will wave and omit many other reaſons and arguments which I could alledge, and refer the whole matter unto the wiſe conſideration of our faireſt Miſtreſſe; aſſuring my ſelfe that ſhe is better able to diſcern, then I am [...]able to ſpeak my moſt juſt pretenſions, which are as clear as the Sun in the faireſt day: onely Miſtreſſe, I deſire you to conſider this: That Silvander does not onely make himſelfe hateable by his fictions and diſſimulations, but alſo drawes an odium upon all other men, and makes all their Courtſhips and expreſſions of affection and ſidelity ſuſpected; ſo as his crime is of ſo high a nature, as he cannot expect any thing but puniſhment from a ſevere but juſt judge. But, faire and wiſe Miſtreſſe, I refer my juſt cauſe, and his counterfeit Gloſſes, unto your wiſe and juſt cenſure.

Upon this, Phillis making an humble reverence unto Diana, and the reſt of the company, ſhe ſet her ſelfe down, caſting a ſmiling eye upon Silvander, who being commanded to ſpeak for himſelfe, went unto Diana, kneeled down, and laid his Chaplet of Flowers at her feet; Then returning to his place againe, he began to ſpeak thus.

The Anſwer of the ſhepherd Silvander.

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WEre I not before the Temple of Aſtrea, who is the Goddeſſe of Juſtice, and had [...] a worſe Judge then Diana, who is the intimate friend of the other Aſtrea, I ſhould feare the miſcarriage of my cauſe, and tremble at the enſuing judgement: Not that I am at all ſtartled by the ſophiſticated language of this ſhepherdeſſe, and any of her gloſſed arguments ſhe has urged againſt me, though I muſt needs ſay, ſhe has very cunningly contrived the matter, but my greateſt feares proceed from a more valid conſideration, for the diſpate betwixt us, is grounded only upon this point, which of us two can beſt win the love of the faire Diana, whom we have choſen to be the Center in which all our ſervices, and all our affections ought to meet. [...]his is the point which we both aim at, and which is ſo hard to be approached, as I hold it almoſt impoſſible, if it did not pleaſe the Great Tautates to ſhew himſelfe as well a Tharam [...]s in purifying my love▪ and clenſing it from all imperfections which might make it unworthy to be offered unto this ſa [...]e Diana, as he makes himſelfe appear a Heſus, which is as much to ſay as puiſſant, in making her ſo fair and perfect, as no mortall is able to equall her either in beauty or perfection.

Perhaps Miſtreſſe, you may wonder, that being in this ſacred place, dedicated unto the Goddeſſe of Juſtice▪ I dare pretend unto a favourable judgement, ſince I am deficient in this main point. But oh my juſt Judge, I beſeech you heare upon what baſis I ground my juſt pretenſion. It is the propriety of Juſtice, not alone to judge ſtrictly according to the Lawes which are given us; but alſo, after ſhe has conſidered the true ſtate of every thing, to eſtabliſh with equity the Law of Nature, which is; that he who does all he can, is not oblig'd unto any more▪ and though he do not reach ſo high as is neceſſary, yet is ought not to be imputed a fault in him, but rather attribute it unto the Ordinances of Nature, who was pleaſed to eſtabliſh it ſo: And he is ſo far from being blameable for failing in ſuch a caſe, as he is to be much eſteemed, that can arrive at ſo high a point as no other of his kind can go beyond him, and as very few can arrive at: And therefore faireſt Miſtreſſe, why ſhould I fear to preſent my ſelfe before the Throne of this juſt Aſtrea's friend, although I can never attaine unto that height of perfection which is requiſite in any that pretend unto Dianas love; for my affection is arrived to as high a point, as any other can reach, and higher then any lover will ever attain unto.

Why then, injurious Phillis, to fortifie your weak pretenſions, ſhould you without any reaſon blame me, ſince I cannot love with more adoration then I do: It is not my fault, but Natures, who gave me no greater capacity, if I do not love her to the height of her merit: but I cannot complain, ſince the ſame law is common unto all mortals, none being able to doe it more then my ſelfe: But wiſe nature would have it ſo, and perhaps purpoſely to manifeſt the high beauty of Diana, who conſtraines me to love her, an Act far above all humane force, or power to doe, and againſt the rule of equality, which Phillis you propoſe to be in them who love.

Then ſhepherdeſſe, were you not jealous of Dianas Glory, you would not blame me for loving her, nor tax me with arrogance, ſince it is the force of her beauty which conſtraines me, and ſince by this, the grandure of her perfections are more evidently ſeen. Aks me no more, I beſeech you, how I durſt love her: for though I doe acknowledge my ſelfe as unworthy as your ſelf is, yet I cannot chuſe but be the moſt loſt man in love that ever was.

But in asking me from whence proceeds my raſh pretenſions unto her love, and therein calls me the monſter of Arrogance and preſumption; you doe plainly make it appear, that you doe not know what it is to love, nor what effects Love uſeth to produce. You have often confeſſed unto me, that love in it ſelfe is good, and I thinke you will not now ſay the contrary, your ſilence makes [...] believe your conſent unto it; and truly otherwiſe you would [...] reaſon: For if every thing produce its like, that love which proceeds from th [...] [...]ledge of any faire and good thing, muſt needs be faire and [Page] good it ſelfe: And that which is faire and good, cannot be ſeen and known, but it muſt needs be loved: I cannot think you ſo out of all reaſon, but that you will confeſſe that I ſhall convince you out of your own words. Bea [...]ty, ſay you, has ſuch powerfull attracts, as it doth often dim the eyes of thoſe who behold it, and makes their deſires go beyond all reaſon. If then that which is faire and good cannot be ſeen, but it muſt be loved, and if love be fair and good; why doe you call that Arrogance in me, which is reaſonable in another? Why ſhould you ſay my pretenſions to obtaine her love, are raſh? For love being good, and ſhe knowing my love; how can ſhe know it, but ſhe muſt needs love it? if ſhe did not, it would argue a defect in her judgement which I thinke none, except your ſelfe, will offer to imagine. Confeſſe therefore, Phillis unleſſe you will extreamly wrong her, that knowing my love, ſhe does love me; and that my pretenſion is not ſo nighly impudent, nor I ſuch a deformed monſter, as you would deſcribe me: If you object, that this does not prove her love unto me, but onely my love unto her. I anſwer, ſhepherdeſſe, That the love which her beauty produceth in me, is an inſeparable accident of my ſoule, ſo as the one cannot ſubſiſt without the other: And ſhould I ſay, that they are ſo incorporated the one into the other, that my ſoul is this love, and this love is my ſonle, I ſhould ſpeak a moſt certain truth: For it is not more true, that I cannot live without this ſoul which gives me life, than it is, that I cannot live without this love which I bear unto her.

If you reply, That though this ſhould be granted, yet it does not follow that this ſhepherdeſſe ſhould love me, becauſe ſhe has not yet ſeen or known this love in me: I ſhall anſwer, ſhepherdeſſe, That indeed I doe not believe ſhe knowes yet the grandure and extream immenſity wherewith I doe love and adore her, becauſe there are no ſervices nor demonſtrations ſo great as can ſufficiently illuſtrate it: But yet I am confident, the excellency of herwit cannot chuſe but ſee and obſerve it in part, and that in a great part alſo and that my actions cannot doe it ſo well as I deſire; yet your own reproaches and language has ſometimes helped me againſt your knowledge; nay in the preſence of all this Noble company you told her, that I did preſent my ſelfe before her in raptures of love: and ſurely the teſtimony of an enemy, when it is to our advantage, is much more credible then the teſtimony of perſons indifferent. So as, faireſt Miſtreſſe, you cannot doubt of my affection, ſince it is teſtified by one that cannot be ſuſpected of untruth.

But Phillis, what ſhallow argument did you uſe in having recourſe unto thoſe favours which Nature hath beſtowed upon you? ſimply alledging that you being a woman, therefore ſhe ought to love you before a ſhepherd, thinking that by this quality you have the advantage of me. But let me tell you, that it is more naturall for a woman to love a man, then a woman. And if you will but look into the Lawes of Nature, you will find that it is ſo amongſt all Animalls: Does not the Hen follow the Cock ſooner then another Hen: Will not the widdowed Turtle lament her loſſe? Does not all femalls of all kindes the like? you know this, Phillis, as well as I doe; or if you do not, common experience will teach you: Nay, things even inſenſible, doe obſerve the ſame law of Nature: The Palme, will it thrive, unleſſe by another Palme? Will the femall Myrtle live without the male? Therefore, Phillis, It is not by the lawes of Nature, that Diana muſt love you more then me; for if ſhe follow them, they will turne her eyes from any thoughts of you. But if you will have it ſo, I am content, ſhepherdeſs, that ſhe ſhould love you as a woman, ſo you will alſo conſent ſhe ſhould love me as a man, and her moſt devoted ſervant. You cannot be againſt this, for as certainly as you are a woman, ſo certainly am I her ſervant: nor is it more naturall for one woman to love another woman, then it is for every one to love whatſoever loves them: This is the way for us both to obtaine what we aske: But I ſee now, that you will alter your opinion, and without any further recourſe unto this naturall amity, which cannot be advantageous to you, you will fly unto ſuch advantages as proceed from election. You conceive ſhe muſt love you better than me, becauſe of your more intimate converſe together, which you ſay does beget a neerer and more mutual affection. But Phillis, you may be much miſtaken; for by the very ſame reaſon you may perhaps as well me [...]t with hatred, as with love; for by continuall converſation, cloſe and hidden imperfections are better diſcovered, [Page] as well as good qualities: And let me tell you, that being perpetually together, does oft break off amity as well as augment it: little ſeparations makes love more violent, continuall preſence is apt to cloy.

I would not urge this point ſo farre, Oh my enemy, did I thinke you could make any uſe of it to my diſadvantage: But I muſt tell you, that you have done as ill Orators uſe, who in lieu of maintaining their Clients cauſe, doe marre it, and diſcover the reaſons which make againſt them; otherwiſe could you imagine that continuall converſation ſhould get you more love, ſince on the contrary, it ſhewes the defects of your affection which are very great, and of which you cannot deny, but I have convinced you a hundred times in the preſence of my faireſt Miſtreſs.

But oh my moſt juſt judge and faireſt Miſtreſs, my hope is that you will puniſh her impudence in pretending unto ſo much of your love, by reaſon of her continual converſe, when as it hath onely ſhewed her imperfections: and therefore, Phillis, the advantage which you get by your intimate converſation, does more hurt then help you; And indeed your Allegation has much more malice in it then matter, and all things rightly conſidered, I think my ſelfe more happy in my converſation with her, then you can be in yours; for your ſtay with her is onely in the day, and that alſo you imploy much of it out of her preſence, either in the buſineſſe of your houſe and flock, or other diverſions which ſteal you from her, ſo as you dedicate the leaſt of the day unto my faireſt Miſtreſs: whereas I on the contrary, what day did ever dawne, which I ſpent not wholly in her company? When was the night I was not with her, as long as decency would permit me? Could ever any diverſion draw me from her? And when any unwilling accident did keep me away, did I not continually think upon her, and in my heart adore her? Can you ſay, Phillis, that you are more with her then I? Fie, fie, ſhepherdeſſe, never think it, but know, that ſhe is not more with her ſelfe then I am: for ſhe is ſometimes diverted from her ſelfe by the preſence of other ſhepherdeſſes, ſometimes by viſits of civility, ſometimes by domeſtique cares, and ſometimes by croſs accidents, whereas I am continually with her as Prometheus upon his Rock, or rather as the body and ſoul are linked by the ligaments of life: For it is not more natural for the body to die, as ſoon as the ſoul is ſeparated from it, then it is for me to die, if I be but one minute ſeparated from my ſweet thoughts of her.

I ſee very well, ſhepherdeſſe, how you laugh to heare me ſay that I am continually with my Miſtreſs, thinking that it being onely in thought, I am a man much pleaſed with my own imagination. But Phillis, what would you have me doe? I muſt confeſſe that if I could be alwayes preſent with her both in thought and body, I ſhould be more contented: but how ever let me tell you, that as I am, I am more perfectly with her then you are, ſince when you are preſent with her, your thoughts of her are farre off, retaining nothing with her but your body which is the inferiour part, whereas my heart is with her, though my body be diſtant: If you doe object that theſe imaginary thoughts are not at all ſerviceable unto her, becauſe they are meer fancies, I muſt anſwer you, ſhepherdeſſe, that it is in thought onely that we adore the great Tautates, and never ſpeak unto him but onely in contemplation. And I doe ſerve and adore Diana upon the earth, as all the world does adore the great Tautates in heaven which is in heart and thought.

You ſee therefore, Phillis, how this reaſon argues more for me then you. And as to that advantage which you ſay your ſex hath over mine, I anſwer thus; That I doe moſt ingeniouſly confeſſe, that women are really of more merit then men; and doe come nearer the divine and immortal Intelligences: I do believe that women may well be ranked amongſt them, and they doe ſo much excell us in perfections, as it is a kinde of wrong to reckon them amongſt men: we may with reaſon eſteem them the medium betwixt Angels and us, ſince we find by experience, that all the good thoughts which men have, do take their beginning from them. It is at them they aim, and terminate themſelves in them; and queſtionleſſe it is by them that we come unto thoſe pure thoughts; And God hath placed them on earth to draw us unto heaven: For my part, I do believe it, and will maintaine it unto the end of my life. But this does [Page] not at all argue you, Oh ſhepherdeſſe, to be the better loved by my Miſtreſs: but rather will produce contrary effects.

I told you before, that when one has done all that nature has given him power to doe, and hath raiſed himſelfe unto that height to which naturally he may riſe, it is highly to be eſteemed. And I ſay again, that whoſoever does leſſe then naturally he may doe, is much to blame, eſpecially when the thing is in it ſelfe laudable, and he through naturall impuiſſance leaves it undone. Now, ſhepherdeſſe, does not this argument much condemn you, who being born a woman, of a ſex ſo perfect as you hold a medium betwixt the Angels and us; and yet to love ſo imperfectly as you do, eſpecially a ſubject ſo full of perfection? I am moſt confident, that Diana did never out of her naturall ſweetneſſe conſider my extream affection, without eſteeming it, nor look upon the ſhallowneſſe of your Amity without condemning it▪ For when ſhe found mine ſo perfect, ſo pure, ſo entire, and ſo exempt from all exceptions, ſhe could doe no leſſe then highly commend it, that ſuch a perfect love ſhould be found in ſo imperfect a ſex as the maſculine. And on the contrary, ſhe is aſhamed that ſo many faults and imperfections ſhould be found in you and your ſex, which is by nature ſo much above ours.

But Miſtreſs, let us examine her other reaſons, whereby ſhe argues me ſo guilty in matter of love. She ſays, that all my demonſtrations of love are onely fictions, diſguiſements, and diſſimulations; and ſhe thinks ſhe has proved this Calummy very well, when ſhe ſayes that I began to love you onely upon the wager, and did not love you before. But I beſeech you, my fair and juſt judge, take notice of the evill conſequences which ſhe drawes from theſe preſuppoſitions: I doe confeſſe, Phillis, That the wager did move me firſt to love Diana, and that this wager did give beginning unto my affection: But muſt it from hence be concluded, that my love is only diſſimulation; or that becauſe I never loved any before, therefore I do not love Diana now? Theſe, ſhepherdeſſe, are abſurd concluſions. If one do run for a wager, and win it, can it be thought he did run for it in jeſt, and not in good earneſt? Tell me no more my enemy, that my extream paſſions and raptures are but diſguiſements, fictions, and diſſimulations: For it is true, I did love upon that wager, but it is more true that my affection is moſt real: And I am not ſo ſure I am Silvander, as that I am the moſt real ſervant of the fair Diana. What a ſilly ſyllogiſm is it to ſay, that becauſe I did not once love Diana, therefore I doe not love her now? If ſuch a concluſion may be drawn, then one may ſay, that becauſe Phillis was not in the world forty years ſince, therefore ſhe is not in it now. Had you ſaid, it was not long ſince this love began, you had ſaid truly, and I would have confeſſed it with you, with ſorrow that it was no ſooner: But to prove that I doe not love, becauſe the time was when I did not know her, is as much as if you ſhould ſay, that he who is not born to day, will never be born.

Now Miſtreſs, be pleaſed to obſerve, how ſhe does contradict her ſelfe; But it is not ſtrange, for it is the property of lying and calumny to be in ſeverall tales, whereas truth is alwayes in one and the ſame. But admit, ſaid ſhe, that your beauty did a little move him, and by this meanes, he is in ſome ſort become yours: Is it poſſible, Phillis, you ſhould be ſo long converſant with the fair Diana, and know her perfections no better? Doe you think it is poſſible to love her but a little? Oh ignorant Phillis in the force of her beauty, not one dart flyes from her faire eye, which does not reach the heart and wound it mortally. You might well keep your littles for common beauties, which when they have ſcratched the skin a little, do think they have given a great teſtimony of their power; But as for Diana's beauty, it ſeems you have not felt the blowes of it, ſince you can talk ſo of a little. But know, Oh my enemy, that a Remora which can ſtay a Ship under full ſayle, has not halfe the force of her perfections: Diana's beauty takes not hearts by Littles, but by Alls; and he aſſured that the Gordian knots are more eaſily diſſolved, then thoſe by which ſhe fetters ſoules. That fire which our Druids tell us muſt conſume all the Univerſe, has leſſer flames then thoſe of her fair eyes; ſay not therefore, ignorant ſhepherdeſſe, that one can love her a little, or that one can be in ſome ſort hers: All thoſe who love her, doe love her extreamly; and all thoſe who are hers, are hers entirely; ſo as when you grant that I doe [Page] love her a little, you doe grant that I do love her infinitely, and by conſequence that nothing can equall the grandure of my affection Whereas you, Phillis, that can ſpeak ſo, doe thereby argue your ſelfe incapable of being moved, and is inſenſible of that which is able to kill others. But I beſeech you, Miſtreſs, ſee what a fine peece of ſophiſtry my enemy uſes, to prove that I doe not love you, and to make you deſpiſe my affection; and judge whether ſhe ever ſo much as heard of ſuch a thing as love? Is ſhe not very ſubtile in accuſing me, for never loving any but you? and that you were the firſt that ever fettered me: If this be a crime, I muſt confeſſe I never heard of it before, and muſt needs acknowledge my ſelfe culpable: for, Miſtreſs, you are not onely the firſt, and onely one that ever I loved; but more, you muſt alſo be the laſt, and onely one that ever I will love: And if ever it be otherwiſe, let the Sun cover me with eternal darkneſſe; let the Earth which nouriſheth me, ſwallow me alive as not worthy to live in it; Let the Air become my poyſon, and may all the elements become my enemies: and wiſe men are all miſtaken in their Tenet, that whatſoever has a beginning muſt have an end: For Phillis, this affection which you have ſeene begin, ſhall laſt to all eternity.

But Phillis, I admire you ſhould ſay, that if my affection deſerve any reward, it is all due unto you: You tell me that you were the cauſe of it, and that all which does proceed from it, ought to be attributed unto you as the originall cauſe. But ſhepherdeſſe, take heed, leſt this being granted, it doe not turn to your diſadvantage; for thoſe who are the cauſe of any evil, deſerve puniſhment: And as you ſay, that my Miſtreſs ought rather to laugh, then love me; ſo it muſt conſequently follow, that ſhe ought to laugh at you, and not at Silvander, becauſe you attribute all unto your ſelfe.

But Phil [...]is, let that be the left of your feares; I doe not meane to quit my juſt pretenſions upon any ſuch t [...]rmes; when any one does any thing for another, the intention of the doer is to be conſidered: if the intention was good, the evill which inſues ought not to be laid unto his charge, if he be no other way culpable: but if the intention was evill, he ought not to have any ſhare in the benefit or glory which ſhall enſue by it: this being granted, as needs it muſt, let us conſider before we either commend or condemne you, what your intention was when you propounded this wager. We ſhall not be put unto much pain, Miſtreſs, before we diſcover it: for ſhe her ſelfe has told us: The fictions, ſaid ſhe, and the diſſimulations once knowne will procure him hatred: But Diana knowes, that all my Courtſhips, and amorous addreſſes unto her, doe proceed onely from the wager which you made; and if all the conſequents of it be fictions and diſſimulations, then you are the cauſe of them. You may obſerve, Miſtreſſe, how ſhe thought that I would uſe onely fictions and diſſimulations in this wager. Now ſince it is the Intention which makes the Action either good or bad, have I not juſt cauſe to ſay, It was you, Oh Phillis, who by your diſſembling wager, gave your ſelfe unto faire Diana, but it was my heart which did really give me unto her, by the knowledge which it had of her perfections, and ſo by conſequence all the puniſhment which ſuch diſſimulations deſerve, are due unto you; and all the favours which a reall and unfained affection deſerves, are due unto my heart.

Wiſh me no more to quit the pretended victory unto you, to ſhew my wit and my judgement; my Wit, in ſo hanſomly diſguiſing a falſe affection under the umbrage of a reall love; and my Judgement, in acknowledging the advantage which you have over me: For on the contrary, I ſhould ſhew my ſelf the verieſt fool alive, if I did counterfeit a love unto her, who deſerves to be perfectly loved above all the world: And I ſhould ſhew but little judgement, if I did not ſee the advantage which my true and perfect affection does give me over your faigned follies. I would have you, ſhepherdeſſe, recant all your reproaches, and be the firſt who ſhall ſay, That there is no affection, be it never ſo ill begun, either by a wager, or paſtime, but may prove in earneſt, and become reall, as mine for an example.

But, oh my enemy, all this diſcourſe is but aire, and I believe in vain; for we are contending with one another for the victory, whilſt whoſoever conquers, perhaps may not be the couquerer▪ I make no queſtion, but if either of us doe obtaine the victory which we pretend unto, that this Chaplet of Flowers at the feet of the faire Diana [Page] will be mine. But alas, Phillis, my great feare is, and with abundance of reaſon, that it will prove to be neither yours nor mine; for all our arguments which we have alleaged to merit her favour, may be valid as againſt one another, but not at all in relation to Diana: Diana, whoſe tranſcendent perfections and merits is above all the power of Nature, and therefore will not be ſubſervient unto the lawes of Mortalls. And then, when we ſay, That love ought to be paid with love; and that long and faithfull lovers are worthy of reward and acknowledgement; This is right, and good reaſon, as to men, and does oblige them to follow thoſe precepts, but not at all, Diana For ſhe is one whom heaven has elevated above the degree of mortals, and is equall unto Angels. To whom then ſhould I addreſſe my ſelfe, unto what ſhould I have recourſe? Shall I addreſs my ſelfe unto Love, and have recourſe unto Juſtice, by whom all things are equally ballanced and recompenced? But alas, Love and Juſtice has nothing to doe with Diana, ſhe is above them all. Addreſs then thy ſelfe Silvander, and have recourſe unto her ſelfe; and waving all other powers and reaſons, ſay thus unto her.

Then he kneeled down before Diana, and holding up his hands, continued.

Oh Diana, the onely honour of her Country, the glory of Men, and the Ornament of the whole world: Be pleaſed to look upon a ſhepherd here before you, who does not onely love you, and offer at your feet his ſervice and his life, but does even adore you, and does ſacrifice his heart and his ſoul unto you in a moſt zealous and devout manner. As Nature cannot make any thing which can equal you; ſo Love cannot kindle ſo great a flame and perfect affection as can equall your merit. It hath pleaſed the great Tautates to advance you ſo high above all the reſt of his works, as no extremity of love, no ſincerity of devotion, can in any reaſon hope for any grace or favour from you, or that you condeſcend ſo low, as to look at my complaints and grievances: I doe humbly acknowledge, that all human hearts, and all mortall ſervices, are moſt due unto you, and cannot be denyed you without a ſinne: But alas, we can merit nothing, all we can do is to love▪ ſerve and adore you, and when all is done, we cannot claim any reward, becauſe all is but a juſt duty. Under theſe Notions and Qualifications, I now preſent my ſelfe before you, as before a Deity, not daring to aske any recompence for all my ſervices, or my affection, for that were a demand too arrogant, and above my hopes and deſerts: but onely to beſeech you, that you will be a witneſſe how none knowes better how to love than Silvander, nor any that deſerves to be more loved again.

Thus Silvander ended, and would not riſe, but ſtill continued kneeling in expectation of her judgement. And becauſe Phillis offered to reply, Adamas ſeeing the time of departure to draw on, he told her, that it was not to be allowed; ſo that Diana after a pauſe of conſideration, ſhe gave ſentence in theſe words.

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The Judgement of the ſhepherdeſs Diana.

LOve being a thing which requires better teſtimony then words; and the difference between Phillis and Silvander being of that quality, we have been no leſſe obſervant of their actions and behaviours ever ſince the firſt beginning of the wager, then we are now attentive unto their Reaſons, which both have at this time alleadged. And having ſeriouſly and deliberately ballanced every thing in an equall ſeale, we doe declare and pronounce, That Phillis is more amiable then Silvander, and that Silvander knowes better how to love then Phillis; And to make our intention more manifeſt, We doe ordain, That Phillis ſhall ſit in the ſeat where I am, and that Silvander ſhall kiſs my hand: That Phillis ſhall reſtore the Chaplet of Flowers unto Adamas, who gave it unto her; and that Silvander ſhall take his from my hands, and alwayes wear it hereafter, by renewing it with freſh flowers when theſe decay.

Upon this ſhe roſe up, and took Phillis by the hand, cauſing her to reſtore her Garland unto the Druid: And taking up Silvanders Garland, ſhe put it upon his head, and gave him her hand to kiſs as he kneeled; which he received with ſo much contentment and joy, that the ſhepherdeſſe was well aſſured, it was not a kiſſe which proceeded from any diſſembled affection.

The heat of the day was much abated, when Diana gave her judgement; and Adamas being deſirous that Alcidon and Daphnide might ſee the exerciſes of the ſhepherds; he aroſe from his ſeat, which cauſed all the reſt to doe the like, and ſo they parted; And becauſe Phillis and Silvander did diſpute the matter amongſt themſelves, as queſtioning unto whom Diana had given the advantage; and the Druid perceiving that the diſpute was not eaſily determined: he adviſed them to talk of it by the way, becauſe it would be a good diverſion to make the way ſeem ſhorter. As ſoon as they were ſet forward, Phillis began to fall upon the ſhepheard: Well, Silvander (ſaid ſhe) what doe you think of Dianas judgement? Shepherdeſs, anſwered Silvander, I never hoped for ſo much as our Miſtreſs hath given unto me: And I will maintaine, that never was judgement pronounced with more equity nor wiſe conſiderations, then this which ſhe hath given. Why ſhepherd? (ſaid Phillis) doe you thinke that Diana has given you any advantage above me? Whoſoever doubts it, anſwered Silvander, does either not underſtand her judgement, or has no judgement to underſtand. For my part, ſaid Phillis, I doe not onely underſtand it, but doe admire it; for I do very well underſtand that I have won the wager, and do admire it, becauſe both parties are pleaſed; for commonly in other caſes, one party complains of injuſtice. In this as in all her other actions, anſwered Silvander, the admirable wit of Diana ſhewes it ſelfe: and yet (ſaid Phillis) It is I that am declared the more amiable; and it is I unto whom Dianas ſeat is given, as unto her who beſt deſerves it; intimating thereby, that it is I unto whom Silvander owes the ſame duties, and honours which our Miſtreſs formerly received from us. Oh ſhepherdeſſe (ſaid Silvander) the myſtery of this judgement is very deep, and abundance of ſtudy is requiſite to underſtand it: And if our faireſt Miſtreſs would be pleaſed to conſtitute a Judge to declare her intention in it, I ſhould quickly make it appear that her judgement is more in my advantage then yours: And if it pleaſe her to heare us now, you ſhall ſee that it is my part to thank her for the victory which ſhe has moſt juſtly judged on my ſide. Silvander, ſaid Diana then, There is no neceſſity of any further explanation, for I think I have declared my ſelfe ſo plainly, as there is no neceſſity of it. But I beſeech you, ſince now there is no wager betwixt Phillis and you, and ſince I am not now either your Judge or your Miſtreſs, I pray remember that my name is Diana, and ſo let me be called. Theſe words were uttered with ſuch a ſerious brow, that Silvander ſaw it was her will to have it ſo; yet ſeeming to take it in another manner, he anſwered thus▪ I doe know very well, that you are the faire Diana, whom Phillis and I have ſerved: I know alſo, that you permitted me [Page] to take you for my Miſtreſs, which I did; and doe you think I am of the humour of Hylas? Pardon me I beſeech you, if I hate inconſtancy, and let me continue as I begun, for I cannot change; Hylas, who did not hate Silvander; but though they were continually in conteſt with one another, yet he thought him the moſt accompliſhed ſhepherd in all the Country. Methinks, fair Diana, (ſaid he) that you are obliged by many reaſons, to like this ſhepherds propoſition, which you cannot deny without offence againſt your own judgement. But if to eaſe you of that labour, you will let me declare what your intention is in your judgement, I ſhould have quickly condemned Silvander. I perceive, Hylas, (anſwered Diana and ſmiled) That you would be as good a judge unto them, as you are a Counſellor unto me▪ No, no, ſaid Phillis, I will not admit of any partial Judge, and Silvander has the ſame reaſon; But if it pleaſe the Reverend Adamas to undertake it, let him ordain and compoſe the matter. No, ſaid Adamas, there is no reaſon that any ſhould be judge but Diana her ſelfe; but if you pleaſe to alleadge what you thinke conducing to your advantage, we ſhall all give our advice unto her. Then, ſaid Phillis, I doe wonder Silvander, you ſhould be ſo prejudicated with the love of your ſelfe, as not to ſee a thing which is as clear as the Sun: I am confident that none here but thinks you to be a man of reaſon, and that you doe this onely to ſhew the ſubtilty of your wit: Could ever any ſpeak more plainly then Diana did? I doe declare, ſaid ſhe, that Phillis is more amiable then Silvander, and the better to clear her intention, ſhe added the honour of ſetting me in her own ſeat, to ſhew that there was as great a difference betwixt you and me, as there is between you and Diana, and that in this regard you ſhould behave your ſelfe unto me with the ſame reſpect and honour: Could ſhe doe more to ſhew my victory? or declare it in more expreſs words? on the contrary, in ſaying that thou knoweſt better how to make your ſelfe loved then I doe; this was as much as if ſhe Irad ſaid, that you are ſuller of ſubtilty and art then I am, and ſo far I confeſſe it; but whatſoever is amiable in it ſelfe, needs no art or ſubtilty to make it ſelfe loved. Although ſhe did give you a Garland of Flowers, and cauſed me to reſtore mine unto him who gave it unto me; yet this was onely to ſhew, that ſhe ſaw nothing amiable in you▪ but ſuch things as reſemble flowers which grow and die in a day. And becauſe ſhe thought my merits more ſolid and durable, ſhe would not emblem them by things ſo fadeable: And to the end you might the better know it, not being willing any thing ſhould paſſe without recompence; conſider Silvander, what it is which ſhe gave you: and what it is which I receive in recompence of my ſervice: ſhe permitted you to kiſs her hand, which is a gratification uſed unto ſlaves, and ſuch as are in little eſteem; but unto me ſhe ſurrendred her place, to ſhew ſhe thought none more worthy then my ſelfe, and to intimate unto you, that ſhe adjudged it your duty to doe me the ſame honour which you did unto her. Boaſt then, Silvander, of the advantage which you pretend to receive by the this judgement: Keep well in memory the great victory which you have this day obtained: Go unto the Temple of the good Goddeſs, and there let it be Chronicled in the Annalls, that future ages may alſo know it. After this, Phillis was ſilent: and when Silvander would have anſwered, Hylas prevented him, ſaying; If I were to give my opinion, I ſhould declare Phillis victorious. Hylas, ſaid Adamas, and ſmiled, you give your judgement with too much precipitation; for you condemn a man before he be heard; Silvander has not yet ſpoke for himſelfe: 'Tis true, ſaid Hylas, but all's one, for I know he cannot anſwer any thing to the purpoſe. Every one began to laugh at the diſcourſe of Hylas; and when they were all ſilent, Silvander began to anſwer thus.

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The Anſwer of the Shepherd Sylvander, upon the Judgement of Diana.

I Have learn'd in the Maſſilian Schools, that Prometheus had ſuch a ſubtle wit, as he mounted up to heaven, and from thence ſtole that Fire from the Gods wherewith he did animate the Statue which he made; and that for a puniſhment of his Theft, he was ty'd to a Rock, where an Eagle did continually feed upon his Liver. Shall not I run the ſame Fortune, if in declaring the intentions of the fair Diana, I ſhould ſteal from her that ſecret which ſhe would reſerve unto her ſelf; for I think the Theft not inferiour to that of Prometheus, nor that I ſin againſt a leſs Divinity. But on the other ſide, ſhall I comply with the crime of Phillis, who to my diſadvantage, and againſt all equity, and the good judgement of Diana, does attribute unto her ſelf more then is her due? Truly, ſhould I let fall ſo juſt a cauſe, when I am able to maintain it by clear Reaſons, I ſhall fear my ſelf extremely culpable. What then wilt thou do Sylvander? Canſt thou not do what is fit to be done, unleſs thou incur a danger? Have recourſe then unto the fair Diana her ſelf, and by ſupplications, ask that by way of gift, which thou may'ſt juſtly ſteal from her. It is unto you therefore, O faireſt and divine Miſtris, that I addreſs my Prayers; begging leave to declare the equity of your judgement, and the truth of my Victory; Proteſting, that in this action I will have a greater regard unto any thing which ſhall concern you, then unto any thing that ſhall concern my ſelf. For the matter would not concern me ſo much, though Phillis had the advantage of me, becauſe notwithſtanding I ſhould be no leſs your ſervant then I am; but that Phillis by her ſubtle gloſſes ſhould make it thought that you are the Author of a judgement againſt all manner of Reaſon: This would wound the honour of your Wit and Judgement. But in a confidence that your ſilence gives conſent, I will anſwer Phillis thus.

It ſeems Shepherdeſs that you have a mind to be twice overcome, and will make me your ſuperiour by two Judgements; I ſee you would have appealed from Dianas Throne, unto another; and if our prudent Druide had not hindred you, perhaps this injury had been done unto her: But it is no wonder, that ſhe who does not know how to love, ſhould be ignorant in the ſecrets and ordinances of Love: yet to the end that neither you, nor thoſe who hear you, may not reſt any longer in that error, hearken Shepherdeſs unto this Truth, which I ſhall briefly declare unto you.

That great God which is in the higheſt heavens, and who with one ſingle look doth behold, not only all things which the Sun doth ſhine upon, but alſo all the ſecrets that are hidden in the Intrals of the Earth, and deepeſt Abyſs of Waters; he was pleaſed to give this priviledge unto man, that he only can know and underſtand his mind; and for his further help, he did not endue him with this knowledge, to conceal it from all, but to communicate and participate this knowledge unto others: And that he might do it the more intelligibly, he gave unto him two ways whereby he might declare himſelf; which is, by Speech, and by Actions: And by theſe two every one may diſcover their intentions, and make them more intelligible unto one another: And therefore when our Actions are Ambiguous, we add Speech, to make them the more plain: And when our Speech is obſcure and dubious, we do interpret them by our Actions. And the great Tautates was pleaſed to order it thus, to the end that thoſe deluding ſpirits which take delight in deceiving all thoſe they have converſe withal, may be without excuſe, when their decreitfulneſs is diſcovered.

Now the moſt wiſe and juſt Diana, being willing to let us know what ſhe thought of our difference, and to manifeſt her mind more clearly unto us, hath uſed theſe two ways whereby to expreſs her ſelf. Firſt, She has declared her ſelf in clear words; and to her words ſhe has added actions, which demonſtratively do ſpeak her mind: Yet ſince the ignorance of Phillis is ſuch, and to leave none in any doubt of the Truth, I am forced to go a little further, and to ſay, That to diſcover this Truth, it is requiſite to ſound it to the bottome, and to know who has got the victory by the judgement of Diana; It is neceſſary to conſider the beginning of the Difference, which cauſed our Wager.

[Page] The Nymph Leonide did very faithfully relate the Truth, when ſhe ſaid, That three months being expired, Diana was to judge whether Phillis or I did know better how to make our ſelves Loved: For our wager was grounded upon the ſaying of Phillis, that the reaſon why I did not attempt to ſerve any of our Shepherdeſſes was, becauſe I was defective in ſuch things as might procure Love: And becauſe I maintained that the only reaſon was want of will, both Phillis and I were ordered to ſerve the fair Diana three months; and afterwards ſhe was to judg, which of us two did know better how to make our ſelves Loved. This being well underſtood, I beleeve there is none here, who does not plainly ſee, that by the words of the fair Diana, I have obtained that which I did pretend unto: Her words were theſe, We do declare, that Sylvander does know how to make himſelf beloved better then Phillis: Could ſhe expreſſe her mind by any words more intelligibly and cleerly? And yet to leave no ſcruple of any doubt, ſhe has added actions unto her words; and ſuch as none can conſider, but they muſt preſently confeſſe my victory. Her Actions were two, Firſt, putting the Crown upon my head, ſecondly, giving me her hand to kiſſe; both of them are favours ſo high, as hardly any can be greater: For Phillis, Unto whom are Crowns given, but ſuch as overcome? and unto whom do Miſtreſſes uſe to give their hands to kiſſe, but unto thoſe whom they think worthy of their Loves? I cannot tell Shepherdeſſe what Country it is, where the cuſtome is to permit ſuch kiſſes unto their ſlaves, and ſuch as they little eſteem: but if they uſe to confer ſuch favours upon thoſe whom they diſ-eſteem, what will they do unto thoſe who are high in their Favours? Believe me, O my enemy, that after this rate, there are very few, who would not be very glad my Faireſt Miſtreſſe would deſpiſe them, and I aſſure you, I would be contented to live and die in ſuch diſeſteem. And as to what you ſay, That our judge in giving me a Garland of Flowers, does intimate thereby, that whatſoever is amiable in me, is like thoſe flowers, which grow and die in a day: I beſeech you conſider what ſhe has added unto thoſe flowers, as if ſhe did foreſee that this would be objected: We do ordain, ſaid ſhe, that Sylvander ſhall take his chaplet of flowers from my hands, and wear it hereafter, by renewing it with freſh flowers: Can you think Shepherdeſſe, that ſhe intended it to wither in a day, ſince ſhe would have me wear it for eternal memory? But in this, I muſt confeſſe you are excuſable: For it is one of thoſe miſteries in Love which you do not underſtand, and which I will unfold unto you, to the end you may know, why our juſt judg did ordain, that you ſhould reſtore that Garland which was given unto you, and why I ſhould wear mine alwaies.

Love, which our ſage Druides eſteem to be the great Tautates, whom the Doctors in the Maſſilian Schools do ſay, was the firſt of all the gods who after the Chaos did ſeparate things mortal from things immortal, and gave them life and perfection. And becauſe man was only created to know, to love, and to ſerve this great Tautates, whom we were not able to comprehend by any corporeal repreſentations or Ideas, he did ſet before our eyes a body ſo perfect, as might in ſome ſort repreſent unto us, that which he would have us know of him: To the end, that knowing him, we might come to love him, and loving him, to ſerve him. And in as much as nothing is ſo bright and pure as this great Tautates, he created that which he thought moſt pure and perfect, and did imbelliſh it with all the beauties, and accompliſh it with all the perfections that a body could be capable of, and called it the Sun. Thus the Sun, appeared preſently from one ſide of Heaven unto the other, gave life and motion unto all that was upon the earth, and wrought ſuch admirable effects, as many did think it to be the great God, of whom it was only but an imperfect reſemblance, and did adore it in lieu of that which it did repreſent. Now Phillis, if you would know in ſome ſort what this great Tautates Love is, you muſt learn it by the Sun, and ſuch things as fall under our ſenſes: And when you ſee how the Sun gives life unto all that is in the univerſe, you ought to ſay it your ſelf, that Love gives life unto all ſouls, when it ſhines, not only in heaven, but alſo throughout all the earth: you muſt acknowledg Love to be the light, which gives underſtanding unto all ſpirits; for there is none ſo blind, but it is able to open his eyes, and make him cleer ſighted. And if this Sun of Love do not ſhine, then is he all in darkneſſe, without any light or underſtanding: conſider alſo, how as the Sun does alter and change ſeaſons, Love does the like: It cauſeth the Spring, by producing in our ſpirits the flowers of hopes; It cauſeth Summer, by giving us the fruits of thoſe hopes; It cauſeth Autumn, by letting us enjoy them; and it cauſeth [Page] Winter, by giving us ſo much underſtanding, as to know how to preſerve them long. I ſhould be too long if I ſhould relate all the reſemblances betwixt Love and the Sun: Let it ſuffice Shepherdeſs, that by this reſemblance already inſtanced, you may underſtand, how theſe flowers, which you ſo much undervalue, & ſay are withered as ſoon as blown▪ are the hopes which Love produceth in his Spring: Oh Love! What greater favour could I receive from my faireſt Miſtreſſe? Oh Phillis! how dear and infinitely pleaſing are theſe flowers unto me? eſpecially when I conſider the conſequents of this favour▪ Theſe fair and ſweet flowers, are the Spring of my hopes; and can you think that Summer will not preſently follow after the Spring? Is not that kiſſe of her fair hand which ſhe was pleaſed to afford me, the fruit of thoſe hopes? Does not this Glorious Sun of my ſoul, afford me alſo an Autumn and a Winter? Doubtleſſe Phillis, my faireſt Miſtreſſe did not omit them, when ſhe ordained I ſhould wear that Crown of flowers continually amongſt the Shepherds, and renew it with freſh ones: Is not this an Autumn and Winter both, ſince I muſt preſerve it long, and renew my happineſſe? Conſider, O my enemy, how in taking theſe flowers from you, and reſtoring them unto Adamas, ſhe intimates, that you muſt not hope for any thing. And if you have flattered up your ſelf with any fond hopes, without any ground of reaſon, it is fit you be deprived of them before all this venerable company.

There remaines nothing now to anſwer; but only to tell you, why my faireſt Miſtris was pleaſed to ſay, that Phillis was more amiable then Sylvander, and upon what reaſon ſhe placed you in her own ſeat. For the better underſtanding of it, know Shepherdeſſe; That whatſoever is good is amiable: but if the good be unknown, it is like unto a hidden treaſure, which none can eſteem until it be known: when Diana did declare that you were amiable, ſhe did it with good reaſon, for doubtleſs the vertues which are in you, are good: for reſembling my faireſt Miſtris in ſex, and other gifts of Nature, there is no doubt but therein you are amiable, and much more then Sylvander: But being deficient in other things which ſhould make you loved, and which ſhe finds in me, ſhe has declared me to know better how to make my ſelf loved, then you do. And this Shepherdeſſe, if you do rightly underſtand it, is moſt juſt, and not at all diſ-advantagious to you: For all three muſt be conſidered; Diana is ſhe who was to receive our ſervices and our paſſions: And you and I were to ſerve and Court her. It is the property of a man to ſerve and Court a fair Miſtris: I have done according to the duty and office of a man, in my Courtſhip of Diana; and ſhe has done the right office of a woman, in receiving my ſervices: But it is prepoſterous and abſurd for you, who are a woman, to Court a woman, and therefore it is not at all ſtrange, that though you be more amiable, yet Sylvander ſhould know how to procure love better then you, ſince it is his part to court, and yours on the contrary to be courted; and certainly our juſt Judge did ſo intend it, when ſhe placed you in her room, intimating, that as it was hers, ſo it was your part, not to ſerve, but to be ſerved. Confeſs therefore Phillis, that I have won the wager, and I will confeſſe you to be more amiable then I: And let us both ſay, that never was a more wiſe and juſt Judge, nor a fairer Miſtris, then Diana, whoſe judgement has given me the victory, and whoſe perfections have made me eternally hers.

Thus Sylvander ended, leaving every one very well ſatisfied with his reaſons and modeſty. Phillis her ſelf was forced to yeild unto him: and therefore Diana ſeeing there was no need of a ſecond judgement, ſhe ſaid no more. Hylas only, who jeared at all he had ſaid, and held Stella under the Arm, ſeeing all was ſilent, he began to talk. Well Sylvander, (ſaid he) To what purpoſe is all this long Diſcourſe? And what can we learn from it? You may learn (anſwered Sylvander) that the juſt judgement which Diana gave upon ſuch ſolid reaſon, had like to have ſuffered the ſame injury by the miſ-interpretation of Phillis, that moſt Oracles do receive from thoſe who will turn them according to their own deſires, and wreſt them ſo, as they ſuit with their own paſſions. And Stella and you may learn, That as there is but one Sun which reſembles Love, ſo all ought to have but one Love. If it be ſo, ſaid Hylas, that Love, like the Sun, gives life, and that none do live without it, and that you never loved any until of very late, then you have been alive but very lately: And if ſo, good Sylvander, tell me, how you did being dead, to look ſo well to your Flock, to hunt, to talk, to ſing, to run, and wreſtle? I ſhould be very glad to learn that trick of you, that I may do the ſame when I am dead; for I have ſeen ſome aſſoon as they are dead, caſt preſently [Page] into the earth, and there's an end of them; but I muſt confeſs you are the fineſt dead man that ever I ſaw; and if I could but do as you did before you were in love, I would not care a ruſh for death. Sylvander could not chuſe but laugh at the diſcourſe of Hylas; but by way of anſwer, he ſaid: 'Tis true, that Love is the life of our ſouls, if it be rightly underſtood; and to that end, you muſt know Hylas, that there are two kinds of life in a ſoul: The one, is that which it lives in the body; and the other, which it lives with it ſelf. The firſt doth animate the Body, makes it walk, talk, eat, and do all thoſe things which you knew I did before I had the happineſs to love Diana. And the other gives life unto the Soul, and makes it live in it ſelf: For it enlightens the Underſtanding, forms the Imagination, and takes up the Will. The firſt kind of life is common unto man, as unto all other animals; for all living do produce the ſame actions: But the other ſoaring higher then the Body, does give the Soul another kind of life, which is common unto thoſe pure thoughts of which we ſpoke before. Now Hylas, when I ſaid that Love gives life unto Souls; I did not then ſay that the Body was dead, in that ſenſe which you apprehend it; for then I had ſaid things impoſſible. Impoſſible, becauſe none can die before he live; and he who never loved, never lived; and he who never lived, cannot die. Ask me no more therefore, how being dead, I came to talk, ſing, leap, run, and ſuch like; for all thoſe actions do depend upon a life, which love daigns not to meddle with. Then I perceive (ſaid Hylas) that your love is only in thought and imagination. No queſtion of it (replyed Sylvander) and as for other things, I leave them unto that inſtinct which Nature gives unto every one. Then (replyed Hylas) It is pity but we two ſhould love one Shepherdeſs; for we ſhould both agree excellently well: You in the Favours which ſhe ſhould ſhew you in thought and imagination; and I, in thoſe which your love leaves unto that inſtinct of Nature. Alcidon, and moſt of the Shepherds, did laugh heartily at the merry humour of Hylas; and eſpecially Sylvander, who at laſt returned him this anſwer. Ah Hylas, Did you know how to Love, you would not ſpeak thus, nor confound things as you do. Though my Soul doth live in its own thoughts, yet for all that, it gives life unto that body which it animates: The Sun, which as I told you, is the true Embleme of Love, though it do ſhine upon Celeſtial things, yet it does alſo caſt his rayes upon Bodies here below: And why ſhould not Love, which enlightens our Underſtanding, and forms the thoughts of our ſouls, give ſuch deſires alſo unto our Bodies, as are natural unto it? No, no Hylas, here lies all the difference; Thoſe who love as I do, they have none of thoſe deſires whereof you ſpeak, but becauſe they love: And thoſe who love as you do, do not love, but becauſe they have thoſe deſires. But Sylvander (ſaid Stella, who was a little netled at this diſcourſe) ſince you have theſe deſires, Are you not very bold, when you conſider who you are, and who Diana is? I muſt needs confeſs, anſwered Sylvander, That when I do look upon my ſelf with eyes of equality, I think you are in the right; but when I conſider my extream love, and the hopes which ſhe was pleaſed to give me, I think my ſelf not too blame. Your extream love (ſaid ſhe) and your hopes alſo, are things inviſible. But the actions of my faireſt Miſtris (anſwered Sylvander) may make them viſible: And though mine have not hitherto been ſo great as to demonſtrate them, yet I hope to render her ſuch ſervice, as ſhall evidence it to her, and all the world, that my Love is the greateſt that ever was. But had you obſerved her actions as well as I, you would not have upbraided me with my hopes, as you have done: For is not every flower a hope? And to what purpoſe do you think ſhe ordained I ſhould wear them upon my head? It is true replied Stella; but as you received thoſe flowers from the ſage Adamas, ſo you muſt expect your hopes from him, and not from Diana. O Stella, ſaid Sylvander, I perceive your eye was only upon Hylas: for had you looked about you, you might have ſeen, I had them not from that Druide: It is true, I had them firſt from him, but I laid them at the feet of Diana; to ſhew, that from her I expected all my hopes: and now you ſee them upon my head, from what other hand do you think I would receive them, but from hers, upon whom all my hopes depend? Did I not receive this Crown of Flowers from her fair hand? And did ſhe not thereby as much as ſay, HOPE? But yet, replied Stella, theſe flowers, and theſe hopes, did come from the ſage Adamas: This, anſwered Sylvander, is not without a deep miſtery, for perhaps the great Tautat [...]s would have me know, that the beginning of all my hopes muſt take original from ſage Adamas.

[Page] The diſpute betwixt theſe Shepherds, and Shepherdeſſes had continued longer, had they not come at the ſame time unto the great Meddow, where the Shepherds uſed to perform their exerciſes. A great company was already aſſembled from all parts, and were prepared with all things neceſſary, when ſeing the grand Druide and his company a far off, they came to meet him, with many demonſtrations of joy, to have him amongſt them. After the Complements of Courteſie were performed, the Prizes were ſet up, for Running, for Wreſtling, for Leaping, and for throwing the Bar: Sylvander had the honour of the firſt, Lycidas of wreſtling, Hylas of leaping, and Hermantes of throwing the bar: As for Sylvander, every one was glad of his victory, and of that of Lycidas alſo; but as for Hylas and Hermantes, who came with Daphnide and Alcidon; the Shepherds of Forreſts did a little grudge at them: and Hylas going unto Stella, becauſe the prize which he had won, was a little Crown compoſed of Feathers; he beſeeched her to let him put it upon her head; Sylvander ſeeing this, by way of mockery, ſaid unto him, That, Hylas, is a very right reward for thy faithful paines. What do you ſay? (ſaid Hylas, after he had put the Crown upon the head of Stella) I ſay (anſwered Sylvander) that thoſe who know you, and dare leap with you, are very bold; for having ſuch a light head as you have, they might eaſily imagine your heels like unto it, and be out of hopes to overcome you: but they who made that Crown, ſhewed more judgement, for nothing could ſute ſo well to your light mind, as a Cap of Feathers. I am not at all aſhamed of it, anſwered Hylas; for unto you who are lumpiſh and dull, they did very well to give ſuch things as the groſs earth produceth, as that Garland of Flowers, which you have in your hand: But unto me, as unto one who is compoſed of a more noble temper, they have preſented Feathers, to ſhew, that I do elevate my ſelf in the Element of Ayr; as deſpiſing ſuch a lumpiſh piece as you are; you I ſay, who does envy that which you upbraid me withal: ſince I will run againſt all the reſt of the Shepherds, to get the glory of being lighter then they. You are miſtaken (anſwered Sylvander) I did not run, to make it appear I was lighter; but becauſe I was deſirous to be the firſt at my faireſt Miſtris, who ſat at the end of the Race: ſo as you are deceived, if you thought I did run for the honour of running beſt: for my aym was only to make it appear, that none could go before me, when I was going towards her. By Fortune Diana was ſo neer, as ſhe heard all the diſcourſe, and therefore addreſſing her ſelf unto Sylvander; Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, theſe names of Miſtris, and Faireſt, and theſe expreſſions of a particular affection, were in ſeaſon as long as the wager laſted; but now, let me entreat you to uſe them no more, unleſſe you will diſ-oblige me: but remember that my name is Diana, and ſo, I pray, let me be called. Sylvander anſwered, That he who deſired life no longer then to do her ſervice, had rather die then diſpleaſe her: but I beſeech you, (ſaid he) allow me the reſt of the day to unaccuſtome my tongue, before you lay this command upon me; and in the mean time, I moſt humbly beſeech you, to accept of this Crown which I have won, to the end I may put this day in the Calender, as the happieſt I ever yet lived. The Shepherdeſſe who did love this Shepherd, and began to reſign that place in her heart which Philander had, ſhe was inclinable to grant his requeſt: but fearing leſt her good will would too much appear, ſhe refuſed it, and had gone away, if Aſtrea and Alexis had not ſtayed her; telling her, that Sylvanders requeſt was ſo reaſonable, that ſhe would offend her own Natural Courteſie, if ſhe did refuſe it: and almoſt by force, at leaſt in appearance, made her conſent unto it. I wiſh, ſaid the Nimph Leonide, that this Chaplet of Flowers, which Diana wears upon her head, were given unto Paris; for otherwiſe, it will grieve him at the heart, to ſee Sylvander's Garland upon the head of his Miſtris. That Title Madam (ſaid Diana) is not my due: but however, I ſhall conſent unto whatſoever the Nimph Leonide ſhall think fit: upon this, taking off the Chaplet of Flowers which ſhe wore upon her own head, and receiving that which Sylvander preſented unto her, ſhe ſet her own upon the head of Paris, and put Sylvanders upon her own head: This cauſed no ſmall diſpute between Paris, and that Shepherd, to know which of them was moſt favoured; but for that time they ſaid no more: becauſe the Sun was very low, which cauſed them to retire homewards.

Aſtrea and Alexis walked together: Adamas, Alcidon, and Daphnide, kept together: Phillis was with Lycidas; and Paris entertained Leonide with the diſcourſe which ſhe formerly begun in the houſe of Adams; ſo as Sylvander addreſſed himſelf with all humility unto Diana: Faireſt Miſtris (ſaid he) will you permit me to wait [Page] upon you unto your Houſe? Sylvander, ſaid ſhe, I accept of your curteſie; But I would gladly have you accuſtome your ſelf betimes to call me by my name. Believe it fair Shepherdeſs (anſwered he) you have no truer Name, then that, when I call you Miſtris. For I moſt earneſtly beſeech you to believe, there is nothing under the Sun more certain, then that I am your ſervant. Diana who had no mind to be quit of Sylvander, though ſhe ſaw that ſhe had no reaſon to love him, being but a poor unknown ſtranger, ſhe was at a ſtand what to do; but thinking that then there was no better way then to ſeem contented he ſhould behave himſelf the reſt of the day as he deſired, ſhe anſwered him thus; I am contented Sylvander you ſhould end the remainder of the day, as you began it, ſince Alexis and Aſtrea would have it ſo. If I thought (anſwered he) that when this day is ended, I ſhould have done loving you; I vow by him that gave me life, I would not live it out. You are permitted (replied Diana) to continue on your way of behaviour, as long as the day laſts; but take notice, that the Sun is going to ſet, and that then the day ends. The day (anſwered Sylvander) doth laſt as long as there is any light. I confeſs it, anſwered Diana, and therefore within an hour after the Sun is ſet, there will be no light, nor by conſequence, any day to continue the behaviour which your Wager permitted you. Give me leave to tell you, Faireſt Miſtris, ſaid he, That no time can limit the ſervice which I owe you, nor any forbiddance has power to divert me from that real Affection, which I have vowed unto you: And faireſt Shepherdeſs, Let me further tell you in words of Truth, That this Wager firſt began without any other Deſign then to conquer Phillis, and for paſtime unto the company; But ſince, thoſe perfections which I have found in you, have made it appear, that there is no jeſting with Love; and that it is impoſſible to be long neer a great fire, and not be burned. Sylvander (ſaid Diana) If you do intend I ſhould believe theſe words, I muſt anſwer you, That I am ſo much diſ-obliged by you, as I cannot tell whether I ſhall ever forget the wrong, if I did not think you intend to cloſe the day according to your Wager: I ſhall yet receive all you ſay, as I have done, ſince the difference betwixt Phillis and you began: But when the day is done, Take heed how you anſwer me, that I may know what to do; And I heartily entreat you to think well upon it. Sylvander ſeeing Diana more in earneſt then he imagined, and fearing that if he went any further, ſhe ſhould for ever baniſh him; he reſolved to incenſe her no farther, but to refer it unto time, which by his long ſervices might have better influence upon her; hoping, that perhaps ſhe might be glad of the like occaſion to receive his Services, and aſſurances of his Affection, under the ſame cover which ſhe now received them: and therefore looking her full in the face, Faireſt Miſtris, ſaid he, The day is not yet done; and when it is, I ſhall be-think my ſelf how to anſwer you; In the mean time, give me leave to uſe the priviledge which you granted me. Upon that account (anſwered Diana) I ſhall moſt willingly entertain your Diſcourſe; But me-thinks you ſhould begin now to talk as you muſt then; for you ſee the Sun is almoſt ſet. It is long, Miſtris, anſwered he, before you and I ſhall come to an accompt; ſince the day you have granted me muſt laſt as long as I live. As you live! replyed Diana, I ſhou'd be ſorry your life ſhould be ſo ſhort; and am ſo much obliged unto you, as to wiſh it may laſt long. Will you be pleaſed, Faireſt Miſtris, ſaid he, that we make choiſe of one to regulate this matter betwixt us? Who would you chuſe? anſwered Diana. Whom you ſhall pleaſe, replied Sylvander, ſo it be one that ever in their life loved. Shall we refer it, ſaid Diana, unto Aſtrea and Phillis? With all my heart, anſwered Sylvander, though I know Phillis to be my enemy. You are miſtaken, anſwered Diana, and ſmil'd; for however ſhe ſeems the contrary, yet there is not one Spepherdeſs that takes your part more really then ſhe: But I would not have our diſpute to be made a publique buſineſs, as that was betwixt Phillis and you; for ſeveral conſiderations: Let it be this night, when every one is retired, for we all ſup this night at Aſtreas houſe, where Phocion does treat Adamas, and Daphnide, and us all; and there we may talk as privately as we pleaſe.

Oh, what conſolation were theſe words unto Sylvander! For Dianas deſire of ſecrecy was an argument unto him, that his buſineſs was upon good terms: And the truth is, The good will of this Shepherdeſs was by degrees more and more inclinable unto Sylvander; ſo as though ſhe knew not well what to do, yet it was impoſſible for her to diſ-ingage her ſelf.

In the mean time, Aſrea and Alexis went talking together; and as it is uſual in [Page] Diſcourſe, to paſs from one ſubject unto another; they fell at laſt upon the judgment of Diana. Fair Shepherdeſs, (ſaid Alexis unto Aſtrea) Shall I ſpeak my mind freely unto you? As unto your ſelf, anſwered Aſtrea. Then, ſaid Alexis, What do you think of Sylvander's love? I think, anſwered ſhe, that this Shepherd is very deeply in love, and that if Diana did not carry her ſelf very prudently, I ſhould fear ſhe does not diſlike of it. For my part, replied the Druide, I am of opinion that ſhe does not wiſh him ill. You are not ſingular in your opinion, Madam, replied Aſtrea; for I have obſerved that the addreſſes of this Shepherd are not at all diſpleaſing unto her; and the truth is, Sylvander is no deſpiſeable Shepherd, nor have I met with many of more merit. Upon this ſhe ſtood ſilent, and ſo did Alexis. At laſt Aſtrea began again, with a deep ſigh; It is moſt certain (ſaid ſhe) that Diana does love this Shepherd, and both Phillis and my ſelf are the cauſe of it; for we did conſtrain her even by force, to permit Sylvander to make addreſs unto her; and though it was at the firſt in jeſt, yet it proved afterwards in good earneſt; and I foreſee, that unleſs ſhe take good heed, ſhe will not ſo eaſily diſ-engage her ſelf as ſhe imagines. Be pleaſed to know Madam, that Sylvander is a Shepherd unknown, and nothing beholding unto Fortune, ſince ſhe has concealed from him, both his Country, and the knowledge of his Parents: So as Diana, who has as high a mind as any Shepherdeſs in all the Neighborhood, will never permit Sylvander to ſerve her openly, be his merits never ſo great: nor would her Parents, who are the principal of all about the Banks of the Fatal Lignon, allow of it: And yet I ſee that Sylvander is ſo much taken with her Beauty and Perfections, as I dare lay a wager, that nothing in the world, neither the rigour of the Shepherdeſs, nor the forbiddance of Parents, nor any other obſtacle whatſoever, can divert him; ſo as when Diana commanding him to ſpeak no more unto her, as he did, during the wager, he will conſtrain himſelf a little, but it will be abſolutely impoſſible for him to overcome himſelf; ſo as after ſo many great expreſſions of his affection, the more he would hide it, the more will ſhe ſee it through his conſtraint. I will not ſay any thing of what I have already thought concerning Diana; for loving her as I do, I ſhould be very ſorry to ſee her any way miſcarry; and yet conſidering the way ſhe takes, it is almoſt impoſſible ſhe ſhould do otherwiſe. What does ſhe intend to do? asked Alexis. The good opinion which ſhe juſtly has of her own merits (anſwered Aſtrea) will not permit her to allow of Sylvander's Courtſhip, but makes her reſolve to have recourſe unto thoſe extream remedies of forbidding him, which women uſe unto ſuch whoſe Courtſhip is diſpleaſing unto them. I do not like her way (ſaid Alexis) and if ſhe follow it, ſhe will repent it: For Sylvander loving her as he does, he will not be diverted by it; and then, as you ſay, the buſineſs will become the talk of the Country. But ſhe had better take one of theſe two ways, either to let him continue his addreſſes under the vail of a Fiction; for which excuſes enough are to be found; or elſe permit him ſecretly to make his addreſſes: For I muſt confeſs, Fair Shepherdeſs, that the Vertues of Diana, and the Merits of Sylvander, makes me deſire they may live contentedly, though it be to the diſadvantage of Paris my Brother, who I know does love her; but it is better he ſhould miſs of his deſires, then by-obtaining them, to make two of ſo much merit, miſerable all the reſt of their days: Beſides, Diana loving my Brother only by reaſons of Eſtate, Doubtleſs the loſs of one ſo dear unto her as Sylvander is, would make her ſo full of ſorrow, and ſo much change her, that my Brother could not take any great delight in her: And though this do at the firſt diſpleaſe Paris, yet he will better paſs it over then Sylvander can, having not ſo violent an affection unto Diana as that Shepherd hath. Moreover, we ſhall more eaſily divert him from it, by propounding ſome other marriage unto him, more ſutable unto his quality.

In ſuch diſcourſe as this, they came unto the Town of Phocion, who received them very kindly, and treated them with ſo neat a ſupper; that Alcidon and Daphnide confeſſed, he ſhamed the great Cities. But Aſtrea was not ſo well contented as ſhe deſired: For Phocion had young Calidon there, and ſet him at the Table juſt oppoſite unto her: This young Shepherd was ſo paſſionately in Love, that his eyes were never off her; which troubled Aſtrea extreamly: for ſhe could never look up, but ſtill met with his eye upon her. Alexis, who was of Calidons mind, did the very ſame, though with much more ſatisfaction unto Aſtrea, who alſo could not ſatisfie her eyes with looking upon Celadon under the umbrage of a woman: But Alexis had the advantage of Calidon, [Page] for having Aſtrea on her ſide, they could talk together and not be heard, which they did almoſt all ſupper while: And becauſe Alexis obſerved the eyes of Calidon, ſhe ſaid unto Astrea: Fair Shepherdeſſe do you not think that you ſit in a very ill place? I ſhall never think ſo, anſwered Aſtrea, as long as I am ſo neer you, which is the greateſt contentment I can have; but I wiſh that ſome troubleſome eyes which are continually on my face, were turned ſome other way, or elſe that the owner of them were further off. The trouble which you endure, ſaid Alexis, is a conſequent of your beauty; and you muſt not think it ſtrange, that Shepherds ſhould Love you, ſince I who am a woman, and one who never ſaw you before this three or four dayes, am ſo extreamly taken with you, that I think my ſelf in Love with you. As Alexis ſpoke theſe words ſhe changed countenance: The Zeal of her expreſſion, or her fear of ſpeaking too plainly, was the cauſe of it. Astrea anſwered her with a ſmiling eye, I wiſh with all my heart Madam, that there were any thing in me which might do you any real ſervice, and ingratiate me into your favour: For I am ſo perfectly yours that nothing but death can ſever me from you and I think the happineſs of it ſo great, that I would not change contentment with all the Kings, Emperors, and Monarchs upon earth. Alexis fearing that if theſe expreſſions continued, hearers would think they talked too paſſionately for women, ſhe took her hand, and wiſpered unto her, I will ſooner refuſe life then this aſſurance you give me: but for ſome reaſons which afterwards I will tell you, let us break off this diſcourſe, and talk of it at night when we are alone, or to morrow when we walk in the woods.

After ſupper ended, and tables removed, many Neighboring young Shepherds came to dance and ſing, and rejoyce, for finding the Miſsletoe of the New-year, for ſo they called it. And becauſe Daphnide and Alcidon were deſirous to be ſpectators of their harmleſſe ſports, they deſired Adamas he would be pleaſed they might wa [...] out and ſee the Shepherds and Fair Shepherdeſſes dance. Adamas who was willing to give them all poſſible ſatisfaction, he took Daphnide by the hand, and led her forth, leaving Leonide to conduct Alcidon, and all the reſt of the Company, who followed them into a great room, where ſuch publique rejoycings were wont to be kept, and where they found abundance of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes dancing and ſinging.

The Sun had been long ſet, and no day appeared; but the Moon ſhined ſo cleer, as if ſhe had borrowed more light then uſual, purpoſely for that night: Daphnide was much taken with the pleaſantneſs of the place, and coolneſs of the air: And all ſitting down, ſome on one ſide, ſome on another, they began to dance and ſing, and performed their parts ſo handſomly, that Daphnide and Alcidon could not chuſe but admire the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes of Lignon. After they had danced half an hour, there came from the neighboring Towns, a company of Shepherds diſguiſed in the habit of Egyptians, who danced after the manner of that people: And as they had been formerly taught by Alcippe the father of Celadon, upon his return from his long travels, they danced unto ſongs, and ſang as they danced: And when they had done, they went unto all the company, and offered to tell the Fortunes of all ſuch who would ſhew them their hands. This paſtime having laſted long, and it being almoſt midnight, Adamas thought it time to retire: So as they all parted, and went unto their Towns, Phocion carried unto his houſe, Adamas, Paris, Alexis, and Leonide, being very ſorry that his houſe was not of capacity to lodge Daphnide and Alcidon with their company alſo. But Adamas thinking before hand that he could not do it with any conveniency, he appointed Lycidas to lodg them in the houſe of Celadon, where Diamis his uncle expected them; but by reaſon of his old age left the management of all things unto Lycidas, which that Shepherd did perform very exactly, though he was extreamly perplexed, that he could not have the company of his dear Phillis in his houſe: For ſhe told him, that if he would bid thoſe ſtrangers welcome, ſhe would go with Aſtrea, and lye with her.

Thus every one retired to their lodgings, Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis being attended by Sylvander, they carryed Adamas unto Aſtreas houſe, where Phocion ſtayed to bid them welcome as well as he could. The Chambers were ordered thus; Adamas and Paris did lie in one, where Phocion was wont to lie; Alexis and Leonide were ordered to lie in that which was wont to be Aſtreas, and Aſtrea took another. When Adamas underſtood that the chambers were thus ordered, he did not like that Alexis and Leonide ſhould be alone together in a chamber, fearing leſt the Female Druide, ſhould, by a [Page] miracle of Love become a Shepherd, and leſt Leonide, whom he knew did not hate Celadon, ſhould carreſs Alexis ſo much, as to make him caſt off his Druides habit: And therefore, taking Leonide aſide, he ſaid unto her, that when all the Shepherdeſſes were retired, he would have Alexis come ſecretly, and lie in his chamber; and though there was but two beds in it, yet it was no matter; for Paris ſhould lie with him, and Alexis ſhould lie in the other. I thought upon that before, (anſwered the Nimph) but I thought it not expedient, becauſe ſome of the houſe might perhaps come in and ſee her, which would be no ſmall ſcandal: beſides, Paris perhaps might take notice of her. What courſe (replied Adamas) would you then take? For I do not think you can find a better way: Pardon me good father, replied ſhe; I conceive it much better for Aſtrea and I to lie together in one bed, and Alexis in the other.

But perhaps (ſaid Adamas) that Aſtrea loving Alexis better then ſhe does you, ſhe will deſire to lye with her rather then with you. If ſhe needs will do ſo, anſwered the Nimph, then let her, and I will take the other bed: but you may do as I ſay very eaſily; for if you come under pretence of ſeeing us: you may ſay it is unreaſonable we ſhould put Aſtrea out of her Chamber, that it is enough you have diſplaced Phocion out of his, and ſo you may appoint that Aſtrea and I ſhould lye together, pretending that the daughters of Druides never uſe to lye with any, but by themſelves. Adamas thought this invention to be good: And Phocion being retired, he commanded Paris to go to bed, and then he came to viſit Alexis and Leonide; but he found the Chamber fuller then he expected, there being with Aſtrea, Diana and Sylvander, who was diſcourſing upon his difference with Diana, when the Druide entred: Daughters, ſaid he, I come to ſee how you are lodged, but I perceive you are very troubleſome unto the Fair Aſtrea, for I underſtand that it is her Chamber. It is true Sir, anſwered Aſtrea, but both my Chamber and my ſelf are much honoured in that we are able to do any ſervice unto ſuch whom I love ſo infinitely. Daughter, replied Adamas, I will not upon any termes ſuffer you to go out of it; Leonide and you may lye together; and did not the Laws of Druides daughters forbid it, I ſhould intreat the Fair Diana take half of a bed with Alexis. Father, ſaid Leonide, the bed is ſo large, as we may lye all three together without any trouble. And becauſe Aſtrea out of reſpect unto the Nimph, ſeemed not to be willing. No, no, replied Adamas, Leonide and my daughter ſhall go into my Chamber, were we will lye as well as we can, unleſſe you reſolve to lye altogether, for I will not by any means, you ſhould have any other Chamber then this, Diana, then ſeeing it was the will of Adamas, gave her conſent, and Aſtrea, ſeeing Diana conſented, obeyed the Druide: All this while Alexis ſtood mute, ſo amazed to ſee her ſelf in Aſtreas houſe, and to lye with her, though not in the ſame bed, yet in the ſame Chamber with her, as he thought this to be a fault unpardonable if ever it was known unto her. Adamas obſerving it when he bad good night unto all the reſt, took her hand and ſaid unto her. I think daughter, the length of the way has much wearied you, it is good for you to lie long in bed to morrow, and reſt your ſelf; for Phocion has deſired me to retain Daphnide and Alcidon here two or three dayes, ſo as if you be but ready againſt dinner it is time enough: Afterwards he whiſpered her in the ear; Alexis, (ſaid he) what makes you ſo ſad? Take heed you do not ſpoil the plot which we have thus far carried on ſo well; and from which you may expect ſo much contentment. Then Adamas retired to his Chamber, leaving Alexis ſo aſtoniſhed that Aſtrea took notice of it; and believing that the length of the way had done her ſome harm, ſhe ſhewed abundance of ſorrow to ſee her in that condition. But Leonide who knew well enough where her ſhooe did pinch her, did anſwer for her; No, no, Aſtrea, ſaid ſhe, never trouble your ſelf, her pain will be quickly over: I have ſeen her often in theſe fits, and well again preſently. But me thinks (ſaid ſhe and turned towards Sylvander) that it is time for this Shepherd to retire, it being not long before it will be day. Madam, anſwered Sylvander, I ſhall be quickly gone, ſo I may but carry with me what I brought hither. Diana knowing that he meant her; Shepherd ſaid ſhe, I do not intend to ſtir from hence this night, but I will put Phillis in my room whom you may wait upon home as if it was my ſelf, and to morrow I will expect you give me an account of her [Page] here, where I promiſe to expect you about ten or eleven of the clock in the morning: What power, I beſeech you, anſwered Sylvander, have you to give her unto me? The ſame power, replied Diana, that ſhe has to diſpoſe of me, when ſhe pleaſeth. I had rather, replied he, taſt her liberality then yours. It is enough for this time (ſaid Leonide) that Diana to ſhew what an abſolute victory you have gotten, does let you carry your enemie away as a priſoner. I had rather Madam, replied Sylvander, be a priſoner unto her, who gave me the victory, and be tyed never to ſtir from her, then to be the Conqueror of this enemy, whom ſhe hath put into my hands. Phillis offered to reply, when Lycidas, according to his promiſe, came to wait upon her; and then looſing her ſelf from the hands of Sylvander, ſee ungrateful Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, how the Heavens does puniſh you! I have now nothing to do with you, and before you get me your priſoner again, you muſt provide better Arms. Upon this, bidding good night unto Alexis and Leonide, and kiſſing Aſtrea and Diana, being very ſorry (as ſhe ſaid) to leave them, though indeed conſtrained for want of room, ſhe went to her own houſe, and was conducted by Lycidas and Sylvander, who according to their cuſtome, did wrangle and argue, all the way.

In the interim, Aſtrea was ſo buſie, and officious about her dear Alexis, in helping to undreſſe her, as ſhe would not ſuffer her to unpin, one pin; and the Druide was willing to allow it as long as poſſibly ſhe could: but when ſhe came to put off her Gown, fearing leſt ſhe ſhould find ſome fault with her breſts, ſhe beckned unto Leonide; who knowing what ſhe meant, came unto Aſtrea: Come, come, Fair Shepherdeſſe, (ſaid ſhe unto her) let us undreſs our ſelves, for I ſee you do but trouble my ſiſter, and will trouble her more, unleſs vve make haſt to bed; for ſhe has a cuſtome to fall a ſleep immediately; and if we do not the like, we ſhall awake her, and then ſhe can ſleep no more that night; therefore let us make all the haſt to bed vve can, leaſt vve ſhould diſturb he [...] This cauſed Aſtrea to vvithdraw, and give the Druide time to undreſs her ſelf, and get into bed unſeen. Her hair, which ſhe let grow vvhileſt ſhe was in her cave, and ever ſince ſhe had the name of Alexis, vvas now ſo long as might vvell become a vvoman; and if ſhe had but any reaſonable care in dreſſing her ſelf, ſhe might eaſily make it paſs: but it vvas impoſſible for her, to remedy her breſts, and therefore ſhe took all poſſible care to hide them, though it vvas a hard matter to conceal them from any that vvould take any particular notice. Having therefore pinned her ſmock before her breſts, and at the ſleeves, ſhe drew the Curtaines towards that ſide where Aſtrea undreſſed her ſelf; and calling Leonide, ſiſter (ſaid ſhe) you vvill much oblige me, if you come hither and undreſs your ſelf by my bed-ſide, to keep me from ſleeping untill you be all in bed; Leonide vvho knew the reaſon vvhy ſhe ſaid ſo: I vvill ſiſter (anſwered ſhe) but then I muſt have theſe fair ones to keep me company; then all three came unto her bed-ſide: Leonide did ſit in chair, Aſtrea upon the bed, vvhileſt Diana went unto the table, to reach ſomething vvhich Leonide left: Alexis, raiſing her ſelf up in her bed, ſhe helped Aſtrea to undreſſe her, one vvhile taking off a knot, another vvhile unpinning a pin, and Aſtrea vvould ſometimes kiſſe the hand of Alexis as it paſſed neer her mouth; and Alexis in requital of the favour, vvould kiſs that part of her own hand vvhich Aſtrea kiſſed; ſo raviſhed vvith joy, and contentment, that Leonide took great delight in ſeeing ſuch exceſs of happineſs. A great part of the night vvas thus ſpent, and had they not heard thoſe birds, vvhich uſe to rejoyce at the approach of day, they had hardly parted ſo ſoon: but Leonide with much ado, cauſed Alexis to let Aſtrea go; vvho being all undreſſed at her beds feet, Alexis ſaw her naked arm, as vvhite as any Aliblaſter, and alſo her naked breſts, as vvhich no Snow had ſo perfect a vvhite: Love vvounded the heart of Celadon moſt deeply, at the ſight of theſe: How oft vvas this diſguiſed Druide in a mind to lay aſide the habit of a vvoman, and become a Shepherd? And how oft did he again check himſelf for his boldneſſe? At laſt, Leonide, vvho obſerved his raptures, and diſorder, thought fit to part them. And bidding the laſt good night unto her ſiſter, ſhee vvith Aſtrea, and Diana, vvent to bed, leaving poor Alexis alone in appearance; but indeed ſo accompanied, that it vvas impoſſible for her to cloſe an eye: So as it being light day, and ſhe not able to ſleep, ſhe caſt her eye upon the [Page] bed where Aſtrea lay; it being very hot weather, in the beginning of July, theſe Fair ones left their Curtains open; and the Sun diſperſed its Rays ſo ſplendidly into the Chamber, that the curious eye of this diſguiſed Druide, might eaſily ſee Aſtrea, who by chance lay almoſt out of the bed; Leonide lay in the midſt; that, as ſhe ſaid, ſhe might make it her boaſt, ſhe had lain between two of the greateſt Beauties in the whole world: And indeed, ſhe did ſo; for never was two different Beauties more exactly perfect then theſe two. Judge then what a Viſion had Alexis, when he ſaw Aſtrea thus; one of her Arms hung careleſly out of the Bed, and hardly any difference could be found betwixt her ſmock and it in whiteneſs; her other Arm lay under her head, and cauſed the right ſide of her Breaſt to lie naked, with which the Sun ſeemed to be in love, and kiſſed, by ſhining upon it. O Love! How many ſeveral ways thou haſt to torment thoſe who are thy Subjects! How didſt thou treat this Shepherd in his ſolitary Cave, when being deprived of the ſight of his Shepherdeſs, thou madeſt him to lament his abſence from this Fair one? And at this time, How doſt thou torment him with too much light, and blinding his eyes by two Suns; ſo as whether abſent or preſent, he is ſtill tormented? This thought did ſo poſſeſs the mind of Alexis, that before ever he took any notice of it, the Sun was a great height; And had not Aſtrea by chance turned on the other ſide, and by that means taking this pleaſant Viſion from his eye, doubtleſs he had looked longer: but being deprived of the light of this glorious Sun, ſhe thought her ſelf in darkneſs, and that the other Sun gave no light. At the laſt, not being able to abide in theſe impatiences, ſhe aroſe ſoftly out of her bed, dreſs'd her ſelf without any noiſe, and went unto the bed of Aſtrea, who was turned towards Leonide, with her right Arm over her, and her cheek upon her ſhoulder. What jealouſie, or rather, what envie did ſhe not conceive againſt this Nymph? Oh heavens! (ſaid ſhe unto her ſelf) too happy Leonide, how canſt thou ſleep, and have ſuch a glorious occaſion to wake? Canſt thou ſhut thy eyes, and employ them upon any thing then looking upon this Beauty, which every one ought to adore? Then ſtaying a while mute; What extream Injuſtice is in the Fate of things here below? (replyed ſhe preſently after) Why ſhould this inſenſible Nymph have a happineſs which ſhe cannot enjoy? And why ſhould I who am infinitely deſirous of it, be thus unjuſtly deprived? Then folding her Arms upon her Breaſt, ſhe retired back a pace or two, not removing her eye from this pleaſing object: And after ſhe had long contemplated upon it; Oh Aſtrea (ſaid ſhe a little louder) will you never recal me from my baniſhment? And muſt I, without knowing the cauſe, Live continually in your preſence, as if I were diſtant from you? But againſt whom ſhould I complain, ſince Fortune has brought me nearer my happineſs, then ever I could expect or hope for? And why ſhould I not try Fortune a little further? Perhaps ſhe will as well give me as high contentment, as before ſhe dejected me into the Abyſs of miſery: Courage Shepherd, why art thou ſo fearful to approach this Fair one? Why doſt thou not beg her pardon, and reſtore Celadon unto her, whom thou haſt ſtoln from her under the habit of Alexis? Say unto her, Here is the Shepherd whom you ſo much loved; Here is Celadon that has given you his heart, and all that's his: You did once love him; and if Celadon has done any thing which hath offended you, then open this Breaſt which he here preſents unto you, and take that which is your own, his heart; which moſt certainly never conſented unto any thing that could offend you. As thou ſayeſt thus unto her, fall down upon thy knees, and preſent thy naked Breaſt unto her, that if ſhe pleaſe, ſhe may take that heart which loves and adores her, and which cannot reſt until it be in her fair hands. Upon this Alexis all in a rapture, ſtepped forward, as if he did intend to effect his thoughts; and perhaps had now diſcovered himſelf, had he not upon a ſudden reprehended himſelf thus. Oh Celadon (ſaid he) canſt thou be thus diſobedient unto the command of this Shepherdeſs? Muſt thou be upbraided with failing in the Laws of perfect Love? Haſt thou thus long ſerved this Fair one with unſtained affection, and now by an imprudent and raſh Act, which will bring thee too late repentance, ſpoil all? O Celadon, Doſt thou not remember theſe words? Go diſloyal Lover, and never ſee me again, till I command thee; Canſt thou (I ſay) remember this, and have ſo little affection as to dare to diſobey? No, no (ſa [...]d he) Die, die firſt, and carry to the grave a pure and innocent love, without any ſtain or reproach.

[Page] Upon this, with teares in her eyes, ſhe went out of the chamber to view thoſe places where formerly ſhe had received ſo much contentment, and to ask an account of all thoſe ſighes and deſires which ſhe had ſo often committed to their cuſtody. At firſt ſhe went into the garden, through which an arm of the River Lignon runs: Then looked upon the Fountain, which is in the midſt of it; over which ſtands the Goddeſſe Ceres upon an Arch, ſupported by great Columns; and under which is a great Baſin, reſembling a Crown, that receives this pleaſant ſource. Approching unto this Fountain, ſhe there waſhed her hands, and her face, as formerly ſhe was wont; and looking upon it, here is the very place, ſaid ſhe, where Aſtrea has ſo often vowed eternal affection unto me. This is the Fountain where taking my hand in hers, ſhe ſwore that ſhe would ſooner ceaſe to live▪ then ceaſe to love Celadon: Then ſtepping forward with a trembling pace to the baſin which held the water, here are the Letters of our Names, ſaid he, engraved by her own hand; Oh ye witneſſes of my extream affection! and now ye juſt accuſers of the faireſt Shepherds in the world, why are you not defaced out of this Marble, as well as out of her heart? Or do you remain here ſtill to upbraid her with her change? Then going from this Fountain, ſhe went into a little wood of Haſels, where the walks are contrived with ſo many turnings and windings, that they will deceive thoſe that walk in them, and make them loſe their way in going out again. This was the place which brought into his memory his paſt happineſs, which he now reſented ſo bitterly, that his teares did teſtifie his grief: For it was in this little wood, where he was wont to talk often with his Fair Shepherdeſſe, when their Parents even weary with croſſing their loves, did permit them more liberty of ſeeing each other, and talking together, then before they uſed. Calling into memory therefore all the paſſions which ſhe reſented in that place, and all the vowes of fidelity which ſhe received from her Shepherdeſſe, ſhe could not chuſe, but wonder that ſhe could forget all the vowes and oathes which ſhe had ſworn in that place.

This thought entertained her a long while, not without the company of many a ſigh, and many a tear; and had not her walk conducted her before ſhe was aware unto the ſide of that arm of the River Lignon, which ran about all the Garden, ſhe had not ſo ſoon got out: but the ſight of this River did ſo freſhly revive the memory of her former happineſſe, as ſhe could not chuſe but ſit down upon the bank, and was ſo much tranſported out of her ſelf, as it was a long time before ſhe knew where ſhe was.

All this while ſhe did not remember that perhaps Aſtrea would wake, and that Leonide and ſhe, not finding her in the chamber, would wonder extreamly what was become of her. And ſo it hapned; for it being already late enough Aſtrea wakned, and the Sun ſhining very gloriouſly into the room, ſhe looked towards the bed of Alexis: but ſeeing all the Curtaines open and none in bed, ſhe raiſed her ſelf a little higher in the bed to look a little better, and ſeeing ſhe was not there, ſhe could not chuſe but ſigh ſo loud that Leonide heard her, and asked her whether ſhe was ſick: No, anſwered Aſtrea, but I am troubled that I cannot ſee Alexis in the bed where ſhe lay the laſt night; How! ſaid Leonide, and ſtarted up, is ſhee not there? Then raiſing her ſelf a little, and finding it true, and that the door was open: what in the name of Heaven is become of her? ſaid ſhe. I beleeve, ſaid Diana, that ſhe is gone to walk before the heat of the day begin: Leonide was afraid that the melancholy humour of Celadon might make Alexis take up ſome new reſolution: yet leaſt ſhe ſhould diſcover too much of her thoughts unto theſe Shepherdeſſes; I beſeech you, ſaid ſhe, unto them, let me dreſſe my ſelf as ſoon as I can, and ſee if I can find her: for if Adamas ſhould know that I let her go alone, he would be very angry with me: The Shepherdeſſes roſe all out of bed, and made ſuch haſt, that they were ready before the Nimph although ſhe made all the haſt that poſſibly ſhe could. And going by Fortune out of the ſame door, which opened into the Garden, they went unto the Fountain of Ceres, which Leonide found to be a very fine piece, and exquiſitly wrought: From thence they went forward into the grove of Hazels, and as if they were guided through that Labyrinth by the thred of Ariadne, they came directly to the River ſide, where Alexis was lying upon the ground; and as fortune would have, it was riſing up to view the reſt of [Page] thoſe places, where ſhe had left ſo many marks of her former contentments, and extream affection. Astrea ſpied her firſt, and ſhewing her unto the Nimph, ſaid unto her, I think Madam, that Diana can divine; for ſee where the Druide is walking all alone upon the banks of the water, which runs into that fatal River of Lignon, Leonide then ſeeing that Alexis had no ſuch intention as ſhe feared, ſhe was very joyfull: but as ſhe was advancing towards her, ſhe heard one call upon her, and turning her ſelf about, ſhe ſaw it was Paris, who ſeemed a far off very deſirous to ſpeak with her; and becauſe ſhe knew not what his buſineſſe might be, and perhaps it might be ſuch as was not for Diana to hear: Fair ones, ſaid ſhe, I beſeech you go you unto Alexis, and ſtay with her, whileſt I go and ſee what buſineſſe Paris hath with me. The Shepherdeſſes were very glad of this commiſſion; for Aſtrea longed to ſee the face of Celadon in that Druide, whoſe voice, words and geſtures, were ſo reſemblant unto that Shepherd, as ſhe took extream delight in her company: and Diana was glad alſo to be thus rid of Paris, as well becauſe ſhe did not love him, as becauſe love made her think very well of Sylvander, and ſhe could not permit her eares to hearken unto any words of affection, which came from any mouth but of that kind Shepherd.

Leonide then went to meet Paris; and the two Shepherdeſſes went towards the diſguiſed Druide, whom they found looking upon an old willow which time had decayed, and which retained no more of it ſelf but a hollow bulk, and a withered bark: Oh Willow! ſaid Alexis to her ſelf, what is become of theſe letters which I truſted thee with all? And why doſt thou not render me the ſame good offices thou wert wont, in aſſuring me of my Shepherdeſſes good will? For thou ſeeſt me now with no leſs love nor leſs affection then I had at that time: Oh beloved Willow, I know thy meaning, for had the heart of my Faireſt Shepherdeſſe retained the memory of my ſervices, thou vvouldſt have ſtill retained thoſe characters, vvhich vvere the dear teſtimonies of her good will; but I ſee that time has vvorn both thee, and them, out of her thoughts; had ſhe ſpoken theſe words any louder, the Shepherdeſſes had heard them; but as luck was, ſhe expreſſed them unto her ſelf only in thought: And becauſe they were unwilling to interrupt thoſe pleaſing imaginations, vvhich they thought ſhe fancied, they ſtopped; and vvhen the Druide vvalked, they did the like, not vvith any intention to diſcover any thoughts of her ſoul, but only leſt they ſhould divert her by their preſence from that which ſhe thought moſt pleaſing; Alexis then, thinking her ſelf alone, continued on her thoughts, and likevviſe her vvalk along the River ſide, until ſhe found a Tree on her right hand, where two dayes before her unfortunate accident, ſhe had engraved ſome verſes, which teſtified vvith how much conſtraint ſhe courted the Shepherdeſſe Aminthe; and caſting her eyes thereupon, Oh how this ſight did vvound her memory!

Perhaps the reading of thoſe vvords had made her ſpeak ſomething ſo loud as to be heard by thoſe Shepherdeſſes, which followed her, if by fortune Sylvander at the ſame time had not a far off began to ſing; and the voice came ſo diſtinctly towards them, that Alexis turning her head that way, eſpied the Shepherdeſſes cloſe by her; ſhee vvas ſorry to ſee them ſo neer, and perceive them no ſooner, fearing leſt her paſſion had made her utter ſome vvord, or uſe ſome action, vvhich might diſcover vvhat ſhe deſired to conceal: But that which moſt troubled her vvas her eyes, vvhich vvere full of tears, and which being ſo ſurpriſed ſhe could not hide; yet faining not to ſee them, ſhe turned the other way, and vviped her eyes as well as ſhe could, and then ſetting a good face upon it, ſhe came unto them, and bad them good morrow, calling them ſluggards, and faining ſhe could not ſleep, becauſe the pretty birds began to ſing ſo ſweety at her chamber-window: It was rather Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, becauſe they troubled you. No indeed, anſwered Alexis, for I took ſo much delight in their Muſick: that I could not chuſe but riſe to hear them more plainly as I walked by this River ſide; and I think the time ſo ſhort, that it ſeems not above a quarter of an hour ſince I came hither. But Madam (anſwered Diana) you have ſlept ſo little, that I fear it will do you ſome injury: It is true indeed, anſwered Alexis, and you may ſee my eyes have done pennance for it; but I was ſo much delighted in hearing the warble of theſe pretty birds, and in taking the freſh ayr, that it is impoſſible to receive any harm. The [Page] beſt remedy will be, replied Aſtrea, to go to bed betimes at night, that you may enjoy your reſt and ſleep before the day do break, and before theſe little chanters of the wood begin to ſing; and then we ſhall Madam be glad to bear you company, and carry you unto places which are better furniſhed with this kind of harmony. Alexis offered to reply when Sylvander began to ſing, and becauſe they ſpied Phillis coming towards them, they ſtayed for her, whileſt Sylvander ſung. Phillis being come unto them; after ſhe had ſaluted the Druide and her company: Madam, ſaid ſhe, how do you like this Shepherds voice? I like it very well, anſwered Alexis, and think him to be a very well accompliſhed Shepherd, and a very perfect lover. Madam, (anſwered Diana, and both ſmiled and bluſhed) perhaps you may be miſtaken in your judgement of him; for the Shepherds of Lignon, do often hide diſſembling ſouls under the innocent habit which they wear. Perhaps indeed, replied the Druide, that this may be ſo in ſome, but I am moſt confident, I am not miſtaken in my opinion of this Shepherd. Tell her Madam (ſaid Phillis, and interrupted her) that ſhe her ſelf thinks the ſame; and that if the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon were not greater diſſemblers then this Shepherd, ſhe would not have ſpoken ſo as ſhe did. Siſter replied Diana, I am much beholding to your rallary: for ſpeaking thus of me in the preſence of this Druide, you will infuſe a ſtrange opinion of me into her. Do not fear (ſaid Alexis and ſmiled) that theſe words can make me believe any thing of you but good: I know the virtue and merits of Diana very well; beſides, diſſimulation is ſometimes ſo neceſſary unto our ſex: as it may well be taken for a kind of virtue. But ſince we have gone ſo far, give me leave to tell you out of my affection to you, what Phillis hath formerly ſaid unto your dear friend here, upon the ſame ſubject: Madam, anſwered Diana, you will do me an honour in it, but the worſt is, I fear it is nothing worthy of your paines, which you can tell me that concerns my ſelf. I make no doubt, wiſe Shepherdeſſe (ſaid Alexis) but you have often heard the ſame which I ſhall tell you: but becauſe we are all oftentimes partiall in our cauſes, and becauſe the advice of friends will do no harm, I will tell you what diſcourſe Aſtrea and I, had yeſterday, concerning you: and I ſhall deſire Phillis alſo to give her advice, becauſe I know you have a great confidence in them both. Upon this, ſhe related unto Diana all the conſiderations which they had upon Sylvanders love: and after they had all concluded, that it was no fiction nor by reaſon of the wager, but reall and in good earneſt, ſhe continued thus: Now Fair Diana, it concerns you to conſider well upon it; as for Sylvander, to love or not to love you, does not depend upon him, he has but the choice of theſe two wayes, either to grieve, or to live happily with you, even as you ſhall appoint.

But upon you does depend not only his miſery, and his happineſſe, but your own alſo: And though I may believe that perhaps you are not ſenſible of thoſe torments, which his love inflicts upon him; yet I conceive it very hard that one ſhould be loved, and ſerved ſo diſcreetly by ſuch a very excellently qualified Shepherd, and have no ſpark of good will towards him: but however it be, can you think to exempt your ſelf from all the torment of it? And that you are not acceſſary unto his? You are miſtaken, wiſe Shepherdeſſe, if you be in that opinion; for if you ſhould forbid him to love you, you may as well do nothing; for you may be certain he will not obey: and if by any rigorous language, you command him to get out of your ſight, then the violence of his affection, will ſo divulge it ſelf all over the Country, as perhaps not a Shepherd but will know it: So as I ſee the inconvenience is unevitable, unleſſe you reſolve upon ſome wiſe expedient. All thoſe that know Sylvander, do think him a Shepherd ſo amiable, as they think there is not a Shepherdeſſe, but may well daign to love him, and that the Shepherdeſſe whom he loves may, if ſhe have any wit, very well do the like: what opinion then will the world have of Diana, whom every one knows to have wit, and judgement, when they ſee how this Shepherd loves her, ſerves her, and adores her with ſo much affection? I ſhall by way of advice propoſe two wayes unto you, the one of which I conceive more ſafe then the other: The one way is, ſince I ſee it a thing impoſſible to divert this Shepherd from his affection to you, permit him to ſerve you ſecretly; and this permiſſion will be a way by joyning his prudence unto yours, to hide this affection from all ſuch as have nothing elſe to do, but cenſure and p [...]y into the actions [Page] of others. But if you do not love this Shepherd, this counſel is naught; becauſe this ſecret correſpondency will oblige you unto certain indulgencies, and teſtimonies of affection, which may coſt you very dear: Therefore I conceive this other expedient to be better; Let him continue that guiſe in which he hath hitherto ſerved you; by this permiſſion, his flame will not flaſh with ſuch violence: and if by fortune it ſhould ſo break out that every one takes notice of it, they wil not at all think it ſtrange, becauſe he is already accuſtomed unto it: and his Courtſhip being under that pretence of diſſimulation, they will not think he loves you in earneſt: I know there will be ſome malevolent minds that will be ſpending their cenſures, but who can avoid the laſh of ſuch tongues? But moſt will not believe it: And the beſt thing of this way is, you will not be obliged unto him: For there is nothing ſo dangerous, as for a woman to commit her ſelf unto the diſcretion of him ſhe loves; becauſe moſt men being naturally of a wavering temper, when they change their affection, they will not for all that loſe the memory of things paſt; but on the contrary, thinking to make themſelves the more eſteemed, they blaze them abroad, and brag how much they have been loved by ſuch a one; and the bad condition of our age being as it is, and people more apt to believe the evil then the good, it is preſently believed that ſuch a woman is a very loving ſoul, who will love more then ſhe is loved. Now Fair Diana, by permitting him to continue his guiſe of diſſimulation, you will not be in any danger this way, becauſe you are not obliged to render him any knowledge of your good will: But on the contrary, may take his real affection as if it were Fiction, and he cannot complain againſt you. This alſo is another thing conſiderable in this courſe: I know very well that Diana has a little vanity, and good reaſon has ſhe for it, being a Sherherdeſs ſo full of perfections, and the principal in all this Country; on the contrary, Sylvander being a perſon unknown, and Owner of no Fortune but what his own Induſtry can get, I am afraid that Diana would bluſh if any ſhould ſee her allow of any real addreſs from a Shepherd ſo much her inferiour. But fair Shepherdeſs, you are by this expedient, exempt from this inconveniency, having a good excuſe when you receive his complements of Love, as if all were but in jeſt, to exerciſe his wit, and ſharpen it with feigned conceptions of an imaginary Love.

Thus Alexis ended; and when Diana would have anſwered, Aſtrea interrupted her: Nay, nay Siſter (ſaid ſhe) there is no more to be ſaid, after this fair Druide; She has cleared all doubts that could poſſibly be foreſeen, and fully anſwered them, ſo as I ſhall not think you to be ſo wiſe as I ever took you, if you do not follow her counſel; Phillis I am confident will be of the ſame opinion. But one thing does a little ſcruple me, againſt which a remedy may haply be applyed; which is, That if Diana do permit this diſguiſed Courtſhip of this Shepherd, ſhe muſt have a good occaſion for the permiſſion, otherwiſe I am afraid the Artifice ſhould be diſcovered: And you know, Madam, that if one he found jugling in one trick, all the reſt of their actions will be ſuſpected. Never trouble your ſelf (ſaid Phillis) about that, for Sylvander himſelf did yeſterday give an excellent occaſion to colour the permiſſion: For Diana told me, the laſt night when we were retired, that Sylvander having obtained leave to continue his Courtſhip all the reſt of the day, he pretended that this permiſſion was to laſt alwaies; and both he and ſhe falling in difference about it, the buſineſs was referred unto Aſtrea and my ſelf; and ſhould have been determined that ſame night: But becauſe Diana was not willing the matter ſhould be argued in Publique, and both you, Madam, and Leonide being in the chamber, the difference was deferred until another time; and Sylvander accompanying me to my Lodging, he told me how glad he ſhould be if it could be deferred, becauſe till then he might enjoy his Priviledge: There is no neceſſity therefore, that the buſineſs ſhould be made ſo private; but on the contrary, I am of opinion, that the matter is to be argued in ſome publique place; to the end, that when all do ſee Sylvander continue his addreſſes to Diana, they may know it is upon the old ſcore as he begun it.

Alexis and Aſtrea did very well approve of this advice; and Diana, who perhaps did like of it as well as they, and till then ſtood mute, ſhe ſeemed to be convinced by the reaſons of Alexis, and the approbation of her two dear friends; ſo as it was reſolved, that the difference ſhould come to hearing at ſuch a time when Adamas, Alcidon, [Page] and Daphnide were preſent; and that Aſtrea and Phillis ſhould give judgment in the behalf of Sylvander.

As fortune was, Sylvander hearing the voices of theſe fair Shepherdeſſes ſo near him, he turned that way, and ſpied them; and ſeeing all their backs towards him, being prompted by a Lovers curioſity, he got as near them as he could unſeen; and creeping upon the ground, he got behind a Buſh which was within two or three paces of the place where they were ſet; ſo liſtning attentively, he heard what Alexis had propounded, and what was reſolved upon. Oh how much did he think himſelf obliged unto that fair Druide, for giving ſuch counſel unto Diana? And when they went away, he did accompany them with a thouſand wiſhes of happineſs: and when he ſaw them ſo far off as they could not think he heard them, he roſe up and followed; and to make them look back, he began to play upon his Corner.

Alexis who loved this Shepherd very well, as one whom ſhe ranked in the catalogue of her beſt friends: Come Sylvander (ſaid ſhe unto him) Do you not think your ſelf much obliged unto me for bringing the fair Diana hither? For had I not been, ſhe would have been ſtill in her chamber, and you deprived of your happineſs in ſeeing her. Madam, anſwered the Shepherd, you cannot do me ſo great a favour, as I expected always from your fair face. Why (ſaid Alexis) does my face promiſe you ſo much? Yes Madam (replyed Sylvander) for it has ſuch a lively reſemblance of a Shepherd who would have expoſed his life for my contentment, as I can think no leſs. I am very glad (anſwered Alexis) that Nature has been ſo favourable unto me, as to make me like unto any whom you love; for I make no doubt, but though I do not deſerve it, yet you will love me for his ſake. Madam, replied Sylvander, were he alive, I ſhould love him for your ſake; your merits being ſo high. as not to yeild unto any: And to let you ſee the truth of my words, I will put my life into your hands, if you will be pleaſed to take ſo much pains as to judge a difference which is dearer unto me then my life. Shepherd, replied Diana, Why would you change the Judges which you have already choſen? Not but that I am willing to ſubmit unto whatſoever the fair Alexis ſhall ordain; but me-thinks it is a ſigne you know your cauſe to be bad, and would corrupt your Judges by flatteries, and reject thoſe who are already choſen. I did not think, faireſt Miſtris, anſwered Sylvander, That any praiſes which one could give unto this fair Lady, was eſteemed flattery; for merit cannot be flattered, nor can any flattery equal her perfections. I would not have you think I refuſe thoſe Judges which you were pleaſed to chuſe; But I propounded this fair Druide only to be an Umpire in caſe thoſe two Judges cannot agree amongſt themſelves; and that then ſhe ſhould ordain what ſhe thought moſt conſonant to Juſtice. I cannot deny (anſwered Diana) the advantagious language which you give of this fair Lady, nor any commendation that can be given her, and therefore I do moſt willingly accept her for our Umpire.

Sylvander would have replied, had they not ſeen coming Adamas, Daphnide, Alcidon, and all the company which ſupped the night before at the houſe of old Phocion, except Leonide and Paris, who parted from the reſt of the company, to finiſh the diſcourſe which they had begun in the houſe of Adamas: for Paris adoring Diana beyond all meaſure, and having received from her another kind of anſwer then he deſired, he would take Leonides counſel in the buſineſs; and ſhe being very affectionate to him, was willing to give him the beſt advice ſhe could: And therefore retiring themſelves into the Grove of Hazles, Brother (ſaid ſhe unto him) I have twice deferred the giving you my opinion in the buſineſs whereof you ſpoke, hoping that time would alter your mind; but now, ſince I ſee nothing will work any alteration in it: I beſeech you tell me what your intention is. Siſter, replied Paris, my intention is, to Court Diana in the way of marriage. And do you think (ſaid Leonide) that Adamas will approve of it, for you ought to have a ſpecial conſideration of that? I have not expreſly acquainted him with it (ſaid Paris) but he knows that I do love her, and does not diſapprove of it. This (anſwered Leonide) is not enough; you ought to acquaint him with it ſeriouſly, and ask his conſent. In the ſecond place, which indeed ought to be the firſt, you ought to conſider ſeriouſly with your ſelf, whether this marriage be fit and convenient for you: For Love is a partial Judge, and many things are handſome in a Miſtris, which are inſufferable in [Page] a Wife. Oh Brother, there is abundance of difference betwixt Love and Marriage: for Love laſts no longer then one pleaſeth, but Marriage muſt continue long, and therefore is more diſpleaſing: Love is an Embleme of Liberty, becauſe it never forceth the Will; but Marriage on the contrary is an Embleme of ſervitude; becauſe nothing but death can break the Bonds. 'Tis true, when a marriage is made between fit and ſutable perſons, I believe there is no greater happineſs amongſt mortals, becauſe all joys and contentments are doubled; the joy of the one, is the joy of the other: And becauſe ſuch is the miſery of all Mortals, as they are ſubject unto a thouſand diſaſters of Fortune, a faithful companion in marriage, does help to bear the burthen of them. To be brief, it is almoſt impoſſible to enjoy any compleat happineſs without a ſecond ſelf, unto whom all things may be communicated. But Paris, give me leave to tell you, that the man who marries, muſt not conſult altogether with his eyes, or his deſires; but with his reaſon and judgement; and you muſt conſider whether there be any thing deſirable in Diana beſides her Beauty, not only as a Miſtris, but alſo as a Wife: For Beauty does ordinarily deceive, and is often like an Inn-ſigne before a poor Inn, where no good accomodations can be had. Beauty reſembles thoſe Spectacles which makes every thing look greater then they are, and is at beſt but a fair fading Flower, which when once decayed, and one is tyed unto it, repentance comes too late: So much in conſideration of Beauty. Then Brother, Great heed muſt be taken that nothing be done which may redound unto your diſhonour and reproach; You are ſon unto the Grand Druide; Diana I muſt needs confeſs is a Shepherdeſs of much merit, but yet ſhe is a Shepherdeſs; and do you think that ſuch Alliance will not be much wondred at? We are not born for our ſelves; we muſt ſomtimes leave our own contentment, for the ſatisfaction of thoſe who love us, and thoſe unto whom we are obliged: Conſider Brother, that Marriage is the happineſs or the miſery of every one: and therefore be not too raſh in your actions. But to wave all theſe conſiderations, this only is enough for all: That one had better be a Gally-ſlave, and be tyed to ſerve a Tyrant, then marry one that loves him not; Imagine Brother, What delight can one find in eating, or drinking, lying, or ſleeping with his enemy? It is requiſite therefore that you know her mind; For if ſhe do love another, or cannot love you, I would adviſe you to marry a grave, rather then Diana. Think well upon all theſe things; and after you have ſeriouſly conſidered them, tell me what you think of them, then I will further tell you what I conceive beſt to be done.

Paris hearing Leonide ſpeak with ſo much conſideration and eagerneſs, did think at firſt that ſhe had ſome deſigne to marry him ſomwhere elſe, and therefore deſired to divert him from Diana; But afterwards ſeriouſly conſidering her reaſons, and finding much ſolidity in them, he altered his opinion, and found that all ſhe ſaid proceeded from her affection to him: and therefore he returned her this anſwer: That it was true, he ought to acquaint Adamas with his intention; That he did not doubt but to find him a very good Father, as formerly he had upon all other occaſions: That as for the conditions of Diana, It was meer folly to diſpute upon a thing that was already reſolved: and that he could as well live without a ſoul, as live happily without her; and that this did anſwer all thoſe conſiderations. That as for the approbation of his Parents, he thought none of them did love him better then he did himſelf, and that therefore he was obliged to ſatisfie and content himſelf before any Kindred or Friends. That as for the good Will and Affection of Diana; It is true indeed, Siſter (ſaid he) I muſt ask your counſel upon that point; for you being a woman as ſhe is, you may better judge of her intention then I, whoſe paſſion perhaps has diſturbed my judgement. I have ſeveral times attempted to know her Will; and the laſt time ſhe was at the houſe of Adamas, when we walked ſo long together, I complained unto her, that all my ſervices were ſo ill accepted, and almoſt thrown away: unto which ſhe returned me an anſwer full of courteſie and civility: And when I replied, that it was neither courteſie nor civility, but only Love which I looked for from her; ſhe anſwered, That ſhe did honour me as much as any man in the world, and loved me as well as any Siſter could love a Brother; and told me; that this was all ſhe was able to do. But when I reply'd that my deſigne and hopes was to marry her; ſhe anſwered me, that ſhe had Parents who had the diſpoſition [Page] of her, and ſhe alwayes referred ſuch things unto their diſcretions: But Paris (ſaid ſhe) if you will know my mind, let me tell you, that, I do not intend to marry, either you or any elſe; no nor ever will, I will alwayes love you as a brother, but never as a Husband: upon this, Siſter, we were interrupted, and I would not urge her any further, until I had your advice, how to behave my ſelf: I conjure you therefore by the affection you have ever expreſſed towards me, to aſſiſt me: for to think of diverting my affection to her, is meer folly, becauſe death only is able to do it. Brother (ſaid Leonide and ſmiled) you ask my advice in a buſineſs, which it ſeemes you are reſolved upon; but I beleeve your deſire is I ſhould tell you, how you ſhould demean your ſelf to win the affection of this Shepherdeſſe: and truly, ſince you are in ſuch an extremity as you ſay you are, I conceive your beſt courſe is to obtain leave of her to ſpeak unto her Parents; for they, doubtleſſe conſidering the advantage which will accrue unto Diana by it, will not be againſt the propoſition: and ſhee who is very wiſe, and one that hath alwayes carried her ſelf with abundance of prudence and virtue, ſhe dares not be againſt their opinion, leaſt ſhe ſhould be thought either wilful or in love with ſome other, or elſe tax her diſcretion: Thus may ſhe before ſhe be aware, engage her ſelf ſo far, that ſhe cannot handſomly retire. But my opinion is, that your beſt way is, not to ſpeak unto her untill the very day we depart from hence, to the end, that if you do obtain this leave, ſhe may not know where to find you, in caſe ſhe have a mind to revoke it again, or at the leaſt not find you before you have made the overture unto ſome of her Parents.

This was the opinion of Leonide, which Paris reſolved to follow; And whileſt they were thus diſcourſing, Adamas and all the Company joyned with them. And becauſe Sylvander was grown very bold, by the diſcourſe which he had heard, as ſoon as all complements were paſſed, he addreſſed himſelf unto Diana: Miſtris, (ſaid he aloud) I ſhall not refuſe the judgement of thoſe whom you appointed, ſo you will but be pleaſed to do the like: you need not queſtion, (ſaid Diana) but I ſhall conſent unto it, ſince I know my cauſe to be good, and made choice of my Judges: The difference (replied Sylvander) needs not ſo much arguing, as that betwixt Phillis and me; and therefore, I beſeech you, that without any more delay, the matter may be judged. I ſhall never be againſt it (anſwered Diana) ſince I hope for a decree to paſſe on my ſide. For my part, replied Sylvander, I derive all my right and title from the permiſſion which you gave me, which was to continue my behaviour towards you always, as I did during the wager betwixt Phillis, and me: How, replied Diana, did I ever permit you to continue alwayes ſo? Good Shepherd, do you take one day, for alwayes? And yet I permitted you the reſt of the day only, which being ended, you was not to make any more uſe of your fiction. I beſeech you Miſtris, (ſaid he) do you remember how you permitted me to end that day which remained after the judgement, as I had begun it, and to continue my behaviour, as I did before? It is very true, (ſaid Diana) but that day is ended, and I have begun another. You had good reaſon, fair Shepherdeſſe, (ſaid he) to ſay that you began another day; becauſe it is the quality of the Sun to begin and limit days, and you are the Sun of all our Horizon; and therefore you cannot ſay, that the day which you granted unto me is ended: For I beſeech you, faireſt Miſtris, as long as the light continues, does not the day continue alſo? I confeſs it, anſwered Diana; but you muſt confeſs alſo, that when the Sun is ſet, and cannot be ſeen, it is night. I do confeſſe it, replied Sylvander, and thereupon I have gained what I asked: for my ſoul and my eyes acknowledging no other Sun, but thoſe glorious rayes of your beauty, and perfection, moſt certainly as long as I am not deprived of this Light, and of this Sun, it is not night unto me: and ſince it is not night, have I not good reaſon to ſay, that the day which you allowed me was not ended; but on the contrary that it will laſt as long as I live, becauſe your beauty, and your merits, will be alwayes in my ſoul? Diana a little ſurpriſed, or at leaſt ſeemed ſo, returned this anſwer; I cannot deny, (ſaid ſhe) but that when you asked me leave for a day, you might mean ſuch a day as you ſpeak of: but I know that the day which I granted, was only one of our natural days. Faireſt Miſtris, (ſaid Sylvander) things that are ambiguous and doubtful, ought to be interpreted [Page] to the advantage of the poor, and him that begs: Liberality and Generoſity, are qualities ſo becoming a Noble ſoul, as I am confident, O my Judges, that you will not diminiſh the leaſt of what is the fair Dianas due, Alexis ſmiled and ſaid, For my part, under the favour of Astrea and Alexis, I muſt needs condemn Diana, and think Sylvander in the right; becauſe thoſe who give, ought to reſtrain and explain their gifts, if they do not intend to give all that is asked: for otherwiſe it is to be believed, it is in the ſame intention that he had who receives the benefit. Ah me! cryed out Diana, I am afraid my cauſe will go againſt me: for I know Aſtrea will accord unto all that Alexis thinks good; and Phillis will not contradict Aſtrea. And I ſaid Adamas, do ordain, that if Sylvander do hereafter reſent the power of a beauty in good earneſt, he ſhall not complain, neither of Diana nor his Judges, but of himſelf only, who was the procurer of his own miſery, and that the Shepherdeſs ſhall not be obliged by his ſervices to pity him.

Adamas ſaid this, becauſe he had a deſign to give Paris unto this Shepherdeſſe, and ſeeing that Sylvander was not diſpleaſing unto her, he was afraid the continuation of this courtſhip ſhould ingage her more. But Sylvander ſeeming to take no notice of what he ſaid, but kiſſing the hands of his Judges, he kneeled down before Diana; Faireſt Miſtris, ſaid he unto her, if ever any of my actions do contradict that vow, which I make of my faithful and perpetual ſervice, let me immediately be condemned unto the moſt cruel torture, that ever mortal endured. Diana anſwered him, very faintly: Remember Shepherd ſaid ſhee, that you are permitted no farther then to faign and diſſemble, and that I ſhall take all your actions only as fictions and diſſimulations.

Sylvander had replied, had not Diana, and all the Company, entred into the grove of Hazels, and there met Leonide and Paris, who at the ſame time were coming to look them: and after they had walked a while, they all went together into the houſe to dinner, where they found the Table furniſhed with many delicate varieties, far above the rate of a Country Village.

Lerindas, leaſt the Nimph Galathea, ſhould think him long, he made all the haſt that poſſibly he could unto Mount-verdune. And being a good Footman, alſo infinitely deſirous to pleaſe his Lady, he made ſuch haſt, that he was there again before dinner. Madam, ſaid he unto her, Adamas cannot retard the ſacrifice, becauſe the people were already aſſembled; but becauſe I told him you were very deſirous to ſee the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon, he ſends you word, that if you ſtay any time here, he will bring them all hither. I am very ſorry, ſaid Galathea, that I cannot ſhew this ſacrifice unto the Generous Damon, that he alſo might have ſeen theſe fair Shepherdeſſes; but if Adamas keep his word, we ſhall ſee them as conveniently here; which if we do not, we cannot better imploy our time then in going to their Town. Madam, anſwered Cleontine, ſince Adamas has ſaid it, you may be aſſured he will doo't: Doubtleſs he will come before he return to his houſe, and will be glad that all thoſe fair Shepherdeſſes ſhould accompany Alexis, when he preſents her unto you. But as to Alexis (ſaid Galathea unto Lerindas) is ſhe as full of beauty as they report her to be? For I know thou art a perſon of judgement, and would be ſure to view her: Madam, ſhe is fair, anſwered he, but in my mind there are three others which are fairer, and pleaſe me more; and ſince you ask me, I had rather tel you ſo, then let Leonide have that advantage of me: I am of opinion Madam, that if they were changed for your Nimphs, you would have the faireſt women in the world to wait upon you. How Lerindus? (ſaid Galathea) doſt thou think them fairer then my Nimphs? Then your Nimphs Madam? anſwered he, Yes, yes, Fairer then all the Nimphs in the world. What Lerindas? (ſaid Galathea) are they Fairer then I am? Ah Madam, (anſwered he, and was a little ſurpriſed) I ſpeak not of you, for you are the Lady and Miſtris of all Nimphs; but I ſay, that all others muſt yield unto them in beauty, for they are as much above your Nimphs in beauty, as your Nimphs are above me. You ſhall ſee, ſaid Silvia, that Lerindas is faln in love. Love (anſwered he with a diſdaining look) Nay, I ſhould never fall in Love, with them, if they were as ſcornful as you. Galathea then laughed extreamly; Certainly, ſaid ſhe, Silvia is in the right, Lerindas is aſſuredly in Love with one of theſe Shepherdeſſes: but which of the three does pleaſe [Page] the beſt? Stay a little Madam (anſwered he) I cannot upon a ſudden reſolve you: The one has more Attracts, The other has more Modeſty, The third more Beauty: The firſt is called Daphnide, the ſecond Diana, the third Aſtrea. I aſſure my ſelf replied Galathea, that this Aſtrea is the faireſt, Is ſhe not Lerindas? Certainly ſhe is, ſaid he, and Diana is more modeſt, and Daphnide more attractive. To tell you truly, Attracts do much take me, Modeſty does much move me, but I love Beauty beſt of all: And therefore I conclude, that if I be in Love, it muſt of neceſſity be with Aſtrea. Believe it Madam, when you ſee them, you will ſay that I am a man of judgement; and Silara, as diſdainful as ſhe is, would be glad to change Beauty with them. Then Galathea turned towards Cleontine, Mother ſaid ſhe unto her I beſeech you what does Celidea think of theſe Shepherdeſſes? Madam, anſwered Cleontine, always when ſhe begins to commend them, ſhe will never almoſt make an end▪ ſo as you will think her in love with them as well as Lerindas: But indeed I never heard her ſpeak of this Daphnide, and if you pleaſe, I will call Lerindas to give you more particular ſatisfaction: And becauſe Galathea was very deſirous to know all circumſtances concerning theſe Fair ones, ſhe called for him. But Mother, ſaid ſhe unto Cleontine, I could wiſh you would ſend for C [...]lidea, that we might have a full relation from her. Madam, ſaid Lerindas, and ſmiled, you will hardly ſpeak with her this night it is ſo late; for I left her near the Temple of the Goddeſs Aſtrea, where ſhe was to offer a Sacrifice, and Thamires with her: But Madam, ſhe can tell you no more then I can, either concerning their Beauty, or any thing elſe. If you deſire to know who this Daphnide is, I can tell you, ſhe is a ſtranger, late come amongſt them, with one whoſe name is Alcidon: For though I ſtayed not long amongſt them, yet ſeeing her ſo fair, I enquired who ſhe was. Madam (ſaid Cleontine) it will not be long before Celidea and Thamires will be here, and then you may be better informed of all paſſages.

Thus did Galathea enquire of theſe fair Shepherdeſſes; and the more ſhe enquired the reaſon ſhe thought Celadon had to love Aſtrea, ſince every one gave her ſuch a high Character above others: And Dinner being done, ſhe went to viſit Damon, who ſtirred not yet out of his chamber, becauſe his loſs of blood, and going ſo far on foot in his Arms, had ſo wearied and weakned him, that he was conſtrained to keep out of the Ayr, for fear of a further inconvenience. In the mean time Halladine was come unto him, and never ſtirred from his Beds feet, but waited upon him with ſo much care and vigilance, that Galathea did much eſteem him for it. It was now the third day ſince he received his wounds; and the Nymph who thought her ſelf much obliged unto the valour of this Cavalier, for being wounded in defence of Ladies; moreover, being her Kinſman, and injured in her own Dominions and preſence, ſhe reſolved never to leave him until he was perfectly recovered: And to divert him a little, ſhe would have Lorindas relate in his preſence, all the paſſages of his voyage.

Thus was the day ſpent, and when it was night, Celidea and Thamires returned, Galathea would needs ſee them preſently; as well becauſe ſhe highly eſteemed that Shepherdeſs, as becauſe ſhe deſired to know more particularly of thoſe Shepherdeſſes, whom ſhe had viſited. Come wiſe Shepherdeſs (ſaid ſhe unto her) tell us, I beſeech you, the news of your Voyage. Madam, anſwered ſhe, we have done our duties both unto God and man; for we have offered a ſacrifice of Thanks unto Tautates for the Miſſetoe of the New Year; and we have done our duty unto Adamas, in viſiting his daughter Alexis: and I aſſure you, we are all very well ſatisfied. For be pleaſed to know Madam, that Alexis is the moſt fair, moſt lovely, and moſt courteous Lady that ever eye beheld; and has given ſuch contentment to us all, that there is not one of us who does not even adore her: and Adamas has entertain'd us beyond all expreſſion. As for the Sacrifice, the great Tautates has well accepted of it; for all the victimes were as ſound and perfect as we could deſire: The Miſſleto which we ſaw is ſo large and great, that we call it another Tree that is fixed unto the Oak, ſo as our Druides have no reaſon to ſpare either us or our cattel this year in our Sacrifices. But beſides this, we have alſo been highly delighted with the Loves of Hylas who is the moſt pleaſant humored Shepherd that ever was; that no diverſion could equal it: Alſo we heard the judgement of Diana upon the controverſie [Page] between Sylvander and Phillis; And the preſence of Daphnide and Alcidon was no ſmall grace unto all the Aſſembly. Who is that Hylas of whom you ſpeak, ſaid Galathea? He is a young man, anſwered Celidea, who falls in love with all the Shepherdeſſes he meets, and maintains, that it is not inconſtancy, with ſuch pleaſant arguments and quirks, as it is impoſſible to hear him and be ſad: For Madam, he is not above twenty, or one and twenty years of age, and he reckoned up above twenty with whom he had been in love, and moſt of them preſent; The laſt he quitted was the fair and wiſe Alexis; and God knows for whom: I aſſure you Madam it is not for a fairer, for he has made choiſe of Stella, one that is old enough, and not comparable to the fair Druide in point of Beauty.

But I beſeech you, ſaid Galathea, Does the daughter of Adamas ſuffer him to ſerve her, and before the eyes of every one? Yes Madam, anſwered Celidea, but I aſſure you, without any ſcandal; and if you ſaw her, you would ſay as much: There is not the daughter of any Druide whom he does not Court. Nay Madam, I am confident that if he had the honour to ſee you, neither you, nor any of your Nymphs would eſcape his Courtſhip; for he would expreſs his mind at the very firſt. But what is the judgement of Diana, replied Galathea. Madam, anſwered the Shepherdeſs, It hapned upon a time that Phillis and Sylvander were in a hot diſpute which of them had moſt merits to make themſelves loved: For Sylvander, although he be as well a qualified Shepherd, as any in all the Country, yet did he never love any particularly, nor was loved: And becauſe Phillis did upbraid him that reaſon was his want of courage and merit, and Sylvander ſaid as much by her, they were both of them condemned by the company to Court Diana, and at three months end, ſhe was to judge which of them won the wager. Doubtleſs, ſaid Damon, Diana would adjudge it on the womans ſide. Her judgement, anſwered Celidea, is ſomthing doubtful: She adjudged Phillis to be more amiable then Sylvander, and that Sylvander knew better how to make himſelf loved then Phillis did. Certainly (ſaid Damon) Diana is a very diſcreet and wiſe Shepherdeſs; for I ſee ſhe had a mind to content both; and ſhe has done it with much diſcretion. But Madam, continued he, and turned towards Galathea, you have not yet asked her who that Daphnide is? I heard Lerindas ſay, ſhe was one of the faireſt of all the Shepherdeſſes, and I would gladly know who ſhe and Alcidon is, for ſome reſpects which afterwards I ſhall tell you. Then Thamires began to ſpeak; Sir, ſaid he unto Damon, Lerindas was in the right to ſay ſhe was fair, for indeed ſhe is ſo; but he was in the wrong in ſaying ſhe was a Shepherdeſs; for ſhe is not ſo, but only to diſguiſe her ſelf, does wear the habit of a Shepherdeſs: We underſtood by Hylas that Daphnide is one of the greateſt Ladies in the Province of the Romans, and Alcidon the greateſt Favourite of King Euriche, and that they came into this Country out of curioſity to ſee the Fountain of Loves Verity. It is enough (ſaid Damon) and then turning towards Galathea, Madam, ſaid he unto her, you muſt by all means ſee theſe two perſons, and be acquainted with them, for Daphnide is one of the faireſt of all the Gallo-Ligurians, and was highly loved by King Guricke, ſo as had he lived, ſhe had been his Queen: As for Alcidon, I ſhall commend him unto you, Madam, for the moſt accompliſhed Cavalier in the Court of Thoriſmond; and I ſaw him ſo careſſed and loved by that King, as he could not give demonſtrations enough of his good will towards him. I could relate many things worthy of knowledge, but ſince he is ſo near you, it is better you know them from his mouth then from mine. Damon then began to whiſper with the Nymph, which cauſed Thamires and Celidea to remove a little further diſtant, But Madam (ſaid Damon unto her) Is the face of this Shepherdeſs thus ſpoiled with cutting? She ſeems to be very wiſe and diſcreet, how came this misfortune to paſs? Theſe cuts in her face, anſwered Galathea, are the moſt glorious marks that ever woman wore: thereupon ſhe related the whole ſtory, and how happily her deſigne proſpered ſince the fond affection of Calidon was extinguiſhed, and the perfect Love of Thamires augmented by it, ſo as never was any more tenderly loved then ſhe is now in her deformity. Damon admired the reſolution of this young woman, eſpecially in a Shepherdeſs, becauſe ſuch generoſity is ſeldom but amongſt higher and more noble ſpirits. You are miſtaken, Sir, ſaid the Nymph, The Shepherds of this Country are not Shepherds of neceſſity, nor conſtrained [Page] to keep their flocks, for a livelyhood, but have made choice of this kind of life, purpoſely to enjoy more tranquillity, and live at eaſe: for the truth is, they are of kin and allied unto the greateſt Nobility in all our Dominions. Madam, anſwered Damon, although the ſcars in this womans face, were made with the point of a Diamond, yet I do know one that can moſt certainly cure them, provided ſhe have ſo ſo much courage, as to do what is requiſite thereto: As for her courage, replied Galathea, you need not doubt ſo much as her will. How? (replied he and was amaſed) has ſhe no will to become fair? Truly, I believe, ſhe is the only woman in the world who is of that opinion. Call her, ſaid Galathea, and you ſhall ſee what ſhe will ſay. Upon which he calling her by her name; ſhe came to know what Galathea would be pleaſed to command her. Celidea, ſaid the Nimph, here is a Cavalier who pittying the miſ-fortune of your face, and inquiring how it came to paſs, does ſay that moſt certainly he can get you cured, and make you as fair as ever you were, if you pleaſe. Shepherdeſſe, ſaid Damon, It is moſt undoubtedly true, for when I was in Africa, one of Eudoxes women was wounded in her face with a Diamond, and ſo deep that the bone in her cheek did almoſt appear; yet there was a skilful Chirurgion, who wetting a little ſtick with her blood, did dreſſe the ſtick with a remedy, called the Sympathy Salve, and ſo cured her againſt the opinion of all the world. And becauſe I thought this cure to be very rare; I was ſo full of curioſity, as to ask ſome of the Salve; but he anſwered me, that it was a thing which he could not give unto any, becauſe he was obliged to it by oath: but that whenſoever I had any need, if I would but ſent unto him a little piece of wood, bloodyed in the wound, he would preſently work the cure, though he were a thouſand miles diſtant, if I would only keep the wound clean: Therefore Shepherdeſs, if you would be cured, you need only but ſcratch the wound, ſo as blood may run a little, and you ſhall ſee you will recover your former beauty.

Sir, anſwered Celidea, your kindneſs, and the care you have of my face, obliges me very much unto you for it: but give me leave to tell you, that this beauty, which you are pleaſed to ſpeak of, is at this time a thing ſo indifferent unto me, as if I could recover it again by going to the door, I ſhould hardly ſtir a foot that way, if there was any other way out of the houſe. When I call to memory, what abundance of trouble, and importunity, it cauſed me, I aſſure you Sir, I would rather go out at the window then that way, or have any correſpondency with it again. Surely, ſaid Damon, all women have a particular deſire to be fair, or at the leaſt not to be deformed. Thoſe who are ſo eager after beauty, replied Celidea, perhaps have ſome deſigns to procure the Love of ſome whoſe amity they deſire. But for my part, I do proteſt unto you Sir, that I deſire to be fair only in the eyes of Thamires, and if I would, make my ſelf inviſible to any elſe. Me thinks yet, replied Damon, you ſhould deſire that Thamires ſhould ſee you fair. It is very true, replied ſhe, but I believe theſe ſcars in my face do ſeem as fair unto him, as all beauty, or delicacy of Features can be ſince they came unto me only for his ſake. This conſideration, replied the Nimph, may make him have a great opinion of your affection, goodneſs, and virtue; but perhaps he deſires you were fair, as well as virtuous. For my part, Sir, replied Celidea, I am ſo very well contented, and ſatisfied, with being as I am, that I think I ſhould offend Tautates, ſhould I deſire to be better: yet if Thamires do deſire to have it ſo, I am moſt ready to do whatſoever is his pleaſure. Deareſt, ſaid Thamires, were you never ſo fair, moſt certainly I could not Love you better then I do, as you are: But I muſt needs confeſſe, that if I thought it were poſſible to reſtore you unto your former beauty, I would ſpare no paines, or coſt, to procure it; for I am obliged unto it, and ſhould think my ſelf moſt ungreatfull, if I did not: and therefore Sir, ſaid he to Damon, if you know of any remedy, I beſeech you, acquaint me with it, and I ſhall think my ſelf eternally obliged unto you for it. Moſt certainly, ſaid Damon, ſhe will be cured, and without much pain; for I have ſeen the experience of it. A little ſtick muſt be wet in the blood of the wounds, and carried unto the place which I ſhall direct very carefully; you will not be above twelve or fifteen daies in going, and I will write unto a Chirurgion, who queſtionleſs will preſently work the cure: Now did Celidea hate the very thought of this beauty ſince, for the gaining of it, ſhe was to be ſo long deprived [Page] of her deareſt Thamires: Oh Heavens! ſaid ſhe, with teares in her eyes, did I take ſo much paines to deprive my ſelf of this beauty, to buy it now again at ſo dear a rate? Ah Thamires! content your ſelf with your Celidea as ſhe is; and do not run your ſelf into ſo much hazard of loſing her for ever. For if you go ſo far into a ſtrange Country from her, grief perhaps may bring her to her grave, before your return, becauſe ſhe is not able to be ſo long abſent from you. Haſt thou not told me, a hundred times Thamires, that thou couldſt live with me as I am, the happieſt Shepherd in the World? And what, dear Thamires, needs more? Wouldſt thou be better then happy? No, no, the joy of my life, enjoy that happineſs which Heaven has given thee, and ſtrive for no more then thou art like to obtain; content thy ſelf with what the Gods have thought good for thee to be contented with: If it be for my ſake, deareſt Thamires, you deſire this beauty, believe it, that your abſence is ſo odious to me, as I had rather die then be deprived of you one week; the journey I perceive is ſo long, ſo full of danger, that I cannot conſent unto it: you are to go amongſt the Barbarians, perhaps he unto whom you go, is dead: who knows whether his receipt be proper to cure me? Perhaps it has his right upon another, but I am confident the wound which this Cavalier ſpeaks of, was made by ſome piece of glaſſe, or ſome other counterfeit ſtone, and not with a right Diamond: the wound he ſpeaks of was dreſſed, and the receipt applied unto it, as ſoon as it was made, but mine is old, and out of all hopes to be helped. But ſuppoſe it poſſible, I may recover this ſo much deſpiſed beauty, by the torments which you will put me unto, and which at beſt is but doubtful: yet Thamires, ſince I do not value it, and ſince it is only to procure your ſelf a little more contentment; will you buy that contentment at a price which is ſo dear unto me? In the firſt place, you muſt carry my blood, but alas! the blood is nothing; I would give it all to keep you with me: but Oh? how many tears will your abſence cauſe? What ſighs? What ſorrows? What mortal diſpleaſures ſhall I have in this ſad ſeparation? Oh Thamires! didſt thou know how thou wilt torment thy Celidea by it? I cannot think, that for ſuch a fading thing as this beauty, thou would be ſo long from her. When all is done, Thamires, when after a long and weariſome journey, ful of dangers, thou haſt brought back with thee this beauty, what will it avail thee Shepherd, if a Feaver, or ſickneſs, or ſorrow, or the happineſs of a child bearing, ſhould take it away again? But admit, it do eſcape all [...]ese has not time wings? Will not age creep on a pace, and raviſh away this fading flower, almoſt as ſoon as thou art returned? Celidea tears did ſo accompany her words, that Damon was moved unto much compaſſion: Wiſe and diſcreet Shepherdeſs (ſaid he) your virtue makes you admirable unto all thoſe who know you, and obliges every one to ſerve you, not only upon this occaſion, but in all other. I muſt confeſſe you have reaſon to deſire the preſence of Thamires; but me thinks you might well diſpence with him upon ſuch an occaſion; yet to ſatisfie you both, I will promiſe to bring this Chirurgion hither ere it be long, and he ſhall cure your face without parting you from your dearly beloved Shepherd. Oh Sir! ſaid Celidon, if you will do this favour for a poor Shepherdeſs, the great Tautates will reward you, for I ſhall never be able; but I will pray for your happineſs as long as I live.

Damon admired the virtue and affection of this Shepherdeſſe, aſſured her, that Thamires ſhould not be put unto the trouble of parting from her: And it being late, the Nimph retired with a reſolution to offer her ſacrifice the next morning, and the day after to ſee theſe Shepherdeſſes: conceiving that Damon would be in a condition to ſtir abroad, and by his means, ſhe would try if ſhe could bring back Daphnide and Alcidon with her, that ſhe might do them all the honour their merits deſerved; and having made her deſign known unto Damon, he prepared himſelf, with an extream deſire to know what his Fortune would be: The morning being come, and all things ready for the ſacrifice, Cleontine put upon her head a Chaplet of Flowers, girded her ſelf about with Vervine, took a branch of Miſsleto in her hand, cauſed the fire to be kindled, and after the white Buls were ſacrificed, ſhe ſprinkled her ſelf with ſome of the blood, afterwards ſhe ſprinkled ſome upon the Nimph, and then upon Damon: Then throwing the Savine, the Miſſleto, and the Vervine into the Fire, ſhe ran to the Vault of Bellinus, and touching the Lock with the Branch of [Page] Miſſleto, the door flew open with a great noiſe, and ſhe leaning her ſelf as far into the Cave as ſhe could, ſhe received the Wind which with a kind of murmuring voice came out of the Cave: Then, as if inſpired with Enthuſiaſtique Rapture, ſhe ran unto the place where the Sacrifice was offered, which was in a little Grove near the Temple, according to the ancient Cuſtome; There ſhe found the Nymph and the Cavalier upon their knees, expecting the anſwer of Bellinus.

Then laying one hand upon the Altar, and holding the branch of Miſſleto in the other, with ſtaring eyes, diſordered hair, and trembling hands and head, ſhe uttered a voice far different from what it was wont to be, in theſe words.

The Oracle.

GO Nymph, and know, that thou ſhalt find

Ere long, the Errour of thy mind:

But ſtill beware, Incenſed Love

Should Fury turn; and worſer prove.

And thou, O perfect Lover, when

Thou hear'ſt a Diamond ſpeak; Oh then,

From Death to Life thou ſhalt return,

By help of him whom thou didſt ſcorn.

The Nymph and the Cavalier having received this Oracle, they ſtudied a long while upon it; but it being impoſſible for them to underſtand it perfectly, one of the ancient Prieſts who was preſent, and who was accuſtomed to interpret ſuch ambiguous anſwers, he came unto the Nymph, ſaid this unto her.

Oracles, which are the words of the great Gods, are ordinarily rendred very obſcure; becauſe future things ought to be concealed from Humanes: For did we know the hour of our death, we ſhould not reliſh the ſweets of life, but live as if we were going to our graves. Great Tautates, who [...]ves us as his children, does advertiſe us of future accidents but darkly, and will not let us know more then is fitting for us to know, that we may have a dependency upon him. The great Tautates does foretel you, that ere long you ſhall ſee your errour, and your ſin; and this in words ſo clear, that nothing can be more manifeſt: Alſo to ſhew, that he does love you, leſt you ſhould be ſurprized by the evil which [...]e foreſees is to fall upon you, he does advertiſe you of it betimes, to the end you may prudently prevent it, or patiently receive it: Furthermore, I muſt needs tell you, That by the corrupt Intralls, and blood of all the Sacrifices which we have offered, we expect ſome ſtrange accident ready to fall upon our heads: For the Victims do fall all upon the left ſide, and when they did fall, did beat themſelves extreamly upon the ground, and died very impatiently; their blood would hardly come out, and was defective both in quality and quantity: and as for their Intralls, their Hearts and their Livers were rotten. To be brief, we ſee ſo many apparent ſignes from heaven, that it is manifeſt unleſs we do appeaſe the great Tautates by humble and fervent Prayers, we muſt expect ſome heavie judgements ready to fall upon us.

As for the Oracle which is rendred unto you, O valiant Cavalier, you may expect great contentment from it, for it ſpeaks good unto you: In being called from death to life, is to be underſtood your coming out of ſome eminent danger; Death ſignifies ſome deep diſpleaſure out of which you are ere long to be releaſed by the aſſiſtance of him whom you ſcorn and hate: And therefore Madam, and you generous Cavalier, it is your parts to render thanks unto Bellinus, for the favour he hath done you both, to the end your gratitude may oblige him to continue his goodneſs ſtill unto you.

Thus ſpake the Prieſt: And both the Nymph and the Cavalier upon their knees ſeemed to be very devout towards heaven, by many actions of thanks: Afterwards [Page] retired to their Lodgings, with intention to go the next day unto the Temple of the good Goddeſs; and afterwards in their return to ſee the Shepherdeſs of Lignon, with Daphnide and Alcidon, though Damon's intention was to make himſelf as little known unto them as he could, intending to ſtay amongſt them a few days, and afterwards, if he found no remedy againſt his diſpleaſures, to go ſo far away, that he ſhould not hear either Aquitain, or any he knew ſpoken of. Being ſet down at the Table therefore, with this reſolution, and Dinner being almoſt done, the Nymph ſaw enter into the Room a Cavalier from Amaſis, who was in great favour and confidence with her. This Cavalier (after all due reverence) came unto her, and told her in her ear, That he had great matters to impart unto her from Amaſis, but the diſcourſe of it would be long, and fit to be kept in ſecret, and therefore he would ſpeak no more of it, until ſhe commanded him to wait upon her in private. The Nymph hearing this, and ſeeing his face in a kind of confuſion, ſhe began to think upon what the Prieſt told her concerning the defects in the Victims: And not being able to think upon any greater misfortune then the loſs of her Mother, ſhe asked him aloud how Amaſis did? Madam, anſwered he, thanks be to heaven ſhe is in good health, and does paſſionately deſire to ſee you, thinking every hour an age you are abſent from her. We will wait upon her preſently, ſaid Galathea, ſince Damon is in a condition to ride; for it was not reaſonable to leave him in a ſick condition, ſince he received his wounds by defending us againſt the injuries of Argenteus. Upon this ſhe retired preſently into her chamber, and cauſed the Cavalier to be called. Has my Mother (ſaid the Nymph unto him,) received any News from the Army of the Francks? And does ſhe hear how Clidemant does? Madam (anſwered the Cavalier) ſhe did receive ſome news this morning, which is not very good, but ſhe deſires to communicate it her ſelf unto you, and would have you make all the haſte you can unto her: She commanded me to let you underſtand, that the Francks have been in great Tumult upon King Childerick; who was forced to retire into Thurin; I am afraid that this was not without great bloodſhed, and you know Clidemant, Lindamore, and Gayamant were always with him, I beſeech God no misfortune have befaln them. I can aſſure you of one thing, Madam, That Amaſis your Mother is very ſad, and much troubled, and extreamly deſires to ſpeak with you. Friend, ſaid Galathea, your diſcourſe does much amaze me, and I wiſh either that I knew not ſo much, or that I knew more: I muſt before I ſend you away, talk a little with the ſage Cleontine, and with Damon, who is a perſon which may be very ſerviceable unto us in ſuch accidents as may happen; and cauſing them to be both called, ſhe acquainted them how Amaſis had ſent for her: And becauſe ſhe knew not whether ſhe ſhould return preſently, or firſt go unto Bonlieu, to offer ſome prayers there, as the Oracle did wiſh her, ſhe asked the opinion of the old Cleontine; who anſwered her thus: I conceive Madam, that in all our affairs we ſhould have recourſe unto Tautates, and you eſpecially, ſince by the relation of the Prieſt, you are menaced with ſome great misfortune; and to divert it, the beſt remedy is to have recourſe unto him, from whom all proceeds, and to beſeech him he would with hold his chaſtning hand. And therefore my opinion is, your beſt courſe is to go unto the good Goddeſs, offer your ſacrifice unto her, and the ſame day go into Marcelles. Damon was of the ſame opinion. You hear (ſaid Galathea unto the Cavalier which Amaſis ſent) what the opinion of Cleontine and Damon is; Aſſure Amaſis, that to morrow I will wait upon her, and in the mean time, will pray unto the great Tautates, for a bleſſing upon us all.

Thus the Cavalier went away, leaving Galathea in ſuch a perplexity, as ſhe had no mind to ſee the fair Shepherdeſſes, or Daphnide and Alcidon, but reſolved to depart the next morning betimes: which being come, Damon armed himſelf according to his cuſtome; and having put Galathea and her Nymphs into their Coaches, he mounted a Horſe which the Nymph gave unto him, and which was one of Clidemants her Brothers. This Cavalier appeared ſo gallant in the eyes of Galathea, that he put her in mind of the generous Lindamore; and paſſing from one thought unto another, ſhe imagined that the news perhaps that Amaſis would tell her, was of that Cavaliers death; and then ſhe plotted how to get Polimas to go in his room, as well to pack him further from her, and be rid of his importunity, as in hopes that Amaſis [Page] would caſt her eyes upon Damon, in caſe Lindamore was dead: and yet remembring his actions and glory he had gotten in this voyage, together with the affection he had born unto her, ſhe could not chuſe but lament the loſſe of him; and in caſe he was not dead, and that ſhe could be convinced of the impoſture of Clemanthis, then to have ſome advantagious thoughts of him. Theſe thoughts entertained her a great part of the way to Bonlieu: But paſſing over the river of Lignon, ſhe began to think upon Daphnide, Alcidon, and all thoſe Shepherdeſſes whom ſhe intended to ſee: but being unwilling that this ſtranger Lady ſhould go away, and ſhee not ſee her, ſhe ſent unto the ſage Adamas, to deſire him he would come to her unto Bonlieu, and in caſe ſhe was gone before he came, to follow her unto Marſellis, and that he would infinitely oblige her, if he would bring Daphnide and Alcidon with him: Afterwards, ſhe arrived at the Temple of the good Goddeſs, where the venerable Chriſante received them with all honour and civility; and becauſe the Nymph acquainted her with her haſt unto Marſelles, Chriſante cauſed all poſſible haſt to be made with the ſacrifice, telling her that the Victimes which was offered for the publique and the happy voyage of Clidamant, were found ſo defective, as it was evident ſome great diſaſter was towards.

But in the mean time Sylvander, who had obtained that permiſſion which he deſired, he was ſo intent and buſie in it, as he had forgotten to tell Madonthe and Therſander, that there was a Cavalier in queſt of them, with many terrible menaces and threats; and had he not accidentally met them one morning, as they were walking to take the ayr, certainly it had been long before they had been acquainted with it; for he was ſo much taken up with his paſſion, as he had no room in his ſoul for any other thought: But meeting them ſo opportunely, he acquainted them with all that Paris told him, and the danger which they had incurred, if they had met with that Barbarous Man, who ſought for them with ſo much deſire of revenge. Madonthe did thank him for the intelligence; and having long debated amongſt themſelves, who it ſhould be, they could not imagine it could be Damon, becauſe he was dead in their belief: but rather that it was ſome of Madonthis kindred, who not being able to ſuffer her flight away with Therſander, did ſeek to he revenged upon him. Sylvander, who alwayes carried much good will unto Madonthe, both becauſe of her reſemblance unto Diana, and becauſe ſhe was very vertuous and modeſt, ſeeing her ſhed abundance of tears, he had much compaſſion of her, and asked her the cauſe of them. Oh Shepherd! ſaid ſhe unto him, have I not great reaſon to lament my miſerable Fortune, which thus cruelly torments me? Was it not enough, and too much, to perſecute me in my own Country, and amongſt my friends, but I muſt be alſo tormented here, where I hoped to find reſt and tranquility. O Heavens! O Gods! What crime have I committed lately, that after I had forſaken my Country, my eſtate, and all my acquaintance, I ſhould be purſued ſtil, & find no hopes of any reſt, but in my Grave. Upon theſe words, her tears did flow in ſuch abundance, as ſhe was conſtrained unto ſilence, and to have recourſe unto her handkerchief. Sylvander who was moved when ſhe began her tears, was moved much more at her continuance of them, and offered to guard and defend her from all injuries this ſtranger could do her, by the aſſiſtance of his friends, if ſhe would ſtay in the Country. As ill luck was, Laonice meeting them at the ſame time, and being very familiar with Madonthe, ſhe adviſed her to retire into her own Country, where ſhe might live more quietly, and not to refuſe the aſſiſtance of Sylvander to accompany her, at the leaſt as far as Forreſts reached. Madonthe fearing to receive ſome burt for this ſtranger, ſhe reſolved to be gone, and accept of Sylvanders offer, to guard her with his friends: But Therſander was much againſt it, and diſſwaded her; ſo as ſhe thanked Sylvander for his good will, and would not permit him to go any farther then the place where this ſtranger was ſeen: Then preſently at the ſame hour, after ſhe had taken leave of ſome Shepherdeſſes, which ſhe met with by chance, ſhe deſired Laonice to excuſe her unto the reſt, ſhe ſet forward with a reſolution as ſoon as ſhe came into Aquitane, to admit her ſelf amongſt the Veſtals, or the Drui [...]es daughters, and forſake the world and all its adventures.

In the mean time Alexis lived freely with the fair Aſtrea, and made uſe of all the Priviledges, which the daughter of Adamas could have, and had been two dayes [Page] in her own Town amongſt the Shepherdeſſes and Shepherds, and was never out of Aſtreas ſight but when ſhe was in bed; for all the day they talked together, and were all the night in a chamber, where their beds were not far diſtant: and the impatient Love of Alexis not permitting her to ſleep; ſhe aroſe the ſecond morning to contemplate upon the beauty of her fair Shepherdeſs, before it was perfect light, and put on Aſtreas Gown in ſtead of her own; and ſhe took ſuch extream delight to be in that Gown, which covered the body of her deareſt Saint, that ſhe took the reſt of Aſtreas Clothes, and trimmed her ſelf compleatly in the habit of a Shepherdeſs, ſo as any one would have taken her for one: and though Aſtreas Gown was a little too ſtrait for her, yet it was not ſo unſit, but it might well deceive the eye of any that was not too ſtrict an obſerver: being thus decked, ſhe went unto the bed where Aſtrea was aſleep, and kneeling down, ſhe began to adore, and contemplate upon her beauty as ſhe ſlept.

And though Alexis uttered many raptures in a loud voice, yet none of the three awaked: Alexis ſtill looked upon Aſtrea, and the more ſhe looked, the more ſhe Loved: And being tranſported with her affection, ſhe went neer her to ſteal an amorous kiſſe, but preſently checked her ſelf, out of her reſpect. But ſtill having a longing deſire unto it, ſhe uttered ſome verſes in a lone voice, upon this ſubject; That her Miſtris ſlept, and ſhe durſt not kiſs her; and perhaps ſhe had grown a little more couragious, if Leonide by fortune had not waked, and perhaps again Alexis was ſo loud in her expreſſion, as ſhe was the cauſe of it. As ſoon as ſhe opened her eyes, ſhe took her for Phillis, and bidding her good morrow, asked her, why ſhe was ſo early: Alexis ſmiled, and returning no anſwer, covered her face with her hand, purpoſely to keep her the longer in her miſtake: Aſtrea and Diana waking at the ſame time, they were both deceived as well as Leonide, both of them ſaluted her, and asked the ſame queſtion which the Nimph did, Alexis ſeeing all thus miſtaken, ſhe grew more confident then when they were aſleep, and going unto Aſtrea, kiſſed her cheek, & bad her good morrow. Aſtrea hearing a voice unlike unto Phillis, pulled back her cheek, and looking a little better upon her, ſhe knew her. Am I miſtaken, ſaid Aſtrea, or do I ſee Alexis in the habit of a Shepherdeſs? Upon this, Leonide and Diana, looking alſo better upon her, they knewher to be Alexis indeed.

Aſtrea then, raiſed her ſelf up a little in her bed, and taking Alexis in her arms, kiſſed her, with abundance of joy, to ſee her in her clothes. Give me leave, new Shepherdeſs, ſaid Aſtrea, to kiſs you; and give me leave alſo to tell you moſt truly, That Forreſts never ſaw ſo Fair a Shepherdeſs.

Then all three looking upon her with admiration, they were all raviſhed to ſee her ſo Fair in that unaccuſtomed habit: Alexis all this while, ſaid nothing; but at laſt, when ſhe ſaw that ſhe was known, Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto the Nymph, do you not think, that theſe clothes have not changed for the worſe? I do think (anſwered the Nymph) that you are a Fairer Shepherdeſs then a Druide; and that if Hylas ſaw you, he would preſently lay by a new ſtock of Love, to ſpend in your ſervice. And I think, ſaid Aſtrea, that theſe clothes, could they be ſenſible of it, would be infinitely happy, in being worn by the Faireſt that ever lived. But (ſaid Diana, and interrupted) it were pity to put this Fair Druide unto ſo much paines as to undreſſe her ſelf, and therefore it would be better, if Aſtrea took thoſe of Alexis, and wear them all the day: I am confident it would be an excellent mask unto Adamas, and he would certainly take the one for the other: Truly, ſaid Leonide, I dare venture a wager, that moſt of thoſe who ſee them, miſtake them; eſpecially if my ſiſters clothes were as fit for Aſtrea, as Aſtreas are for her. Alexis, thinking it an happineſs to be in thoſe clothes, which uſed to cover the body of her Faireſt Miſtris, had a great deſire to wear them all the day. Aſtrea who did paſſionately Love this Druide, had alſo a moſt extream deſire to wear the clothes of Alexis; and yet, neither of them, durſt publiſh their deſires. And becauſe Diana was very earneſt with them to have it ſo. But ſiſter, ſaid Alexis unto Leonide, what will my Father ſay when he ſees me in ſuch a diſguiſe? What will he ſay? anſwered Leonide; he will laugh, and be very glad to ſee you in ſuch a merry humour: he knows that nothing is more prejudicial to your health then melancholy and ſadneſſe: and thinks nothing more conducible to your health, then jollity, and mirth. Could [Page] I believe, replied Alexis, that I ſhould delude the eyes of thoſe who ſhall ſee me this day, as well as I was deluded in the choice of my clothes, I ſhould be glad: For though there was much difference between our clothes, yet I took Aſtreas for my own, and yet I ſee you miſtook me: Believe it, ſaid Aſtrea, one would believe, you took much paines in dreſſing your ſelf, for it is impoſſible you ſhould be better dreſſed; and as for me, I will take ſome other clothes, to make it the more believed that you are a new come Shepherdeſs, No, no, (ſaid Diana) you muſt needs take the Druides clothes: otherwiſe, what will they think is become of her? We will ſay, anſwered Leonide, that my ſiſter is not well, upon condition Aſtrea will promiſe to take her clothes to morrow, that we may ſee whether ſhe will be as fine a Druide, as my ſiſter is a Shepherdeſs. I ſhall do as you deſire, ſaid Aſtrea, but I believe her Gown will be too big for me. As much, ſaid Alexis, as yours is too little for me; but both may be eaſily helped. Since Madam it is your pleaſure to have it ſo, ſaid Aſtrea, I ſhall be the Druide to morrow: but I am confident, that if Hylas ſaw this new come Shepherdeſſe to day, he would burn all his Artieles of Agreement with Stella, and add this Fair Stranger unto the great number of his Miſtriſſes: I am ſure, ſaid Alexis, that neither he nor any elſe can ſee you, but both he and all muſt needs Love you.

And becauſe now it began to grow late, and full time for theſe Fair Ones to riſe; Aſtrea was conſtrained to riſe out of the bed in her ſmock, to fetch another Gown, and other Linnen, which were in a Trunk at the other end of the Chamber; and thinking none in the room but Women, ſhe aroſe very confidently, and careleſly.

The firſt thing the diſguiſed Druide ſaw, was her bare Foot, and Leg; and half her Thigh: The delicacy, and whiteneſs of her Feet, the handſome proportion of her Leg, the plumpneſs of her Thygh, and the beauty of her Neck, could not be equalled by any things, but themſelves: And Alexis ſtood in ſuch a poſture of amazement as ſhe looked upon her, as invited Aſtrea, to take her in her arms and kiſs her: The embraces of Alexis might well have raiſed a ſuſpicion, that they were a little more affectionate and cloſe, then ſuch as women uſe: And Aſtrea was as zealous in her imbraces, as Alexis was, and perhaps received them, not as the kiſſes of an Alexis, but as the living reſemblance of Celadon. Leonide obſerving theſe amorous kiſſes and careſſes, and growing a little jealous, ſhe ſaid unto the Druide: Take heed, new Shepherdeſs, leſt holding Aſtrea ſo long in your arms, you cauſe her to take cold. No, no, anſwered Aſtrea; I cannot take any harm in being ſo neer Alexis, I ſhould be very ſorry Faireſt (ſaid the Druide) to be the cauſe of any inconveniency to you, but I hope my ſiſter ſpeaks only out of envy: then Alexis took Aſtrea in her arms from off the ground, and carried her to the Trunk, unto which ſhe was going; and there ſetting her down, kiſſing ſometimes her Eyes, ſometimes her Mouth, and ſometimes her Neck: And Aſtrea, thinking her a Woman, did freely permit it; and was ſo extreamly contented to be thus carreſſed by one ſo much reſemblant unto Celadon, as ſhe payed back her kiſſes unto Alexis with double intereſt. None can expreſſe the fulneſs of this diſguiſed Druides joy, unleſſe ſome that have been raviſhed by the like accident. But it may eaſily be imagined, that Alexis was very neer making her ſelf known who ſhe was, although ſhe knew that all her happineſs would be blaſted, if ſhe were diſcovered; and perhaps had diſcovered all, had not Phillis in the height of their carreſſes knocked at the door: And therefore, Aſtrea fearing it ſhould be ſome body elſe, ran preſently to bed, and looked through the Curtaines who it was which entred. Alexis, vexed at the heart to be thus interrupted, ſhe went to the door, and asking who was there, did open it unto Phillis, ſo much againſt her mind, that ſhe looked not pleaſantly all the day. When Aſtrea ſaw it was her Companion Phillis, ſhe bad her good morrow, and looked about for Alexis: and when ſhe ſaw that ſhe was not in the Chamber, ſhe thought that ſhe was gone to walk, as formerly ſhe had done; Phillis alſo enquired for her, and they anſwered that ſhe was not very well, and was gone into another Chamber, but would return preſently. Phillis did eaſily believe them, eſpecially ſeeing her clothes upon the table. But when they were all dreſt, and ready to go out; I beſeech you, ſaid Phillis, let us ſee Alexis before [Page] we go: No, no, anſwered Leonide, ſhe deſired to be alone, but we will return after our walk, and ſee how ſhe does: So taking Phillis by the hand, ſhe carried her out.

In the mean time, the new come Shepherdeſs being walked into the Hazle Grove, where ſhe thought to be moſt private, and might beſt entertain her own thoughts, in contemplation of thoſe beauties which ſhe had ſeen, and of thoſe favours which ſhe had received, or rather under a borrowed notion, had ſtoln.

But the day being now well on, and moſt Shepherds retired with their Flocks under the ſhade, ſhe heard many Shepherds ſinging under ſhady trees, and expecting the coming of their Shepherdeſſes: Amongſt the reſt Calidon, who was up that morning betimes, and was come over the River of Lignon in hopes to ſee Astrea, and to try his Fortune before he ſpoke any farther unto Phocion; And he meeting Hylas by the way, they came together unto this place, where both of them began of ſing: And Calidon, thinking upon Aſtreas cruel anſwer, began to chant his complaints againſts her cruelty, in a doleful tune.

Alexis not being accuſtomed to the voice of Calidon, although ſhe heard him ſing, and underſtood his words, yet ſhew knew him not; but ſhe knew Hylas, and heard him ſay: Is it poſſible Calidon, that Aſtrea ſhould uſe you thus? Alas Hylas! anſwered he, it is but too true, and I wiſh I were able to uſe your receipt againſt ſuch cruelties: The Druide heard no more of their diſcourſe, for being deſirous to paſs unknown, ſhe left them; yet Hylas continued thus: Believe it Calidon, there is one Shepherd, who is to be blamed for all the miſeries that befal all the Shepherds of this Country in this kind; Sylvander is he, I mean, for he having a very ſubtile wit, does inſinuate himſelf ſo in the good opinion of the Shepherds, as by his falſe and ſophiſtical arguments he perſwades them, That a Lover is a man loſt in point of reputation, if when he is ill entertained, he change his affection, as if a man were a Rock, immoveable, and able to abide all the angry bl [...]ſts and ſtorms of a raging Sea: ſo as a Shepherd becomes ſo much enſlaved, as in ſpite of all injuries, he cannot diſcontinue his ſervice and good will, but he muſt preſently be branded with inconſtancy; and thus all become ſubjects unto the Tyrany of Women: whereas if theſe maximes were not, they would not delight ſo much in ſeeing their ſervants to languiſh, but would add every day freſh favours, in hopes to keep us from changing. Unto all this Calidon anſwered thus; you are much miſtaken Hylas, if you think Sylvander to be the firſt Author of theſe opinions: The Shepherds of this Country have for many ages obſerved the ſame Laws; and though cuſtome did not oblige us unto it, yet the beauty of our Shepherdeſſes would conſtraine us: For is it poſſible to Love them once, and not alwayes? I ſee, replied Hylas, that now you do Love Aſtrea, and therefore one muſt not argue the matter with you, according to the rules of reaſon: But I hope to ſee you as far from this affection, as you are from that of Celidea. Several reaſons, anſwered Calidon, did divert me from her you laſt named, and many more do oblige me never to ceaſe loving the other, unleſs I ceaſe to live; for beſides the accident, which took away the beauty of Celidea, and which was the firſt cauſe of my affection, I was obliged to reſtore her unto Thamires, in point of honour; but ſetting this and all other conſiderations aſide, having ſubmitted my ſelf by oath unto arbitration, doubtleſſe I ſhould have drawn upon me, both the anger of Heaven, and hatred of men, if I had not been obedient unto it. On the other ſide, all things do induce, and invite me, never to change my affection unto Aſtrea; for in the firſt place, her beauty is ſuch as cannot be equalled. She is ſo much the prouder for that, ſaid Hylas: No matter, anſwered Calidon, a little pride in a Woman makes her the more amiable. Yes, ſaid Hylas, ſo ſhe be proud unto others, and not unto us: but is not beauty very ſubject unto the injury and blaſts of time? Oh Hylas! anſwered Calidon, when age has blaſted the beauty of Aſtrea, the ſame age will make Calidon not much care for beauty: moreover, Parents who have the government of her, and thoſe who have the power over me, do allow of this affection. The contentment of Parents, replied Hylas, is often a cauſe that Women will not Love thoſe who otherwiſe are not diſpleaſing unto them; as well becauſe, they cannot abide Parents ſhould be courted more then themſelves, as becauſe conſtraint is odious unto them: For Love [Page] never comes by conſtraint, nor the opinion of others; but only by the will of thoſe who love.

But Aſtrea is ſo wiſe (replied Calidon) that ſhe will be conformable unto the opinion of her friends. May be not (replied Hylas) Aſtrea is able to build upon her own reſolution. I ſhould eaſily believe it (ſaid Calidon) did I not ſee that ſhe is diſengaged, and free from loving any: and as yet I have not done her ſervice ſufficient to engage her: ſo as ſhould ſhe be eaſily won, ſhe would not be ſo eſtimable. Oh Calidon (ſaid Hylas) Do you think long ſervice will make her love? Alas, alas poor Shepherd, I pity you, if you be of that opinion; you had need to make proviſion of Spectacles to ſee her Beauty withal at that time; for when it comes, I believe you will not be able to ſee without them. Did you never hear how Celadon loved her? Yes (replied Calidon) but he being dead, that makes nothing againſt me: Nothing againſt you! ſaid Hylas, Yes, yes perhaps more then you imagine: For why elſe, according to Sylvanders doctrine, ſhould ſhe preſerve the memory of him ſo freſhly, as Tyrcis does of his dead Cleon? But this is not that I would ſay: Do you know how long this Celadon Courted her? Some four or five years (anſwered Calidon.) Well friend, anſwered Hylas, Do you not think a pair of Spectacles will do very well at five years end? I do not think (ſaid Calidon) that ſo long a time is requiſite to win her; but though it be, yet I ſhould not be reduc'd unto any ſuch neceſſity as you ſpeak of. Shepherd, ſhepherd, replied Hylas, you may flatter your ſelf as long as you pleaſe, but you may conſider, that nothing is more certain then experience, and what you have formerly ſeen come to paſs. Conſider if you be wiſe, that it may come to paſs again: You ſay ſhe is not engaged in her affection unto any: Why, this is it Friend which makes me think worſe of your buſineſs; for thoſe women which will love any, may be drawn and won to love us; but theſe inſenſible Creatures are ſuch things as do not ſo much as know what and whom is to be loved.

Calidon began to boggle at the reaſons which Hylas urged, and thought them very ſtrong. I aſſure you Hylas (ſaid he) I ſtand in need of all theſe conſolations which you give me, I think my ſelf happy in meeting with you. If you would have me flatter you (ſaid Hylas) I could ſpeak in another dialect, but if your judgement be ſound, you will ſee I ſpeak like a friend: If you deſire to find comfort in your miſery, you muſt uſe the like remedies which I alwaies did in the like caſes; which if you do, I will warrant you from taking any harm from ſuch a diſeaſe as this. But let me tell you (anſwered Calidon) that if you mean, quitting Aſtrea, or loving any other, I had rather loſe my eyes then look upon any other Beauty then hers; and loſe this heart which gives me life, then ever love any other Shepherdeſs then Aſtrea. Upon this, being a little angry with Hylas, he would have gone away from him: But Hylas held him, and ſmiling, ſaid unto him. Nay (ſaid he) if you be upon that lock, and deſire ſo much to ſee Aſtrea, you may go into the Grove of Hazles: For I ſaw her there alone, but would not tell you, becauſe I feared you would but loſe all your labour: For a woman is ſomtimes like unto death, which comes upon us before we be aware, and leaſt think upon it. Hylas (ſaid Calidon) It was not friendly done, to keep me ſo long from my happineſs in being with her. Nay, nay, ſaid Hylas, take heed you come not ſoon enough to receive a courſe entertainment. Calidon having not ſo much patience as to ſtay ſo long to reply, he went as faſt as he could to the place which Hylas named, thinking it the moſt happy opportunity that poſſibly could be, to find her in a place where none would interrupt their diſcourſe.

Hylas thought he had told him right; for ſeeing Alexis only behind in the habit of Aſtrea, he was miſtaken. In the mean time the Druide being deſirous to enjoy her own ſweet Imaginations of that Viſion which ſhe had lately ſeen. ſhe went a great pace unto the wood, where the ſolitude of the place, and the freſh memory of thoſe Favours ſhe had received, did repreſent before the eyes of her fancy, the Beauties and ſweet Kiſſes of Aſtrea in ſuch lively apprehenſions, that folding her Arms, and lifting her eyes up to heaven: Oh good Gods, ſaid ſhe, that Alexis could be happy without Celadon; or that Celadon could be happy without Alexis: Were I really Alexis, and not Celadon, how happy ſhould I be in Aſtreas favours? [Page] And oh how much more happy ſhould I be, if being Celadon, ſhe did not do me theſe Favours as being Alexis! Was ever Lover ſo happy and unhappy both, as I am? Happy in being careſſed by the Faireſt and moſt Lovely Shepherdeſs in the world; and unhappy, in that all theſe favours would moſt certainly be turned into Torments, were I not ſhrouded under the vail of Alexis. Here ſtopping a little, and afterwards beginning again; But Celadon (ſaid he) how long muſt this diſguiſe laſt? What end doſt thou aim at in this thy deſigne? Doſt thou think thou canſt delude always? Why (fooliſh Lover!) doſt thou not declare thy ſelf? Does ſhe not as good as tell thee, that all her amity with Alexis proceeds only from her reſemblance unto Celadon? This manifeſts that ſhe does not hate this Shepherd, ſince thinking him dead, ſhe does cheriſh his memory: And doſt thou think thy preſence would not be welcome to her, when ſhe ſees himſelf upon his knees before her living, and adoring her? Go, go and caſt thy ſelf at her feet; ſay thus unto her, Here Faireſt Shepherdeſs, is Celadon moſt humbly before you; he died when you were diſpleaſed, and now is revived again, ſince you are pleaſed with him in the face of Alexis: If he hath ſinned in any thing againſt you, he hath done penance for it: but if you think his fault yet unexpiated, command him what torments you ſhall pleaſe, and you ſhall find him more ready to obey, then you can be to command: Upon this, ſtanding a while ſilent, he conſidered whether this reſolution was good or no; but afterwards beginning again, Peace, peace Celadon (ſaid he) content thy ſelf with being dead, and envie not the happineſs of Alexis; ſince thou canſt not thy ſelf, let her enjoy it: for all the hopes thou haſt, is by the interceſſion of this Druide, unto whoſe conduct thou ought wholly to ſubmit thy ſelf: And do not flatter thy ſelf ſo much, as to think that ſhe loves thy reſemblance in her; Perhaps indeed thy face may be like hers; but it is thy fault which invites her to hate thee: If there be any thing in thee which can pleaſe her, it is that in thy ſoul thou didſt never infringe the Laws of a perfect affection; and wilt thou ſtain the innocency of thy Love by ſo great a diſobedience as this? I do command you (ſaid ſhe unto thee) never to ſee my face until I do allow it. Love her then, oh Celadon! Obey her, and be ſilent, if thou wilt live and love without reproach. Thus did this Druide think her ſelf in a place where ſhe might enjoy her own thoughts with delight; and Love, who perhaps was jealous of the Favours which Fortune had done her, did venome them with theſe mortal imaginations; ſo as her eyes being over-flowed with Tears, ſhe was conſtrained to the uſe of her Handkerchief: And becauſe Calidon at the ſame time came into the Wood, ſhe no ſooner ſpied him, but ſhe ſtarted back, as if ſhe were ready to tread upon a Serpent; and went away (ſhunning him) into another Walk, which was in the high Wood, out of the Grove: But as Fortune was, Hylas was walking there; and ſeeing her, did ſuſpect the reaſon of her coming into that Wood; for he ſaw her run, and obſerved the place into which ſhe entred; and ſtayed a while to inform Calidon, whom he believed was not far off; and yet he was deceived, for Calidon not thinking her to be gone out of the Wood, he ſought her in every place there, as if he had looked for a pin: But finding all his labour loſt, he then believed that ſhe had purpoſely hid her ſelf from him; and thinking this indignity too great to be endured, he was ſo vexed to ſee himſelf thus ſlighted, as firſt in anger, and afterwards in deſpair, he reſolved an hundred times never to love Aſtrea any longer: But then, aſſoon as he thought upon her Beauty and perfectious, he changed that thought, and was more entangled in this affection then ever. In the mean time, Hylas, who ſtayed to ſhew him which way Aſtrea paſſed, began to be weary of this ſtay, when he ſaw coming from towards the Houſe, Leonide, Diana, Phillis, and amongſt them (as he thought) Aſtrea. At the firſt, he durſt have ſworn the contrary; for he thought that he had ſeen her on the other ſide; but going neerer, he could not give his eyes the lie, which aſſured him that Aſtrea was in the company; when one came behind him, and laid their hands upon his eyes, intending to make him gueſs who it was.

Hylas ſtood ſtill; feeling her hands, and finding them to be the hands of a woman: I know (ſaid he) who you are; but my wonder is, how you got behind me: whilſt he was talking thus, all the company came up, and could hear Hylas continue his talk: I do know (ſaid he) that you are Aſtrea: Then letting him go, he ſaw himſelf [Page] miſtaken, and that it was Laonice. What Hylas (ſaid ſhe) do you know your friends no better then ſo? No wonder Shepherdeſs, ſaid he, that I ſhould thus miſtake you for Aſtrea, for I ſaw her juſt now enter into that Wood; and as ſoon as you laid your hands upon my eyes, I ſaw her juſt before me amongſt this company: What ſhould I think, when ſeeing her in ſeveral places at once, but that ſhe can be every where? How Hylas! ſaid Aſtrea, Did you ſee me enter into that Wood? I did ſee you, anſwered he, and I am not alone that ſaw you; for Calidon is ſtill amongſt the Hazles looking for you. Aſtrea and the reſt of the company did know well enough his miſtake; but ſeeing otherwiſe, Certainly (ſaid Diana) your eyes are not very good this morning; for this Nymph and we all are able to witneſs that Aſtrea has been all this day with us. I ſee Aſtrea is there (ſaid Hylas) and I know that the Aſtrea which I ſaw yonder, could not poſſibly be ſo ſoon with you, for ſhe went the quite contrary way: But I am certain that I did ſee one Aſtrea there, elſe Ile never truſt my eyes again. Leonide and all the company laughed to ſee him in ſuch a maze: And becauſe Aſtrea was very deſirous to ſee this Aſtrea which he ſpake of, Hylas (ſaid ſhe) we will think you out of your wits if you do not ſhew us this other Aſtrea, and therefore ſhew us which way ſhe went. You may think me as much out of my wits as you pleaſe (ſaid Hylas) and I aſſure you, I think as much my ſelf; for I am the moſt miſtaken man alive, if I did not ſee one Aſtrea there, and another yonder, and therefore I beſeech you let us go and look for her. Upon this he led the way into the high wood, and having looked long in vain, at laſt he thought that he ſaw her ſitting by an arm of the River Lignon, under a ſhady Tree. Hylas went on as faſt as he could hye, and when he came ſo neer as to know her, he beckned unto the reſt of the company to come neerer; and taking Aſtrea by one hand, and pointing at Alexis with the other: Look Shepherdeſs (ſaid he unto her) Are not you ſitting under yonder Tree? Unto which Phillis anſwered, I believe late ſervant (ſaid ſhe) that you are of the nature of Lions, who know their Keepers better by their clothes then by their faces. Why do you ſay ſo, anſwered Hylas? Becauſe (replied Phillis) thoſe clothes which you ſee are like unto thoſe which Aſtrea wears, therefore you are perſwaded it is ſhe. They talked ſo loud, and Hylas made ſuch a noiſe, that Alexis turned about, and ſaw all the company coming towards her: Therefore wiping her eyes, and ſetting as jolly a look upon it as ſhe could, ſhe roſe up and came to meet them; And becauſe Aſtrea and Diana beckned unto her to ſeem as if ſhe were a ſtranger, ſhe demeaned her ſelf ſo, that both Hylas and Laonice did not know her: As for Phillis, they had acquainted her already with the paſſage. Hylas went to her, and ſaid, I aſſure you, fair Shepherdeſs, you had almoſt turned my mind when I ſaw you at a diſtance; and now I ſee you neerer, I am afraid you will quite make me alter my affection.

Alexis ſeeming not to know him, or what he ſaid, I beſeech you Shepherd, ſaid ſhe, pardon me if I do not anſwer, for I do not underſtand what you ſay. I mean, replied Hylas, that taking you for Aſtrea in one place, and ſeeing Astrea preſently in another, I was almoſt out of my wits; but now I do ſee you perfectly, I fear you will ſteal away my heart, which I gave unto another. You do very much oblige me (anſwered Alexis) to take me for ſo fair a Shepherdeſs, whom I have ſo much deſired the happineſs of ſeeing and knowing; but then you do as much diſ-oblige me, in ſuſpecting me for a Thief; for you muſt know, I never uſe to take anything but what is my own: But if you will repair the injury you have done me, ſhew me which of all theſe fair ones is Aſtrea, and I will pardon the offence. I believe, ſaid Hylas, that did you know me, you would not think, that in letting you take my heart from another, I have committed any offence, for Hylas never gives it unto any: yet ſince it is an eaſie matter to repair the injury which you pretend I have done you, I will not diſpute it any further; upon condition, that when i have ſatisfied your curioſity in ſhewing you Aſtrea, you will not diſdain to accept the gift of this heart of Hylas, and ſo free your ſelf from the guilt of theft. Firſt (anſwered the new Shepherdeſs) ſhew me which is Aſtrea, and we will talk afterwards of the heart of Hylas, as it ſeems you call your ſelf. This is ſhe (anſwered Hylas) and ſhewed her Aſtrea, who could not chuſe but laugh as well as all the company, to ſee Hylas ſo blind as not to know Alexis; who going unto Aſtrea, ſaluted her, and [Page] held ſome diſcourſe of civility, purpoſely to deceive Hylas the more, who was ſo much taken with the behaviour of this ſtranger, that he could not chuſe but preſs her to the reception of his heart: How now my late ſervant? ſaid Phillis, what will Stella ſay when ſhe hears you offer your ſelf unto this Fair ſtranger? What ſhould ſhe ſay, anſwered he, but that I have obſerved our articles, by which it was permitted me, to Love whom, when, and where I lifted, without any offence to her? How Shepherd (ſaid the new Shepherdeſs) can you think I will allow of any ſharer in Love? Why not? anſwered Hylas, as long as I love you as much as you can deſire? But I beſeech you, ſaid ſhe, would you in earneſt Love me, and Love another beſides? Yes ſaid Hylas: and if after dinner there remain any meat, would you have have me throw it to the dogs? And ſo after I have Loved you as much as you can deſire, and have ſome Love yet to ſpare, why ſhould I not imploy it in loving thoſe who ſtand in need of it? Oh Shepherd, ſaid the ſtranger, believe it, I will not allow of any ſharers with me; he that Loves me, muſt Love only me, and therefore you are not like to have me for your Miſtris: Nor you me (anſwered Hylas) for your ſervant; and ſince you are of ſuch an humour, I adviſe you to look out for one Sylvander, who is ſuch a one as will fit your turn. Now Sylvander is mentioned, ſaid Phillis, where is he? for I wonder we do not ſee him this morning? It is well for you Hylas that he is not here, for he would have checked you for thus talking of Love unto this Paire ſtranger, at the firſt ſight. Hylas would have anſwered, but Laonice interrupted him; Nay, nay, Hylas, ſaid ſhe, you may talk of Love, or what you will to day, for I am ſure you will not ſee him; and though he were here, I could not contradict you, for he is imployed in the like ſervice, and offered himſelf unto it. What ſervice is that? (ſaid Diana preſently) You muſt know, anſwered the ſpiteful Laonice, that Paris chanced to meet with a ſtrange Cavalier, who thundered out many menaces againſt Therſander; and Sylvander, undertaking to acquaint Madonthe with it from him, he did this morning tell her of it; and ſhe fearing leſt Therſander ſhould receive ſome hurt by reaſon of her, ſhe reſolved to return preſently into Aquitain, and deſired me to make her excuſes unto you all, giving a thouſand thanks for the favours ſhe has received, and promiſing never to forget them. But poor Sylvander, ſeeing her ready to depart, and not able any longer to hide the ſecret affection which he bare unto her, in the firſt place he uſed al the arguments that poſſibly he could to divert her journey, and then ſeeing he could not prevail, he offered himſelf to wait upon her: but ſhe, being unwilling to accept of his offer, leſt (as I believe) ſhe ſhould make Therſander jealous, ſhe refuſed him an hundred times: He ſeeing he could not obtain that favour from her, he fell down upon his knees, kiſſed her feet, and conjured with the moſt earneſt ſolicitations that ever I heard, to give him leave; and ſhe not knowing how in civility to put him off after ſuch importunity, ſhe permitted him to go with her a days journey or two.

I believe (ſaid Astrea) that you are miſtaken, if you think Sylvander in Love with any: In Love with any, ſaid Hylas, pray what do you think of his behaviour towards Diana? Oh! anſwered Phillis, that is only a Fiction. Yes Hylas, replied Laonice, his behaviour towards that Shepherdeſs is but a fiction; he himſelf ſwore it this morning a hundred times, when Madonthe charged him with it. Well, well Sylvander, ſaid Madonthe to him, though my abſence do a little trouble you, yet the preſence of Diana will comfort you. Diana, anſwered he, does merit more then my ſervice, neither ſhould I ever have rendered her any, but in reſpect of my wager with Phillis; and I wiſh ſhe were here, that you might ſee the truth of my words. Phillis who knew that this diſcourſe would much diſpleaſe her Companion, did anſwer thus; I cannot poſſibly believe that Sylvander does Love Madonthe, for he never made the leaſt ſhew of it. I believe (ſaid Diana and interrupted her) that you are much miſtaken; for I have ſeen ſufficient ſigns of it: and why ſhould not a young Shepherd that has Wit and Spirit enough, Love a Woman that is ſo amiable as Madonthe? Eſpecially ſince Laonice ſpeaks it knowingly, and ſaw him obtain this permiſſion to wait upon her with ſo much importunity? But good Laonice, ſaid Aſtrea, is it certain that Sylvander has followed Madonthe? Do you think (ſaid the ſubtile Shepherdeſſe) that I would ſay it unleſs I ſaw them depart? Why [Page] ſhould I verifie a thing which if it were not true, would ſo eaſily be proved to be a lye? Farewel Sylvander, ſaid Diana, and come back again even when you have a mind. Upon this, ſeeming as if ſhe were not troubled at it, ſhe turned away, and went from them; but Phillis followed her, and heard her upbraid Sylvander with inconſtancy: Ah Shepherd, ſaid ſhe, are theſe the effects of that Love which you ſhewed unto me? Is this the eternity of thy affection? And didſt thou trouble both thy ſelf and me with thy diſguiſe, to quit me for Madonthe? Haſt thou ſo often and ſo long blamed the Inconſtancy of Hylas, to become as ill thy ſelf? Then Diana ſeeing Phillis follow her! Well Siſter, ſaid ſhe, what do you now think of Sylvander? I muſt needs confeſs, anſwered Phillis, that if Laonice ſay truly, I was never in my life ſo miſtaken as in this Shepherd; for I have ſeen him make ſuch demonſtrations of a real paſſion, as I thought it impoſſible to be ever extinguiſhed. But is there any credit to be given to Laonice? Yes doubtleſs (ſaid Diana) for beſides what ſhe hath told us, I have alwaies obſerved a great affection in him towards Madonthe; and when Paris ſent him word of the menaces which were threatned unto Therſander, how ready he was to be the Meſſenger? It muſt be confeſſed that Madonthe is very fair and diſcreet, yet truly in my eye ſhe is not very amiable; and were I a man, I ſhould ſerve many others that are not ſo fair, rather then her: and all this while ſhe has been amongſt us, have we ſeen any that loved her except Hylas and Sylvander? For my part, ſaid Phillis, I have the ſame opinion of Madonthe which you have, but I cannot believe that Sylvander loves her; and as for your obſervations of him, truly I think them only effects of his curteſie and civility towards that ſtranger. But, replied Diana, what do you think of his ſo earneſt ſolicitation to wait upon her? Think, anſwered Phillis, That it was ſtill his curteſie. It had been curteſie ſufficient, anſwered Diana, to have undertaken the office of Laonice, and brought us her excuſes; but to fall upon his knees, to ſhed tears, and to go with her almoſt by force, and leave us without bidding one adieu, if this be curteſie, and not Love, I know not what is Love. But its no matter, I am ſure he has much obliged me in this action; for I muſt confeſs, his continual courtſhip, and his diſcreet behaviour had begun in me ſuch a good opinion of him, as I began to be inclineable to wiſh him very well, and indeed to love him. What a lamentable condition had I been in, if he had ſtayed a little longer: And ſince he is of this humour, I had rather both he and I were dead, then he ſhould have known my mind.

Phillis perceiving that Diana did love this Shepherd, and foreſeeing that ſhe could never decline it without moſt mortal diſpleaſure; Siſter (ſaid ſhe unto her) let us not give ſuch eaſie credit unto Laonice; ſtay till Sylvander return; and condemn not a man before you hear him anſwer for himſelf. Nay, nay Siſter, replied Diana preſently, the ſtone is already thrown; let him ſay and do what he will, I know what to think. But ſiſter, ſaid Phillis, It is unjuſt to condemn before you hear. No, no ſaid Diana, all that hear him, will judge him in the wrong: and if you love me, offer not to divert me from the mind I am in. But becauſe I remember he has a Bracelet of my hair, which once I made for you, I beſeech you ask it of him from me, the next time you ſee him. I know that Shepherds of his humour uſe to brag of ſuch favours as they can get from unadviſed Shepherdeſſes; and if I could, I would not have him do ſo by me. Phillis ſeeing Diana much vexed, and thinking it not a time to contrary her, ſhe was ſilent a while; and when they offered to continue their diſcourſe, they ſaw all the company coming towards them, but much encreaſed, becauſe Adamas, Daphnide, Alcidon, Paris, Hermantes, Stiliana, and Carlis were there: Amongſt them alſo was Lerindas, the meſſenger from Galathea unto the great Druide, who would not return before he had ſeen Aſtrea and Diana, of whoſe Beauty he thought he could not ſpeak too high. But Adamas was much perplexed ſince he underſtood by Lerindas the mind of Galathea; for he was unwilling to diſpleaſe her, and he ſaw there was no going to her without Alexis, and he feared that ſhe who had ſeen Celadon in the habit of Lucinda, would find him under the diſguiſe of Alexis. Therefore not knowing whom to adviſe withal but Leonide and this diſguiſed Druide, he acquainted that Nymph with his perplexity. Leonide having an excellent wit, preſently returned this anſwer. Sir, ſaid ſhe, you muſt leave Alexis and me here; for be aſſured, if Galathea ſees her, ſhe knows her; and if [Page] ſhe ſhould know her, it would be a great blemiſh to your profeſſion: The Gods do ſeem to direct you unto this courſe; for you ſee Alexis ſo diſguiſed in the habit of a Shepherdeſs, that Hylas does not know her; and which is of moſt concernment, I am confident Lerindas will not; ſo as it is an eaſie matter to perſwade all the ſtrangers that Alexis is not well, and keeping her bed, you left me to keep her company, for I have no mind to ſee the Nymph as long as ſhe continues in the humour wherein I left her; But if you reſolve upon this courſe, which as I conceive is the only way to keep Alexis out of ſight: Two things muſt be done, firſt, This new Shepherdeſs muſt handſomly ſteal out of the company, and get into her chamber, leſt Lerindas or Alcidon, or any elſe, ſhould come at laſt to know her. The other is, That I do uſe ſome artifice or other to get thoſe Shepherdeſſes who know of her diſguiſe to entreat you, Father, that we may ſtay here a while under colour of Alexis recovering her complexion which ſhe loſt in her ſickneſs; for otherwiſe they may ſuſpect ſomthing, and it is not yet time for our plot to be diſcovered. Adamas who had not yet taken notice how Alexis was diſguiſed, did wonder he ſhould not know her, and upon ſerious cogitation, did approve of Leonides opinion: But Alexis much more when ſhe knew it; as well becauſe ſhe thought Galathea would know her, as becauſe ſhe was afraid that then ſhe ſhould loſe thoſe ſweet contentments which ſhe enjoyed with her Shepherdeſs, whoſe kiſſes and careſſes could not chuſe but be pleaſing unto her, though ſhe received them only under the notion of Alexis, and Celadon only the Bearer of the name. All three therefore concurring in opinion, the thing was preſently reſolved upon; and the new Shepherdeſs ſtole away from the company, and looked her ſelf in her chamber; where undreſſing her ſelf, ſhe went to bed, after ſhe had dreſſed her ſelf as if ſhe were ſick, On the other ſide, Adamas having bid good morrow unto Diana and Phillis, I am very ſorry, ſaid he unto them all, that I muſt leave you ſooner then I reſolved; for fair Shepherdeſſes, Galathea has ſent for me, and I muſt go immediately unto her; Lerindas here ſwears he will not leave me till I go. Aſtrea, who was moſt ſorry for the news, Oh Sir, ſaid ſhe, is there a neceſſity of your going ſo ſoon? Can you not prolong it a little? Lerindas began then to ſpeak; He cannot go ſo ſoon (ſaid he) nor be with the Nymph ſo ſuddenly as ſhe deſires. It is not to you Lerindas, that I ſpeak (ſaid Aſtrea with an angry look) for I know meſſengers are always in haſte. Adamas knowing very well why ſhe ſaid ſo; Sweetheart, ſaid he, I cannot now ſtay, becauſe the Nymph ſends me word ſhe has buſineſs with me, and Lerindas tells me there is a ſtranger with her, of whom ſhe makes great account: perhaps the buſineſs is of ſome great concernment, and delay may do much hurt. The Shepherdeſs ſhrugged her ſhoulders, and with a ſad look retired to Leonide, who beckned to her with her ſinger. In the mean time Adamas deſired all the company to go homewards, and after Dinner, to go with him. Of all the company, none was ſo much amazed as Hylas; for every man looking for one to wait upon particularly, his deſires were devoted unto the new Shepherdeſs; and after he had looked all over for her, and all in vain; Fair Nymph ſaid he unto Leonide, I beſeech you tell me where and what is become of that Shepherdeſs with whom Adamas and you were talking but almoſt juſt now? Unto whom (anſwered Leonide) did you commit the cuſtody of her? Unto my eyes, ſaid Hylas. Then, ſaid ſhe, you muſt ask your eyes; for we who were otherwiſe buſie, did take no notice of her. Believe me, ſaid Hylas, if ſhe return not again, I laid by my ſtock of Love in vain, which I intended to employ in her ſervice. Why, replied Leonide, were you ſo haſty in making your proviſion? I thought you would have taken more time before you reſolved upon a buſineſs of that importance. Nay, nay, ſaid Hylas, that would be enough for Sylvander, who had need to aſſemble all the Orders of Gaul, before he can reſolve whether he ſhould Love or no. For my part, I can reſolve upon ſuch a buſineſs in a day, as well as he can in an hundred years: For aſſoon as ever he ſees a Fair one, he conſults with himſelf whether ſhe has all the qualities that are fit for his Taſte: Perhaps he will finde her too tall, or too low: too black, or too Brown: her eyes may be too gray, her noſe too long, or too little, her mouth too big, or too little, perhaps her chin too ſharp, her cheeks too lean; and if ſhe be defective in any of theſe, he has done: But aſſoon as ever my eye meets with a Fair one, and ſhe ſeem [Page] fair unto them, I never ſtay to examine any particulars, but preſently my will conſents to Love her, and makes proviſion immediatly to beſiege the Fort, or lay by ſuch a ſum of love, as I think will buy it. Me thinks Hylas, replied Leonide, ſince you have taken ſo much paines about this ſtranger, you ſhould take a little more, and go to ſeek her, whilſt this Shepherdeſs and I, do talk about ſome buſineſs, which much concerns us.

Upon this, both of them turning another way, they ſeperated themſelves from the reſt of the Company, to the end none might hear them: then Leonide ſpoke thus unto the Shepherdeſſe: You heard, Sweetheart, how Adamas ſaid he was conſtrained to go away, and he was of neceſſity ſo to do; for otherwiſe the Nymph would have occaſion to be angry with him. But let me tell you, that I was never in my life in a place from whence I am ſo unwilling to depart as this: and not only I, but Alexis alſo, who I could never have believed would have liked it ſo well, if I did not ſee it; for having been brought up in great aſſemblies, and continually converſant in the buſineſſe of the world, it is hardly imaginable, that a life ſo retired and ſolitary, ſhould ſure with her diſpoſition: And yet I have obſerved, that ſince ſhe came hither, her complexion is much bettered, which I believe proceeds from the affectionate Love ſhe has taken unto you, which is ſo great, that yeſterday ſhe ſwore unto me, that a ſeparation from you would wound her very heart and ſoul. Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, It is an unexpreſſible happineſs unto me that our kind of life, and our paſtimes, are pleaſing unto you, and the Fair Alexis, for my part, I am moſt entirely devoted unto both your ſervices, and think your Company my greateſt honour and happineſſe: ſuch is my affection unto Alexis, as I proteſt Madam, that nothing upon earth can or ſhall ſeparate me from her, ſo ſhe will but be pleaſed to accept of me: And therefore I do moſt humbly and heartily beſeech you, to aſſiſt me with your favour in my addreſſes unto her and Adamas, for I am fully reſolved to follow her unto Dreux, and Carnutes, when ſhe returns. The greateſt difficulty concerning that, ſaid Leonide, reſts not in them: for I could find a way to procure both their conſents; but it reſts in your own Parents: Oh Madam! ſaid Aſtrea, let that be the leaſt of your care, for I know wel enough what to do in that, you know it hath pleaſed God to leave me without either Father, Mother, or Brother: As for Procion my Uncle, I ow him no ſuch obedience, but I may very well diſpoſe of my ſelf amongſt the Druides Daughters without any reproach: No, no, Madam, there is nothing ſo juſt as to devote our ſelves unto him who gives us all we have. Were it a matter of marriage, or diſpoſition of my eſtate, it were another caſe; but in reſigning my ſelf up into the hands of the great Tautates, I cannot be blamed: and therefore, Great Nymph, my only buſineſs is, by your mediation to procure me the approbation and conſent of Adamas and the Fair Alexis. I will do you all the good offices I can, anſwered Leonide; and let me tell you, that Adamas does extreamly Love Alexis, and ſo, that there needs no more but to get her favour and conſent: But why ſhould I ſay, get her favour? Doubtleſſe you have it already; you need no more but keep her company, and ſhe will be the firſt that will be againſt the ſeparation. I believe her Love to you, ſurpaſſeth yours to her; but my advice is to keep continually in her Company, and entreat Adamas to let her and me ſtay here for a few days, which we may eaſily do under a pretence of her being ſick: And I, ſeeing what delight ſhe took in this ſweet place, I did adviſe her to retire into her Chamber, and pretend ſickneſſe, purpoſely for an excuſe of ſtaying here: And though Adamas knows that ſhe is not ſick, yet he is willing to let it paſſe ſo, becauſe it will excuſe his carrying her unto Galathea, who has long deſired to ſee her, and keep her with her: But Adamas has no mind unto it, deſiring ſhe ſhould continue her courſe of life which ſhe has begun, ſince Tautates ſeems to approve of it, by all the ſacrifices which he has offered, for that purpoſe. You ſee, Fair Shepherdeſſe, how freely I ſpeak of things; and I do it, becauſe I do much eſteem you, and would give you all the contentment that poſſibly I could. It is a thing impoſſible to repeat the thanks which this Shepherdeſs rendred unto Leonide, and as they were thus talking, they wandred a little out of the right way, and becauſe the Company had got a great way before them, they took into a path, which might have brought them that were behind, to be before, had they not heard a [Page] voice, which Aſtrea knew to be Calidons: and becauſe ſhe turned out of the way to avoid hearing any more, thinking that to hearken to him were to offend againſt the memory of Celadon, Leonide obſerved her, and knowing him to be the ſame Shepherd that Phocion deſired to marry her unto; let us hearken a little, (ſaid ſhe) for I am confident he is ſinging ſomething that concerns you, and you may paſſe away through the wood unſeen, when you pleaſe: Madam, ſaid Aſtrea, you will but ſpend the time in vain, for I am ſure ſuch a ſubject is not worth it. Leonide anſwered not, but began to hearken, as he began to ſing out his reſolution not to Love her longer. I knew (ſaid Aſtrea) that you would loſe your labour and time in hearing him. Me thinks, ſaid Leonide, that he is extreamly angry; may he be ſo eternally, anſwered Aſtrea. Upon this, both turning upon the left hand, they continued on their way.

In the mean time, Paris, remembring the Counſel which Leonide gave him, to ask Dianas leave, for asking her Parents conſent that he might marry her; and knowing that Adamas was to go unto Galathea as ſoon as he had dined, he reſolved to lay hold upon the opportunity which preſented it ſelf: For, as Fortune was, Diana chanced to be all alone. And though Paris ſaw much ſadneſs in her countenance, yet after ſome ejaculations unto Tautates to proſper his enterpriſe, he accoſted her, and taking her under the arm, he ſaid thus unto her: You ſee, Faireſt Shepherdeſſe, that my Father is to depart as ſoon as dinner is done, and that I am conſtrained to go with him; ſome comforts I beſeech you give me, to preſerve the life of the moſt faithful ſervant that ever you had. Paris, anſwered ſhe, in the quality you mention, I cannot give you any, but in the quality of a perſon whom I do much honour, I will give you all I am able. In the quality you mention (anſwered Paris) I ſhould find nothing but death; and if you will not receive me as really I am, I beſeech you command me to dye: for I am not able to live and endure the torments which I do. Now, ſee how far ſpite and revenge may carry the heart of a woman, be ſhe never ſo wiſe. Diana to be revenged upon Sylvander, will alſo be revenged upon her ſelf: I do eſteem you ſo much (ſaid ſhe unto Paris) and do think the preſervation of your life ſo dear, that there are very few things which I would not do, to preſerve it. Tell me therefore what kind of contentments do you deſire I ſhould give you? That you would be pleaſed (replied Paris, and kiſſed her hand) to give me ſo far permiſſion as to ask the conſent of your Parents, that I may take you as my Wife, and one whom I will Honour, and Love as long as I have life. Bel [...]nde, anſwered ſhe, is my mother, ſhe only has the diſpoſe of me, and I give you all the leave you deſire.

Diana ſpoke theſe words as briefly, and as faſt as ſhe could; imitating thoſe who take a medicine, and make all the haſt they can to get it down: For ſhe never uttered any words more againſt her heart, and ſpoke them only to vex Sylvander; for had not paſſion poſſeſſed her underſtanding, ſhe would never have conſented unto it. For if Sylvander did not Love her, ſhe did not at all vex him by giving her ſelf unto another: and if he did Love her, why ſhould ſhe offer to give him any cauſe of vexation? For ſhe did not give this permiſſion unto Paris, but only to be revenged upon Sylvander; and would make her ſelf for ever miſerable, rather then not prejudice him: and in this, Paris found that there is a critical hour in which Women can deny nothing; and happy is he that can hit upon it, either by Prudence or by Fortune. The thanks he gave unto the Shepherdeſs, were very great, but to no purpoſe, for ſhe was ſo much out of her ſelf, that ſhe underſtood not a word; but as ſoon as ſhe came unto the houſe, ſhe ſtole away, and retired all alone to her Cabin, where giving her eyes leave to weep, ſhe ceaſed not all the reſt of the day, teaching us at her own expenſes, that ſometimes we Love more then we do think we do, and never come to know it, but by ſome imaginary ſcorn from the perſon loved, or when ſome conſtraint deprives us of ſight and preſence.

Adamas hearing by the way that Alexis was ſick, the better to diſguiſe his deſign, he entreated Daphnide and Al [...]idon to let him go and ſee in what condition ſhe was, ſeeming to be much troubled at his haſty departure: And becauſe both of them would accompany him, Aſtrea and Leonide finding her in bed, they ſhut the windows, and made the room ſo dark, that her face could not be ſeen. Alexis pretended [Page] to be exceedingly troubled in her head; and when Adamas told her how earneſtly Galathea had ſent for him, ſhe offered to riſe, and ſaid, ſhe hoped her diſeaſe was not ſo great, but that ſhe might follow him. But Astrea beſeeched Adamas not to ſuffer her to walk in the heat of the Sun, which doubtleſs would make her worſe; ſhe told him, that all the Town would be extreamly ſorry his daughter ſhould go from amongſt them in ſuch a condition, and that every one would be as officious and ready to ſerve her with all things that ſhould be requiſite, as he himſelf could be; and therefore, as a witneſs of all this, ſhe beſeeched him to let Leonide keep her company: Phocion and all the reſt joyned with her in this deſire, and uſed ſo many Arguments, that Adamas was eaſily perſwaded to leave this diſguiſed Druide amongſt them, yet ſeemed very ſorry for her, and ſaid he was afraid ſhe would be too troubleſome unto them: But Phocion anſwered all thoſe objections with words ſo full of civility and affection, that Adamas told him, he would leave her and Leonide amongſt them, commanding them both to come away as ſoon as Alexis was well again: Afterwards going unto the Bed, and taking Leonide by the hand, he told them in a low voice, that as ſoon as Galathea was paſt, he would either ſend unto them by Paris, or come himſelf; Then hearing that meat was upon the Table, he left the p [...]etended ſick perſon; and as ſoon as Dinner was ended, thanking Phocion and Aſtrea, he went away with Daphnide and Alcidon, and the reſt of the company. But Paris, who did not ſee Diana amongſt the company, did ask Phillis and Aſtrea where ſhe was? Who anſwered, that perhaps ſhe had ſome buſineſs at her houſe: Which Adamas and the ſtrangers hearing, they deſired Phillis and Aſtrea to preſent their ſorrows unto her, that they had not taken their leaves of her, and that if poſſibly they could, they would ſee her again before they went out of the Country.

All being thus parted, and thoſe who accompanied Adamas returned, Paris would no longer delay his buſineſs; but addreſſing himſelf unto Adamas, he beſeeched him he would be pleaſed to let him communicate a thing unto him by the way, which concerned himſelf and Diana. Adamas imagining his buſineſs, told him, with all his heart: But Paris having obtained this leave, and not knowing how to begin, he ſtood a long while, and ſpake not a word: yet Adamas knew well enough that love was the cauſe of his ſilence. Well Paris ſaid he, and ſmiled, Is this all you have to ſay? Paris opened his mouth two or three times, but bluſhed and trembled ſo, as he could not utter a word. Well well ſaid Adamas unto him, I underſtand you very well, and to put you out of your pain. I know that you are in love with Diana; but does Diana love Paris? Or rather, Does not Sylvander poſſeſs that place which Paris deſires to have? This infuſed ſo much confidence into Paris, that he anſwered Adamas, That he was afraid he had done amiſs in ſuffering his affection unto that Shepherdeſs to go too far, before he made him acquainted with it: That having uſed the habit of a Shepherd, and ſeeing her ſo oft, his love was grown to that height, as he was not able to live unleſs he had ſuch contentment as thoſe who really love do deſire; and therefore conſidering that thoſe Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes were extracted out of as ancient and honourable Families as any was in the Country, he thought it would be no diſparagement unto his Houſe, if he married Diana; and that Love did at laſt force him to acquaint her with his paſſion. And what anſwer did you receive from her, ſaid Adamas? That Belinde (anſwered Paris) was her mother, and had the ſole diſpoſition of her. Then ſaid Adamas unto him, I have long obſerved that you have loved that Shepherdeſs; and had I diſliked that alliance, I ſhould have forbidden the Banes before now: I do commend your choice, for Diana and Astrea are extracted out of the beſt Families not only of this Country, but all Gaul: Amaſis her ſelf when ſhe knows of it, will acknowledge as much: Alſo the Vertue and Modeſty of this Shepherdeſs is ſuch, as I ſhall think him very happy that marries her: I mention not her Beauty, becauſe that is one of the leaſt conſiderable qualities in a Wife; though ſhe may brag that ſhe is one of the faireſt about all Lignon, and this Lignon includes all Europe. And therefore, I do not only give you all the leave you can deſire, but do counſel and adviſe you not to loſe a minute of time: And becauſe I am now going to Bonlieu, where Galathea may perhaps ſtay me a day or two, I adviſe you to go home, and make all ready for your [Page] journey, and when you come to Bonlieu, I will have a letter ready for you to carry unto Belinde, that ſhe may know who you are, and treat you, according to your own deſires. Upon this, Paris kiſſed the hand of Adamas, gave him a thouſand thanks for this favour, and taking leave of him, of Daphnide, of Alcidon, and of all the reſt of the Company, he took upon the left hand, and went unto the houſe of Adamas, full of contentment, and joy.

As ſoon as dinner was done, the Nymph Galathea and Damon departed from Bonlieu, to go unto Amaſis, who being very impatient, or rather troubled at the news which ſhe received, had ſent another Cavalier to haſte them away. This was a cauſe why Adamas ſetting out later then the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, he did not find her at the Temple of the good Goddeſſe as ſhe extreamly deſired; but he, being very diligent to obſerve her as his Lady and Miſtreſs, and knowing ſhe was gone, he entreated Daphnide and Alcidon to continue on their journey, and he would ſend Lerindas to acquaint the Nymph, who he was confident would ſtay for them and take them in her Coach. Theſe ſtrangers were willing to ſatisfie his deſire, and continued on the way, and Lerindas at the Druides command, ran before.

In the mean time, the Nymph and Damon, went on their journey, and talked upon ſeveral things as well as the way would permit them: For Damon would not go in the Coach, but armed, rid upon an excellent Horſe, which the Nymph ſent him, thinking himſelf in a condition to defend Fair Ladies; and therefore that day, he wore his Head-piece, and his Buckler, which at other times his ſervant was wont to carry. Riding on in this manner, when they were paſt the Bridge of Boutereſs, and entred into a wood, through which the high way paſſed, not far from the houſe of Adamas, Halladine who was behind Galatheas Coach, ſaw three Cavaliers come ruſhing out of the wood, betwixt him and Damon, and ran with their Launces in their Reſt as faſt as their Horſes could ride, againſt his Maſter: This Faithful ſervant, could advertiſe his Maſter no other way, then by crying out as loud as he could; the Cavalier turning his head at his ſervants cry, ſaw the three Cavaliers ſo neer upon him, as all he could do was to draw his Sword, and ſheild himſelf with his Buckler. Theſe three were no ſooner out of the wood, but Galathea ſaw other three, who galloped as faſt as they could up to Damon alſo: who having not ſeen the firſt three, ſhe and her Nymphes in the Coach cried out, which cauſed Damon to turn about towards them, and miſs the ſhock of two Launces, which otherwiſe would certainly have thrown him to the ground: the third who came a little after the other two, received the wages for all three; for Damon in a fury to ſee himſelf thus unworthily treated, did cut off moſt of his Arm, and he fell at his Horſes feet. Damon ſtill hearing the Nymphes to cry out louder and louder, he turned towards them, and ſaw the other three Cavaliers; who more adviſed then the firſt, ran all three with their Launces at his Horſe, ſo as he fell immediatly, and gave his Rider no more time then to get his feet out of the ſtirrups. Damon then leaping out of the Saddle, and ſeeing himſelf ſet on by no fewer then five at once he thought his beſt courſe was to keep neer his Horſe which lay dead; and thoſe who aſſaulted him, ſeeing their horſes to boggle at the dead one, three of them alighted, and two kept ſtill on horſ-back, and thus all five fell upon him at once moſt furiouſly. Damon who had formerly been in the like condition, reſolved to fell his life as deerly as he could; and the firſt footman he met with, he gave him ſuch a blow on his head, that the mans Arms being good, but he not able to bear the weight of that blow, he fell down in a dead ſwoon, and falling with his head againſt a ſtone, his head piece fell off: ſo as the fight being neer the Coach, Galathea and all the Nymphs knew him to belong unto Polemas, ſo as all the Nymphs perſwaded Galathea to ſtay no longer there for fear of ſome Treaſon againſt her: In the mean time the Souldiers were very buſy about Damon; but the Nymph anſwered, that it were a ſhame for her to leave ſo brave a Cavalier in the midſt of a danger, whereof ſhe her ſelf was the cauſe. Whilſt the Nymphs were thus talking, Damon had ſweathed his ſword up to the very hilts in the body of one of his enemies; but another of them, ſpying his opportunity, did cloſe with Damon, and threw him to the ground, but yet Damon was fully revenged: for there being a defect in the [Page] Souldier's Armour, Damon's ſword ran him into the belly, ſo as he fell dead ſome two or three paces off: Of ſix, there remained now but three that were able to offend him, and all on foot; and they fell upon him ſo reſolutely, as doubtleſs they had diſpatched him, had not a Shepherd and a Shepherdeſs come luckily to the place: For the Shepherd ſeeing ſo many upon one, he went to Damon's ſervant, and asked him why he did not defend his Maſter? Alas friend (ſaid the ſervant) moſt willingly I would if I might; but not being of the Order of Cavalry, my Maſter has charged me not to preſume unto ſo much honour as to uſe a weapon. A moſt curſed conſideration it is (ſaid the Shepherd) that hinders thee from helping ſo brave a Maſter in his need: Upon this the Shepherd ran to one of the dead Cavaliers, took his Sword and Buckler, and fell couragiouſly upon one of them that was upon Damon, giving him ſuch a blow upon his ſhoulder, that he made him turn towards him, and upon his turning, the Shepherd ran his Sword through the Cavaliers body under his right Arm, ſo as he fell down dead cloſe by his companions: This did extreamly amaze thoſe that were upon Damon; and one of them ſeeing the Shepherd diſarmed, did bid his companion chaſtiſe him who had killed their fellow; which he did accordingly, and fell upon him ſo furiouſly, that having the advantage of fighting with one unarmed, he gave him two or three great wounds in his Body, although the Shepherd defended himſelf very bravely, and with much courage and dexterity; but alas, all the blows he made were againſt hard Armour, and all thoſe he received, upon his naked body. Damon in the mean time having now no more but one to deal with, yet he received two or three wounds in his Thigh; but however, he cloſed with his Antagoniſt, and ran him into the Belly, ſo as he fell dead at his feet. Then running to relieve the Shepherd who had relieved him, he fell upon the Souldier who had newly ſo wounded the Shepherd, as he was ſtaggering and ready to fall: Damon preſently with a dexterous blow divided his head and his ſhoulders; and the poor Shepherd having ſeen his revenge, he fell to the ground almoſt dead. The Shepherdeſs ran preſently unto him, and ſitting down upon the ground, did lay the Shepherds bleeding head in her lap, ſo full of ſorrow to ſee him in that ſad condition, as ſhe wiſhed her ſelf in the ſame. Damon was going to help her, when Galathea cryed out, and bade him take heed; and doubtleſs he had been in great danger, had ſhe not cryed out; for he thinking that all the ſix Souldiers were dead, he never imagined that he who lay in a ſwoon ſhould riſe again, and come behind him; but turning preſently about upon her cry, he ſaw the man with his Arm up; who gave ſuch a weighty blow upon his Buckler, as he clove it in two; had this blow been given behind upon his head, doubtleſſe it had cloven it alſo in two, for he had put his Helmet off. This fellow being both ſtout and deſperate, and Damon being both wounded and weary, the fight was very dangerous unto him, for he was not ſo nimble and dexterous as uſual: yet at the laſt, he ran his Sword into the very throat of his enemy, who fell choaked in his own blood.

In the mean time Adamas came to the place, and Alcidon and Hermantes ſeeing all this, alſo thinking that perhaps there would be no more work, they ran preſently to thoſe that lay dead, and ſeized upon their ſwords and bucklers; then they went unto the Nymphs Coach to defend her, and preſented themſelves in ſuch a poſture, as made it apparently appear, they could do ſomthing elſe beſides keeping of Sheep, although they were in that habit: As for Adamas, he went to the Shepherdeſs, and finding him whoſe head lay in her lap to be very much wounded, he helped her to binde up his wounds, which he had finiſhed; when Galathea ſeeing the Souldier diſpatched, ſhe went unto Damon, to know how he did. Damon who ſaw that the man who had relieved him was in a bad condition, he ran preſently to help him, but he found that Adamas had already bound up his wounds, and the Shepherdeſs leaning over him ſo ſwelled with Tears, that ſhe never looked up. The Shepherd finding that his end was near, did offer twice or thrice to turn his head and look upon her, but he could not, becauſe he lay the contrary way; yet hearing what ſad ſighs and tears ſhe ſhed for him: Be of good comfort Madam (ſaid he unto her) and fear not, but that he who is the juſt Judge of all, will ſend you ſome in my room to conduct you into your Country: the greateſt grief that I ſhall carry to my grave, is, to leave you in this Country, and ſee none with you that will ſerve you as faithfully as [Page] hitherto I have done: but I know that the great and good Tautates will hear my prayers, and guide you out of the place ſo full of danger. He would have ſpoken more but his weakneſs would not permit him. Then the Shepherdeſs began: Alas (ſaid ſhe) will you leave me in my greateſt need? Have you not promiſed never to forſake me, till we find the Cavalier whom we ſeek for? Madam anſwered the Shepherd, it is the fault of Fate, not mine: for I proteſt, I would never leave you untill I have put you into the hands of the Knight of the Tiger, as you deſire. Alas Madam, you cannot juſtly accuſe me of any thing, but undertaking more then I was able to perform; In all this long voyage, I have rendered you all the honour, all the reſt, and all the ſervices I was able, and the great Tautates be my witneſſe, I would have continued it ſtill, if my life might continue: and could I but ſee you in any place of ſafety, death ſhould be muſt welcom unto me.

Damon as I told you, ran to held the Shepherd; but as ſoon as ever he caſt his eye upon him, and ſaw his face, he was amazed, and ſtood looking upon him as if he were immovable: and doubtleſſe his admiration had been more, had not the Shepherdeſs lifted up her drooping head, ſo as he thought that he ſhould know her face, and the tone of her voice: but the habit of a Shepherdeſs and a Shepherd, and the wan paleneſs of both their faces, made him ſtand in doubt, whether his eyes and his eares did deceive him. In the mean time Halladine came unto him to bind up his wounds; but he was ſo taken up with the ſight of this Shepherdeſs and Shepherd, that without anſwering Halladine, or ſo much as ſeeing him, he ſuffered him to take away his Buckler, and began to diſ-arm him, where he ſaw the blood run, when Adamas and Galathea came to him, and when the Shepherd, caſting his eye by chance upon the Buckler which Halladine laid upon the ground; Oh good God, Madam (ſaid he unto her) what is this I ſee? and with much a do, holding out his arm, he ſhewed her the Buckler with a Tiger feeding upon a mans heart: ſo as knowing it to belong unto that Cavalier whom they were in queſt of; Oh happy Therſander (cryed he out) now dye when thou wilt with full contentment, ſince Heaven has been ſo favourable unto thee as to ſee Madonthe in the hands of her ſo much deſired Protector. Damon hearing the name of Therſander, and afterwards Madonthe; and both of them looking upon him, he had been blind if he had not known them. Now did he plainly ſee his long lookt for Madonthe, and Therſander alſo, whoſe life he ſo reſolved to take away. His love of Madonthe, his hatred of Therſander, and his unexpected meeting with them, did make him tremble, as if he had an extream fit of an ague upon him: He knew not what to do; whether he ſhould go away, or whether he ſhould take revenge, and kill the raviſher of his happineſs before the face of her whom he thought had uſed him ſo ill: The injury which he conceived he had received, did invite him to it; and his affection and reſpect ſtayed his trembling hand: But at laſt, thinking upon the Oracle which he had received at Mount Verdune, he quenched all deſires of revenge. But ſhaking from him all thoſe that were ſo buſie in diſ-arming him, who thought that his trembling proceeded from his wounds, he ran preſently to the Shepherdeſs.

Oh Madonthe, Madonthe! cryed he out, has Heaven been ſo favourable to me, as to let me once more ſee you before I dye? Upon this kneeling down upon the ground before her, he offered to take her hand and kiſs it; but Madonthe ſurpriſed beyond imagination, firſt, to have met with the Knight of the Tiger whom ſhe ſought for, and ſecondly, ſeeing him to be Damon whom ſhe thought long ſince dead, ſhe was ſo raviſhed with wonder, that ſeeing him upon his knees before her, when ſhe leaſt hoped for him, ſhe could not chuſe but with open arms embrace him: But this unexpected meeting, and ſudden joy, made her look as if death were in her face. Damon, on his ſide, looked as pale as ſhe, ſo as if Halladine had not run preſently to hold them up, doubtleſs they had both faln to the ground. Therſander now knowing him alſo to be Damon, and hearing him ſpeak, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, having not ſo much ſtrength as to ſtir his hands: Oh God! ſaid he, How juſt, how good, and how omnipotent thou art? Juſt in rendring Damon unto Madonthe, and Madonthe unto Damon; good in making three perſons happy at once: Theſe two Lovers in meeting that happineſs they deſired, and Therſander in ſeeing ſo good a concluſion of his ſervices; and omnipotent in bringing all theſe [Page] things to paſs when we leaſt hoped for them: Oh Madonthe! Oh Damon! may you enjoy all fulneſs of contentment, and live happily together many, many years. Upon this expreſſion he grew pale, and reſigned his laſt breath with ſuch a ſmiling countenance, as plainly ſhewed he left this life with contentment. Galathea in the mean time, and Adamas, who with all the reſt of the Nymphs were come to this Cavalier, they were all in extream amazement, to ſee all theſe three perſons look as if they were all dead alike. But Halladine who loved his Maſter extreamly, Madam (ſaid he) if there be any ſparke of pity in you, I beſeech you command Damon to diſ-arm himſelf, leaſt his loſs of blood prove the loſs of his life. How friend, ſaid Alcidon to Halladine, is this Damon the Valiant Cavalier of Aquitane? The very ſame Sir, ſaid Halladine, who has loſt more blood in eight dayes he has been here in this Country; then he has of many years in all other places: Oh Father! (ſaid Alcidon unto Adamas) I beſeech you let us contribute all the help we can; for I can aſſure you, there is not a braver and more accompliſhed Cavalier in all Aquitane then this: Then kneeling down upon the ground, he began to diſ-arm him, Damon not being ſenſible of it. As for Madonthe after ſhe had continued a while in a ſwoon, ſhe came again to her ſelf; and ſeeing every one ſo buſie about Damon, ſhe thought that he was dead of thoſe wounds which he received in the combate. Oh my God! cryed ſhe out, and wrung her hands, muſt I loſe thee Damon as ſoon as ever I have found thee? And muſt I ſee thee now, never to ſee thee again? Miſerable wretched Madonthe, what malevolent Star is predominate over thee? Muſt thou receive a happineſs only to be the more ſenſible of its loſs? Oh Heavens! Oh Fate! was ever ſuch bitter torments reſerved for any that lives? Life I defie thee; and torments do your worſt till you have brought me to my grave: upon this, her ſighs and her tears did ſo ſtop the paſſage of her voice, that ſhe was forced to be ſilent; but her ſilence moved ſo much compaſſion in all the Nymphs, that whilſt Alcidon, Daphnide, Hermantes, Adamas, and Galathea, were about Damon, they took the Shepherdeſs under her arms, and removed her almoſt by force from the place where ſhe was, every one giving her all the conſolation they could.

In the mean time, Damon was diſ-armed, his wounds bound up as well as the inconveniency of the place would permit; and a little after he began to open his eyes: but being ſo weak as he was not able to riſe, he turned his head two or three times about to look for Madonthe: and Halladine knowing very well what he looked for; Sir, ſaid he unto him, do not trouble your ſelf ſo much, Madonthe is not far from you; aſſume to your ſelf Sir a little courage, and all will be well: Halladine (anſwered Damon) what doeſt thou talk of courage? Doſt thou think I can want any, that had ſo much as to love the perfections of Madonthe? But where is ſhe? And what is it, which hinders me from a ſight of that Fair Face? is ſhe ſtill with Therſander? Therſander Sir, anſwered Halladine, is dead, and dyed to ſave your life, by which you may ſee the truth of the Oracle, and what great reaſon you have to rejoyce, ſince now your troubles are all to end. Halladine, ſaid Damon, help me to riſe, that I may ſee whether all thou ſayſt is true. Madonthe hearing all that Damon ſaid, ſhe took heart; and being extreamly joyed to ſee him in a better condition then ſhe imagined, ſhe roſe up, and ran as faſt as ſhe could unto him, and without any regard unto thoſe about him, ſhe almoſt ſmothered him with embraces; but being taken off by Halladine, who feared that her exceſſive kindneſs might make him worſe, ſhe ſat down upon the ground by him; and looking upon him with eyes full of admiration: Ah Damon! ſaid ſhe unto him, is Heaven ſo good unto me, as to let me ſee thee once more? Is it poſſible that the Knight of the Tiger, who reſcued me from the hands of the perfidious Leriana, ſhould prove to be Damon, whom ſhe had ſo craftily given ſo much occaſion to hate me? And is it poſſible, Cavalier, that thy affection to me ſhould be above her malice, and that out of thy generoſity thou ſhouldeſt ſave her life, whom by her ſubtilty thou hadſt reaſon to hate unto death? But Cavalier, if thou art indeed that Damon of whom I ſpeak, and if all thoſe cauſes, together with ſo long abſence from me, have not changed thy affection, why doſt thou ſtay ſo long before thou giveſt me ſome aſſurance of it? Damon then taking her hand; yes, yes Madam, ſaid he, I am the very ſame Damon you ſpeak of; and ſweat that I am nothing changed, unleſs it be in loving you more then ever I did: [Page] All the venom of Leriana, nor all the happineſs of Therſander, was not able to diminiſh the leaſt ſpark of my vowed affection to you; Heaven is the witneſs of all my thoughts, and the Sun has ſeen all my actions: and I challenge them both to upbraid me with the leaſt ſtain of my fidelity to you. I muſt needs confeſs, replied Madonthe, that the treaſon of Leriana was enough to make you hate me, and to believe all that ſhe had infuſed into you concerning the happineſſe of Therſander: But I do vow unto you by the memory of my honoured Father, and by all my deſires and hopes of any happineſs, that all I did was only to be the more loved by you; and all the favours done unto Therſander, was only to reclaim Damon from an imaginary affection; and my deſign in abſenting my ſelf from my Country, and my friends, was only to ſeek out Damon under the Notion and Arms of the Knight of the Tiger. Oh ye good Gods! (cryed out Damon) Never was Cavalier in the world ſo happy as I am, ſince I have received theſe aſſurances from the mouth of Madonthe.

She would have replied, when Adamas miſtruſting the ſecurity of that place, and fearing leſt the wounds of Damon ſhould grow worſe, he told Galathea, that he thought it convenient to carry this Cavalier unto ſome place where his wounds might be better dreſt, and ſince he was very weak, he deſired he might reſt himſelf ſome dayes in his houſe, becauſe it was the neereſt place of conveniency. Neceſſity made the Nymph conſent unto this motion; ſo as ſending unto ſome of the Neighboring Hamblets, they got Damon to be carried unto the houſe of Adamas, and the corps of Therſander unto the Town of Marſelles, to give it an honourable Funeral. In the mean time Galathea advertiſed Amaſis by Lerindas, of all theſe paſſages, beſeeching her that Damon might be put into ſome place of ſafety, which when ſhe had done, ſhe would preſently come and receive her commands.

Madonthe could not poſſibly chuſe but lament the loſs of poor Therſander, and certainly it had coſt her many more tears had ſhe not met with Damon: But however; his long fidelity, affection, and ſervice, might well claim ſome tears for his diſaſterous Fate, and in reward of all his pains, which ſhe did moſt zealouſly pay. In the mean time, they began to carry away Damon, who turning his head every way to ſee what Madonthe did, and ſpying the body of Therſander, he could not chuſe but ſigh, not yet knowing whether he ſhould wiſh him alive or no. Yet conſidering that he dyed to ſave his life, his generoſity conſtrained him to ſay, Farewell Friend, reſt contented, in that having Damon for thy enemy, thou haſt obliged him to lament thy loſs, and to call thee his Friend. Upon this, he held out his hand unto Madonthe, who came unto him, and never left him until he was in the houſe of Adamas, although Galathea did moſt earneſtly deſire her to come into the Coach, chuſing rather to follow Damon on foot, then to be one minute abſent from him.

On the other ſide, Adamas having preſented Daphnide, Alcidon, and the reſt of their Company unto the Nymph, and ſhe receiving them with all expreſſions of civility, that the trouble wherein ſhe was would permit; ſhe took them into her Coach: as for Adamas, he would needs follow Damon, whom they carried a ſhorter way then the Coach was able to go. In the mean time Lerindas, leaving thoſe that were to bring the corps of Therſander, he ran as faſt as he could before, to advertiſe Amaſis, according to the inſtructions of Galathea; and though he ſaw ſeveral perſons running up and down the fields on his left hand, and though he thought them to belong unto Polemas, yet he went on, having a command to ſpeak unto none but Amaſis: yet he whom Polemas had ſet as a ſpy upon the way, to obſerve who paſſed, ran preſently unto him to acquaint him; and preſently after, another brought him word that they ſaw a Company coming, who carried ſomthing like a corps. Polemas who ſtayed there only to know the ſooner what was become of Damon, did preſently beleeve, that is was he whom they brought dead, or at leaſt wounded. And rejoycing much in himſelf, though ſeeming to be much troubled, he walked ſoftly to the way, ſeeming ignorant of Galatheas removing from Bonlieu, he asked thoſe who were with him, whom it might be whom they brought in this manner. None knew what to anſwer, becauſe he had not diſcovered his enterpriſe unto any about him, being more politique then to divulge thoſe deſign, which he [Page] intended to execute: after he had walked a little farther, one of his men came and told him, that it was one who was dead, whom Galathea had cauſed to be carried unto Marcelles, and who was killed in her preſence within the next wood. Now did he begin to think that the Souldiers had executed what they had promiſed, and began to guſt all the ſweets of revenge; but it laſted no longer then till he met this corps: for obſerving it to be the corps of no Cavalier, and asking where they found that corps, and whither they carried it? The men anſwered, that Galathea had been ſet upon by ſix Cavaliers, that one ſingle man had defeated them all: that this Shepherd offering to aſſiſt was killed, but all the reſt lay dead upon the ground, and that they carried the corps of this Shepherd unto Marſelles, by command of Galathea, to be there honorably interred. But, ſaid Polemas, what is become of the Cavalier that reſiſted all the reſt? He is much wounded, anſwered they, and is carried unto the houſe of the grand Druide. Polemas then ſeeming to know nothing of the buſineſs: This it is (ſaid he as went away) to caſhier Souldiers without a cauſe; I do verily believe, theſe are ſome of them that were caſhiered, who being angry againſt Damon, did now ſeek to be revenged upon him in this wood; and this he ſaid as a preparative to an excuſe when Galathea ſhould complain againſt him, for he did imagine that the men would be all known. Then continuing ſtill his hunting, to take away all thoughts that he had any hand in the buſineſs; he preſently diſpatched one of his men to congratulate Galathea from him, for the good Fortune which Damon had in this Country, and commanded the man to take eſpecial notice of all the words, and have an obſervant eye over all the actions of the Nymph. And at the ſame time diſpatched another man to acquaint Amaſis with the accident, beſeeching her not to ſuffer Galathea to go abroad any more alone, and without ſuch guards as are fitting for her Grandeur: he alſo commanded this man to have a ſpecial obſervance of all that Amaſis ſaid and did.

Clidamant, Guyemant, and Lindamore, with moſt of the Cavalry in the Country, being now in the Army of the Franks, Polemas ſtayed at home as Lieutenant unto Amaſis, in the room of Clidamant; And an ambitious deſign ſwelled him with hopes to make himſelf Lord of this Province; and yet conſidering what abundance of difficulties he was to meet withall, in altering the Fundamental Laws of a State, and in taking the whole frame from off its baſis, he thought it expedient, firſt, to try all wayes if he could marry Galathea, and left nothing invented which might probably bring it to paſs: Now ſeeing but only two ways to compaſs his deſign, the one by ſweetneſs, the other by violence, he would firſt try if he could win her good will; and if that failed, then to have recourſe unto the faſt remedy.

In order to his firſt deſign, he would imploy that pretended Druide, called Climanthes, who had formerly told Galathea her Fortune, having an opinion, that the Nymph had a Genius, very apt and inclinable to hearken unto ſuch impoſtures and Novelties. He procured him therefore to ſet up his Cell again neer the Garden of Mount Briſon where it was before; and ſetting all his things in better order as he thought, then formerly; he ſhewed himſelf two or three dayes, in hopes that Galathea would come and viſit him as before ſhe had done. And Polemas to make the beſt uſe of the abſence of Clidamant and Lindamore he could, he provided himſelf of many Souldiers in the Dominions of the Viſigots and Burgundians, who remained quietly in the neighbouring Towns in expectation of his commands. He had already courted himſelf into the amity of the neighbour Princes, by corrupting their principal Officers; and was ſo liberal in the Seguſian Country, ſo Courteous both to people and Souldiers, and ſo reſpective unto the Druides, Fubages, Sarronides, Vaces, and other Sacrificers, as every one deſired nothing more then the marriage betwixt Galathea and him, unleſs ſome few, who being wiſer then the reſt, did plainly ſee that all this was not his nature, but only forced to compaſſe his ends in obtaining Soveraign Power, which once gotten, he would not keep by the ſame means he got it, but by more ſharp and Tyranique courſes. It was long before Amaſis could ſee theſe things; becauſe an honeſt and good ſoul cannot imagine that a perſon obliged ſhould ever become ungrateful and traiterous. But at the laſt, ſhe began to perceive it by a letter which dropped from him, in which ſhe found out what great [Page] intimacy there was betwixt Gond [...]bant and him, and therefore aſſoon as Lerindas told her of the accident which had hapned unto Damon, and that it was by the Souldiers of Polemas, ſhe believed him to be the ſetter on; yet knowing how dangerous it is to ſhew any miſtruſt of a Prime Officer, before one be in a good capacity to oppoſe him: when the Meſſenger of Polemas came to deliver his meſſage, ſhe ſeemed very thankful unto him for the care he had of Galathea, and ſent him word b [...]ck, that his Counſel was ſo good, as ſhe would follow it in this and all things elſe; And diſpatching away the Meſſenger, ſhe left Marſelles, and went unto the houſe of Adamas with a good guard of Cavaliers to wait upon her: For the news which ſhe had received from the Army of the Francks, did extreamly trouble her; and ſhe feared that ſince it could not be long kept in ſecret, Polemas would reſolve upon ſome ill deſign, as of late ſhe began to think he was apt to do.

Galathea was no ſooner come to the houſe of Adamas, but the Meſſenger from Polemas came alſo, and delivered the meſſage of his Maſter very bluntly unto her; but ſhe not being able to hide the diſpleaſure which ſhe had conceived againſt him, anſwered him very ſharply: Go and tell your Maſter, ſaid ſhe, that I am very much diſpleaſed with thoſe that belong unto him; and if he do not take ſome better order, I ſhall be very angry with him.

In the mean time Damon was got into bed, and when the Chyrurgions ſearched his wounds, they found them to be more painful then dangerous; For though he was run through the Thigh in two or three ſeveral places, yet as happy luck was, no Nerve nor Vein was hurt, which joyed Madonthe beyond all expreſſions. The Chyrurgions knowing that the contentment of the mind was highly conducible to the cure of the body, they intreated Madonthe not to ſtir from him; and becauſe ſhe was deſirous he ſhould know all her adventures ſince ſhe came out of Aquitane, ſhe did not only anſwer unto all his queſtions, but related all the plots and ſubtilties of Leriana, which ſhe had contrived to the advantage of Therſander: But when ſhe came to rehearſe the grief which ſhe conceived at his death, when Halladine brought the Handkerchief full of blood unto Leriana, and Therſanders Ring unto her, ſhe was not able to refrain from tears: then ſhe related the horrours of that ignominious death which ſhe was to dye, and the unlookt for relief which ſhe received from the Knight of the Tiger: And his departing unknown, continued ſhe, was the cauſe of my reſolution to ſeek him out. But cruel Damon, ſaid ſhe, for I muſt give you that Title, how could you find a heart to go away and never tell me who you were? Why ſhould you after you had given life to my body, raviſh away the life of my ſoul? Why would you not let me know you were alive? Oh Damon! how many ſad ſighes, ſorrows and tears, had you ſpared me if you had? Afterward ſhe related unto him her reſolution of ſeeking out this unknown Knight, whom ſhe was in queſt of, though ſhe knew no reaſon, why ſhe ſhould be ſo earneſt after him: But the allwiſe providence of Heaven would have it ſo, that I might find Damon under the name of another: The truth is, continued ſhe, I had a far fetched conceipt, that I ſhould find him thus, or elſe I ſhould never find him; and you ſee how happily God brings all things about: Therſander was the firſt cauſe of our ſeparation, and Therſander is the laſt cauſe of our conjunction; how faithfully has he waited upon me, and kept himſelf within the limits of a reſpectful diſtance, maugre all the falacies and falſe hopes that Leriana had inſuſed into him; by which the beſt adviſed man might well have been deluded? Upon this ſhe acquainted him how her Nurſe dyed at Mount Dor; how ſhe met with Laonice, Hylas, and Tirsis; and how the Oracle cauſed her to come into this Country, where ſhe had ſpent her time in the Company of Aſtrea, Diana, Phillis, and other Shepherdeſſes of Lignon, from whom ſhe departed that morning, with a deſign of returning into Aquitane, and there ſpend the reſt of her days amongſt the Veſtals and Druides Daughters. To be brief, ſhe omitted nothing, but made a moſt faithful relation of every paſſage unto Damon, who hearkned unto it with ſo much joy and contentment, as he knew not which way to be thankful enough unto his good Fortune, for this favour: and after a while of raviſhment in this contemplation, he ſaid unto her, I ſhall Madam another time give you an exact relation of my life ſince I had the happineſs of ſeeing you laſt; but at this time the Chyrurgions forbid me ſpeaking, and therefore I will not uſe any [Page] long diſcourſe, only let me tell you, that I hope our future Fortunes will be better then they have been: For the Oracle which I conſulted with at Mount Verdun, aſſured me that I ſhould be reſtored from death to life by that man whom I moſt hated and contemned: And ſee how this poor Cavalier brought you hither, where I find you: For the Truth is, I might moſt rightly be ſaid to be dead when I was deprived of you; and alive again in the happineſs of being with you; when I do conſider the paſſage, I cannot chuſe but admire at the wiſe providence of the Great Gods, who has ordered Therſander to give me a double life, the life of my body, by that relief which he brought me, and the life of my ſoul, in conducting you Madam unto the place where I was: There is only one doubt in the Oracle, which I do ſcruple at:

The Oracle.

AND thou, O perfect Lover, when

Thou hear'ſt a Diamond ſpeak: Oh! then

From Death to Life thou ſhalt return,

By help of him whom thou didſt ſcorn.

I ſee, (ſaid he) that all is moſt perfectly accompliſhed, except this hearing a Diamond ſpeak, unleſs the Oracle will have me to take you Madam, for a Diamond in conſtancy and excellency of amity. Adamas hearkned unto this Diſcourſe very attentively; Sir, ſaid he, and ſmiled, if I had been known unto you, the obſcurity of this Oracle would vaniſh: for my name is Adamas, which ſingifies in the Roman Language a Diamond; ſo as this Oracle let you know, that as ſoon as you hear me, this accident ſhall befall you; and ſo indeed it did: For at the very ſame time that Alcidon, Daphnide, and I, came unto the place where you were, you met with Madonthe. I muſt confeſs (ſaid Damon) the Oracle is fully cleered, and I am moſt humbly thankful unto that Deity which ordained me this happineſs when I leaſt expected it: But Reverend Father, continued he, and looked about the Chamber, I heard you name two perſons, whom I infinitely eſteem, and ſhould think my ſelf very happy to ſee in this place. Then Alcidon ſtepped to him, and imbracing him, ſaid, yes Damon, Daphnide and Alcidon are here, and are conducted unto this Country of wonders, by the ſame Love which brought you into it: At the ſame time Daphnide came unto him, and ſaluting him, ſaid, yes, yes Damon, Madonthe can tell you, that Daphnide is alſo here, and preſents her ſelf unto you under the notion of one of your beſt Friends. Damon being ſurpriſed to ſee this Cavalier, and this Lady, thus clad in the habit of Shepherds, he knew not at firſt whether he was aſleep or awake; but afterwards touching them, and hearing them ſpeak, he embraced them, and cryed out; O Alcidon! I muſt needs confeſs with you, that this Country is a Country of Wonders, but they are wonders full of joy and happineſs, greater then ever I could hope to ſee. Whilſt Daphnide and Alcidon were ſaluting, Madonthe, and they were all rejoycing together at their happy meeting, news was brought unto Adamas that the Nymph Amaſis was entred into the Court; and he was no ſooner out of the Chamber to meet her, but he found her at the door, where after ſhe had ſtayed a little, ſhe entred into the room where Damon was: I think, valiant Cavalier, ſaid ſhe unto him, that I ſhall never come to ſee you, but ſhall find you thus unfortunately wounded. Madam, anſwered Damon, I ſhall never complain againſt any of theſe wounds which I have received: For the firſt, gave me the honour of ſeeing the Nymph Galathea, and then you Madam; and theſe laſt have made me meet with her, who only in all the World can make me happy: ſo as in lieu of complaining againſt this Country, I have cauſe to Love it, eſteem it, and ſpeak well of it. Upon this Amaſis being informed of the quality of Madonthe, ſhe went to embrace her, and careſs her according to her merits; and becauſe ſhe took no notice of Daphnide and Alcidon; I perceive Madam, (ſaid Damon unto her) that thoſe two perſons are unknown unto you, but be pleaſed to know, that they are worth your acquaintance; for though you ſee them thus diſguiſed, yet Madam [Page] the one is Daphnide, and the other is Alcidon; the very ſame Daphnide whoſe merits ſo much commanded the affection of the Great Eurick: And the very ſame Alcidon, ſo Feared and Loved for his valour by Thoriſmond King of the Viſigots, and all thoſe that ſucceeded him. Amaſis, upon this, gave him thanks for his advice, and went to embrace them: It had been enough (ſaid ſhe) if you had only told me their right names; for as ſoon as I had heard them, I ſhould preſently have known theſe two to be the Great Favorites of King Eurick: But I muſt needs confeſs, that ſeeing them thus habited, I ſhould not have known them for what they are, and therefore I am obliged unto you for telling me. The obligation Madam, replied Daphnide, is on our ſides, ſince he has made us known unto the greateſt, moſt eſteemed, and honoured Nymph amongſt all the Gaules. But Sir, ſaid Amaſis unto Alcidon, how came you to be thus diſguiſed? And where met you with this Shepherds habit? The Story of it Madam, anſwered Alcidon, would be too long; but I beſeech you, who can be in Forreſts and not become a Shepherd? The Country is ſo full of accompliſhed Shepherds, and Fair Shepherdeſſes, as I rather wonder that you Madam, and all your Nymphs, are not in the Habits of Shepherdeſſes.

I am very glad (anſwered the Nymph) that you have found any thing in this Country which pleaſeth you; but when we have the happineſs to ſee you in Marſelles, perhaps you will not think my Nymphs leſs lovely then the Shepherdeſſes, nor find them in any humour of changing habits with them. Madam, (anſwered Alcidon) I do not doubt of any thing you ſay; but I beſeech you give me leave to be ſilent, and to ſay nothing unto what I do not yet know.

The Nymph had continued the diſcourſe longer, if ſhe had not been very deſirous to have ſome talk with the ſage Adamas: and having held a long diſcourſe with Galathea and him, upon the news which ſhe had received, ſhe went at laſt unto Damon, and asked him how he did after his wounds were dreſſed? And underſtanding that he found himſelf much better, ſhe left him with Madonthe, ſaying ſhe would not hinder them of their contentments in talking privately together: Then ſhe commanded Silvia, and the reſt of the Nymphs, to entertain Daphnide and her Company, and to ſhew Alcidon that the Nymphs of Marſelles do not yeild unto the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon. Upon this taking Adamas by one hand, and Galathea by another, ſhe went into the Gallery, where the doors being all ſhut, ſhe took a whole turn before ſhe began to ſpeak: afterwards aſſuming another look more ſerious then before, and ſeeming to be much troubled, ſhe turned her ſelf toward Adamas and ſpoke thus.

Father (ſaid ſhe) I have things of great importance to impart unto you; and you muſt give me that Faithful and Prudent Counſel, which you were always wont: and becauſe I may perhaps forget ſome material paſſages, I deſire that he who brought me the news, may make the relation of it unto you, if we have but as much time afterwards as to return unto Marſelles: Madam, anſwered Adamas, I pray Heaven you be not miſtaken in my Prudence, and I dare anſwer for my fidelity; and as for your return unto Marſelles, I ſhall hope that unleſs your haſte be very great, you will honour me and my houſe ſo much as to ſtay this night in it: Father, (anſwered Amaſis) if the urgency of my affairs would permit it, I ſhould be very willing; but when you ſhall hear what the Cavalier will ſay whom Lindamore ſent unto me, you will not judg it convenient: Then cauſing Galathea to call in the Cavalier whom Lindamore ſent, and the doors being ſhut, pray Sir, ſaid ſhe unto the Cavalier, make us a relation of all the meſſage which Lindamore has ſent unto me, and omit not any particular either concerning our affairs, or the affairs of Childerick and Guyemant, ſince they are ſo linked together, that they can hardly be ſeparated. Upon this, placing the Cavalier between her ſelf and Adamas, and holding Galathea in her other hand, they all walked together; and the Cavalier in obedience to her commands, with a deep ſigh, began thus.

The Hiſtory of Childerick, Silviana, and Adrimartes.

[Page]

I Cannot Madam without a World of grief, make this relation which you have commanded me: And yet I cannot refuſe any thing which comes with a command from you; if you find any diſorder in my Diſcourſe, or if perchance I forget any thing, I beſeech you impute it to my ſorrows, and let it find a pardon: and you ſhall ſee by what I ſhall relate, how all thoſe who have dependency upon a Prince, are intereſted in his conduct: and how their good and their bad Fortunes have their influences from him.

The King Merovius who by the grandure of his actions has got the Title of Excellent among the Franks; and in their own Language Mervoch, ſignifies Excellent Prince. After he had gained many victories, as well over the Huns, Gepides, and Almaines, as over the Romans and Burgundians; and after he had Reigned twelve years, he died full of glory, and lamented by the people, leaving by his wiſe Methina, the Daughter of Stuffart King of the Huns, and Predeceſſor of Atillas, ſurnamed the Scourge of God, only one Son whoſe name is Childerick.

The Reputation of the Father, and the Love which he had got amongſt the people, moved all the Franks with a common conſent to make choiſe of Childerick the Son; and having ſet upon his head a double Crown, the one to intimate his ſucceſſion, and the other to ſpeak the conqueſts of his Father, they carried him upon their ſhoulders throughout all the ſtreets of Soiſſons, and proclaimed him King of the Franks: before him went the Heralds of Arms, carrying in their hands Enſignes won by Merovius from the Huns, Gepides, Alaines, Burgundians and Romans, all which they trailed upon the ground: after followed the Enſignes of the Franks, which were ſemi-Flower de Luces in an Azure Field: and laſt of all followed the Enſignes of Merovius his Father; The firſt was a Lion endeavouring to mount a ſteep Hill to devour an Eagle which ſate upon the top, with this motto; With Paines is the Prey obtained; and another was a Crown upon a Buckler, with this motto: A Buckler ſecures a Crown. Thus going Triumphantly through all the ſtreets, the Air did Eccho with the loud acclamations of the People and Souldiers: Bonfires blazed befory every door, and when they were extinguiſhed, great Wax Tapers burned all the night before every mans houſe, and nothing but dancing and joy could be ſeen in the ſtreets; Tables ſumptuouſly furniſhed were ſet out for all commers: And it is impoſſible for me Madam, to expreſs the great hopes that the people had in this young King: looking upon him as the Son of Merovius, whoſe memory was yet ſo freſh, that all his great victories ſeemed to be before their eyes, and the generous actions of the Father made them hope for the ſame from the Son, both in matter of Arms, and management of publique affairs. But he quickly ſhewed them that Dominion is a place ſo ſlippery, that few perſons can attain to it, and fewer can find firm footing without a fall: For in a ſhort time after he was Crowned, he began to lay Arms aſide, and addict himſelf unto all manner of pleaſures; not remembring that it was the magnanimity, and martial exploits of his predeceſſors, which had promoted them unto that Dominion: ſo as now the Court was quite changed and ſwarmed with eſſeminate Sycophants, whilſt valiant and brave minds had nothing to do, but ſtand with their hands in their pockets; young Gallants who under Merovius began to bud in valour, are now after the example of Childerick turned women, and look not like the ſame men they promiſed to be. So as all the hopes of conqueſt were turned unto fears, leſt the ſtate which they had conquered ſhould revolt; and the utmoſt limits of all their hopes was only to keep what they had already gotten. Clidamant, Lindamore, and Guyemant, were much diſpleaſed at the alteration of this Prince, eſpecially Guyemant, as one moſt concerned, and one who had devoted all his ſervices unto this King. So as when Lindamore [Page] adviſed Clidamant to return into his own Country, becauſe this Prince was ſo drowned in pleaſures, that there was no more glory to be got by ſtaying there, Gayemant with tears in his eyes diſſwaded him, ſaying, that if any thing under Heaven would awake Childerick from his drowſie ſecurity, it would be the generoſity and virtue of Clidemant; and if ſo much happineſs befel the Franks by his means, he would get more glory by it then any other way: beſides, he was to conſider, that he having aſſiſted Merovius againſt ſo many potent enemies, it would torn extreamly to his diſ-advantage if he did not alſo aſſiſt Childerick, having made many Princes his enemies by taking part with the Franks. Clidemant who was a generous Prince, and who did love the perſon of Childerick, he was eaſily perſwaded to ſtay with him, and ſo ſtopped his eares againſt the ſound advice of Lindamore, as all his prudent propoſitions proved fruitleſs.

There was in the Court a young Cavalier called Andrimartes, Son unto one of the moſt valiant Heroes of all the Franks: he had the honour to be educated with this young Prince, when he was ſo young, as he was not fit to follow Merovius in the Army. This Andrimartes with many other children of the Prime Cavaliers, were continually with young Childerick, and inſtructed in all manner of Noble exerciſes, that might make them fit to ſerve their Prince and Country. And theſe yourhs were not only taught in all things requiſite unto courage and war, but alſo in all things that might poliſh their minds, and temper the Natural Ferocity of the old Sicambrians, and the inhabitants of the Meotidan Lake. Alſo to render them more plauſible unto the Gaules, who are a people the moſt civilized of all Europe, they were very often amongſt the young Ladies, which belonged unto the Queen Methina, and there was ſuch pritty familiants amongſt them, as they would propound ſeveral marriages amongſt themſelves: this Queen had command from the prudent Merovius her Husbandi to entertain as many of the Gaul Ladies as ſhe could, deſigning by this way to make himſelf King of the Gaules by Love as well as by Arms.

Amongſt thoſe that were thus entertained and educated during the infancy of Childerick, Silviana had the firſt place, as well in reſpect of her merit, as of her family from whence ſhe was extracted: This young Lady was adorned with all ſuch qualities as have power to cauſe Love; both Fortune and Nature had equally been favourable unto her: And beſides her beauty which was very high, ſhe had a wit ſo ſweet, as all thoſe whom her eyes attracted, were held by her courteſy, and ſweet converſation. This young Lady was not yet above ten or eleven years of age; and Andrimartes who was about thirteen or fourteen, did caſt an amorous glance upon her: Silviana was eſteemed the only Star about the Queen Methina; and Andrimartes amongſt all thoſe about Childerick carried away the commendations, either for dancing, leaping, or any other exerciſe of the body. Moreover he was of ſuch a ſweet and tractable diſpoſition, that when he got the better of any of his Companions, he was ſo far from inſulting, that none was ſorry to be ſurmounted by him, but very willing to yeild unto him that glory which was his due.

At this age the young Andrimartes began to caſt an eye upon the Fair Silviana, who being ſuch a beauty as could not be looked upon and not loved, he began to court her, and give her ſuch teſtimonies of his affections as his green age could afford. Shee, who yet hardly knew the name of Love, received his boyiſh ſervices, as other children uſe to do, without any further deſign: yet in a little time ſhe began to like him better then any of the reſt, and reſented ſomthing which inclined her to talk with him, and to be glad when he was with her from all the reſt of her companions, though this inclination yet could not be phraſed either love or affection in her: But as the longer one ſtands by a fire, the more heat he feels; ſo Andrimartes could not hold ſuch intimate familiarity with Silviana, without kindling ſuch ſparks of Love, as at length ſo inflamed his ſoul, that neither time nor any thing elſe could extinguiſh them.

The firſt time that he made it known unto her, was one evening when the Queen Methina, according to her cuſtome, went to walk upon the banks of Seine: for ſhe reſided moſt at Paris, as well becauſe it was the center of the conqueſts of Merovius, as by reaſon of an Oracle, which was lately received from the Temple of Ijis, and which ſaid thus:

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WHen Paris is the Prime of Gaul,

A Gauliſh ſtranger govern ſhall.

Now Merovius and the Franks thought that their Anceſtors being Gaules, this Oracle was ſpoken of them; and I aſſure my ſelf that Madam you know how this delectable River of Seine runs round about that City. And when the Queen went to walk upon the banks of it, all the Ladies and Cavaliers waited upon her, and walked alſo two and two, where and how they pleaſed. One evening therefore after ſupper, Methina went to take the Air, and Andrimartes taking Silviana under her arm, he entertained her as he was wont with his young affections, unto which ſhe anſwered in as innocent Language, as infancy it ſelf could imagine: As they were wandering amongſt the thick of the wood, they ſate down at the firſt under an old Willow, which grew by the River ſide; but the young Lady, not liking to ſtay too long in a place, and being weary with ſitting, ſhe roſe up and went unto a little tree of Oſiers; and making choiſe of one whoſe bark was ſmooth and tender, ſhe had a mind to engrave her name upon it; ſo as taking a Gold Bodkin which ſhe wore in her hair, ſhe engraved the Letters of Silviana. Andrimartes ſeeing what ſhe began to do, he went upon the other ſide of the tree, and write upon the ſame ſtalk, as if it were in the very ſame line, theſe words, I Love: ſo as what he writ, meeting with what Silviana had written, both together made, I Love Silviana: but ſhe going on his ſide, ſhe could ſee only what he had written; how Andrimartes, ſaid ſhe, do you Love? I beſeech you who? You may ſee Madam, (ſaid he unto her) if you will pleaſe to read on the Line: For my part, (ſaid ſhe) I ſee nothing but what you have written; look a little better Madam, (ſaid he) and you may find that which is engraved upon my heart, as well as upon that bark: where is the name, ſaid ſhe, that you ſpeak of? Look well, ſaid Andrimartes, and you will find it not far off: I do not underſtand you, anſwered ſhe, for I ſee nothing but that which you writ; what then is this? (anſwered Andrimartes, and pointed unto what ſhe had engraved) That is Silviana, (anſwered ſhe) Then, ſaid Andrimartes, joyn what I writ, and what you writ, together. I ſee, replied ſhe, that by joyning them together, there is, I Love Silviana; but it was my ſelf that wrote it: Moſt true, anſwered Andrimartes, and it is you who has engraven it in my heart. Your heart, replied ſhe, and wondred, how could I do that, for I never ſaw your heart? I know not Madam how you did it, anſwered he, but I am ſure that with you Fair Eyes you have done it. Fie, fie, (cryed ſhe out) I cannot believe it, for my eyes cannot engrave, or if they could, I ſhould ſurely have ſeen when they did it; had they that quality, I ſhould not have uſed my Bodkin to engrave upon this bark. This childiſh anſwer did plainly ſhew Andrimartes how ignorant ſhe was in matters of Love: yet for all that, he continued on; It is no wonder Madam, ſaid he, that your Fair Eyes cannot engrave your Name upon a bark, becauſe it is a thing inſenſible; but ſaid ſhe, I have often looked upon the Queens little dogs, which ſhe loves ſo well, and can you find one letter of my Name upon them? No, no, replied he, they are animals without reaſon; it is only upon the hearts of men, and men who are moſt worthy of that character. How? ſaid Silviana, can I do it and not perceive it? I beſeech you Madam, ſaid Andrimartes, do you perceive your ſelf to grow? Alas, ſaid ſhe, I do that naturally; and you do naturally, replied Andrimartes, make wounds in hearts. Oh my good God, replied ſhe, I have heard ſay that all wounds upon the heart are mortal; and if my eyes have wounded yours, I ſhall be the cauſe of your death, and you will have all the reaſon in the world to hate me: Tis moſt certain, replied he, that all wounds upon the heart are mortal, and thoſe which you have given me will cauſe my death, unleſs you give me a remedy: but however, I cannot hate you, ſince on the contrary, I think that I cannot love you ſo much as I deſire, and as you deſerve. I conceive the beſt way will be, (anſwered the young Silviana) that ſince my eyes do hurt you ſo much, to hide them from you for the future. By no means Madam I beſeech you, anſwered he, unleſs you would have me die, as ſoon as you begin that mortal remedy▪ for you muſt know, [Page] that if any thing under Heaven can ſave my life, it muſt be by giving me new wounds. This remedy, (ſaid the young Silviana) is very ſtrange, and leaſt you ſhould dye, I will not only do as you ſay, but deſire all my companions to do the ſame, in hopes that the multitude of wounds which their eyes do make, may eaſe you in thoſe you receive from me: The eyes of your companions (anſwered he) can neither hurt nor heal me: what difference (ſaid ſhe) do you find betwixt my eyes and theirs? For my part, I know not any. There is ſo much, replied Andrimartes, That I had rather be dead then want the leaſt wound which I have from you, and I would accord theirs as much as I can. I do not underſtand (ſaid ſhe) why you ſhould think ſo; for wounds are wounds, from whomſoever they be received. There are (replied Andrimartes) wounds that are honourable and pleaſing, and others that are ignominious and painful: thoſe which I receive from you are of the firſt ſort; and thoſe which your companions can give are of the other. I cannot imagine (anſwered the young Silviana) what the difference ſhould be. If there were other Silvianas (ſaid Andrimartes) as Fair and full of Excellencies as you are, and as able by their beauty to make ſuch welcom wounds, I ſhould then agree with you that they would be all deſirable alike; but ſince that cannot be, aſſure your ſelf Madam, I ſhall think nothing to be a favour or a remedy which comes not from your Faireſt ſelf.

Silviana was very young, and yet not ſo young, but hearing Andrimartes ſpeak thus, ſhe underſtood his good will unto her; for ſelf love is ſo natural unto us, that nothing does oblige more, at what age ſoever, then a good eſteem which is held of us; and that made him to return this anſwer: the good opinion which you have of me, moves you unto this language; but believe it Andrimartes, you are as much obliged unto it by the good opinion which I have of you. Perhaps their diſcourſe had gone farther, but for the coming of Childerick, who with a great number of young boyes came running and leaping through thoſe woods, and parted them; for this young Prince carried away Andrimartes almoſt by force to leap and exerciſe with his companions, as he who excelled them all in agility and nimbleneſs. He left the Fair Silviana with an ill will, and ſhe remained alone with no leſs diſpleaſure; for though till then ſhe never had the leaſt reſentment of Love, yet theſe laſt expreſſions infuſed ſtrange imaginations into her fancy; and preſently after, conſidering upon the merits and perfections of the young Andrimartes, and calling into memory the expreſſions of his particular good will unto her: Love did begin ſo gently to ſcratch the skin, that it became ſuch an itch, as by degrees became a wound incurable.

As ſoon as ever Andrimartes could ſteal away from Childerick, he returned to Silviana, begging a thouſand pardons for leaving her alone, and excuſing it with the force which that young Prince uſed unto him. I cannot blame him, anſwered Silviana, nor your friends, for deſiring the happineſs of your company. Oh Madam, anſwered Andrimartes, that you would rank your ſelf in that number, and think it a happineſs to have my company. Do you doubt of either? (replied Silviana) No, no, Andrimartes, you have merits enow, to make all become your friends, and deſire your company, and I have known you too long not to eſteem them accordingly. Madam (anſwered he) I ſhould think this evening the happieſt time of all my life, could I think the Fair Silviana did ever daign to caſt her Fair eye upon my actions, and if I could have any aſſurance in what you are now pleaſed to ſay. The young Silviana, not dreaming that Love would oblige a heart to give it ſelf away, but thinking it only a piece of pleaſing complaiſance and delight in the company of one perſon with another, ſhe did believe that Andrimartes did Love her, and alſo did intend to Love him, as a Siſter may Love a Brother, or a Daughter a Father; and therefore according to the innocency of her age, and ſimplicity of her ſoul, ſhe anſwered him thus. Be aſſured Andrimartes, that I do really Love you; and whereas you deſire to have ſome aſſurance of my words, I will moſt willingly give it, proteſting unto you, that I do not Love any Brother ſo well as I do you. Andrimartes who was older, and more capable of Love then ſhe, did know very well that all this was but the words of a child; yet thinking that he had already brought her to a very good paſſe, he contented himſelf for that time, hoping that time and [Page] continuance of his Courtſhip would work this innocent Love into ſuch a perfect affection as he deſired; and therefore taking her hand, he kiſſed it, and with a ſmiling look ſaid, Now Madam, do I think my ſelf the moſt happy and beſt contented man alive, ſince I have received this declaration from you, which I deſire above all the world: only one thing more I beſeech you Madam let me beg, which is, that you will be conſtant unto this aſſurance which you have given me, and that you will be pleaſed to let me bear the name of your Brother, and to call you Siſter, as an obligation unto us to continue in this amity: With all my heart (anſwered the young Lady) and I do promiſe to Love and eſteem you as much as if you were my Brother. Andrimartes would have anſwered, had it not began to rain, which cauſed them both to remove: however, ſince that day, he courted this young and Fair Lady ſo cloſe, as by degrees he taught her know, that Love was not to be confined by the Laws of Friendſhip, nor kept within compaſs of a meer good will; for in a few days ſhe loved him in ſuch a height, as ſhe perceived it to be a thing impoſſible for her to make a retreat: So as one day when ſhe met him upon the banks of Seine, where Methina, according to her cuſtom, was walking, and taking an occaſion to retire themſelves under a ſhade of Trees, ſhe ſaid thus unto him; Do you remember brother (for ſo ſhe called him) what diſcourſe we had in this place, when I engraved my name upon the bark of yonder Tree? Doubtleſs I do Siſter, (anſwered Andrimartes) and ſhall remember it as long as I live: no time is able to deſace it out of my memory; for it was then I received my greateſt hopes of happineſs from you. What did I then ſay, replied ſhe, which gave you ſo much contentment? Theſe Madam, anſwered he, were your own words; Be aſſured Andrimartes, that I do really Love you. Brother (ſaid Silviana) will you have me confeſs the truth unto you? I would have you believe (ſaid ſhe and ſmiled) that when I ſpoke thoſe words I knew not what I ſaid: how Siſter! replied he preſently, not know what you ſaid? Certainly I did not, anſwered ſhe, for how could I give you aſſurance of a thing which I was ignorant of, and did not know? Then, ſaid he unto her, you did deceive me: 'Tis true indeed (ſaid Silviana) I did deceive you; but it was when I was firſt deceived my ſelf: for I muſt confeſs, that when I ſaid I did Love you, I did not know what it was to Love; and yet the good will which I had unto you, did make me think it was Love, which was only a childiſh kind of an inclination. Andrimartes hearing her ſay ſo, he was a little ſtartled, fearing that ſhe intended to break her promiſe with this excuſe: But ſhe who had other intentions ſeeing him ſo mute, and ſuſpecting the cauſe of his ſilence; Brother (ſaid ſhe) be not troubled at what I ſay, for it is only to give you a fuller aſſurance of that affection which I have unto you; let me tell you now, that I am more knowing then I was then; and am better able to diſcern your merits and affection to me: I know now what it is to Love; not only as a Brother, but as Andrimartes; and knowing this, I do proteſt unto you, that I do Love you as well as you ought to deſire. Andrimartes hearing this welcom expreſſion, kneeled down upon the ground, and ſaid; Should I employ all my dayes in thanks Madam, and ſpend all my blood in doing you ſervice, I were not able to recompence you for this happineſs which you have conferred upon me by this declaration: but ſince you are pleaſed to be ſo infinitely good, give me leave to beg, that you will alſo be pleaſed to compleat this my happineſs. What is it, ſaid Silviana, that I can ſay more? Have I not profeſſed that now I do know what it is to Love, and that I do Love Andrimartes as much as he ought to deſire? I deſire a little more Madam, anſwered he, for perhaps you may ſay that I ought not to deſire ſo much as I do. Then Andrimartes, anſwered ſhe, I do Love you as much as I oght to do: yet a little more, good Madam, anſwered he, for there is not amongſt men that can aſſume ſo much honour to himſelf as to ſay that you ought to Love him: Then replied ſhe, I do Love Andrimartes, as well as he does Love me: upon this, Andrimartes was ſatisfied. Now, ſaid Silviana, I will go further, and do more then you deſire; for I do Love Andrimartes more then he Loves me: and I vow by all the Nymphs and Deities of the River, that I will never Love any elſe: Only one thing Brother I ſhall requeſt, which is, that you will promiſe me upon your Faith, never to deſire of me any thing which my honour and decency may not allow. Let all the torments of Hell fall upon my head▪ anſwered [Page] Andrimartes preſently, and may Heaven▪ blaſt all my hopes and deſires, if ever I do entertain the leaſt thought of offering beyond thoſe Limits which you ſhall freely allow me.

When this diſcourſe paſſed betwixt them, Silviana was about thirteen or fourteen years of age, and Andrimartes about ſixteen or ſeventeen, an age ſo apt to take all amorous impreſſions, that Love did imprint in their young hearts all the characters of it ſelf: ſo as ever ſince that time, they did both ſo grow in affection, that had not their young and familiar education together been an umbrage for all their amorous actions, and ſhadowed them with a vail of courteſy and long acquaintance, certainly many had taken notice of it: but ſince this familiarity did begin when they were little children, none did wonder at their kindneſs unto each other, eſpecially both of them being yet but very young.

Thus they did live together in all poſſible ſatisfaction and contentment, waiting until ſuch time as they could handſomly procure the conſent of their Parents unto a marriage. And this happy condition laſted until ſuch time as Childerick did unluckily caſt his eye upon this ſhinning Star: for ſeeing her at a Ball where Silviana was diſguiſed, according to the cuſtom of the Romans, he took ſuch a liking to her, that ever ſince he loved her moſt deſperately: Silviana took notice of it preſently; and becauſe ſhe thought it would be a ſin unpardonable in her, if ſhe did not impart all that ſhe knew unto her dear Brother, as ſoon as ever ſhe ſaw him, ſhe acquainted him with all paſſages: Andrimartes was apt to believe it; Siſter, (ſaid he unto her) it is no wonder if all the World do Love you; but muſt your ambition to be the Miſtris of a Kings Son, extinguiſh your affection unto a Brother? And muſt I be the widdowed Turtle left deſolate without a Companion? Brother, (ſaid ſhe then unto him, and took his hand) be aſſured that you ſhall never be the Turtle which you ſpeak of, until death do raviſh me from you: and if I thought any ſuch doubt did enter into your ſoul, the affection which I bear unto you would be extreamly angry: be confident Andrimartes, that death it ſelf ſhall not alter my affection; for I will preſerve it unto that ſecond life, which our Druides tell us of after this: Here Brother, (ſaid ſhe) take this Ring; and if you be the ſame Andrimartes, which I take you to be, ſummon me by it either in this or the next life, to keep that promiſe which now I do moſt ſolemnly confirm for ever unto you.

I want words, Madam, wherewith to expreſs the joyes of young Andrimartes; he fell down upon his knees, he kiſſed her hand, and the Ring which ſhe gave him, a hundred times, with a vow to preſent it unto her at that time when ſhe commanded him. Then taking a pin and pricking that finger whereon he wore the Ring, he cauſed it to bleed in ſeveral places, and making his handkerchief all bloody, he preſented it unto Silviana: Madam (ſaid he unto her) I do ſeal the vow which I have made with my blood, and I conjure you to reſtore me this handkerchief when you command me to reſtore unto you this Ring; to the end that by theſe marks both the living and the dead may know how great the affection is which Andrimartes bears unto Silviana, and how happy this affection has been above its merits, in meeting with her reciprocal affection. Thus did Love link the hearts of theſe two young Lovers together with faſter knots, as if all the powers upon earth were not able to unty them.

But for all that, Childerick continued his begun Love, which grew to that height, that he could not enjoy any contentment nor reſt, but when he was with her. At the firſt, leſt Merovius ſhould be advertiſed of it, he hid his paſſion as much as he could, and this was the reaſon why he durſt not in words declare it unto Silviana, though all his actions did make it ſo apparent unto every one, as it was a thing ſuperfluous to tell her that which none was ignorant of.

At the ſame time, taking infinite delight in looking upon her, he commanded an Artiſt to take her Picture unknown unto her, thinking that ſhe would not permit it otherwiſe: and the Picture-drawer was ſo ready to ſatisfie this young Prince, as he took her Picture very exquiſitely, at two or three times ſeeing her in the Temple: when Childerick ſaw it, he kiſſed it a thouſand times; and thinking that his happineſs was not compleat unleſs Silviana did know what [...]ewel he poſſeſſed, and meeting her in the Anti-chamber of the Queen his Mother, he took her aſide and [Page] ſaid thus unto her; Fair Silviana, I can tel you ſome news, which perhaps you are ignorant of; for you think your ſelf to be the only Daughter of your Mother, yet let me tell you, that you have a Siſter: Did I think this news to be true, Sir, ſaid Silviana, I ſhould think it the beſt that ever I heard, and think my ſelf much obliged unto you for telling me of it. You have good reaſon to be glad of it (ſaid Childerick) for though ſhe be not ſo fair as you are, yet ſhe does very much reſemble you; and becauſe your ſelf ſhall be judge whether or no I ſpeak the truth, pray look upon this. As ſoon as ever Silviana ſaw it, ſhe preſently knew it, and ſtarted to ſee her ſelf in any other hands then thoſe of Andrimartes, and deſiring to look upon it, he gave it unto her. After ſhe had a while looked upon it, and not knowing how to get it handſomly from him; ſhe threw it into the fire, and it was burned before Childerick took notice of it, yet ſhe did not caſt it into the fire ſo ſoon, as ſhe repented of her haſte, when ſhe ſaw that young Prince ſtand as if he were planetſtruck with amazement, and to excuſe her ſelf in ſome ſort: Oh God Sir, ſaid ſhe, it was ſo ill-favouredly done, that I could not endure to ſee my ſelf ſo ugly. Silviana, anſwered Childerick, you have angered me to the ſoul, and I cannot tell whether I have patience enough to endure it. Sir, anſwered Silviana, and bluſht; I am extreamly ſorry for it: but the truth is, it was ſo very ill done, that I had rather have ſeen the Picture of death then it. Love and anger had now a great debate in the heart of this offended Prince; but Love, at laſt triumphing; I ſhall ſee (ſaid he) whether that was your reaſon or no, or whether you did it as an affront unto me; for if it be as you ſay, then you will permit that another be taken with more leiſure, that the Artiſt may do it better then he could the firſt: but if you deny me this requeſt, then I have reaſon to think that you did it by way of affront, and that you ſcorn a Prince who never adored any but your ſelf. The young Silviana fearing the diſpleaſure of her friends, was conſtrained to grant what he deſired in ſuch a civil and courteous manner, as he could not chuſe but be very well contented with this ſatisfaction. Will you permit (ſaid the Prince) that another Picture may be taken? Sir, anſwered ſhe, I will permit any thing you pleaſe as far as is in me; but doubtleſs the Queen will take it very ill if I ſhould ſuffer it without her permiſſion, or at leaſt without the permiſſion of my governeſs. It is enough, ſaid Childerick, that I know I have your conſent unto what I deſire, and that you threw the Picture into the fire, only becauſe it was ill done. And becauſe ſhe ſeemed to be much troubled at her ſo much diſpleaſing him, laſt ſome by-ſtanders ſhould take notice of it, he himſelf confeſſed that it was indeed ſo ill drawn, that it deſerved no leſs puniſhment then the fire.

If this Picture were good for nothing elſe, yet it ſerved this young Prince to make his Love known unto Silviana, for this young Lady durſt not but receive all that he ſaid with a favourable aſpect, laſt otherwiſe he ſhould complain againſt her for caſting this Picture ſo haſtily in the fire: and continuing ſtill his Courtſhip, he omitted no occaſion which might teſtifie the grandeur of his affection to her: and becauſe it is extream hard for the violent paſſion of Love to be confined unto the limits of reaſon and diſcretion, it ſo increaſed, that very often tranſgreſſing the Laws of modeſty, it hapned one day hearing her ſing, that he was ſo tranſported with this puiſſant paſſion of Love, that though it was amongſt many Ladies and Cavaliers, yet he could not forbear from kiſſing her per force. Silviana having no inclination at all unto Childerick, ſeemed to be extreamly offended with him for this violence, and ſeeing it was done in the face of all the Court, ſhe made many great complaints againſt him; and the rather, becauſe Andrimartes was preſent, unto whom ſhe would not give the leaſt thought, that the Courtſhip of Childerick was able to alter her from her vowed reſolution. But the young Prince, though he ſaw her much offended, yet he turned all to rallary, and laughed it out,

But yet Silviana would not take the continuation of his Love as in jeſt; and Andrimartes, as good a face as he ſet upon the matter, yet was he netled to ſee his maſter become his Rival; knowing very well that Love and Dominion will not admit of any Companions: and therefore he reſolved to ask the Queens conſent to marry Silviana; but becauſe he would not do any thing that might diſpleaſe Silviana, he did communicate this reſolution unto her, which ſhe approved of very well, as well [Page] (ſaid ſhe) to be out of the Tiranny of Childerick, as that we may afterwards live together freely without any conſtraint. Andrimartes therefore whoſe only deſire was to be the ſole poſſeſſor of his Fair and dear Silviana, made it his ſute unto his Father, that he might not longer trifle away his time amongſt a company of boys, but rather imploy i [...] nobly in the way of Arms under Merovius, to the honour of his Family, and after their examples, eſpecially his own: for he was now aſhamed to be alwayes amongſt none but boyes and women: and therefore humbly deſired him that he might leave off the name of child, and aſſume the name of a Frank, in memory of his predeceſſors, and after his own particular example, his humour and his age prompting him thereunto. The Father who had a generous ſoul, ſeeing his Son ſo inclinable unto Arms, was very glad to find this generous diſpoſition in him, and promiſed to give full ſatisfaction unto his deſire; and to defer it no longer, he acquainted Merovius with it, who approving of it, made it known unto Childerick, and intended to honour him with the order of Knighthood, and with all thoſe Ceremonies of gird [...]ng him with a Sword, and putting on a Spur, in imitation of Arthur King of Great Brittain, when he admitted young Cavaliers into the Rank of Knights, Childerick who was extreamly in Love with the Fair Silviana, was very glad of this honour intended unto Andrimartes, in hopes, that as ſoon as he was become a Knight of Arms, he would be conſtrained to go into the Army, and leave Silviana ſolely unto him, whoſe favour he hoped more eaſily to obtain wh [...]n this young man was out of her eye, who he ſaw wiſhed him very well. Every thing thus favouring the deſign of Andrimartes, he was dubbed a Knight by the hands of Childerick, who had received the ſame honour a little before from the hand of Merovius. When Andrimartes was to be girt with the Sword, and demanded what Lady he would make choiſe of to be his Miſtris, he kneeled down, and beſeeched the Fair Silviana to let him make choiſe of her, that he might make it his boaſt, that he received his honours from the Faireſt Hand, and Faireſt Lady that lives.

Childerick was extreamly ſurprized at this requeſt, and was ready to break out into ſome violent demonſtrations of his diſpleaſure, yet the preſence of the King his Father reſtrained him, though not from bluſhing, and letting many ſee how much this Act diſpleaſed him; and much more was he incenſed when he ſaw in what a joyfull manner this Fair Lady gave conſent unto the requeſt which Andrimartes made, and expreſs her contentment by her eyes, and all her actions. But the joyes of this young Knight was unimaginable, when thanking her for the favour which he received, he proteſted and vowed to imploy both his ſword and his life in her ſervice: And ſhe, who never offered to hide the good will which ſhe bore unto him, knowing that ere long he would ask the Queens conſent unto a marriage, prayed heartily unto Heſus to make his Sword victorious, and ſaid, that ſhe would with all her heart do any thing within the compaſs of her power, to teſtifie the great eſteem which ſhe had of his merits. But Sir, ſaid ſhe, I neither will, nor can confer this favour upon you without the Queens conſent, who has the diſpoſition of me. Andrimartes thinking that ſhe ſpoke with much diſcretion, he kneeled down before Methina; Madam, (ſaid he unto her) Is it your pleaſure I ſhould this day receive the greateſt honour that ever I can pretend unto? Childerick tranſported at this beyond all patience, interrupted him and ſaid; Me thinks Andrimartes, that unleſs you were too impudent, you would never offer to make this requeſt unto the Queen and Silviana, until you had by ſome noble action made your ſelf worthy of it, Andrimartes who knew very well what it was which made Childerick ſpeak ſo; Sir, ſaid he unto him, I muſt needs confeſs that I do not deſerve this favour and honour; but yet I ask it out of a deſire I have of doing you ſome ſervice: and I know that when once I am honoured with the Title of Silvianas Knight, that glorious name will ſo invigorate and encourage my ſpirits, as no enterpriſe can be ſo difficult, but I ſhall bring it happily to paſs. This thought, anſwered the angry Prince, were good, if it were not unjuſt: But it is not reaſonable you ſhould aſſume unto your ſelf a name which cannot be merited but with blood. My blood, replied the young Cavalier preſently, ſhall never be ſpared in ſuch a cauſe, no more then my life in the ſervice of the King: But Sir, I find my ſelf much miſtaken in my hopes; for I thought that in this, and upon all other occaſions, you would have been my Protector, and furthered [Page] thered me all you could, as a Prince, unto whom I am devoted both by nature and my own inclination. Childerick would have anſwered, and perhaps according to the violence of his paſſion, if Merovius miſliking the action of his Son, had not interpoſed; and to cover the imprudence of Childerick, ſaid thus, You had reaſon Andrimartes to expect all favour from Childerick: I know that he intends it, and I do command him unto it; what he ſaid was only by way of rallary, and both he and I will become your Mediators unto the Queen, to conſent that Silviana may receive you as her Knight; for it is but reaſon ſo Fair a Lady ſhould have ſo brave a Cavalier for her Knight. The young man all tranſported with joy, offered to kiſs the hands of Childerick and the King, and though the young Prince did permit him, yet it was with ſuch a brow, as plainly ſhewed that he did it only out of reſpect unto the King: and though Methina ſaw this as well as Merovius, yet ſhe commanded Silviana to receive Andrimartes as her Knight, ſince the King did approve of it. The young Lady never obeyed any command more willingly then this, and did it with a face ſo full of contentment, as every one took ſpecial notice of it: This did ſo ſting the heart of Childerick, that he reſolved, whatſoever came of it, to break off this Love which went ſo much againſt his heart.

And becauſe he knew that he had too much diſcovered his paſſion, and that the King was not well pleaſed with it, he conſtrained himſelf as much as poſſibly he could, to make it believed that what he had done was only out of rallary, as Merovius ſaid: but there was not one in all the company which did not know the contrary, eſpecially Andrimartes, who knew very well that it proceeded from his affection unto Silviana, and well did plainly foreſee many a ſtorm towards from him: however, come what come could, he reſolved to continue his Love; and becauſe that Honourable Order of Knight-hood, which he had taken upon him, was an obligation upon him to ſhake off the drowſie life of being always among women, he reſolved to quit that idle and effeminate kind of life, and to go into the Army as ſoon as he had obtained Silvianas leave, and not to return until ſome ſignal act had ſpoken him meritorious of the Fair Lady. She who ſaw a kind of neceſſity upon him to take this courſe, and thought that it would much conduce unto that contentment which they both aimed at; ſhe conſented unto it, though with abundance of ſorrow to part with him: and knowing that it was the Kings cuſtom to incite all Generous young Spirits unto gallant actions, and to recompence thoſe that by their valour did ſignalize themſelves in the Army; they did both of them overcome themſelves, and with a River of Tears parted, in hope that their abſence would bring them to their deſired end, ſooner then their preſence.

To relate all the paſſages of this ſad parting, and the demonſtrations of good will unto each other, is neither pertinent to the ſtory, nor indeed poſſible: let it ſuffice therefore, that Silviana expreſſed her affection as far as her modeſty and honour would permit, and Andrimartes, as became a perfect and noble minded Lover. But I conceive it neceſſary to acquaint you with the ſequel of this deſign when he was in the Army, though the day be not long enough to relate the hundred part of his brave deportments; for he gave ſuch teſtimony of his courage and valour, that Merovius made choiſe of him to command that relief which he ſent into Belgium, againſt the children of King Clodion, Renald and Alberick; who being come at full age, Alberick being Lord of Cambray and the bordering Countries, and Renald Duke of Auſtraſia, and having married Huſemide, Daughter unto Multiades King of Tongres, they contracted a league with the Saxons, and with a formidable Army, fell into Auſtraſia, ſo as had not Merovius very prudently ſent this relief under the conduct of the valiant Andrimartes, certainly their Arms had reached as far as the gates of Paris; and perhaps had not only retarded all the conqueſts of this Valiant King, but alſo, had put his very Crown into great hazard. But the Valour and Prudence of Andrimartes was ſuch, that giving a ſtop unto the progreſs of theſe two brothers, he conſtrained them to keep within the confines of Auſtraſia, until Merovius had quelled thoſe enemies which the Romans had ſecretly ſtirred up againſt him: and this piece of ſervice was ſo great, that Merovius did highly acknowledg it; and thought no recompence ſufficient for ſuch ſervices as he had received from the brave Andrimartes.

[Page] It is a hard matter to expreſs the joys of Silviana, when ſhe heard of all the valiant exploits of her beloved Andrimartes, whoſe preſence ſhe did infinitely deſire, that ſhe might rejoyce with him for his happy ſucceſs: and yet ſhe was well contented with his abſence, ſince ſhe her ſelf was a ſharer in his glory, and ſince it conduced ſo much unto the advantage of the Crown of the Franks; ſhewing her ſelf by her wiſe and virtuous moderation, to be the Grand-child of Semmon Duke of Gaul Armorique, the faithful friend of King Merovius.

There was not a man who did not love, and highly commend the Valiant and Wiſe Andrimartes (and for ſix years together which he continued in the Army, he met not with one accident which did not end in happy ſucceſs) Childerick only excepted, who grudged at all his victories, though they were all to the advantage of that Crown which he was to inherit after Merovius: but his love being above his ambition, he diſliked all his actions, and detracted from his glory as much as poſſible he could; knowing very well, that all theſe applaudes of him would kindle the affection which Silviana bore unto him. But at length, Andrimartes not being able to live any longer from his adored Lady, though he received Letters continually from her, he obtained leave from the King to return unto Paris, to ſettle ſome affaires which he pretended, did require his preſence. He preſented himſelf therefore unto the Queen, who received him with all poſſible welcom; and he thought it expedient to ſtrike now whilſt the Iron was hot, and ſpeak unto the Queen concerning his marriage: and in order-thereunto, he entreated a neer Coſen of his to make this requeſt unto the Queen in his behalf. Methina who was well acquainted with the merits of Andrimartes, and conſidered what ſignal ſervices he had done the King her Husband, ſhe was very glad of any occaſion to give ſatisfaction unto his deſire; and to teſtifie how ſhe approved of that marriage: Tell Andrimartes (ſaid ſhe unto the party that was imployed to deliver the requeſt unto her) that I do not only conſent unto his deſire; but alſo Silviana being Grand-child unto Semnon our dear friend, I promiſe him to procure his good will, and the Kings alſo: and in teſtimony of my forwardneſs to gratifie him all the wayes I am able, I do allow him to live with her, not only as her ſervant, but alſo as him that is to be her Husband.

This anſwer which was as favourable as Andrimartes could poſſibly hope for, was received with ſo much joy, that it was impoſſible for him to keep it ſecret: ſo as the news of it was preſently all over the Court and Army; and Methina having acquainted Merovius with it, it pleaſed him ſo well, that he ſpoke of it openly, and ſaid, that he was obliged to acknowledg the ſervices of that brave Cavalier, in the higheſt manner: ſo as to defer his ſatisfaction no longer, he preſently diſpatched a Meſſenger to Duke Semnon his dear and ancient friend, to procure his conſent unto this marriage, promiſing to advance Andrimartes unto ſuch a height, as he ſhould never repent of beſtowing his Grand-child upon him.

But Childerick hearing this news, firſt by the letters of the Queen his Mother, and afterwards by the diſcourſe of Merovius his Father, he was ſo diſpleaſed at it, that he could not chuſe but ſpeak of it unto him, under a pretence of doing him ſervice; Sir, (ſaid he unto him, finding him alone) I do underſtand by the Queens letters, and alſo by your diſcourſe this morning, that Andrimartes intends to marry Silviana: now Sir, the ſervice which I ow unto you, commands me to hint unto you a thing which I think worthy of your conſideration. And though I do not doubt of your high prudence, yet your multitude of other great affairs, makes me fear that you have not time to think upon things of lower importance. I muſt needs confeſs Sir, that the ſervices of this Cavalier does deſerve a recompence, but not ſo far as to make you commit a greater offence againſt Semnon your dear friend & ally, and alſo againſt your ſelf: for certainly recompenſes ought never to be made to the diſ-advantage of our friends, or ſuch as truſt us with things that are moſt dear unto them: Semnon Sir, you know, is Duke of Gaul Armorique; it was he who at your firſt coming into this Country received you into his friendſhip; aſſiſted you with all his ſtrength and counſel; and it may be ſaid, that he and Guyveline Governour of the Edvois, were the two ſureſt Pillars, upon which you laid the foundation of your Dominion. Is it therefore reaſonable Sir, that if he truſt you with his Daughter, [Page] who is to be the ſupport and comfort of his age, you ſhould diſpoſe of her without his conſent? Or is it fit, to propound a match ſo unequal and ſo diſ-advantagious unto him? Will you Sir, let it be ſaid that Merovius does recompence his ſervants at the charges of his neighbour Princes and friends? Pardon me Sir, for ſpeaking ſo boldly unto you; and if it be a crime, blame my natural deſire to cleer your name from aſperſion, which I know is contrary to your intention, and al your former actions: not but that I do think it reaſonable, and worthy of commendations in you, to remunerate Andrimartes: But then Sir, I beſeech you, let it be out of your own charges, and with ſomthing in which you have an intereſt; in ſo doing, you will get the name of a Generous and Magnanimous Prince: you will then be called the King of Hearts as well as of Franks; there are other matches in your Kingdom, which Andrimartes himſelf cannot chuſe but think much more ſutable and fit for him, then Silviana, whom if he pretend unto, in lieu of getting friends unto himſelf by that unequal alliance, he will draw a mortal odium upon himſelf, and have enemies that will never pardon that offence which he ſhall commit by your inſtigation. Thus without advantage to himſelf, he will cauſe you to loſe that credit and amity, which you have gotten with ſo much paines, and which with ſo much care and prudence you have hitherto preſerved with all that know you. Do not think Sir, that I am the firſt Authour of theſe conſiderations, for many of your beſt ſervants that dare not tell you as much, have addreſſed themſelves unto me, thinking that great Princes who are full of high imployments, will not reflect upon things of a lower ſphere, which though ſmall in themſelves, yet may draw after them many dangerous conſequences: I believe if Andrimartes did but conſider of what importance, or rather what prejudice this marriage will be unto your ſervice, he would be the firſt (as deeply in love as he is) that would decline it; I am confident he would not offer ſo much diſ-ſervice unto your Majeſty, as to diſcontent your people, in cauſing you to loſe the amity of your Allies. So as Sir, if you will pleaſe to command me, I will undertake to divert him from it, and uſe ſuch pregnant Arguments and reaſons, as ſhall ſo convince him, that he ſhall think no more upon it.

Childerick found ſuch a patient hearing from his Father, that he hoped preſently to obtain commiſſion for ſpeaking unto Andrimartes. But that wiſe King, having long ſince obſerved how this young Prince was in Love with Silviana; and knowing that all theſe inſtances proceeded only from his deſires of enjoying her himſelf, having given him a full hearing, and ſeeing that he expected his anſwer, he aſſumed a ſerious look, which teſtified the ſmal ſatisfaction which he received for his long Oration, and gave him this anſwer.

I am very ſorry Childerick, to find in you ſuch humours as I leaſt deſire, eſpecially in two things, which believe it my Son, will become your ruine, if they be not prudently corrected. The firſt is an effeminate inclination, which does bebauch you unto a diſſolute kind of life, devoting your ſelf wholly unto pleaſures and love: for if from contraries, contrary effects may be expected: How can I imagine but that when I ſhall leave you this Crown, which was gotten by ſo many hazards and toyl from the valiant Romans, you will as ſoon loſe it as it was gotten? Alas you do degenerate from the martial vertue of your Nation the Franks. The other quality which I do extreamly condemn you for, is; The imploying your wit to cover your vice with a vail of virtue. Do you think me Childerick ſo little vers'd in the affairs of the world, that I do not ſee how all your ſpecious arguments are only to hinder Silviana, whom you do love, from marrying? Do you think I have forgot your Language which you uſed when Andrimartes was made a Knight? Can you believe me ignorant of her throwing a Picture into the fire, which you had gotten of hers, unknown unto her? Do you think I never heard how violently you kiſſed her by force? Do not think Childerick that any of your actions towards her is unknown unto me; and though hitherto I ſuffered them, and ſeemed to take no notice, yet it was only in hopes that you would reclaim your ſelf from ſuch a manner of life, as you could not chuſe but know would exceedingly diſpleaſe me. You take upon you to be a very great States-man, and will needs teach me how much I am obliged unto Semnon, hinting upon all the good offices he has done me: Pray [Page] Childerick, unto which of all my neighbours have you ſeen me deficient, and backward in paying my duty unto their amity and good will? Why ſhould you think me ſo negligent of him whom I love and eſteem above all the Gaules? If you cannot dive into the depth of my deſigns, why ſhould you not think thoſe things which paſs your underſtanding to be done with as much reaſon, as thoſe things are which be within the compaſs of your capacity? What have I done hitherto, which any of my friends can upbraid me withall? Nay, can any of my enemies charge me with any neglect of duty to them? And is Childerick the only one that can condemn the actions of his Father? Good Son give me a reaſon for your cenſure: Nay, I believe you have no reaſon; but becauſe I conſent to the marriage of a Lady, which out of a fond affection you would diſhonour: do you think it better and more honourable for Semnon, our generous and ancient friend to marry his Daughter unto you, then unto Andrimartes? But Childerick, do you deſire to marry her? Can your fooliſh humour hurry you unto ſuch a crime? I cannot believe it, and had rather you were dead then ever ſee the day; or that you ſhould entertain ſuch a thought: not but that I do highly eſteem the virtue of the Father, and like the Lady, for both are very worthy of much honour: but I had rather reſtore back unto Reynald or his Brother Aberick, the Crown of their Father Clodion, then conſent that ſuch a puſillanimious courage as yours ſhould have the Soveraign Power over ſuch a war-like people as this which I command. Now if your drift be not to marry Silviana, what would you do with her? Would you make her your whore? Do you think the honour of my houſe can brook it? Will the reputation of the Queen your Mother ſuffer it? Or the courage and generoſity of Semnon endure it? Fie, fie, Childerick, ſtifle ſuch leud thoughts, and abominate them: let not ſuch a fond love blind your underſtanding; and then you will plainly ſee that if I do not conſent unto this marriage of Silviana unto Andrimartes, I am infinitely to blame; for Princes as your ſelf ſays, are obliged to recompence ſervices done, with benefits and honours: and if ſo, how much am I obliged unto Andrimartes? Who, not to mention his other exploits which he hath done for us, has not only repulſed the power of Clodions children, but forced them to keep within the limits of Austraſia: he may be ſaid to have preſerved all the reſt of our Dominions, by his valour and wiſe conduct, and repreſſing the inſolency of our enemies, has given us the means to make new conqueſts. Now tell me Childerick, how great is my obligation for ſuch ſignal ſervice? How juſtly might I be branded with ingratitude, if I ſhould deny his affection, his fidelity, his courage, and his merits, the firſt requeſt that he ſhall make unto me? But you bid me pay my debts with my own mony, and not with Semnons, who keeps this Daughter for the ſupport and comfort of his old age. Let me tell you Son, that if I ſhould deny unto his Grand-child ſuch a ſutable and advantageous marriage, it would be a great prejudice and injury to her aged Father; for there is no Prince, nor King, though never ſo great; but would be glad of his alliance, who is able not only to preſerve a ſtate, but by his valour and prudence is able to get a hundred Kingdoms: What greater advantage or comfort can Semnon have in his old age, then to ſee Silviana his Daughter in the hands of ſo brave and virtuous a Cavalier, and his State under the guard of ſuch a valiant, prudent, and proſperous Captain as Andrimartes is? Conſider Childerick, that I do ow this gratification unto Andrimartes, for his Excellent ſervices which he hath done; and I do ow it alſo unto Semnon, for the friendſhip and fidelity which I have always found from him. I believe you your ſelf will acknowledg as much, and if you contradict me, it is not Childerick which does it, but a fooliſh effeminate paſſion which will ruine him, and which if he do not preſently correct, will make him loſe that Crown which now I wear. If therefore you have any deſire to pleaſe me, leave off this drowſie kind of life, which will render you the ſcorn and odium of all that know you, eſpecially of the Franks, whoſe martial diſpoſitions will never love nor endure ſuch an effeminate perſon to be their King. Alſo Childerick, I would have you leave off all your tricks of diſſimulation, with which you would cloak your effeminate deſigns with a vizard of virtue: otherwiſe, let me tell you Son, that though I am your Father by name, yet I am not in affection, but will make it appear both unto you and all the world, that I do not conſent unto ſuch a contemptible life, as you do live.

[Page] Childerick was extreamly confounded at this anſwer which Merovius gave him, for his own conſcience did convince him; yet according to the common cuſtom of of all ſuch as would put a gloſs upon their faults, he offered to excuſe himſelf of part of thoſe things wherewith his Father upbraided him, by denying the one abſolutely, and ſo diſguiſing the other, that perhaps he had made his cauſe good, if he had had to do with one leſs Judicious then Merovius. But the wiſe Father after he had heard all his gilded excuſes, at laſt he interrupted him. I perceive Childerick (ſaid he unto him) that you are very ſorry I have been ſo quick ſighted as to ſee your faults: but you ought not to grieve for that; repent rather the committing them, then my ſeeing them: for being your Father, I ſhall be as careful to conceal them as your ſelf; but if you be wiſe, continue no longer in this courſe of life, which will moſt ſhamefully become your ruine: and conſider that a Prince who is to govern a people, ought to render himſelf more wiſe, and more virtuous, then the people, which are to obey him; for otherwiſe his government will be only by Tyranny, which is leſs ſafe unto him, and more diſpleaſing unto them.

Upon this Merovius would hearken unto no reply, but leaving him, he diſpatched a meſſenger preſently unto the Queen Methina, which let her underſtand, that without more delay, ſhe ſhould propound this marriage unto Semnon Duke of Gaul Armorique, and to aſſure him, that he would raiſe Andrimartes unto ſuch a degree, as he ſhould have no cauſe to repent the beſtowing his Grand-child upon ſuch a brave Cavalier. The Queen who was as desirous to give Andrimartes contentment as the King, ſhe diſpatched an Ambaſſador immediately unto Semnon, whoſe conſent was eaſily obtained; and who having heard ſo great a Fame upon the Name of Andrimartes, did embrace the motion, with many thanks unto the Queen, for her deſires of ſuch a Match for Silviana: thinking himſelf ſo obliged both unto her and Merovius for it, as he thought himſelf ſufficiently recompenſed for all the ſervices he had ever done them, and beſeeched them to diſpoſe of him and his Grand-child as they pleaſed. Only this he deſired, that he might ſee Andrimartes, to the end he might be better acquainted with him, who was to enjoy Silviana and his eſtate.

This anſwer being received, the Queen did preſently acquaint her Husband with it, who thought it expedient for Andrimartes to make this journey unto the good Duke; and the rather, becauſe at that time he had either Peace or Truce with all his Neighbours, and could beſt ſpare him. Andrimartes and Silviana, hearing of this intended ſeparation, though they knew it conduced much unto their future contentments, yet their extream affections unto each other, could not conſent unto it without abundance of grief; for whilſt he was in the Army, ſhe heard from him every day: but now the journey was long, and they foreſaw that the good Duke Semnon would not ſuffer him to return ſo ſoon as they deſired: yet neceſſity conſtraining them, Andrimartes departed, more deſirous to return, then to be the poſſeſſor of Gaul Armorique.

I ſhall not Madam, here relate the paſſages of his reception both by Semnon and his people, who underſtanding the intentions of their Lord, did make preparations to receive him with all manner of honour and joy; infinitely applauding the election of their good Duke: Let it ſuffice to tell you, that after Semnon had welcomed Andrimartes with all manner of magnificence, and kept him a while in his Court, he did not only grant Silviana unto him, as he deſired; but alſo proclaimed him his Succeſſor in Gaul Armorique, and cauſed all his vaſſals and ſubjects to acknowledg him ſo: ſo as all the Grandees, all the Souldiers, and all the Knights, received him as their ſucceeding Lord with great applauſe.

Preſently after this or a little before, Clidemant was come into the Army of Merovius, and ſaw Andrimartes, being a witneſs of his brave exploits: So as when this news was divulged in the Court of Merovius, it was very welcom unto all the brave Cavaliers, Childerick only excepted, who was much diſpleaſed at it: for though he made a ſhew of the contrary, and ſince his Father had chid him, was not ſo bold as to let his love unto Silviana appear, yet in lieu of diminiſhing, it encreaſed every day: not that he had any intention to marry her, for he aymed at ſomething higher; but his deſign was to enjoy her in another quality. When he heard any [Page] commend the choiſe which Semnon had made for his Grand-child, he could not forbear ſpeaking very diſ-advantageouſly of it, and charge him, ſometimes with injuſtice, and ſometimes with indiſcretion: of injuſtice, in depriving his right Succeſſors from his Eſtate; and of indiſcretion in ſubmitting Gaul Armorique unto a Frank who was a ſtranger. So as not being able to quench his flaming paſſion, and finding an opportunity of diſcourſe with Silviana, he ſaid thus unto her: Is it poſſible, Fair Lady, you ſhould ever think of marrying Andrimartes? Sir, anſwered ſhe, is he not a Cavalier of greater merit then I can deſerve? It ſeems, replied he, that you are ignorant in matter of merit, ſince you do not ſee that the leaſt of your perfections does infinitely tranſcend all that is in Andrimartes. Sir, anſwered ſhe and ſmiled, If I be of ſuch worth as you ſeem to make me, I ſhall quickly make him rich; for I will wholly beſtow myſelf upon him: and for my part, I ſhall think my ſelf ſufficiently payed if he do but love me, and unto that I ſhall hope to oblige him, by the extream affection which I do bear unto him. This ſpeaks your judgment to be wonderous weak, ſaid Childerick, and that your will tranſports you beyond reaſon, Sir, anſwered ſhe, if you think to vex me by ſuch diſcourſe as this, you are to blame, ſince my will was alwayes to honour you. And if it be to croſs Andrimartes, I ſhall wonder, ſince the only ambition of that poor Cavalier, is to imploy his life for the propagation of your Crown. Fair one, anſwered the young Prince, my deſign is neither to vexe you, nor croſs him; but only to prevent your ruine, which I foreſee will be if you do not retire your ſelf from this young and indiſcreet affection: believe it, I do not ſpeak without reaſon, and did you conſider what good fortune is offered you, perhaps you would not thus precipitate your ſelf: Sir, replied Silviana, ſet your heart at reſt, and believe this for a moſt certain truth, that all the great advantages in the world, ſhall never divert my affection unto Andrimartes: The Queen and the King allow of it, Semnon approves of it alſo, and what then can make me backward? Why good Silviana, replied Childerick, do you make no reckoning of my will? And do you not think that my conſent is alſo neceſſary? Certainly I do Sir, (anſwered ſhe) but I cannot think you will ever croſs the will of Merovius. The Love which I do bear unto you is ſuch, (ſaid he) that if I ſaw it would be neceſſary for your good, I would croſs even Tautates himſelf. But ſince you care ſo little for your own good, adieu; and remember that I am Childerick, a Kings Son, and one who hereafter will let you ſee what a fool you are to deſpiſe that good will which he offers unto you. Upon this, not ſtaying for her anſwer, he went away in an angry mood: At which ſhe was very ſorry, not in any conſideration of her ſelf, but out of fear leſt his anger ſhould reflect upon her dear Andrimartes.

In the mean time, Semnon having kept Andrimartes a long while with him, and thinking it now time for him to return unto Merovius, he diſmiſſed him, upon condition, that as ſoon as he was married he ſhould return and bring Silviana with him, with a reſolution of ſtaying alwayes, and taking upon him the care of his Eſtate, and ſpending the reſt of his dayes in reſt.

At his return every one received him with all imaginable honour, and careſſes. Merovius who treated him already as Duke of Gaul Armorique, was very glad that one of his own nation, and one over whom he had ſo much influence, ſhould command ſo great a People, and become his Neighbour; thinking it to be a great ſecurity unto his Crown: and in this conſideration he commanded Childerick to make much of him, and to love him, not as his Vaſſal, but as his Neighbour, and one who might give a great ſettlement unto his conqueſts. But all theſe careſſes were nothing unto Andrimartes, in compariſon of that welcom which he received from his deareſt Silviana, who now took him for her Husband, and lived in all honeſt liberty with him; and though ſhe did not conceal any of her actions or thoughts from him, yet ſhe would not acquaint him with the diſcourſe of Childerick, as well becauſe ſhe knew that all he ſaid was falſe, as becauſe ſhe thought that it would much diſcontent him: But ſhe reſolved to retire her ſelf with him as ſoon as poſſibly ſhe could, into the dominions of Semnon; and ſo avoid that Tiranny and thoſe inſolencies, which ſhe expected from him when he ſhould be abſolute Lord of the Franks.

[Page] There being no ſtop in the accompliſhment of this ſo much deſired marriage, Methina by the Kings authority, and by conſent of Semnon, cauſed the articles of marriage to be drawn; and about eight dayes after, the ceremonies were accompliſhed, to the contentment of all, and with ſo much joy and ſatisfaction unto Silviana and Andrimartes, that never two Lovers were better contented. Childerick only ſighed whilſt all other rejoyced.

But as if Heaven ſtayed only until this marriage was paſt, before all Gaul ſhould become all ſorrows, within ſeven or eight dayes after, Merovius fell ſick, and preſently after dyed, full of glory and honour, and infinitely bewailed by the people. Childerick was preſently ſet upon the Throne, and proclaimed King of the Franks, in falſe hopes that he would be the Imitator of his Fathers virtues. Silviana remembring the harſh language which ſhe had received from him, adviſed her dear Husband to get out of the reach of this young King, and to retire into Gaul Armorique, as well to avoid the malignity of Childerick, as to keep his promiſe with Semnon. But Andrimartes who was ignorant of the laſt language which he had uſed unto Silviana, and who thought himſelf obliged to ſtay a while with this new King, and ſee the Crown ſetled upon his head, he would not hearken unto the counſel of Silviana, thinking it againſt his duty to retire before all was ſetled, and ſo delayed the time under pretence of furniſhing himſelf with all things neceſſary for their journey: in the mean time he was alwayes with the King, and ſo full of affection and care in all his expreſſions, as any other but Childerick would have thought himſelf obliged: But he on the contrary remembring the injuries which he thought he had received, deferred the reſolution of his ſoul only till the Ceremonies of his Coronation were paſt: In the mean time news was brought unto the Valiant Andrimartes and Silviana, that the good Duke Semnon was dead, and that all his ſubjects earneſtly deſired them to come into their dominions.

Silvianas grief was very great, and that of Andrimartes was no leſs; for having received ſo many benefits from that Prince, it grieved him extreamly, that he ſhould die before he had done him any ſervice. But when their firſt tears were almoſt dryed up, Heaven gave them cauſe for new ones, and more bitter then the firſt.

Childerick now thinks all well enough, and his Crown faſt upon his head; and he fell into ſuch a licentious courſe of life, as every one was out of hopes to find his Fathers virtues in him. The People complained, the Grandees grumbled, and his beſt lovers lamented him. After they had a while endured his ſhameful kind of life, and ſuffered many Preſſures and Tyrannies obtruded upon the people, the Grandees of the State aſſembled themſelves together at Province, and afterwards at Beauvois; where after deep debate and ſerious conſideration, they reſolved to declare him unworthy and incapable of the Crown of Franks; and at the ſame time to make choiſe of one, who though a Roman, yet they thought to be a perſon of great merit and worthy to be their King: his name was Gillon, who had long ſince left the Roman Empire, and followed Merovius, unto whom he had done very great and faithful ſervice, and had added unto the State of the Franks the Town of Saiſſons, of which he was the Governor. But for my part, I believe, they made choiſe of this ambitious man, becauſe there was not any Frank that would take the Title and charge upon him, and maintain it againſt their natural and legal King: For treaſon was a moſt deteſtable ſin amongſt them, and abhorred by all. But you may ſee Madam, how when the great Tautates has a mind to chaſtiſe men for their faults, he can furniſh out unexpected occaſions. Whilſt Gi [...]lon was ſecretly preparing and arming himſelf, and all the Grandees confederating and plotting together, Childerick drowned in a dull ſecurity, was moſt indiſcreetly contriving how he ſhould get Silviana by force from Andrimartes; not by any deſign of marrying her, for that he could not do, ſhe being married already, but to uſe her at his pleaſure, as he had done ſome others, ſince the death of Merovius: This young Prince was much induced unto theſe diſorders, by the poiſonous adviſe of ſome baſe Flatterers about him, who cryed up, that all things were Lawful unto a King; that Kings made Laws for their Subjects, not to tye up their own hands; and that ſince the lives of his Vaſſals were in his power, he might do what he would with their [Page] eſtates or any thing of theirs: Theſe flattering but falſe maximes, moved him to offer this injury unto Silviana, and the Valiant Andrimartes.

The Queen Methina retired her ſelf to Remois, becauſe ſhe would not be any witneſs unto the diſhonourable and debauched actions of Childerick, and becauſe ſhe deſired to comfort her ſelf after her great loſs, by the conſolations of one Remy, a perſon who ſhined in all virtue, and one, who though the God whom he adored was unknown unto the Franks and us, yet never any afflicted perſon parted from him without much comfort. Childerick, taking the opportunity of his Mothers abſence, he deſired no more but to make Andrimartes leave Silviana by her ſelf; in order to which he took him aſide, and told him that he had matters of very great importance to imploy him in, and ſuch as he would not commit unto the fidelity of any one but himſelf: he told him that the buſineſs ſo neerly concerned his Crown, and required ſuch extream haſte, that he hoped he would not deny him, but prepare himſelf for a ſudden departure. Andrimartes who did not think the Son of Merovius ſhould ever entertain any ſuch damnable thoughts, did freely anſwer him, that he was ready to ſerve him in this occaſion or any other; and that though he loved Silviana as his wife, yet he loved Childerick as his Soveraign: and to ſhew that theſe two affections were not incompatible, he would teſtifie that he held nothing more dear unto him then his ſervice. Upon this Childerick gave him ſome colourable inſtructions, and gave him no longer time to prepare himſelf for his journey then that night, and therefore Andrimartes acquainted his dear Silviana with his imployment, and told her that he hoped to return within five or ſix dayes at the furtheſt. The wiſe Silviana gave a patient hearing unto what Andrimartes told her, and having a quick and apprehenſive wit, ſhe anſwered him with a deep ſigh, thus: This journey, I am afraid, will not bring me any contentment, and I beſeech Heaven, I be deceived in my thoughts: Andrimartes, you may remember that Childrick did once love me, or at the leaſt ſeemed ſo whilſt his Father lived; and he has uſed very ſtrange expreſſions unto me, ſuch as I never did impart un [...]o you, but ſuch as make it manifeſt that he ſlights all thoſe ſervices which you have done for him and Merovius; and having all the power in his own hands, Heavens know how far he will extend it: you ſee what kind of life he lives, and how apt he is to be hurried unto any violent act; and therefore, what good can we ever hope for from him? for my part I am extreamly afraid of the man; and he has two qualities which may well make any to fear him; that is, a wicked will, and abſolute power: what imployments can he have for you that are good? Why ſhould he be ſo haſty in packing you away? I beſeech Heaven, it be with a good deſign: upon this, ſhe took him about the neck, and kiſſed him, but bathed her kiſſes in a flood of tears, which did exceedingly move the heart of this Generous Cavalier unto compaſſion: then ſeriouſly thinking upon the diſcourſe of Silviana, and finding much reaſon in it, he anſwered her thus: Theſe teares, my deareſt, do infinitely ſwell my ſoul with ſorrows; and I muſt confeſs, I find all your words ſo full of reaſon, that I wiſh ſome other were imployed in my room: but ſince I have already taken it upon me, and have his inſtructions in my keeping, what excuſe can I make to come off withal? And how can I be quit of my imployment without an extream diſpleaſing him? It cannot poſſibly be: but ſince I have gone thus far, I muſt go further, and do as well as we can; and therefore, I will tell you what I think we ought to do: Firſt, I muſt go, and return with all the haſte that poſſible I can make; in the mean time, go you unto the houſe of Andrenick our old and truſty ſervant, yet unknown unto any: If Childerick have any bad deſign, doubtleſs he will either come unto you, or ſend for you; by this his intentions will be known unto us: if they prove good, I ſhall be very glad that no more noiſe is made of our jealouſies of him: and if they be bad, I ſhall give him but a very ſmal time to execute his deſign; for he ſhall not live a day after my return: becauſe I will give his wicked ſoul a paſſage out of his body in the midſt of all his guards and ſouldiers: but being yet in doubt of it, I would not have [...] ſaid, that ever Andrimartes committed ſuch an act upon a bare jealouſie.

This was the reſolution of Andrimartes, who ſetting forward in the morning very early, acquainted the truſty Andrenick with his purpoſe concerning Silviana; commanding [Page] him to keep it ſecret from all the world. This Andrenick was an old ſervant, who had the government of him in his youth, whoſe affection was ſo great, and his fidelity ſo well known, as Andrimartes was as ſure of him as of himſelf. His houſe was neer the houſe of Andrimartes, and he took it, becauſe he thought that ere long his Maſter would go into Gaul Armorique, and he having a wife and children could not go with him.

As ſoon as ever Andrimartes was gone, Silviana without acquainting any of her maids, went unto the houſe of Andrenick; and commanded them, that if any Ladies came to viſit her, to ſay that ſhe was not well, and deſired to ſee no body. Silviana in the interim, locked her ſelf up with the wife of Andrenick, trembling at every noiſe which ſhe heard, and thinking that ſhe ſaw Childerick at her Chamber door. It is very ſtrange to obſerve, what a blind knowledg we ſhall ſometimes have of accidents that are to happen. Silviana indeed had reaſon to fear the exorbitant inſolencies of Childerick; but yet ſince the death of Merovius, ſhe needed not have any ſuch deep apprehenſions, ſince his inſolencies fell upon ſome others; ſo as ſhe might well imagine his thoughts to be diverted from her, and carried another way: but I cannot tell, ſome good Genius told her, that ſhe ſhould never ſee her Huſband again, and that ſome miſ-fortune would befal both him and her: this was the reaſon of her fears, and ſtudy to prevent all manner of diſaſters; and becauſe ſhe had a great confidence in the wife of Andrenick, ſhe acquainted her with her fears, and they two plotted together what courſe was beſt to be taken. Silviana asked her what they ſhould do, if Childerick not finding her at her own houſe, ſhould look for her there. Firſt of all they ſought out for ſome private place where ſhe might hide her ſelf; for it was impoſſible to reſiſt the power and force of the King: but finding the houſe to be very little, and very inconvenient for ſuch a purpoſe, there being no places of privacy in it, ſhe began to think upon having recourſe unto death as her ultimate refuge: but the good woman loving her very well, and knowing that Andrimartes would never ſurvive her: No, no Madam, (ſaid ſhe) never think upon any dying; but if you will follow my directions, I will ſecure you from all manner of violence. You are young, and tall, you have a good leg, and no big breſts; I would adviſe you to diſguiſe your ſelf in the habit of a Cavalier: I have here a ſuit of Clothes which is newly made for one of my Sons, he never wore them, and therefore none can know them; and I am confident that none who ſees you with a Sword by your ſide, and a Feather in your hat, will ever take you for Silviana; as for your hair, what if you did cut it, though not till we ſee an abſolute neceſſity of it? in the mean time therefore, whilſt we have leiſure let us put you into this trim, for however, there is no harm in it, whether you ſhall ſtand in need of it or no. Oh Mother (cryed out Silviana) bleſſed for ever may ſhe be that bore you; for now by your prudence I ſhall hope to preſerve my ſelf for my deareſt Andrimartes: there is no better way under Heaven then this; dear Mother, let us make all the haſt we can; for my heart tels me, that we ſhall be preſently put unto all our ſhifts: and as for my hair, let the Sciſſers be in readineſſe, for I will not make any ſcruple of it.

Upon this the virtuous Silviana began to undreſs her ſelf, whileſt the good woman went to fetch the Suit of Clothes which ſhe ſpoke of; and becauſe ſhe deſired to do her all the ſervice ſhe was able, ſhe returned again immediately, ſhe ſhut the door faſt, ſhe helped to trick up Silviana, who appeared to be the braveſt Cavalier in all the Court, and ſo diſguiſed her, that the good woman verily believed ſhe would paſs unknown by any: the ſuit did fit her ſo well, and became her, that when ſhe girded the Sword about her, now, ſaid ſhe, do I create you a Cavalier, and under that name oblige you to defend the honour of Ladies. Mother, anſwered Silviana, this Sword will defend the honour of one Lady at the leaſt, and having it by my ſide, I fear not the violence of Childerick, but will make uſe of it againſt him, or if he prove too ſtrong for me, againſt my ſelf, who as feeble as I am, have courage enough to paſs into another world without any ſtain unto my honour: but Mother, me thinks I want Boots and Spurs: for if this Tyrant do come hither, it is not likely I ſhould ſtay here; and if I go away, to be in this habit and on foot, is not handſom, but will rather render me more ſuſpitious: ſince you are ſo courageous, [Page] (ſaid the good woman) I do not fear your ſafety; as good luck is, there are two horſes in the houſe, which I have heard Andrenick ſay, are very gentle and fair conditioned; I will accompany you, and before I diſguiſe my ſelf, I will command them to be made ready: the Footman of Andrimartes ſhall hold them, and if we ſtand in need of them, we will then mount them.

Whilſt the good woman went down to take order about theſe Horſes, and Boots, and Spurs, Silviana ſtayed alone in the Chamber, ſo glad of her diſguiſe, that ſhe knew not how to be thankful enough unto Heaven for this happy occaſion of preventing the deſignes of Childerick: for remembring his laſt language unto her, ſhe verily believed that he had ſent Andrimartes away, only to have more opportunity of offering ſome violence unto her; this memory filled her full of chill fears: I know, ſaid ſhe in her ſelf, that the Tyrant intends violence unto me, and becauſe he feared the courage of Andrimartes, has packed him away with a deſign of getting him to be killed at his return. As ſhe was in theſe thoughts, the wife of Andrenick returned unto her, to whom with a trembling voice and tears in her eyes, ſhe ſaid thus; Oh Mother! I am but a dead woman unleſs you help me; for this wicked man, knows very well that the courage of Andrimartes will never endure the injury which he thinks to do unto me, without revenge, and therefore for certain, he will cauſe him to be murdered at his return, if we do not ſome way or other prevent it. Madam, (anſwered ſhe) let me dreſs my ſelf as ſoon as I can, that I may follow you; for me thinks I hear ſome noiſe in the ſtreets: what you ſay Madam is not without ſome probability, for a Tyrant never acts his villany by halfs: She had no ſooner dreſſed her ſelf, but a meſſenger brought them word that the King had been at the houſe of Andrimartes, that he ſought for Silviana, and menaced Andrenick, and the reſt of the Domeſtiques, to know where ſhe was.

Silviana now did cut her hair, and the hair of Andrenicks wife, and then went all three to the horſes, and ſo opportunely, that they were no ſooner out of the houſe, but Childerick with all his guard entred in at another door; making ſuch a noiſe, that the poor Ladies trembled out of fear of falling into their hands: but the footman who had been in ſeveral dangers with his Maſter in the wars, he was not at all affrighted: follow me, ſaid he, and fear not, for I ſwear by the life of my Maſter, that I will kill him who ſhall offer any injury unto his wife. Thus haſting them away, becauſe the noiſe encreaſed, he got them over the bridg; and mending their pace, he carried them towards the Mount of Mars, and in a cloſe valley under the Mountain, they did hide themſelves, intending when it was night to go unto ſome Town, a little farther off. But the wife of Andrenick, who was in great fear of her Husband, and Silviana being very deſirous to know what Childerick did when he found her not; they commanded him to go into the Town, and hear what news: the Footman went, & as luck was, came into the Town juſt as they were ready to ſhut up the gates, leaving theſe two Ladies ſo aſtoniſhed to ſee themſelves in ſuch a ſolitary place ſo diſguiſed, as they could not chuſe but be in great perplexity. But Silvianas great affection unto Andrimartes, when ſhe conſidered the danger he was in at his return, made her deſire to be going towards him; and certainly had ſhe known the way, ſhe would not have ſtayed for the return of the Footman: but adviſing with the good woman upon the beſt courſe, it was judged dangerous to venture without a guide; and therefore, comforting themſelves as well as they could, they ſtayed until Heaven ſhewed them a better courſe. Expecting therefore the return of the Footman with much impatience, and time beginning to ſeem very tedious unto them, at the laſt they ſpied him coming, and running as faſt as he could; and becauſe they perceived that none could ſee them, they went to meet him, being extreamly deſirous to know what news he brought.

As ſoon as he came unto them, he wanted breath to ſpeak; Madam, ſaid he, unto Silviana, the Heavens have helped you beyond all expreſſions; and you could never have taken a better courſe, then thus diſguiſing your ſelf and getting away: for Madam, that ungrateful Childerick (for he deſerves not the name of a King) that wicked man, that Tyrant, has committed more ſtrange inſolencies and violences in your houſe, and in the houſe of Andrenick, then any Barbarian would ever have offered in the ſacking and plundering of an enemies Town: Oh Friend, (ſaid [Page] Silviana) prethee tell us the whole ſtory of his actions, Madam, (ſaid the wife of Andrenick and interrupted her) firſt let him tell me how my husband does. Your Husband (anſwered the man) is well, and was joyed beyond all meaſure when I told him what courſe you had taken; but becauſe this place is too neer the Town, I think it beſt Madam to get us further from it, and by the way I will make a full relation unto you. Good Friend (ſaid Silviana) conduct us towards the place where Andrimartes is, for I am reſolved to go unto him, and tell him my ſelf what has hapned.

The man then directed them the way which his Maſter told him he would come when he returned; and becauſe it grew late, and Silviana was not uſed to travel in that manner, they reſolved to go no further that night then Clay: the man therefore placed himſelf betwixt them, and began to ſpeak thus unto his Miſtris by the way.

Madam, ſaid he unto her, Though it is but a while ſince you left your houſe, yet ſuch and ſo many ſtrange accidents have ſince hapned, that I know not where I ſhould firſt begin the relation of them. Happy you are that Tautares inſpired you with ſuch feares of Childerick; and it is no leſs then a miracle that you have eſcaped his inhumane hands: for he came unto your houſe in a more inſolent manner then ever was heard of. Be pleaſed to know Madam, that when I came to the gates of the Town, I wondred to find them half ſhut, ſo as had I ſtayed but a minute longer, I could not poſſibly have entred: all the Town was up in Arms; and in ſuch a tumult, that every ſtreet was chained, and all doors ſhut. With much ado I got unto your houſe, which I found full of people and ſouldiers ready to fall together by the ears; in the mean time, I heard many cryes and much lamentation made, ſome ſaid that Silviana was there, that Childerick would raviſh her; and to have a better opportunity for it, had ſent away Andrimartes unto the good Queen Methina: many did grumble at it, and ſaid, it was a ſhame for the people of Paris to ſuffer ſuch a piece of violence before their faces: that if they endured this, they ſhould encourage a Tyrant to commit the like actions; that now, neither their Wives, nor their Daughters, were in ſafety, ſince all was at the will of a luxurious Prince, and that they had much better die once, then live alwayes in ſuch ignominy and ſlavery. I obſerved that amongſt thoſe who uſed ſuch plain language, there was both Gaules and Franks: and I perceived that a very little ſpurring on, would move them unto Arms. To the Franks therefore I ſaid thus; Oh Sirs, can you endure to ſee Andrimartes thus unworthily uſed before your faces? And unto the Gaules I ſaid; Oh Friends, muſt the virtuous Daughter of the good Duke Semnon be thus raviſhed in your Town, and find no relief amongſt you? There needed no more to ſet them together by the ears, and with ſuch furie, that of the Tyrants guard and ſouldiers ſome were killed, others put to flight, and all in ſuch diſorder, that he himſelf had much ado to get into his Palace, to which the people flocked, and God knows what they did further. As for me, I ran preſently unto your houſe, where I found Andrenick, without either hat or cloak, and pitifully abuſed by the followers of Childerick; yet he received not a wound: but all the houſe was plundred, and all the women with their hair about their ears, and never was greater violence and diſorder offered unto any houſe. As ſoon as ever Andrenick and thoſe women ſaw me, they all cryed out for joy, and asked me where you were; unto whom I anſwered, that you were in a place where your greateſt ſorrow was for them and their injuries: and taking Andrenick aſide, I told him what you had done, and where you were; at which he was ſo tranſported with joy, that he fell down upon his knees and held up his hands to Heaven; Bleſſed for ever be the great Tantates, ſaid he, for directing you how to foreſee and prevent ſo great a mis-fortune: then riſing up, he asked me of all circumſtances; whether his wife was with you, and what ſhift you made to eſcape: and having ſatisfied him in all his queſtions as briefly as poſſibly I could, I left him the moſt contented man in the world; but when he ſaw me ready to depart, he commanded me to tell his wife, that ſhe ſhould rather die then forſake you. And becauſe I feared leſt you ſhould think the time long, I made all the haſte that poſſibly I could to return unto you, but with much ado, for I found every ſtreet chained up, and it was long before I could get [Page] a paſs: but at laſt, ſeeing the people ſo much incenſed, and hearing them all ſpeak very advantageouſly of my Lord, I told them openly that I belonged unto Andrimartes, and that you had ſent me unto him to acquaint him with the violence that Childerick had offered unto you. I cannot expreſs Madam, how affectionately they all offered themſelves to aſſiſt me when they heard this; I found my paſſage very eaſie after this, and every one offered me any favour and courteſie I could deſire: ſo as when I came to the gates, they were preſently opened unto me, and when I was out, he who kept the guard, call'd me, and ſaid; good friend, bid thy maſter make all the haſte he can, and tell him, that we are all ready to venture our lives for him, in revenge of this injury which is offered. Thus the man ended his relation; and in the mean time Silviana went on as faſt as ſhe could out of her extream deſires of meeting Andrimartes, that ſhe might acquaint him with this accident, and move him to take that revenge which the people promiſed.

Be pleaſed to know Madam, that as ſoon as Childerick was ſure that Andrimartes was gone, he aſſembled a company of young Ruffians, which uſed to prompt him unto ſuch violences, and went unto the houſe of Andrimartes, where finding none but the faithful Andrenick, and thinking that he had hid the Fair Silviana, or at leaſt knew where ſhe was, he ſeiſed upon his perſon, and offered him a thouſand injuries; ſo as but for Clidemant and Lindamore, he had put him to death. But they hearing that the people aſſembled themſelves tumultuouſly together, they Armed themſelves, and ran into the throng of the tumult; and well it was for the King they did ſo, for elſe he had found the danger of an incenſed people, who upon great reaſon had Armed themſelves. But Clidemant ſeeing Childerick in this danger, he drew his Sword, and diſ-engaged the King from amongſt them, though Clidemant and Lindamore alſo were much wounded, yet not ſo dangerouſly, but they accompanied the King into his Palace: unto which all the Seguſians preſently flocked, and amongſt them Guyemant, who though he was known to be the ſervant of Childerick, yet was not hated by the people, becauſe every one knew that he was none of that debauched number, which prompted the King unto theſe unworthy and ignominious courſes. When Lindamore ſpied him, Oh Guyemant, (ſaid he unto him) muſt Clidemant do pennance for a fault which he never committed?

Heavens forbid, (anſwered Guyemant and was much troubled) I hope ſo great a miſ-fortune will not befall us: Then going neerer unto Clidemant, he kneeled down by his bed-ſide, and taking him by the hand, Sir, ſaid he unto him, let your courage make it appear, that you are able to overcome a greater mis-fortune then this. Dear friend (anſwered Clidemant) I do not want courage, but yet I am not able to reſiſt the power of death. Guyemant with tears in his eyes, then ſaid unto him, I hope that Tautates will not afflict us ſo much, as to raviſh from us a Prince ſo neceſſary for the happineſs of men, but will let us enjoy him longer to our happineſs and comfort. Guyemant, anſwered he, we are all in the hands of the great Tautates; he may diſpoſe of us as he pleaſeth: and for my part, ſo he will be pleaſed to let me leave this life, with that good reputation which my Ancestors did leave unto me, I ſhall be well contented and ſatisfied with the time that I have already lived. Then calling Lindamore unto him, who was wounded, though not ſo mortally as he, and who was all in tears to ſee his Lord in this extremity: You two (ſaid he unto Lindamore and Guyemant) are the perſons in whom I have greateſt confidence; Guyemant I conjure you to tell Childerick, that I do die his ſervant, and am very ſorry that I have given no greater teſtimony of my affection: yet tell him, that if the ſervices which I have done unto the King his Father, have any influence upon him; I hope he will not take it ill if you tell him from me, that if he do not leave this ignominious life, which he hath lived ſince he was King, he muſt expect a puniſhment from Heaven. And you Lindamore, as ſoon as I am dead, or at leaſt, as ſoon as your wounds will permit you, carry back all the Seguſian Cavalry into their own Country; reſtore them back from me unto the Nymph my Mother, unto whoſe ſervice, I conjure you, to continue faithful as you have begun: deſire her not to grieve for the loſs of me, ſince it is the will of Heaven to have it ſo; and deſire her to comfort her ſelf with this, that I have imployed the time which I lived, in the way of honour, and die without reproach. Alſo tell my dear Siſter, that if any thing make me [Page] unwilling to die ſo ſoon, it is my deſires of ſeeing her, more then any thing elſe; then cauſing us all to be called for, and ſeeing moſt of us ſtanding by his beds-ſide, with tears in our eyes, he ſtretched out his hand unto us, and commanded us to obey Lindamore as himſelf; but above all to ſerve you Madam, and the Nymph Galathea, with all the fidelity of true Cavaliers, aſſuring us that we ſhould receive from you a full recompence for all the ſervices which we had done unto him.

He would have ſaid ſomething more, but his Spirits fail'd him, and he dyed in the arms of Lindamore; who ſeeing this, for grief fell into a ſwoon. I cannot expreſs our ſorrows, nor the ſorrows of all the Court, when they heard of his death: the very people of the Town, who commonly are very dull in ſuch reſentments, did lament him, and alſo applaud him to the Heavens, ſaying; that the death of this Prince was a great loſs unto their Nation and Crown; they were ſure he never conſented unto the Violent Extravagancies, and Tyranny of Childerick, and doubtleſs our condolements had been much more, but for the imminent peril and danger which preſently after did threaten us; the fear of our lives forced us to ſtand upon our guard: And at the ſame time, as fortune was, all the Lords and Grandees which were aſſembled at Province, not knowing of this accident, came all to feel the pulſe of the people; and finding them to beat after their own tempers, and with Arms in their hands, they put it into the peoples heads to go and clamor at the Palace Royal, with abundance of Drums and Trumpets; which making a great noiſe, Childerick began to fear the fury of theſe mutinies. And becauſe he had a great confidence in the valour of Lindamore, and in the advice of Guyemant, he ſent for them both to adviſe about his ſafety: neither of them both would in this juncture of danger upbraid him with his faults; but both offered him their aid and aſſiſtance to the hazard of their lives. Lindamore though wounded, adviſed to fall preſently upon the enemy, and counſelled the King to die like a King, and a man of courage. But Guyemant, like a wiſe and prudent Counſellor adviſed the contrary: Sir, ſaid he, let us not too deſperately precipitate our ſelves, till there be no hopes of ſafety; though we were near a thouſand men, yet we were nothing to the number of the enemy: time is the maſter of occaſions, and may unexpectedly fit us with them: it is wiſdom therefore to ſubmit unto time, and ſail with the wind; nothing is now to be done but to uſe our beſt endeavours for the changing the mind of this tumultuous people, ſince we ſee all the Grandees both of Gaul and of the Franks are joyned with them; it is to be expected Andrimartes and all his Friends will alſo comply, for he is already ſent unto: Gillon the Roman likewiſe with all his adherents will doubtleſs be ſtirring; and who knows whether Renauld and his Brother the Sons of Clodion, will not be fiſhing in theſe troubled waters? And therefore what good can we ever hope to do by force? I adviſe therefore, and Sir if you will follow my Counſell, I will engage my life to reſtore you unto the Crown of your Father: I adviſe you, I ſay, to yeild unto the violence of this averſe piece of Fortune; retire your ſelf out of this Kingdom, and reſt quiet with Baſin, in Thuring; he is your Kinſman and your Friend, he will be glad to have you in his houſe, and ready to aſſiſt a great affied Prince: In the mean time I call the Gods to witneſs, that when you are abſent, I will imploy my whole intereſt and endeavours to reconcile you unto the People, and I make no doubt but to effect it, if you will follow the advice which I ſhall give.

Guyemant had no ſooner done ſpeaking, but they heard a Trumpet, which being come neerer the draw Bridge, ſounded thrice, and afterwards they heard theſe words uttered in a loud voice: [Page] ‘The Druides, the Princes, and all the Cavalry of the Franks and Gaules, aſſembled and united, do declare and proclaim GILLON King of the Franks; and Childerick a Tyrant, and incapable of wearing the Crown of his Father.’

Childerick and Guyemant upon this looked out of the window into the ſtreet, and they ſaw Gillon carried, according to the cuſtom, upon the peoples ſhoulders, with ſuch loud acclamations of the people, that Childerick ſaw Guyemant told him truly, and therefore fearing leſt his own ſervants ſhould betray him, he retired himſelf with the faithful Guyemant, and after ſome ſhort diſcourſe together, he parted from him; carrying with him one half of a piece of gold, for a token, that when Guyemant ſent him the other half, he might return into his Kingdom in ſafety: the Figure of this piece being joyned together, was on one ſide a Tower, to expreſs conſtancy; and on the other a Dolphin amidſt the Surging Waves, with this Motto about, Deſtiny does not Croſs any: Then changing his habit, he entreated Lindamore, though he was wounded, to accompany him with his Seguſian Cavalry, until he was out of the hands of this tumultuous people; Lindamore conſented; and Guyemant promiſed to give an honourable funeral unto the Prince Clidemant. Night being come, the King got ſecretly out of the gates, and was conducted by us Cavaliers as far as Thuring, and becauſe Lindamores wounds would not give him leave to travel, he was forted to ſtay upon his return in the Town of Rhemois, where the Queen Methina had a particular care of him and his cure.

There we heard how the Generous Andrimartes having met with the Fair Silviana, preſently reſolved upon revenge; but hearing the ſame day how Childerick was puniſhed, he thought it beſt to retire into his own dominions, and pardon the fault of Childerick, which he did in ſome ſort excuſe, conſidering the ſuperlative beauty of Silviana.

Lindamore on the other ſide, thought it expedient to acquaint you Madam with the news, which though it be extreamly ſad, yet fearing the neglect of it might be diſ-ſervice unto you, I did undertake his commands, and became the meſſenger.

Thus the Cavalier ended with his eyes full of tears; but Galathea hearing of her Brothers death, although ſhe conſtrained her ſelf as much as poſſibly ſhe could, yet ſhe fell into ſuch a flood of tears, that ſhe did ſufficiently pay the tribute of human imbecility, and ſhewed her good nature. Her Mother gave her time to diſcharge her ſelf of her juſt grief, and in the mean time asked the Cavalier whether Lindamore intended to return ere it was long: and he anſwering, that he ſtayed only for his recovery, ſhe took Adamas aſide, and commanded the Cavalier to withdraw, until ſhe ſent for him again, but gave him a moſt ſtrict charge, to acquaint none living with the death of Clidemant, nor of any accidents that had hapned unto Lindamore, or King Childerick.

When the Cavalier was gone, and none within compaſs of hearing but Galathea, ſhe turned towards the Druide and ſaid unto him: You hear Father this ſad news, and I muſt tell you that the loſs of my Son goes very neer my heart; nights can beſt teſtifie my tears: but the neceſſity of affairs forces me to diſſemble my ſorrows in the day; and Daughter it is very requiſite you do the ſame, for if the death of Clidemant ſhould come to be known before we have put our affairs into good order, I am afraid Polemas ſhould take advantage of the abſence of all our Cavalry, and plot ſome treaſon againſt us. I ſpeak-not this without ſome ground of reaſon, for I have obſerved of late, that this man aſſumes more authority to himſelf then he ought; he has made two attempts already upon the life of Damon, even in your preſence, and this becauſe he feares I have no fancy to marry you unto him. But that which moſt diſcovers his bad intentions, is the letters which Gondebaut King of the Burgundians did write unto him, which I have ſeen, and which intimate a very cloſe correſpondency betwixt them; Theſe things being thus cloſely hid from me, muſt needs be [Page] unto my diſadvantage; and I believe his deſign is to attempt againſt the State, and to eſtabliſh his uſurpation by raviſhing Galathea from me, and marrying her either by good will or by force.

Oh Heavens Madam, cryed out Galathea; do you think this pernicious man has any ſuch abominable deſign? It is not to be doubted Madam, anſwered the Druide, and I ground my opinion upon his procuring that Impoſtor to place himſelf ſo neer the Gardens of Mount Briſon, to deceive you under a colour of Sanctity, and of being a Druide, and to try if by this means he could obtain your favour; but ſeeing that this failed him, and that Clidemant, Lindamore, and all the Cavalry are abſent, he may very well take hold of this opportunity, and make uſe of his correſpondents to that purpoſe, ſince the whole government of the Country is in his hands; therefore, I humbly conceive Madam, (ſaid he unto Amaſis) that your beſt courſe is to haſten Lindamore's return as ſoon as poſſibly he can, and that he bring with him al his Cavalry; in the mean time, retire your ſelf into the City of Marſelles, where without any noiſe, I will ſend unto you as many Souldiers and Cavaliers as I can: within two dayes I will come thither my ſelf, and if it be poſſible bring Damon with me, for I do not think the Country ſafe enough againſt the violence of Polemas. I do vow (ſaid Galathea) that if this wicked man do offer any attemps upon my perſon, I will with my own hands and nails ſtrangle my ſelf-Daughter, (anſwered Amaſis) good Angels preſerve you from any ſuch extremities; I had rather ſee you in your Coffin, then under the ſubjection of this inſolent man; but I hope never to ſee it: and yet it concerns us to uſe that remedy which Adamas out of his prudence and fidelity, hath propounded unto us; this very night you ſhall go with me unto Marſelles, we will carry Alcidon and Daphnide, and all their Company with us, and entreat them to leave off that habit which ſuits ſo ill with their qualities; to morrow, I will ſend a letter for Damon and Madonthe: But Father (ſaid ſhe and turned towards Adamas) as for the Druide, who was formerly at Mount Briſon, who told Fortunes, and lived with ſo much appearance of Sanctity, you muſt know that he is returned again, and begins to live, and do as formerly he did: Oh Madam, anſwered Adamas, he is a moſt abominable Impoſtor, and did you but know how Polemas makes uſe of him, you would think them both worthy of puniſhment: but the diſcourſe of it will be too long for this time, for I ſee the Sun grow very low, and you have no more time then to return unto Marſelles by day light; but if we could ſeiſe upon this Impoſtor, perhaps we ſhould diſcover by him what the deſign of Polemas is, for he is one of his great inſtruments. Galathea whoſe very ſpleen againſt this man had almoſt dryed up her tears, if you pleaſe (ſaid ſhe) we ſhall eaſily take him; for there needs no more but to pretend that I deſire to ſpeak with him: but I do not know how to manage the matter handſomly, without the aſſiſtance of Leonide, and therefore it is requiſite to ſend for her. Aſſure your ſelf Madam, anſwered Adamas, that to morrow I will ſend her unto you; and yet I think it a good way to ſend Silvia to morrow very early unto this Impoſtor, to tell him that you Madam have a very great deſire to ſee him, and that within this two or three dayes you intend to come unto him; this will alſo deceive Polemas, and perhaps may cauſe him to retard his wicked deſign, which will be very advantageous unto us: for we ſhall have more time to provide for our defence, which I foreſee we ſhall ſtand in need of. This being reſolved upon, Amaſis without more delay, and to give Galathea time to dry her eyes, ſhe called for Pen, Ink, and Paper, to write unto Lindamore, that he ſhould in all poſſible haſte come unto her, and that he ſhould underſtand the great neceſſity of his preſence by the bearer: which done, ſhe called for the Cavalier, gave him the Letter, and commanded him not to loſe one minute of time, but poſt unto Lindamore withal poſſible ſpeed, and tell him that ſhe ſhould ſee his good affection by the haſte that he will make in coming to her, and bringing with him all his Cavalry and Souldiers: And becauſe the Cavalier was very truſty, and Lindamore, had great confidence in him, ſhe acquainted him with the wicked intentions of Polemas, purpoſely to make him more quick in his imployment, and to bring back Lindamore the ſooner. The Cavalier without more delay took his leave; and Galathea to oblige Lindamore to make the more haſte, Good Sir, ſaid ſhe unto him, tell Lindamore that I ſhall know whether or no he be my friend, by the haſte that he ſhall make.

[Page] Upon this the Cavalier departed, and the Nymphs with Adamas went out, and after a little common diſcourſe, they entreated Daphnide and her Company to go along with them, and paſs away ſome dayes in Marſelles. Daphnide caſting her eye upon Alcidon, and ſeeing that he referred it unto her, ſhe thought it not civil to deny the Nymph, and therefore ſaid ſhe would wait upon her: for which Amaſis gave them thanks; and taking Daphnide by the hand, ſhe went unto Damon and Madonthe. Damon, ſaid ſhe unto him, I intend to ſend my letter for you to morrow, and I deſire that for the reaſons which Adamas will give you, you will put your ſelf to a little more paines in coming unto Marſelles. Madam, anſwered Damon, I have both ſtrength and devotion to ſerve you in whatſoever you pleaſe to command. After this, night compelled the Nymph to depart with all this good company; and ſhe was ſo careful to ſend for Damon in the morning, that before ten of the clock, he was at Marſelles with Madonthe, Adamas, and Leonide. But Paris being extreamly deſirous of going unto Belinde, he entreated Adamas he would be pleaſed to write the letter which he had promiſed: Adamas being alſo very willing to give him all ſatisfaction, did write according to his deſires: upon this, he departed immediately, ſo glad of Dianas permiſſion, and Adamas his conſent, as he could not tell how to wiſh for more happineſs.

Adamas in ſatisfaction unto Galatheas deſire, ſent the ſame night for Leonide, to the end ſhe might be with her the next morning betimes. And ſince ſhe was to go unto Galathea, he writ unto her that Alexis ſhould not upon any terms go with her, leſt ſhe ſhould be known; and therefore ſhe ſhould provide her ſelf with ſome handſome excuſe, and that this ſeparation would not be for above two or three dayes at the moſt. When Leonide received this letter it was almoſt night, and as it chanced, Astrea had carried them unto Dianas houſe: ſo as whilſt Aſtrea was talking with Diana and Daphnis, Leonide ſhewed Alexis the letter which ſhe had received. At the firſt, ſhe was a little troubled at it, thinking it very odd ſhe ſhould ſtay alone in a place, where if ſhe ſhould come to be known, it would turn to her diſgrace. But on the other ſide conſidering, that if ſhe went unto Galathea, ſhe ſhould be utterly ruined, ſhe was contented to ſtay ſtill in that place, pretending that ſhe was not yet well, and telling Aſtrea in private, that ſhe was ſo much in Love with this retired kind of life, as ſhe had no mind of going unto Galathea who had ſent for her; and that ſhe would fain her ſelf ſick, purpoſely to ſtay with her in a place that was free from the turbulent noiſe of a Court. Thus Leonide, got up betimes the next morning, and left Phillis in bed with Aſtrea; and taking her leave of them, ſhe promiſed to return very ſhortly to ſee them and Alexis; then going unto this diſguiſed Druide who was not yet up: be ſure (ſaid ſhe unto her in her ear) that you manage your time handſomly, and let not good opportunities ſlip▪ Alexis anſwered her only with a ſigh, and then Leonide went unto Adamas, and afterwards with him unto Galathea, leaving the diſguiſed Druide in abundance of content, and more might have had, if ſhe had had but confidence enough to make uſe of that fair occaſion.

Although Galathea out of a violent fit of jealouſie had baniſhed the Nymph Leonide from her preſence, yet ſhe did after wiſh for her again, as well of her own natural goodneſs, when ſhe remembred the affection and fidelity of that Lady; as becauſe her paſſion being now a little cooled, her judgment reaſſumed its ſtrength, and ſuffered her to think her not ſo culpable, as in the heat of her anger ſhe thought her: moreover the help of Silvia did not a little help her to diſcharge Leonide of Celadons eſcape, when they talked together. But that which moſt made her forget all her anger againſt this Nymph, was the death of Clidemant, and the enterpriſe of Polemas, who had ſome deſigns both againſt her perſon and eſtate. And becauſe great paſſions have a quality which drown all inferiors, and makes the ſoul think upon nothing but it, this Nymph was ſo extreamly offended againſt the boldneſs and treaſon of Polemas, that her mind did run wholly how ſhe ſhould chaſtiſe him: ſhewing by this, that a generous Spirit can hardly brook any unworthy violence.

And obſerve how Heaven does laugh at the ſubtilties of men, and how eaſily it can confute all human policy, and turn it to their own diſ-advantage: All the Artifice which Polemas had uſed to ruine Lindamore in Galatheas affection, being once diſcovered, it made her Love him more; and the raſh enterpriſe upon which he laid [Page] the foundation of his future Grandeur, did revive in her thoſe ſparks which were almoſt quite extinguiſhed by the ſubtilties of Polemas and Climanthes. Lindamore being abſent, could not ſo ſoon be a witneſs of thoſe favours which this renewed Love prepared for him: and Galathea longed for one unto whom ſhe might freely diſcharge her heart of ſuch thoughts as were neceſſary to be concealed; when ſhe looked upon thoſe that were about her, ſhe found none capable of the ſecret: as for Silvia and her Nurſe, who knew moſt of her ſecrets, ſhe thought the one too young, and the other too old; and though ſhe was confident of both their affections and fidelities, and though the prudence and wiſedom of Silvia was above her age, yet ſhe thought that matters of State were things of too great a weight to truſt them withall: and upon this reaſon ſeeking for a good occaſion to recal Leonide, and conſidering that ſhe never had any good ground to ſuſpect either her affection or fidelity, unleſs it was in the buſineſs of Celadon, which being now out of mind, and new accidents coming in lieu of it, they blotted out the memory of the other. So as this new buſineſs coming upon her, and ſo neerly concerning her, ſhe accuſed her ſelf of too much raſhneſs in baniſhing Leonide, ſhe intended to let ſlip no occaſion of calling her back, and treating her better for the future.

And in as much as it is natural to deſire the concealment of our faults, Galathea deſiring not to be taxed with levity and inconſideration in the baniſhment of Leonide from her, ſhe did with abundance of care ſeek out for a good occaſion of calling her back, without giving any knowledg of the cauſe why ſhe did baniſh her: ſo as when it was ſaid that Climanthes was returned, and when ſhe heard that Amaſis and Adamas deſired to know whether it was the Impoſtor who had formerly deceived them, ſhe ſaid that Leonide knew him better then any other, though ſhe knew well enough that Silvia knew him as well as ſhe; and not to let ſlip this opportunity, ſhe deſired Adamas to bring her back preſently: Leonide on the other ſide, when her Uncle acquainted her with Galatheas will, ſhe was willing to obey her, le [...]t ſhe ſhould ſeem too much diſcontented: but with a reſolution of returning unto the pleaſant banks of Lignon as ſoon as poſſibly ſhe could, as well to avoid the confuſed life of the Court, as to enjoy the ſweet liberty in which ſhe lived amongſt thoſe diſcreet and Fair Shepherdeſſes: and though ſhe did not tell her ſelf as much, yet the true reaſon of her deſires to return, was to ſee Celadon, whom ſhe left diſguiſed under the habit and name of Alexis: for though ſhe had endeavoured as much as poſſibly ſhe could to quench that flame in her ſelf, yet ſhe found how hard a matter it is for a ſoul to reaſſume its former liberty, after it is once captivated with a commanding love; and ſhe could not free her ſelf from that paſſion, though ſhe knew that Celadon would never leave Aſtrea: confuting hereby the opinion of thoſe who affirm, that there is no love without ſome hope.

When Leonide came unto the houſe of her Uncle Adamas, though it was very early, yet ſhe found all ready to depart: for the Druide knowing that important affairs requires all haſte, and that it is haſte which gives them both life and accompliſhment, he had taken order for every thing requiſite by the break of day; both for Damon and for Madonthe: Amaſis had ſent a good guard of Souldiers to be their convoy, under a pretence of an honour unto them, and not as if ſhe feared any injury would be offered unto them by the way.

Silvia, and moſt of her Companions, who knew of Leonides return, went and waited for her at the outmoſt gate of the Caſtle, and did expreſs ſo many ſigns of good will, as made it moſt evident that they loved her, at the leaſt, if any true friendſhip can be found in a Court. Silvia above all the reſt, embraced and kiſſed her a hundred times: and as ſoon as ſhe had ſaluted Amaſis, who received her very kindly, and had kiſſed the hands of Galathea, who welcomed her with extraordinary careſſes, they ſeparated themſelves as ſoon as they could from the reſt of their companions, and related unto each other all paſſages which had hapned ſince their laſt being together. Leonide with a calm temper related how pleaſingly ſhe had ſpent the time of her baniſhment, in the company of thoſe fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſſes, and told even wonders of their beauty, virtue, courteſie, civility, and wit, particularly of Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis: but in this, more ſubtile then her companion, ſhe ſpoke not a ſillable of Celadon, thinking it no diſcretion to truſt a young woman [Page] with a thing which once known, might bring her much diſpleaſure: and when Silvia asked her concerning Alexis, as thinking her to be the daughter of Adamas, ſhe anſwered very coldly and careleſly, and ſaid, that indeed ſhe was a very good harmleſs body, and had a wit ſutable unto the profeſſion, in which ſhe had been educated.

Damon and Madonthe were in the interim received with all honour that Amaſis and Galathea could do them, as well in duty to their merit, as to oblige Damon to aſſiſt them in the urgent affairs which they foreſaw. When he was got into bed, and the Chirurgions looked upon his wounds, though the ſhaking in the litter had a little altered them, yet they thought that in a very few days he would be perfectly whole: for though his wounds were great, yet they were not dangerous; and his meeting with Madonthe, and finding her as affectionate unto him as he could deſire, conduced much to his cure; and therefore every one conceived that the Chirurgery unto the body, was to begin with the cure of the heart and mind. Madonthe on her ſide, finding how much good her kindneſs did unto him, ſhe was almoſt continually with him, ſhewing unto him all manner of civil favours: and foreſeeing that ſhe was to ſtay long in that place in expectation of Damon cure, ſhe reſolved to change her habit and become a Nymph; ſhe knew that Damon would be better pleaſed with it, as more ſutable to her quality: and her new dreſs did ſo well become her, as ſhe appeared to be a great beauty, which manifeſts, that beauty receives no ſmall advantage from trimming up it ſelf.

Night being come, and Galathea having commanded Leonide to lie in her chamber; when ſhe ſaw that all the reſt were retired, ſhe called unto her; and cauſing her to take a candle, as if ſhe had ſome ſervice for her: then looking a long while upon her without ſpeaking a word: at the laſt with a ſmiling eye ſhe ſaid unto her, well Leonide, are you ſtill angry with me? With you Madam (anſwered Leonide and made a low courteſie) why, I beſeech you, do you ask that queſtion? Do you think me to be out of my wits? I moſt humbly beſeech you to believe that Leonide will never fail in that honour and reſpect which I ow unto you. But Madam (ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled) may I aſſume ſo much boldneſs as to ask you the very ſame queſtion which you do me? Yes Leonide, anſwered Galathea, and let us here make a full confeſſion, and ſo rip up the whole matter, that we never after have any occaſion to jarr: the truth is, you was angry with me, and I with you; and for my part I will confeſs it proceeded from jealouſie: but Leonide why were you angry? If you will needs have it ſo that I was angry, replied Leonide, it did proceed from the ſame jealouſie: How? replied Galathea, were you jealous of me? No Madam, anſwered Leonide, but if I was angry, it was to ſee you jealous, and that you ſhould ſuſpect me of a crime, whereof I was not guilty. Then Leonide, ſaid the Nymph, I would have all things to be forgotten, and if I was too raſh, excuſe my error; for truly I had an opinion that all which the Druide told me, was as certain as if it had come from the mouth of an Oracle: Oh Madam, replied Leonide, that Druide was a moſt vile Impoſtor, and had you been pleaſed to have believed me, his villany ſhould never have deceived you. Alas, anſwered Galathea, I was ſo deceived by his language, as I was extreamly offended with all thoſe that ſpoke unto me againſt him. But Madam, ſaid Leonide, do you know the truth now? Oh Sweet-heart, anſwered Galathea, I have ſince found him to my coſt, a very knave: I am moſt heartily glad of it, replied the Nymph, for then you will find my innocency. Speak no more concerning your ſelf, replied Galathea, for I have quite altered my opinion, and believe, that if I could have met with an opportunity, I ſhould have called you back unto me before now; but I would not upon any terms that the cauſe of our difference ſhould be known; yet I proteſt unto you Leonide, I never wiſhed you any ill; it is true, I was angry with you, upon the ground that I have told you, but for all that, I loved you better then any that are in my ſervice: and I think it may be excuſed for being angry, for Leonide confeſs the truth, did not you help Celadon to eſcape? And were not you to blame for oppoſing my will? Confeſs it freely Leonide, for now, I care not for him, and will pardon you. Madam, anſwered Leonide and ſmiled, I ſee you deſire I ſhould confeſſe a fault which I never committed; and ſince you have no more intereſt in him, I will freely confeſs, and proteſt [Page] that I did nothing but change Celadon into Lucinda, and you your ſelf did approve of what I did, when I dreſſed him in the habit of a woman. But why ſhould I be ſo deſirous of packing him from you? And what intereſt had I in it? If you had no intereſt, replied Galathea, why did you ſo often importune me to let him return unto Aſtrea? Many reaſons, anſwered Leonide did induce me thereunto: Firſt, I was afraid leſt that a man ſhould be ſeen amongſt us, and what a blemiſh would it have been to your reputation, if it had been known? Next, the ingratitude and ſcorn of that Shepherd did extreamly diſpleaſe me: I thought him unworthy of that honour which you did him, and which he did ſo ill acknowledg: but my chief reaſon of all was, becauſe I was ſure you was deceived, and that the treaſon was invented by Polemas and Climanthes, thoſe two unworthy wretches: and how came you to know there villany? ſaid Galathea. Madam, ſaid Leonide, I told you then, but paſſion kept you from believing me: when Celadon was ſick, you ſent me unto Adamas; and by fortune coming into an Inn, I was lodged in a chamber, next unto that where Polemas and Climanthes were all alone, and when they leaſt dreamed of it, I heard all their villany. Ah Leonide, replied the Nymph, I will remember that you told me as much, but time only could teach me how to believe you. Amaſis, my Mother was deceived in him as well as I, and would never ſuffer him to be puniſhed, according to his merit: but nothing is ſo cloſe which time does not diſcover, my Mother hath ſince found out his knavery; for all that he ſaid in relation to Clidemant, is proved abſolutely falſe; ſo as now, ſhe hates him as much as either you or I can. I am very glad, replied Leonide, that the knavery of this wicked man is known, and more glad to ſee you convinced of that error which he infuſed into you, and ſhould be as glad to ſee him puniſhed for an example, and in terror of all ſuch Impoſtors. Never fear it, ſaid Galathea, for I believe that ere long we ſhall be ſufficiently revenged; you muſt know, that he is of late returned again, and therefore I much deſired your return alſo. How Madam, ſaid Leonide, is that Impoſtor returned again? It is as I tell you, replied Galathea, and it is to be believed that he has ſome grand deſign in hand, for he is the great Counſellor of that Traitor Polemas. Oh Heavens Madam, ſaid Leonide, how infinitely you joy me to hear you ſpeak thus of thoſe two wicked men; but, if I may be ſo bold as to ask, I beſeech you what have they done of late? They have done ſuch things, anſwered the Nymph, that when you hear them, you, will admire and abhor them both: they are plotting no leſs then the ruine of us and all the Country: I do love you, Sweet-heart better then I did before, for in your abſence I have found your diſcretion and affection to me; I will therefore truſt you with a thing that none but Amaſis, Adamas, and my ſelf does know: then after a little pauſe, ſhe began thus.

You know Leonide, that when this impudent villain was firſt at Savignea, my Mother, as well as we, went to know of him the event of that voyage which Clidemant my dear brother was to undertake. This Impoſtor amongſt many other things told her, that after he had gotten much honour and glory, he ſhould return ſafely and with much contentment unto all: But on the contrary, we have received news from Lindamore, that poor Clidemant is dead, and himſelf ſo wounded, as he is forced to ſtay with the Queen Methina in the City of Rhemois. Oh Heavens Madam, (cryed our Leonide) is Clidemant dead? Speak low, anſwered Galathea, leſt any ſhould hear us: for it concerns us to keep it cloſe for a while, unleſs we would fall into the moſt baſe Tyranny that is imaginable. I beſeech you Madam, ſaid Leonide, what does induce you unto ſuch feares? And from whom do you expect ſuch inſolence? From him (anſwered the Nymph) who did before plot how to deceive me, I mean Polemas: you muſt know that this arrogant wretch out of an incredible preſumption, does not only plot how to marry me, as you heard from his own mouth, and from Climanthes, but more, he intends to marry me though againſt my will: and in order to that, he hath plotted moſt damnable treaſon both againſt me and the State, ayming to make himſelf maſter of us both at once; you heard of his actions againſt Damon, and we do underſtand what great intelligence he holds with Gondebaut, King of the Burgundians, without acquainting us: certainly his treaſon had broken out before now, were he not in fear of Clidemant; nothing elſe reſtrains him: Amaſis hath therefore ſent for Lindamore to return with all poſſible haſte; and though I [Page] aſſure my ſelf he will not fail, yet being ſo far off, we are full of many fears. We ſee how Polemas has all the Souldiers at his devotion, and my Mother thinking ſhe had done very well in it, has conferred upon him ſuch ample power, as he has the means to oblige them all to be at his own beck, though againſt us. I aſſure you Madam, ſaid Leonide, in a great amazement, you have reaſon to ſay, that theſe are things of great importance; ſo great, as I believe, nothing can more neerly concern you. Now Sweet-heart, ſaid Galathea, this Traytor who is yet ignorant of Clidemants death, hath cauſed him whom you call Climanthes, to come unto the ſame place again where he was before: for my part, I believe, it is to try if by ſome other ſubtilty he can win upon my will to marry Polemas: and Adamas whom I believe you acquainted with the knavery of this Impoſtor, hath beſeeched Amaſis, to know whether it be he or no, and if he prove the deceiver, to cauſe him to be ſeized upon; for it is probable that by him we ſhall know of all Polemas his plots: and ſince he truſted him with his deſign upon me, he would not hide the reſt of his deſign from him. We were in the houſe of Adamas when this courſe was reſolved upon; and I had an extream deſire to have you with me, I ſaid that there was none who could manage this matter better then your ſelf, who had ſo often talked with him. In the mean time, we came hither, and do all that we can for our own ſafeties: but we are ſo unprovided of all manner of defence, as we know not which way to turn our ſelves. This, Sweet-heart, is the ſtate of our affairs, which when well conſidered is very deplorable; for we have loſt Clidemant: all our beſt ſubjects are either dead with him, or out of the Country; and we are almoſt in the hands of an inſolent fellow, whoſe impudent ambition threatens us with intollerable ſervitude.

Upon this, the Nymph could not withhold her tears, nor Leonide neither, who after ſhe had emptied her eyes and recollected her ſelf, did anſwer thus: I muſt needs confeſs Madam, that of all treaſons this is the worſt, which being grounded upon great ingratitude, it is to be hoped, Heaven will never let it arrive at the end of this wicked mans deſires. The Gods are more juſt then to favour him in ſuch unjuſt deſigns, and you ſhall ſee they will ſend us help in our neceſſity from ſuch means as perhaps we leaſt expected. Put all your confidence Madam, in God, and aſſure your ſelf, that he will not fail you; beſides, your cauſe is ſuch, that though there was none but women to defend this place, I believe we are enough to keep it againſt all men alive: and for my part, I believe, that upon ſuch an occaſion I ſhould be more valiant then Lindamore: but Madam, ſince you ſent for me, as thinking I might be uſefull unto you in the buſineſs, what ſervice is it you are pleaſed to command me? I would have you go, (ſaid Galathea) and ſee whether this man be the Impoſtor or no: if he be the ſame Climanthes, as I believe he is, I would have you make him believe, that I have an extream deſire to confer with him upon a buſineſs of great concernment; and if it be poſſible, perſwade him to come hither, and ſpeak with me here: if you can prevail ſo far, we ſhall keep him ſo as he ſhall not go out when he will; if you cannot, becauſe guilty perſons are always ſuſpitious of themſelves, appoint a day when I may be ſure to find him there, for as you know, he uſeth to hide himſelf ſome dayes: and if we ſhould go unto him with a ſtrong hand, and he not be there, this would divulge our deſign ſo much, as we ſhould loſe the opportunity of ever catching him.

After much other ſuch diſcourſe as this, Galathea diſmiſſed Leonide unto her reſt; but calling her preſently back again. I muſt needs know (ſaid ſhe unto her) what character you give of your Fair Shepherdeſſes, & how you have lived all this while of your abſence from me. Madam, anſwered Leonide, I can ſay nothing of them but that they are the faireſt, the moſt diſcreet and lovely women that ever I ſaw, and their converſation is ſuch, that whoſoever is weary of their company, is certainly of a very ill humour: the golden age Madam, which men lived in long ſince, and which is ſo much envied by all that lived after them, could never enjoy ſo much contentment and pleaſure as is to be found amongſt them. I profeſs Leonide, ſaid Galathea, you give them ſuch a character, as makes me wiſh my ſelf a Shepherdeſs. Certainly Madam, replied Leonide, did you but once taſte thoſe ſweets, and tranquility which they enjoy, you would not deſire to leave them. And yet, ſaid Galathea, they alſo have their diſtempers and cares, and inquietudes; for when they loſt Celadon, did [Page] they not exceedingly reſent the loſs? It is impoſſible, replied Leonide, to be in the world, and be exempt from paying the tributes of humanity: but I call them happy and free from inquietude, when I compare our cares and theirs together: I know not why you ſhould think theirs ſo little, replied Galathea, for I have heard ſay that when Celadon was loſt, not only Aſtrea, but all the Town made great lamentations. Truly Madam, anſwered Leonide, they had ſhewed themſelves very inſenſible if the loſs of ſo well an accompliſhed Shepherd had not moved them: I aſſure my ſelf, replied Galathea very ſubtilely, that as the loſs of him did fill them with ſorrow, the recovery of him was as joyful unto them. Leonide knew the reaſon why the Nymph ſpoke thus, and therefore ſhe anſwered her very coldly, doubtleſs, when they do recover him, it will be abundance of joy unto them all; for that Shepherd was exceedingly beloved of all that knew him: why (ſaid Galathea) is not Celadon yet returned unto them? No Madam, ſaid Leonide, and now they hardly ſo much as think upon him. Does not Aſtrea, replied Galathea, ſometimes ſpeak of him? She does, anſwered Leonide, but never unleſs ſome other begin the diſcourſe. Why (ſaid the Nymph) does ſhe not love him ſtill? Or has ſome other ſucceeded him in her affection? Did ſhe love him, anſwered Leonide, ſhe would love in vain, for every one thinks him dead. I aſſure you, ſaid Galathea, that if he were dead I ſhould exceedingly lament him; for he was the fineſt Shepherd of all his Country; and I muſt tell you truly, the knavery of Climanthes did firſt move me to cheriſh him, and afterwards, his own merits moved me much more: and ſay what you will, I cannot believe but Aſtrea, what face ſoever ſhe ſet upon it, will have him in her heart, as long as ſhe lives; for I who am leſs concerned then ſhe, I cannot think upon him without much diſpleaſure. But, added ſhe, it is late, retire your ſelf therefore; and remember you go to morrow with your companion Silvia, to ſee whether yond man be Climanthes, or ſome other like him, for the buſineſs does not a little concern us.

This was the firſt diſcourſe which Galathea had with Leonide in private, of which ſhe was very glad; yet ſhe perceived that Galathea was not ſo well cured of Celadon as ſhe made a ſhew of; and therefore ſhe reſolved not to diſcover or diſcourſe any thing of that Shepherd, which might bring him into memory, knowing very well, that a Candle newly extinguiſhed, will light it ſelf again even by the very ſmoak. But becauſe ſhe would not fail in thoſe commands which ſhe had laid upon her, being of ſuch great concernment, after ſhe had conferred with her Uncle Adamas, ſhe went with her companion Silvia to make this diſcovery.

When they came firſt to the place, they made a doubt whether it was Climanthes or no; for they found every thing ſo changed, as they hardly thought it to be the ſame place which formerly it was. Now was the place trimmed up very fine and larger then before, with windows to give more light. This alteration did at the firſt aſtoniſh them; yet ſeeing the door ſhut, they reſolved to knock and be better reſolved. They went up eight or ten ſteps higher unto the Temple then it was before: and when they were at the top, through the windows which were on either ſide the door, they ſaw an Altar at the other end of the Temple, and before it, a man at his prayers, but they could not know him, becauſe his back was towards them. The Cell being but little, they could hear what he prayed, ſo it is; Oh moſt Puiſſant Deity, (ſaid he) I beſeech thee for a ſign from Heaven; and having repeated the ſame words thrice over in a loud voice, they ſaw the fire kindle upon the Altar of it ſelf, as readily as it was wont to do at other times, which made the two Nymphs believe him to be the ſame Impoſtor whom they looked for: and they were not deceived; for he having ſpied them afar off, he prepared himſelf into this diſguiſe of Sanctity: but they ſeeming not to have the leaſt ſuſpition of his Artifice, they uttered unto one another words of great admiration, in an audible voice; which he hearing, did much rejoyce at it, believing that they did not ſuſpect his knavery; and the more to delude them by his new jugling, he turned his head towards them at the noiſe which they made: and becauſe they deſired to enter into the Temple and ſpeak with him, he took ſome Holy Water and waſhed his eyes and his eares, becauſ [...] he had both ſeen and heard theſe Nymphs whilſt he was at his devotion; then throwing ſome Veruin, and a few leaves of Oak and Miſleto into the fire, he elevated his voice and ſaid: If it be thy pleaſure, Oh moſt omnipotent Deity, that they ſhall enter into [Page] thy Sacred Temple, then open thou the doors and let them in. He had no ſooner uttered theſe words, but the doors opened of themſelves, though none touched them, which made the two Nymphs to wonder ſo much, that though they knew the fellow to be but a jugling knave, yet they could not chuſe but be afraid; and therefore they ſtood a while as if they doubted whether they ſhould enter or no; until he himſelf in his Sacerdotal robes, and with a face full of gravity, came to invite them, ſince it ſeemed to be the will of God they ſhould, by this particular ſign of favour unto them. Leonide and her companion being grown a little more confident, and ſeeming to bear a great reverence unto him, they entred, and followed him as far as the Altar, where kneeling down after the example of this Impoſtor, they remained in that poſture until he roſe up, and ſaid unto them; Leonide and Silvia, the Deity of the place whom I adore, is pleaſed with your coming into this Holy Temple; for having advertiſed me of your coming, and commanded me to let you enter without purifying you either by perfumes or holy water, I could not chuſe but be aſtoniſhed at it; and therefore I asked of him an extraordinary ſign of his will; upon which, the fire did preſently kindle of it ſelf. Then when you were come, I not being able to think that you ſhould enter in this manner, I beſeeched him to ſhew his pleaſure by opening the doors of the Temple unto you, which he moſt miraculouſly did, as you have ſeen. Now, Oh moſt Omnipent and infinite Deity, if it be thy pleaſure, (ſaid he and turned towards the Altar) that theſe Nymphs ſhould adore thee in thy Sacred Cell, as it ſeems it is, by opening the dore unto them, ſhew us ſome ſign of thy divine will, that thou art pleaſed they ſhould make their ſupplications unto thee: When he uttered theſe words, the fire that w [...] upon the Altar did extinguiſh, and the doors did miraculouſly ſhut of themſelves; at which the Nymphs were ſo amazed, though they knew him to be a cunning knave, yet they feared that his tricks were done by ſome inchantment or witchcraft; and therefore they would needs go out of that place which they thought ſwarmed with fiends and divels; but he took them both by their arms, and ſaid, that ſince the doors were ſhut by the will of God, they would greatly offend him, if they offered to open them before it was his pleaſure: but he deſired them to let him know the cauſe of their coming thither, to the end he might pray unto God to inſpire him with an anſwer. Though the Nymphs were both afraid, yet partly by force, and partly by [...]king courage, Leonide acquainted him with the deſire of the Nymph Galath [...]; beſeeching him, if it was his pleaſure, to come unto her, and as ſoon as poſſibly he could, becauſe ſhe had a buſineſs of great importance to communicate unto him, and delay might be very prejudical unto her: We are not, Oh ſage Nymphs, (ſaid he unto them) like unto other men, who may diſpoſe of themſelves after their own wills; for we, who have dedicated our ſelves unto the ſervice of Heaven, neither ought nor can diſpoſe of our ſelves, but according to the will of Heaven: and I muſt tell you more, that I am expreſly forbidden to go out of the Limits which are appointed unto me by this Divinity, without their expreſs permiſſion; and therefore, I cannot give you any direct anſwer until I have conſulted with the Oracle: if you will pleaſe to come again unto me about four or five dayes hence, you ſhall know what anſwer I receive from it; but in the mean time, that we may have ſome knowledg of his future good will, let us offer unto him a ſmall ſacrifice, which we will make of the Sacred Miſleto, Veruin, and Savine, which are ſo pleaſing unto him. Upon this taking a few Oak leaves, and making two Chaplets in form of Garlands, he put them upon their heads: then lighting the fire upon the Altar, he threw in ſome of thoſe leaves before named; laſtly, kneeling down, he ſeemed to make ſome prayers in a low voice, and when he ſaw it was time, Oh Great and Omnipotent Deity, (ſaid he in a loud voice) if the requests and ſupplications of theſe Nymphs be pleaſing unto thee, open thou the doors of the Temple unto them, that after they have adored thee, they may go home unto their houſes with content and ſatisfaction. The Nymphs hearing theſe words, took particular notice of all the Actions of Climanthes, to ſee if they could ſpy by what trick the doors were opened; but they ſeemed to open miraculouſly, for neither his hand, nor any other part of his body moved, which could move them unto any ſuſpition.

The doors then of the Temple being opened thus ſtrangely, this Impoſtor taking [Page] both the Nymphs by their hands, Go pure and innocent ſouls (ſaid he unto them) Rejoyce in that the Heavens do love you, and for that there are few things which you can ask that will be denied unto you: then conducting them forth, he uſed a few Ceremonies, lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and returned to the ſame place where he ſaw them when they firſt came: And becauſe they were extreamly afraid that he was a Conjurer, they haſted away as faſt as they could, and thinking ſome Demon followed them. But Climanthes thinking that perhaps they might hide themſelves in ſome Buſh neer, to ſee what he did, he kindled the fire upon the Altar, & made the doors ſhut of themſelves; which the Nymphs ſeeing as they looked back, fear made them go away faſter then they came. Thus did the knavery of this wicked fellow ſerve him for a cloak of piety.

Galathea was not out of bed when Leonide and Silvia returned, and when they came unto her, they looked with ſuch affrighted looks, that Galathea thought at firſt that they had met with ſome diſaſter: But when they related all that they had ſeen, and their fears at the opening and ſhutting of the doors, ſhe could not chuſe but laugh to ſee how they trembled at the very relation. I aſſure you Madam (ſaid Silvia when ſhe ſaw Galathea laugh at them) that I am not of a very timorous temper, but I muſt confeſs that when I ſaw thoſe doors open and ſhut of themſelves, the hair of my head began to ſtare, and I do think any that ſaw them would have done the like. Good Madam, ſaid Leonide, ſuppoſe the doors of your chamber ſhould thus open and ſhut of themſelves, would you not be afraid as well as we? We know the man to be a knave, but withal, we fear that he deals with the Divel, and is a Conjurer. No, no, ſaid the Nymph, you know he is a cunning fellow, and full of jugling tricks, and he did them ſo ſlightly, that he deluded your eyes. No no Madam, anſwered Silvia, my companion and I both obſerved all his actions ſo narrowly, that no motion, nor a caſt of his eye eſcaped us. However Madam (ſaid Leonide) we can aſſure you he is the ſame Climanthes which formerly we ſaw, and it is to be believed that he has a deſigne in project by his ſtaying here: Whether he uſe conjuration or not, I aſſure you he uſeth abundance of Artifice and pains, and certainly it is to ſome Deſigne of importance. But (ſaid Galathea) when did he promiſe to come hither? How Madam! anſwered Silvia, promiſe to come hither? Nay, nay, he is one that never moves a foot without God's leave; he ſays he will conſult with his Oracle, and if we come about five days hence, he will tell us whither God will give him leave to ſtir out of thoſe limits allotted to him: But for my part, I believe he will conſult with one that has as many Divels at his command as I have hairs on my head.

Galathea could not forbear laughing at their relation, and commanded them to tell what they had done and ſeen unto all, eſpecially unto Adamas. Climanthes on the other ſide ſpent all the reſt of the day in his wicked (though ſeeming) Devotion, to the end that if any did come and ſurprize him, they might ſee his ſanctity: But when it was night, and he thought none could ſee him, he locked up his Temple, put on other clothes, went through the Wood unto Polemas, and acquainted him with all the adventures of the day, and conſulted with him how to demean him ſelf towards Galathea in her queſtions which ſhe ſhould ask. Polemas was much joyed when he heard the Nymph had a mind to talk with Climanthes, aſſuring himſelf that now ſhe gave credit unto his Art, which until then he made a doubt of. I do believe ſaid Climanthes in anſwer unto Polemas, that the moſt ſubtle and cautelous men might be deluded as well as theſe women; for never was deſigne carried on with more prudence and circumſpection then ours: For my part think you what you pleaſe, I can never be perſwaded they have the leaſt ſuſpition o [...] any jugling in all that they have ſeen; for I have been ſo punctual in every circumſtance, that I think any one living might be deceived as well as they: whatſoever they were by my firſt devices, I am moſt confident they are much more deluded by my ſecond.

Whilſt they were talking thus, a Meſſenger brought ſome news of concernment unto Polemas: upon this their diſcourſe was interrupted; therefore making Climanthes to go into a Cloſet hard by, he cauſed the meſſenger to enter. Sir (ſaid the meſſenger unto him, when he ſaw him alone in the chamber) your faithful ſervant Meronthes ſalutes you, and hath commanded me to deliver this letter unto [Page] your own hand; and more, hath given me in charge after you have read it, to acquaint you with ſome paſſages from him which relate unto your ſervice. Polemas opening and reading the letter, and finding it only to be a letter of Credence, he took him by the hand, and drew him as cloſe to the Cloſet where Climanthes was, as poſſibly he could, purpoſely that he might hear, aſſuring himſelf that it was ſomthing which was neceſſary to be communicated unto him, becauſe Merontes was one of the prime Burgomaſters of the City of Marſelles, and long ſince made his creature; asking therefore of the meſſenger, who was his ſon, what he had to ſay, he acquainted him with the arrival of Damon and Madonthe, and the honour and careſſes which Amaſis and Galathea did unto them; the care which both of them had of him, and the opinion which the Chirurgions had of him: Afterwards he gave him an accompt of all the Souldiers that were in the Town, in what manner the Guards were placed, the little ſuſpition that either Amaſis or Adamas had of any attempts, and briefly aſſured him, that he would open a gate of the Town unto him when he pleaſed: Polemas received this news with much joy; and after thanks unto Merontes for his affection and fidelity, he conjured him to continue it, with aſſurance that he would one day recompence him to the full: That when time ſerved, he would make uſe of his offer, as from one whom he confided in, the moſt of any man in the world: then fetching a bag of money which he kept always ready for a recompence of ſecret Intelligences; Here ſaid he unto him, take this as an earneſt of my good Will, and when occaſion ſerves, I will do more for you: But pray tell me (ſaid he unto the man) is there any News at Court? Sir (ſaid the young man) all the talk is of a Druide who lives neer Mount Briſon in ſo much ſanctity, that the Gods do grant unto him whatſoever he asks: I cannot relate all the ſtories that are told of him, for they are ſo many, and ſo ſtrange, as are incredible: His greateſt reputation did ſpring from a voyage which Leonide did make unto him, who reports ſuch wonders of him, as does aſtoniſh all hearers: Amongſt the reſt (ſaid Polemas) what does ſhe report to have ſeen? Sir, anſwered the man, ſhe reports many wonders, and amongſt the reſt, of the Door of the Temple, which opens and ſhuts of it ſelf, at the very command of this holy Man. For my part Sir, I go but ſeldom unto the Caſtle, and what I report, is only by hear-ſay: But it is moſt certain, that many ſtrange wonders are reported of this holy perſon. Well Sir, ſaid Polemas, Return unto your Father, tell him, I give him a thouſand thanks for the News which I have received by you, and ſhall one day be as forward in real recompence, as I am now in my verbal thanks: Deſire him to continue in his Affection and Fidelity, but above all, I deſire both him and you to be ſecret. Upon this, Polemas diſmiſſed the meſſenger, and returned to Climanthes; who hearing what the man reported of him, could not chuſe but laugh at the opinion which the world conceived of him: And let me tell you (ſaid he) that it is beyond the reach of a Female ſubtilty to find out the Art which I have uſed. Good Climanthes (ſaid Polemas) I beſeech you tell me how you kindled the Fire upon your Altar, and how the Doors did open and ſhut of themſelves at ſuch a diſtance from you; for I muſt confeſs I do not underſtand how you can do it. The truth is, Sir, ſaid Climanthes, theſe Arts, like all tricks of Legerdemain, are not to be underſtood by words, as they may be moſt eaſily by ſight and demonſtration; for I have ordered my Engines in ſuch a manner, as words cannot deſcribe them; but be aſſured, they are the eaſieſt things in the world to be underſtood when they are once ſeen. I muſt needs ſay, replyed Polemas, that Climanthes is a Maſter in his Art, and now I am fully perſwaded that theſe Women are deceived by it: But dear friend, ſaid he, and embraced him, how do you think our Deſigne will take? Doubtleſs Sir, ſaid he, as well as we can wiſh; for though the event of future things be uncertain, yet take it upon my word, a happy beginning is moſt commonly ſeconded by a happy end; and I am certain you cannot deſire a more happy beginning then we have had. Within this Country all is your own; and out of it, there is not one Prince nor Neighbour who does not love and favour you: All thoſe that can any ways hinder you, are at a far diſtance from you, and ſo employed in the affairs of others, that they give you time enough to tranſact ours; The beſt of it is, Clidemant who is the only mote in your eye, he is ſo engaged in the aſſiſtance of a Prince ſo far diſtant from us, that any relief from [Page] him is not to be feared; whereas your Confederates and Allies, are at hand, ſo as we ſhall meet with no oppoſition, unleſs from a Company of weak women, who though very potent in Wars of Love, yet are they but pitifully weak in the Wars of Mars. But you muſt conſider, replied Polemas, that Adamas whoſe good will, will never be gained, is a very conſiderable enemy, by reaſon of the credit and reputation that he has in this Country; the authority of Amaſis, and the averſe diſpoſition of Galathea, will be great hindrances unto us. Pray Sir conſider, anſwered Climanthes, that every thing will act according to its own nature: Adamas may hurt you in words, but not in deeds; take but Arms, and all his books are not worth a ruſh. As for Amaſis, ſhe is ſo affectionate unto Galathea, as ſhe will not croſs her in any thing ſhe ſhall deſire: there is the greateſt difficulty, replied Polemas, for Galathea is young, and has no conſideration of the States tranquility, but all her deſignes and inclinations, are croſs and averſe unto mine. How know you that? replied Climanthes, perhaps ſhe deſires it as much as you, but knows not how to bring it about: I pray tell me, Has ſhe not formerly loved you? True, anſwered Polemas, but Lindamore has ſtoln her affection from me: Pray Sir conſider, ſaid Climanthes, that what was once, may be again. The Nature of a woman, eſpecially of a young one, is very wavering; catches at every object of novelty that pleaſeth the eyes, and fixes ſolidly upon none, her mind is like a Ship at Sea without any Anchor or ſtay, which flotes as every wind pleaſeth. Now if we may be conjectures gueſſe all things hidden, I muſt needs think ſhe is fully intended to obſerve whatſoever I ſhall bid her; why elſe ſhould ſhe ſend Leonide unto me, to deſire that I ſhould come preſently unto her? I am either extreamly miſtaken, or elſe I ſee her heart infinitely impatient to ſee me, with intentions to put her ſelf wholly into my hands; aſſure your ſelf, that I gave her a very hot allarm, when I told her that if ſhe married any but him whom the Gods had appointed for her, ſhe would be the moſt unhappy woman alive. But ſuppoſe, ſaid Polemas, ſhe ſhould diſcover your ſubtilty? But ſuppoſe (ſaid Climanthes) the sky ſhould fall? There is as much likelyhood of the one as of the other: I would have you to know, that Climanthes is ſuch a Maſter in his Art, that if he would attempt to make Amaſis marry him, he could bring it to paſs. Polemas laughed and ſaid, I wiſh with all my heart that I were a witneſs of your marriage with her, and you of mine with Galathea. No, no, ſaid Climanthes, I would be contented with Leonide, Oh my dear friend (ſaid Polemas) when I do marry Galathea, I will promiſe you Leonide: and I promiſe you, ſaid Climanthes, that I will give you Galathea within a few dayes, or elſe I will loſe my life. Upon this the queſtion grew, whether he ſhould make Galathea come unto him, or he go unto her; at laſt it was concluded better for him to go unto her, becauſe in making her come into the Temple it was to be feared, leſt his tricks in opening and ſhutting the doors, might ſome way or other miſcarry or be diſcovered, and then the whole plot was ſpoiled: beſides, thoſe things that are taken for wonders at the firſt, and admired, do grow ſtale by often uſing, and ſcorned: Moreover, ſince this opening and ſhutting is believed to be the Act of God, it will be thought ſtrange that this God can do nothing but ſtill one and the ſame things. But by going to the Palace, all theſe things are not to be expected, and nothing is to be done but talking with her. Upon this they parted full of hopes to arrive ere long at their deſired ends.

But Polemas who was a man of a ſharp wit, and a ſound judgment, and a ſpirit ſwell'd with ambition, although he ſeemed to rely wholy upon the skil of Climanthes, yet he neglected nothing which might bring his enterpriſe to paſs; and though he had ſome hopes in the ſubtilty of this fellow, yet he followed his other buſineſs very cloſe, ſo that if the ſubtilty of the one failed, the force of the other might effect it. Beſides the Souldiers of that Province, he had entertained many others, both within and without the State: He had made himſelf maſter of all the ſtrong places, bridges, and paſſes; and not to do any thing at random, there was neither King nor Prince his Neighbour, with whom he had not cloſe intelligence, and promiſe of aſſiſtance in caſe of need; he provided himſelf of a vaſt Magazine of Arms, and all manner of Amunition. And becauſe the whole management of all theſe correſpondencies, and the whole enterpriſe reſted upon himſelf, he made choiſe of four men [Page] whom he imployed in things particular: theſe four confidents whom he relied upon, were the four pillars of all his hopes and fortune; the name of the one was Pelidontes, unto whom he committed the charge of his Cavalry: another was called Argonides, unto whom he committed his Infantry; Liſtrandes had the command of the Artillery, and Engines; and Ligonias of the Amunition and victual. Theſe four were acquainted with the deſign of Polemas, and had long ſince contracted a league, and linked their fortunes and lives together. As ſoon as Climanthes was gone, Polemas called for them, and asked them particularly, how many men he might build upon, if within the compaſs of eight or ten dayes he ſhould have occaſion to imploy them? Pelidontes promiſed him fifteen hundred horſe, and beſides all the Inhabitants of the Country, two thouſand ſtrangers: Argonides promiſed twelve thouſand Pikes, Archers, Slingers, and Croſs-bows, and ſix thouſand ſtrangers: Ligonias promiſed victual for four months: and Liſtrandes promiſed as many Arms of all ſorts as they ſhould need: now my friends, ſaid he and embraced them, my hopes are all in you; I do wholly rely upon you, and know that you will have as great a care of my buſineſs, as I my ſelf can have; perhaps we ſhall not ſtand in need of all theſe preparations, I hope Heaven will bring our enterpriſe to paſs by fair means, and not by force. I deſire it may be ſo, as well for the good of the State, as becauſe that way ſeems every way the better. However, all preparations moſt go forward, for I am reſolved, within eight dayes to be either Caſar or nothing; I beſeech you therefore, and conjure you to have a great care of every thing under your particular charges, that they may be in readineſs when we ſhall ſtand in need of them. Thus with abundance of good language, and a thouſand large promiſes, they parted; and hoped to ſee the day when he ſhould be able to make them all good.

But whilſt the mind of Polemas thus boyled over with ambition, and the Country was ready to break out into a flame: Love ſtill boyled as faſt as ambition, for it gave no reſt unto Celadon whom Leonide left in the habit of Alexis, and in the houſe of Aſtrea; who with all her Companions could not know him to be Celadon, ſo well was he diſguiſed: But the wonder is, that neither Licidas, nor any of his neereſt kindred or intimate friends ſhould have the leaſt ſuſpition of him; and that was the reaſon why Phoceon, when Adamas brought her into his houſe, did lodg her in the Chamber where Aſtrea was wont to lie: and indeed that Fair Shepherdeſs and her Companion Phillis, when Leonide was gone unto Marſelles, did endeavour to ſleep, that they might let this diſguiſed Druide take ſome reſt, whom they ſuppoſed to be not well. But this new, or indeed old affection renewed, which Aſtrea bore unto this Shepherd, believing him a woman, and her reſolution to follow her unto Carnutes, and conſecrate the remainder of her dayes unto Tautates, did ſo poſſeſſe her mind, that ſhe could not entertain any thought or imagination, but what proceeded from them and that deſire. Phillis on the other ſide, who knew how the Fair and Wiſe Diana was perplexed ever ſince the ſubtile Laonices invention againſt Sylvander, ſhe bad deffiance unto any reſt till ſhe went unto her to comfort her in her grief, knowing very well by ſad experience, what it was to be troubled with the panges of jealouſie. Celadon who lay in the ſame Chamber with theſe Fair Shepherdeſſes, had his enquietudes as well as they, and took as little reſt; for calling into his memory how Aſtrea had formerly appointed him never to ſee her until by her command; when he conſidered his reſolution to obſerve this ordinance moſt religiouſly, and thought upon the reaſons which the wiſe Adamas uſed to make him quit that ſolitary kind of life, which he had begun when he reflected upon the artifice which Leonide and the Druide uſed to bring him, not only into his own Town, and amongſt his kindred, but alſo into the very houſe of Aſtrea, and leave him alone with her; theſe thoughts did ſo imbroyl the imagination of this poor Shepherd, that he knew not what Councel, or what reſolution to take; for though he had the ſame thoughts in his mind before, yet the ſeveral reaſon and arguments of the Nymph, and the Druide, did help him to diſgeſt them; but now when he was all alone, he thought himſelf ſurrounded with a thouſand dangers, and without all humane help or comfort. He conſidered that now he was amongſt abundance of his familiar and intimate acquaintance, and that it was a thing almoſt impoſſible, to hide himſelf long from them: and though the prudence of the great Druide Adamas, who [Page] did acknowledge him for his Daughter, did caſt a miſt before the eyes of thoſe that were the moſt clear ſighted, and much authorize his diſguiſe; yet he knew very well, that thoſe eyes which he was to deceive, were ſo quick ſighted, that if any of his actions or words ſhould betray him, he was ſure his diſſimulation would be immediately diſcovered: Upon this conſideration, he bethought himſelf how prudently ignorant he was to ſeem of knowing any thing which related unto the quality of a Shepherd, how ſimple he was to ſeem in their way of life, their exerciſes, and how unacquainted he was to be with all his friends, kinred, acquaintances, and places, he thought this a task impoſſible to be undertaken; and though he did all he could, yet the face of Alexis was ſo very like unto that of Celadon, all her words, actions, and geſtures were ſo reſemblant unto that ſuppoſed loſt Shepherd, as doubtleſs he ſhould be known in ſpite of all his diſſimulations and diſguiſements. But his hardeſt task was, to rule and check a moſt domineering paſſion, which amidſt his greateſt felicities, would not give his ſoul leave to enjoy any full contentment. How oft did he command his tongue and ha [...]ds not to take too much liberty unto themſelves, leſt they ſhould betray himſelf to be Celadon? How oft did he turn away his eye from many Beauties which under the notion of Alexis were permitted unto him; and all, leſt his too much curioſity ſhould bring him into ſuſpicion.

After all theſe conſiderations had long embroyled his mind, and the more he thought upon them, the more Hydras of difficulties he found, the beſt counſel he could think upon, was, to reſolve to ſtay in that place as little as he could, knowing it to be a thing impoſſible to ſtay, and not be known, and that the ſureſt foot may ſomtimes ſtumble; but this reſolution he thought to be as full of difficulties in the execution, and therefore he reſolved to ſtay ſtill in that place: Upon which he began to think how he ſhould employ himſelf; and he conceived that he could no way better ſpend his time, then in ſtill engaging that Shepherdeſs unto a ſtronger league of amity, thinking very rationally, that if ſhe ſhould afterwards come to know him, ſhe would not ſo ſoon conſent unto a ſecond Baniſhment. And becauſe he knew that we are much led by the examples of thoſe whom we eſteem, and ſhall after them do thoſe things which otherwiſe we ſhould never conſent unto, he intended to expreſs a love unto her; not ſuch a kinde of love as one woman uſeth to expreſs unto another, but ſuch a one as Celadon was wont to expreſs unto Astrea, and thus by his example to draw her unto the like affection, and ſo inſenſibly to bring her from Friendſhip unto Love. But when he was to put this thought in execution, he found abundance of more difficulty in acting, then in propounding it; it being a hard matter to expreſs love unto that Shepherdeſs, and not make her to ſuſpect it to be more then became a Virgin Druide.

This chaos and confuſion of difficulties did ſo diſtemper him, that he could not chuſe but ſigh very oft, and ſo loud, that the two Shepherdeſſes could not chuſe but hear him; for they did not ſleep, only ſeemed as if they did, becauſe they would not diſturb the reſt of Alexis. But hearing her to ſigh ſo exceedingly, and knowing her to be awake, Aſtrea feared, that though ſhe ſaid that ſhe ſeemed ſick, only as a colour for ſtaying with her, yet I ſay ſhe feared leſt ſome real diſtemper ſhould be the cauſe of ſo many ſighs. This doubt cauſed her to turn towards Phillis, whom ſhe knew was awake: Siſter (ſaid ſhe in as low a voice as ſhe could) do you not hear Alexis ſigh? I am afraid that ſhe is worſe then ſhe will tell unto us. I heard her ſigh ſeveral times (ſaid Phillis) and I had the ſame conceipt, but me-thought they were ſighs of one that was rather full of cares, then of one that was ſick: For ſighs of a ſick perſon are fetched from the breaſt with more violence, and thoſe which I hear, are but ſilent whiſpering ſighs, ſuch as proceed from paſſion and diſtemper of mind. I think, ſaid Aſtrea, that we ſhould do well if we diverted her from ſuch ſad thoughts, and yet if ſhe be aſleep, we ſhould not waken her. Certainly, ſaid Phillis, ſhe is not aſleep, for ſhe has turned her ſelf ſeveral times, but perhaps ſhe is ſilent upon the ſame reaſon that we are, I mean, leſt we ſhould diſturb each other. Aſtrea being very impatient to ſee whether it was ſo, ſhe opened her curtain and peeped out; but ſhe could not do it ſo ſoftly, but Alexis obſerved her, who for all his confuſed thoughts, had his eye and his heart towards her, and who had not lain ſo long in bed, but only to make Phillis believe her ſickneſs was real. Astrea perceiving that [Page] Alexis was not aſleep, Madam (ſaid ſhe unto her) we are much afraid you are very ill, for we have heard you complain very much ſince Leonide wakened you. I thank you heartily, anſwered Alexis, for your care of me, which were I worſe then I am, would make me well again: yet truly I am not very well, and therefore I deſire not to ſtir out of the chamber this morning, but will try whether a little head-ach will be cured with a little reſt. Madam, ſaid Phillis, I have heard ſay that ſleep is the beſt remedy againſt that diſeaſe. I have tryed to ſleep ſince Leonide went, replied Alexis but I could not perſwade my eyes together, becauſe many odd thoughts came into my mind, ſo as I think the beſt way will be to divert it by diſcourſe; for I have heard ſay, that pain will away when it is leaſt thought upon. What then ſhall we do, ſaid Aſtrea, to make you forget your pain? I deſire, anſwered Alexis, that you will come and dreſs your ſelves by me, and paſs away the time with your ſweet diſcourſe. Madam (ſaid Aſtrea) we will do any thing in the world to obey you: upon this riſing out of bed, ſhe put on her Gown: But Alexis remembring that ſhe promiſed to dreſs her ſelf that day in the habit of a Druide, ſhe claimed her promiſe. Sweetheart (ſaid ſhe unto her) if you will make good your promiſe, and aſſume the habit of a Druide this day, it would be a very great content unto me. Oh Madam, anſwered ſhe, you would never pardon me, if I ſhould commit ſo groſs a crime: Indeed it is too much preſumption for a ſilly Shepherdeſs. It may be ſo, replied Alexis, for a ſilly Shepherdeſs, but not for ſuch a Shepherdeſs as Aſtrea is, whoſe merits, beauty, and perfections does tranſcend all the Druides that I do know; and therefore if you will oblige me, lay all ſuch conſiderations aſide: for the love of you I was a Shepherdeſs, and will be ſo as long as you pleaſe; why then for the love of me ſhould not you as well become a Druide: Come, come, continued ſhe, Were I but dreſt, I would not put you to the trouble of coming hither, but ſince I am in bed, I beſeech you ſweet-heart come hither, and let me help to dreſs you. The Shepherdeſs in obedience to this command, went to Alexis, who [...]aiſing her ſelf in the bed, and cloſing her ſmock leſt her Breaſts ſhould be diſcovered, did receive her with ſuch raviſhment of joy, as it was well Phillis was on the other ſide of the bed dreſſing her ſelf, for it was to be feared that had ſhe ſeen them, ſhe would have entred into ſome ſuſpition: and though Aſtrea was aſhamed of it, yet ſuch careſſes were now grown ſo accuſtomed, that ſhe took all in good part.

Celadon had a good will to continue his careſſes longer, but ſome conſiderations moved him to give over ſooner then he had a mind, and helping her to dreſs her ſelf, her Breaſts, and almoſt every part of her fair Body was open to his eye, which being raviſhed at the ſight of ſo many tranſcendent perfections, ſhe deſired that Celadon were another Argus, full of eyes, that he might the better contemplate all thoſe excellencies: His wonder at them ſo took up his mind, that not knowing what he did, he did and undid every thing about the dreſſing of her, above three or four times; at which Aſtrea, who did not obſerve from whence the fault proceeded, could not chuſe but ſmile, and reward his erroneous pains with many careſſes, which the timorous Druide durſt hardly repay, leſt his actions ſhould diſcover more then became Alexis, ſo as it may be ſaid, that Love was moſt ſparing, when it was moſt prodigal of its favours.

Phillis in the mean time was dreſſing her ſelf as faſt as ſhe could; and becauſe ſhe did not uſe much art in trimming up her ſelf, ſhe was ready before Alexis had got on Aſtreas Gown; at which ſhe ſmiled, and ſaid unto them, If you be as long about all the reſt as this you have done, Aſtrea will be ready about the time when others are going to Bed. No matter for time, Siſter, ſaid Aſtrea, for it cannot be better ſpent then in diverting the pain of the fair Alexis. If that be your Deſigne, replyed ſhe, it is well employed; but if it be only to paſs away the time with that fair Druide, I know a better diverſion then yours; and if you will give me leave, I will go and fetch one that will ſecond me, and help out better then I can do: Beſides Siſter, you know that if neither of us go unto her upon this occaſion, we ſhall be exceedingly to blame. Of whom do you ſpeak, ſaid Alexis, if I be not troubleſome in asking the queſtion. Alas Madam, replyed Aſtrea, it is we that are troubleſome in talking of ſuch things before you; for indeed 'tis too much pains for you to hear our trivial affairs: Then turning towards Phillis, Go ſiſter (continued ſhe) [Page] and aſſure her we all believe that all which is reported is falſe. Phillis then as ſhe went away, I need not ask (ſaid ſhe) where I ſhall find you at my return, ſince it is not likely you will ſtir out of this chamber. If the diſtemper of the fair Alexis would give her leave to ſtir out, anſwered Aſtrea, I believe you might find us in the Grove of Hazles ſooner then in any other place, but I believe you will find us here at your return.

Upon this Phillis went out of the chamber, and Alexis with a ſmiling countenance ſaid unto Aſtrea, Do not think that the Grove of Hazles does delight me more then any other place where the fair Aſtrea is; for where ſhe is not, no place is pleaſing unto me: It befits me Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, to uſe the ſame words, ſince I have no contentment but in your preſence, nor no ambition but in the honour of your favour, which I deſire above all the world. Aſtrea ſaid Alexis, you need not deſire that which you do moſt entirely poſſeſs. Indeed Madam, replyed Aſtrea, I cannot wiſh for any addition unto my happineſs, further then the continuance of it; nor deſire any more, but to employ all the reſt of my days in doing you ſervice, and never be abſent from you: I have already entreated the Nymph Leonide to favour me with her credit and advice in order thereunto; and though ſhe urged many great obſtacles unto me, yet I account them but trifles in compariſon of that happineſs which I ſhould have in it: As for the contrariety of my Parents, which ſhe thinks ſo great an impediment unto my deſired happineſs, ſince it hath pleaſed heaven to take from me my Father and my Mother, what Parent have I that has any dominion over my Will, or can hinder me from dedicating my ſelf unto that courſe which the very Laws of Nature do oblige all Humanes unto? Upon this ground I do but laugh at the pretenſions of Calidon, who thinks me his own already, becauſe my uncle Phocion would have me marry him; for I know well enough how far the obedience and reſpect which I owe unto him does extend: I know him to be ſo wiſe and diſcreet a perſon, that he will not look for any more obſervance then I pay unto him: But Madam, my fears and my doubts ariſe not from that ſide; the great difficulty is to obtain your favour, and the conſent of the ancient Druides, to be received amongſt the Virgins of Carnutes, that ſo I may never be abſent from you: This Madam, is the humble petition of your devoted creature, which I beg with all the humble and moſt affectionate ſupplications I am able to expreſs. Fair Shepherdeſs (anſwered Alexis) I cannot thank you enough for all your affectionate expreſſions of good will towards me, and I have ſuch an eſteem of it, as I do wiſh with as much zeal as poſſibly you can, that we may never part as long as we live; and therefore be aſſured it ſhall be long only of your ſelf, if ever we ſeparate: But my fear is, that when I tell you what is to be done, your mind will change, and your deſign alter. Oh Madam cried out Aſtrea, I beſeech you wrong me not ſo far, as to have ſuch a thought. But on the contrary, be moſt certainly aſſur'd, that both in life and death this reſolution will continue in me. I am apt to believe (anſwered Alexis) any thing that you ſhall ſay, eſpecially a thing which is ſo advantagious unto my ſelf, and ſo ſutable to my deſires; believe it therefore that I will do all I can to ſatisfie your deſires. Know Shepherdeſs that there is no great difficulty in bringing your deſire to paſs, if you will your ſelf; and in this I am contrary to the opinion of Leonide. Theſe two things, I ſhall only require from you; the one is, that you do love me, as well as I do you: and I ſhall tell you the other, when I ſee you have effected this firſt propoſition. Aſtrea, with a ſmiling look, kiſſed the hand of Alexis, by way of thanks: If your ſecond propoſition (ſaid ſhe) be no harder then your firſt, you have good reaſon to ſay Madam, that there is no great difficulty in the matter. For I beſeech you, give me leave to ſwear, that if I do not Love the Fair Alexis far above my own ſelf, nay better then ever any perſon loved another, then let the Gods deny me the honour of your favour, and blaſt all my hopes of any contentment: Oh Aſtrea, replied Alexis, do you think for all this, that you love me more then I Love you? Oh Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, I cannot think my ſelf worthy of ſo much affection from you; but ſhould think my ſelf infinitely happy if I were ſure that mine to you were accepted: Faireſt Shepherdeſs, anſwered Alexis, be aſſured that never Love did equal mine unto you; and in this, I cannot be deceived as you may, becauſe I know what I ſay by experience; for I think I told you, how [Page] formerly I did Love one of my fellow Virgins, and I am confident it was impoſſible for any humane to equal my affection to her; but when I do compare my affection unto her, and my affection unto you together, I find that they hold no compariſon, for mine unto you do infinitely tranſcend that unto her. Whereas you on the contrary, who never Loved any, you may eaſily be miſtaken, and think your Love great when it is not ſo, for you want experience. Madam, anſwered Aſtrea, the diſpute betwixt us is of ſuch a nature, that the victory is prejudicial to the Conqueror; and the conquered is victorious: and yet I will not throw away my Arms upon very eaſie terms, though I will yeild unto you in what you pleaſe, but it would be a moſt extream ſhame unto me, if I ſhould let you outſtrip me in affection as you do in merit. Give me leave Madam therefore to tell you, that I began to Love when I was even in my Cradle, and have continued that affection ſo conſtantly, that no difficulties, no time, no abſences, no commands of thoſe that had the diſpoſe of me, nor any thing under Heaven could divert me from it, but death only: and yet I ſwear, and ſwear moſt truly, that I do Love you better then ever I loved any; and though this be but a proud word to iſſue from the mouth of a poor Shepherdeſs, yet give me leave to pronounce it, and ſay again, that though others may bear a greater reſpect, yet never any more Love and more Affection, then Aſtrea unto the Fair Alexis. Upon this, they embraced each other with ſuch mutual expreſſions of Love, that if Alexis durſt, but have ſaid I am Celadon, nothing could have made them both more happy in each other. But the feares of this Druide, did make her reliſh all theſe ſweet imbraces with a kind of bitter amongſt them, becauſe ſhe ſtill feared leſt her raptures of joy ſhould make her diſcover her ſelf; and therefore ſhe withdrew her ſelf a little with a bluſhing collour which came into her cheeks; and after ſhe had ſtood a while ſilent, ſhe uttered theſe words with ſuch a modeſt ſhamefaſtneſs, that if any of her actions had raiſed any doubts of what ſhe deſired to hide, it was enough to clear them all. But faireſt Shepherdeſs (ſaid ſhe unto her) I cannot tell, what the violence of my affection to you, may make you think of me, unleſs yours and your goodneſs plead me excuſe: and yet I do ſwear unto you by Veſta, and all that is ſacred, that I am ſo far from any ſuch affections as many women of my age are apt unto, that I did never love any man: but all my paſſions were wholly imployed in my love of one woman, whom truly I did love as much as I was then able, though not comparable unto you now; and though perhaps you may laugh at my humour, yet I muſt tell you, that I took as great delight in kiſſing and careſſing of her, as if I had been a man, or ſhe not a woman. And indeed I find the very ſame humour to revive in me when I am with you, which I can attribute unto nothing but the exceſs of my affection which I bear unto you, and which I ſhould be infinitely ſorry if it were diſpleaſing or troubleſome unto you: Aſtrea, ſhewing by her countenance, how well ſhe was pleaſed with theſe expreſſions, did return this anſwer; It is my part Madam, to uſe the ſame excuſes unto you, ſince I have more reaſon to fear being troubleſome unto you, by following the inclination of my affection too far: I muſt needs confeſs Madam, that I did Love a Shepherd; but let me tell you truly, that I was never more joyed at any teſtimonies of his good will unto me, then I am of yours.

Oh Heaven! (ſaid Alexis) how much am I obliged unto it, and you, for this affection: my joyes and my ſatisfaction is compleat. But Faireſt Shepherdeſs (ſaid ſhe) ſhall we live together, in the ſame freedom and affection when we are together in private, that we do now? I ſay in private; for it is fit to be more reſerved before other Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, leaſt we ſhould give occaſion to ſuſpect us of ſomthing which may be diſadvantagious unto us. How? Madam, (ſaid Astrea) do you ask me this queſtion? Nay, may you not better ask whether I ſhould not die for ſorrow, if you ſhould forbid me? But Madam, ſince you ſee I have obſerved your firſt command, I beſeech you what is the other? That by obeying it alſo, I may call my ſelf the woſt happy woman alive. Faireſt Shepherdeſs, (anſwered Alexis) it is not yet time to tell it; but ſince I ſee you are deſirous to know it, I promiſe you, that when I think it fitting that you ſhould know it, I will not put you to the trouble of asking me. In the mean time, to try whether this kind of life will be as agreeable unto us as we imagine, let us begin to live together as we muſt do all [Page] the reſt of our dayes; I mean, with that honeſt freedom and liberty that two perfect Lovers ought to uſe unto each other. In the firſt place I beſeech you, let us leave off in our diſcourſe, theſe terms of Madam, and Druide, and begin to be free and familiar, as we muſt for ever be. Madam, (ſaid Aſtrea) in what place ſoever I be, and of what quality ſoever I am, I will alwayes render unto you, thoſe reſpects which I am bound to pay; that will not be any hindrance to thoſe contentments which I hope for from you, but rather further them by keeping my ſelf within the terms of my duty. You are miſtaken, anſwered Alexis, and though you can have ſo much power over your ſelf, yet I cannot; for I am not able to endure that one whom I take to be my other ſelf, ſhould uſe ſuch words as ſpeak any difference betwixt us: and if the principal conſequence of Love be union, why ſhould we allow ſuch Tyrannies diſguiſed, under the names of reſpect, or civility, or duty, to hinder that perfect union of wills, which ought to be betwixt us? I do ordain therefore that Aſtrea ſhall be Alexis, and Alexis ſhall be Aſtrea, and that we baniſh from amongſt us, not only all words, but alſo all manner of actions that may put any difference between us, and you ſhall ſee that when we have lived long in this mutual freedom and liberty, Love wil double and ſtill encreaſe. Then Madam, replied Aſtrea, I beſeech you let it be under the notion of a command, that my obedience unto it may excuſe the fault which I ſhall commit in it. If that be all (anſwered Alexis) to ſatisfie you, I do command it, with a promiſe that I will not repent it as long as I live. And becauſe it is fit we conform our ſelves unto the cuſtoms of thoſe with whom we are to live: know therefore Shepherdeſs that it is the cuſtom of the Druides at Carnutes, not to call themſelves by their proper names, but by others, which their affection unto one another makes them invent; and their new names are called amongſt them, Alliances, as much as to ſay that they are Allied and obliged by thoſe names unto more Affection and Love. I conceive it requiſite we do the like as well to confirm our Loves, as to let thoſe Druides ſee when we come amongſt them, that we do not only know their cuſtoms, but moſt religiouſly obſerve them: now I cannot think of any which are fitter for us then the names of Miſtris and Servant, as well becauſe they are names not ordinary amongſt them, as becauſe me thinks they ſound well betwixt you and me. I do accept of this honour, ſaid Aſtrea, with a thouſand thanks, and with a proteſtation and vow unto the Goddeſs Vesta, that for ever, not only in name but in deed I will take you for my Miſtris, and profeſs my ſelf your ſervant. Alexis ſmiled at this, I had rather, ſaid ſhe, that you would take the name of Miſtris, and let me have that of ſervant: but ſince you have made your choiſe, I am contented: Now Servant (continued ſhe) give me your hand, in teſtimony that you accept of this name, and that you will never break this alliance of Love which we now make; and I ſwear by the Great God of Love, who is the God that is adored at Carnutes, that I will eternally live with you as with the only perſon whom I perfectly Love, and of whom only I deſire to be Loved in the like manner. Then Aſtrea ſaid, I do not only give my hand, but both hands, nay more, my heart and my ſoul, in teſtimony, that I will love you and you only, conſecrating and dedicating my ſelf, my deſires, my affections, and all that is mine unto you: and if ever I fail in the obſervance of this promiſe, or ever ſtain that honourable Name which I have received, let me be abhorred by Heaven and Earth, and all that is in them. Upon this they both embraced and kiſſed each other, as an aſſurance of what they had promiſed; and carraſſed themſelves with ſo much affection as if they would never have ended.

In the mean time Phillis went unto Diana, thinking to find her in bed, but that Shepherdeſs was ſo very ill pleaſed, that ſhe could not reſt ſo long; for ſhe was up long before, and after ſhe had put all things into order in her little houſe, ſhe went out with her flock, and without any other company but her own thoughts. By fortune, ſhe came unto the ſame place upon the Banks of Lignon, when the accident of Celadon did happen, when the jealouſie of Aſtrea made him throw himſelf into the River. After ſhe had ſeated her ſelf, and long looked upon the current of the water, without any other action which ſhewed life, but only ſighing; at laſt, as if ſhe had revived out of a profound Lethargy, and ſending forth a deep ſigh. Thus (ſaid ſhe) does all things mortal, run into the Gulf of Oblivion: then ſtopping [Page] a while, ſhe broke out thus. This River is not the ſame water it was yeſterday, for it glides away, and freſh comes in the room of it; nay I my ſelf am not the ſame Diana that I was when I came hither: time by an uncontrollable power runs on and drives all before it. The Sun it ſelf, which is the meaſure of time as all things in the univerſe is, is hurried on by time, and is not the ſame it was when I began to ſpeak: why then Diana ſhouldeſt thou think an ordinary thing to be ſtrange and extraordinary? Every thing changes, and rechanges again: If it be a generall Law amongſt all things, that nature produceth to change, why ſhouldſt thou wonder that one particular perſon ſhould do ſo? It is very unreaſonable to obſerve it in thy ſelf, and not allow it in another: canſt thou ſay that it is not thy ſelf which doth change, but art the ſame thou wert wont to be? Ah fond flatterer of thy ſelf, remember what thou wert before Fiiander ſaw thee, what operation his Courtſhip had upon thee? and how thou didſt behave thy ſelf after his deplorable loſs. Conſider thy humour as it was when Sylvander, or rather that deceive, began firſt unluckily to look upon thee: How waſt thou won by his counterfet affection? And how doſt thou find thy ſelf now after a knowledg of his treaſon? Needs muſt thou confeſs, that as the humours, complexions, and tempers, do change once every ſeven yeers; thine changes ofter, and not only in ſeven yeers, for a year is an age unto thee, but in a month, in a week, in an hour, nay even in a munite.

This thought touched her to the quick; for never having this opinion of her ſelf before, yet finding it now to be true, ſhe was ſo aſtoniſhed at it, that ſhe was not able to utter one word. At the laſt, rouſing her ſelf up, as out of a dead ſleep, ſhe began again thus: Oh Heavens! Oh Earth! art thou not changed? Yes yes, Diana, and ſo that if thou doſt but look well upon thy ſelf, thou wilt hardly know thy ſelf, thou wilt not find any thing of the firſt Diana in thee, but only the very Name. Anſwer me, I pray thee to theſe queſtions; how didſt thou heretofore abhor the flatteries of men, what credit waſt thou wont to give unto their ſupple language? Haſt thou quite loſt the memory of all thoſe wiſe inſtructions and good Counſels thou wert wont to give thy companions? Or doſt thou think that thy ſelf does not need them as much as they? Ah Diana! do not deceive thy ſelf, but confeſs, that thou art now much different from what thou wert wont to be. Recollect thy ſelf a little better, and tell me; doſt thou not remember the time when thou wert the firſt Diana, and when all that this coſening Shepherd either ſaid or did, was indifferent unto thee? And why ſhould thou now, if thou art the ſame Diana, be angry at this loving Madonthe, at his following her, and at his going with her, whether ſhe would or no? If theſe things do vex thee, then confeſs that thou art not the ſame Diana; and if thou doſt deny it, will not thy own conſcience accuſe thee? Well, (ſaid ſhe) if I be not the ſame Diana I was wont to be, then what am I become now? Quite contrary (anſwered ſhe) to that Diana I was wont to be: Oh Heavens! what a deplorable alteration is this? How much better and more honourable had it been for me to have dyed in the dayes of the firſt Diana, then have lived to ſee this alteration?

When ſhe was in the height of her diſpleaſure againſt her ſelf, ſhe was diverted by the coming of ſome Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, which talked and diſputed amongſt themſelves very vehemently; and though ſhe was very buſie in her own perplexed thoughts, yet they making a great noiſe, and ſhe hearing them a far off, ſhe had time enough to withdraw her ſelf unſeen, behind a great Buſh, which grew cloſe to the way; which ſhe did with intention to let them paſs on, and then to return unto the place again, and continue on thoſe thoughts which they had interrupted; but ſhe was diſappointed; for they, as if it was upon ſome expreſs deſign, went ſtraight to the place from whence Diana came, and ſeated themſelves upon the bank, as if they intended to ſtay there a long time: but ſhe fearing to be diſcovered, and perhaps conſtrained to remain with them, according to the Laws of civility, which were moſt Religiouſly obſerved about the banks of Lignon, ſhe thought the beſt way was to let them enter into diſcourſe, and when they were moſt earneſt and attentive unto each other, then ſhe to ſteal away unſeen. Then peeping through the Buſh, ſhe ſaw them ſitting in a round figure, and that they whoſe faces were towards her, were Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, which were not altogether unknown [Page] unto her, having formerly ſeen them at their general Solemnities and Sacrifices. Then ſhe began to wonder more why they ſhould come directly to that place, and ſtay there as if it was upon ſome premeditated deſign; at laſt ſhe heard one Shepherd amongſt them, begin thus: Oh Delphire, you are a moſt partial and ſevere Judge, in condemning a perſon without ever hearing what he can ſay for himſelf. I ſee Thaumantes (anſwered the Shepherdeſs) that you take more pains in pumping for excuſes and gloſſes unto your falſe reaſons, then I have done to convince and prove them falſe: If the Gods, replied the Shepherd, had ſeen your ſoul unbyaſſed, and fit to judge the difference betwixt us, they would not have appointed us to come and look for a Judge in this place. The Gods, replied the Shepherdeſs, are pleaſed that the laudable actions of men ſhould be divulged and recompenced, and likewiſe their faults made publique and puniſhed. If puniſhments and recompences (replied he) be to be expected from their hands. Oh Delphire, I begin to pitty you, for you are never able to endure the puniſhments that are due unto your cruelty: and I know not how my heart, which is ſo much unaccuſtomed unto any happineſs, will be able to receive that bliſs and reward of my fidelity and affection. If we do meet with a juſt Judge, anſwered the Shepherdeſs and ſmiled, I believe you will not ſo much pity as envy me: But Thaumantes, let us leave off this diſcourſe, I ſee you uſe it only to pleaſe ſome that are in the company, but aſſure your ſelf, there is none that has a ſound judgment will approve of it. I know, replied the Shepherd, that nothing angers a perſon who is in the wrong, more, then to hear that ſtring touched upon, becauſe it puts them in mind of the injury they do: but he that has Juſtice on his ſide, cannot be ſilent at the injuſtice which is done him: yet ſince you command me to be ſilent, I will obey; yet I hope you will give me leave to ſing: ſo not ſtaying for her anſwer, and having a very good voice, he began to ſing a very invective and bitter ſong, which upbraided her with cruelty and injuſtice. As ſoon as he had done, Delphire ſaid unto him; there needs no other teſtimony of your change then this which you have given me, in contemning my commands which formerly, for your life your durſt not have done: for ſinging and ſpeaking are crimes alike, if what is forbidden be pronounced. The Shepherd anſwered not a word, but ſhrugged his ſhoulders and made a ſign that his tongue was tyed: and this gave occaſion unto another Shepherd in the company, to ſpeak for him: This, ſaid he, is exceſſe of cruelty; and very hard that a man may not ſo much as complain of his torment. That I muſt confeſs is very hard, anſwered the Shepherdeſs, but you muſt alſo confeſs with me on the other ſide, that to hear a man baul and keep a coyl when he has no cauſe, is exceſſe of patience. But I beſeech you, replied he, if you will not ſuffer Thaumantes to ſpeak, upon what deſign did you come unto this place? We came hither, replied ſhe, not to diſpute and wrangle as we have done, but to ſee if we could find that Judg which the Oracle has promiſed we ſhould. Are you ſure replied he, that this is the place where you are to expect this Judge: No queſtion but it is, anſwered Delphire, for it is named, and we are told that this is the place where Celadon fell into the water. There is not one in all the neighbour-hood, who does not know it as a place obſervable for ſeveral diſaſterous accidents: and as for our Judge, we cannot be miſtaken: for the Oracle is this:

The Oracle.

WHere Celadon they ſay did find a grave,

There you, a juſt and prudent judge ſhall have,

Who though unſeen ſhall ſee you, and ſhall hear

Your difference, and do you right, ne'er fear.

This, replied the Shepherd, is an Oracle very obſcure; for if you do not ſee the party who is to be your Judge, how ſhould you ever know who he is: Nay more, ſaid Delphire, the Oracle ſays, he ſhall hear us though we do not ſee him: but certain it is, it muſt be ſo, for the Gods have ſaid it, and we are bound upon pain of [Page] diſobedience to believe it, and therefore we muſt expect he will make it manifeſt unto us. But I beſeech you ſaid the Shepherd, how ſhould this Judge hear the difference ſince he is not here? And how ſhould you tell it unto him? Theſe difficulties (anſwered Delphire) muſt be reſolved by the God that gave the Oracle.

Diana who was all the while behind the Buſh, heard all this diſcourſe; and looking through the leaves, ſhe knew all the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, though ſhe had no great familiarity with them; for they were neighbours, and dwelt upon the banks of Lignon towards the Mountains of Rochfort and Chevieres: and ſhe had often ſeen them at the publique Sacrifices of Miſleto, and other aſſemblies: ſhe remembred alſo the high eſteem which every one had of the beauty of Delphire, and merit of Thaumantes, and ſo was not altogether ignorant of the amity that was between them, becauſe they did not offer to hide their affections. But ſeeing now ſuch a divorce betwixt them, ſhe could not chuſe but wonder, and yet her wonder ceaſed, when ſhe conſidered what occaſion ſhe had to complain againſt Sylvander. When ſhe heard the Oracle, ſhe concluded that certainly it was ſhe whom the Gods had choſen to be their Judge, at which ſhe was much diſpleaſed; for the ill humour ſhe was in, made her deſirous to ſhun all company, even of her own companions. Thus ſeeing her ſelf forced to ſtay all the morning, and to hear their difference, though it went againſt her mind, yet ſhe reſolved to obey what the Gods commanded. Therefore ſhe reſolved to take little truce with her ſorrows, and ſhew her ſelf, and take upon her the office of their Judge, but to defer her judgement until the next day, hoping that in time ſhe ſhould overcome her paſſion, and put her mind in better order. In order therefore unto this reſolve, ſhe ſpoke in a loud voice theſe words: Trouble your ſelves no further, Oh Delphire, and Thaumantes; for here is your Judge, whom the Heavens have ordained to determine your difference: upon this, riſing from behind the Buſh, and ſtriving to ſhew a well contented countenance, ſhe went unto them, who were all in ſuch an amazement, that they ſtood like ſo many Statues: but when they had looked well upon her, and knew her to be Diana, they broke out into an univerſal joy: for there was not one of all the company, who did not know the virtue and merit of that Shepherdeſs: and Thaumantes was ſo over joyed to ſee ſuch a Judge, as he fell down upon his knees, and offered to kiſs her hand; but Diana would not permit him, yet ſaluted him, and went toward Delphire, who imbraced her as heartily as Thaumantes, who ſeeing it and ſeeming to be very envious at it: I am afraid (ſaid he in a loud voice) ſhe will be as partial in her judgement, as ſhe is in her careſſes. Diana hearing this, ſmiled and ſaid; Do not [...]ear, for I will ballance every thing according to equity, and render unto each one what is due. It is the cuſtom of thoſe (ſaid Delphire) who have a bad cauſe, to ſuſpect the judgement of the moſt juſt perſons, and corrupt it if they can by their impoſtures: But Thaumantes, thoſe favours which I receive from this fair Shepherdeſs, are no more due unto me then unto you; and know, that whatſoever is freely given out of meer liberality, cannot be claimed as a debt due, and therefore you are to blame in asking any part or ſhare in thoſe favours ſhe is pleaſed to confer upon me, ſince neither you nor I can pretend unto them as due. To which Thaumantes anſwered, it is no wonder, Fair Delphire, that he who has ſo often troubled you with his angry queſtions, ſhould continue to ask them, ſince he has got a habit of them: and it is no wonder, anſwered ſhe, that you be denied now, ſince you have been ſo accuſtomed unto it.

Their diſcourſe had continued longer, if the reſt of the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes in ſaluting Diana, had not interrupted them. But when they had all done, Delphire began again; Fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſs, ſaid ſhe unto Diana, I have often heard ſay, that the Graces are never painted alone; to intimate unto us, that the party who confers one, will immediately ſecond it with another; or perhaps that the party who receives one, may be encouraged to ask more: if it be ſo, then this Shepherd and I may hope that by what favours you have done unto us, you will add more, which we do moſt humbly beg at your hands. Sweet Delphire, anſwered Diana, it were a great diſcourteſie to deny any thing which ſo fair and ſo diſcreet a Shepherdeſs as you are, ſhall ask; and therefore you may aſſure your ſelf of any thing within the compaſs of my power. The Gods (ſaid Thaumantes) are not like [Page] unto men, for men may give and beſtow Offices as they pleaſe, but they cannot confer capacity to exerciſe them; But when the Gods do give any thing, they give with it all that is requiſite and neceſſary unto it; And therefore, ſince it hath pleaſed the Gods to make choice of you, fair Diana, to compoſe all thoſe diſtempers which have fallen out betwixt us, and which without you can never be reconciled, it is not to be doubted but that they have endued you with wiſdom, power, and capacity to effect it. Thaumantes (anſwered Diana) If I had been asked who I thought lived together in moſt tranquility and contentment, I ſhould have anſwered Delphire and Thaumantes; and I do exceedingly wonder to hear you ſay that you ſeek for any reconcilements and compoſures; But ſince it is ſo, and ſince the Gods have made choice of me to that end, I will obey them in the execution of their Ordinances, and as their Inſtrument, who though of my ſelf leſs capable, yet by their aſſiſtance, may render them the glory that is due unto them. Every one (replied Delphire) are miſtaken as you are, in their opinions of this Shepherds and my happineſs, but ſince you are pleaſed to undertake the office of our Judge, we beſeech you to hear what we can ſay for our ſelves, and by your wiſdom and judgement recover us out of that gulf of diſcontent and inquietude wherein we are plunged. That which you do ask as a favour, ſaid Diana, I do think my ſelf obliged to pay as a due debt, as being enjoyned unto it by the Ordinance of the Gods, and prompted by mine own natural inclination to ſerve you: But I ſhall deſire one favour from you both, which if granted, I ſhall take as a very great one; which is, that you will defer the whole buſineſs until to morrow, at the ſame hour and place; for I am obliged to do a piece of ſervice unto a very dear friend, which cannot be delayed without much prejudice and inconvenience unto her. Unto which Delphire replied, Fair and Diſcreet Shepherdeſs, we are obliged unto whatſoever you ſhall deſire or command, and therefore you may take that leave which out of your ſweetneſs you are pleaſed to ask of us, for you have a moſt full and abſolute authority over us. Since you are ſo well contented, replied Diana, I will go unto the place where neceſſity calls me unto, being very ſorry to part from ſuch good company, and promiſing to be here to morrow at this place, and about this time: Upon this ſhe took her leave of them, and went away as faſt as ſhe could, to ſhew that her buſineſs was urgent.

Phillis on the other ſide not finding her at home, ſhe went to ſeek her in ſuch places as ſhe uſed moſt to drive her Flock: But as Fortune was, ſhe made choice of a place more retired that day, purpoſely becauſe ſhe deſired not to be ſeen by any: ſo that Phillis, after ſhe had ſought for her in ſeveral places, ſhe came at laſt to the great Meddow, and at the one end of it ſhe eſpied ſome Shepherdeſſes, amongſt whom ſhe thought ſhe ſaw Diana, but when ſhe was come neerer, ſhe found her ſelf miſtaken; and that they were the three ſtrangers, who came from the coaſts of Arar, I mean Florice, Cercinea, and Palinice: And becauſe ſhe ſaw them talking very affectionately unto each other, and would not tell any the cauſe of their coming into this Country, ſhe thought that perhaps ſhe ſhould learn ſomthing if unſeen ſhe could hear what they ſaid. This curioſity cauſed her to creep from Buſh to Buſh, till ſhe came ſo neer, that ſhe could hear Florice ſay, The truth is, I begin to doubt that the Oracle which cauſed us to come into this Country of Forreſts, will either deceive us, or elſe thoſe that did interpret it unto us are themſelves deceived: for we have been ſo long here to no purpoſe, that it ſeems the Gods have either forgotten us, or elſe laugh at us for underſtanding them no better. For my part, ſaid Cercinea, I am the youngeſt, and ſubmitted my ſelf to the conduct of you both; if I have failed, the fault is Palinices, unto whom I wholly referred my ſelf; ſo as without diving into any deep myſteries, I underſtood the Oracle as ſhe did interpret it unto me. I am ſure anſwered Palinice, that I did not deceive either of you; for you heard the Oracle which we received from the Temple of Venus: and as for the interpretation of it, I did not lye in a ſillable, but told you truly, as the old Druide told me. Since it is ſo replyed Cercinea, we muſt not make too much haſte away, and though the time be long, yet it is no longer here then upon the Banks of Arar, for the ſweet converſation of the diſcreet Shepherdeſſes of Lignon, is as pleaſing as any company we can find in any other place. I muſt confeſs, ſaid Florice, that the company of Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis is very ſweet and pleaſing, and that here is [Page] many pretty innocent paſtimes which are ſutable unto their honeſt ſimplicity: but I muſt tell you, that they are fitter for ſuch inferiour ſpirits as theirs are, then for us, who are accuſtomed unto a higher and more noble ſtrain; and to tell you truly, this kind of life begins to be very irkſome unto me, ſo as if I ſtay here a little longer, I ſhall throw away my Sheep-hook and my Scrip. I know not why you ſhould ſo much diſlike it (replied Cercinea) but me-thinks there is nothing in Cities which equals the liberty and freedom of theſe Villages. Here (ſaid Florice) is nothing to be ſeen but Sheep and Hares, and Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes. Tell me no more of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, anſwered Cercinea, but find me out ſuch another Wit as Sylvander's amongſt all your great Cities and Towns; or a Woman comparable unto either Aſtrea, Diana, or Phillis, either in beauty, wit, or diſcretion: I mention none of the reſt, bur do admire their civility and ſweet converſation; and I do abominate all the conſtraints, tricks, and diſſimulations of Cities. I ſee (ſaid Florice) that you are like thoſe Sorcerers, who having uſed ſome charm upon the skin of a Wolf, do no ſooner put it upon them, but they preſently participate of their nature; for this habit of a Shepherd which you wear, has infuſed the wit and courage of a Shepherdeſs into you: But well Cercinea, be you a Shepherdeſs as long as you pleaſe; but for my part, I deſire to be amongſt thoſe of my own quality, and in my own Country: For to tell you truly, I am moſt delighted in ſeeing a Cavalier bravely Arm'd and Mounted, and breaking his Lance handſomly: But what pitiful ſport is it to ſee two Shepherds run for a Garland of Field-Flowers? To be ſhort, the Purple and Scarlet pleaſeth my eye better then the Ruſſet and Gray; Sattin is ſofter then Wool; and I love to be amongſt my equals. Unto ſuch as ayme at their contentment, ſaid Cercinea, Grandeur, and ſuch vanities as you ſpeak of, are not the way unto it: and ſuch as conſider things as indeed they are, not embracing ſhaddows for ſubſtances, will moſt certainly condemn them; the gliſter of gold, and ſilver, and purple, which dazles ſo much the eye, are not half ſo pleaſing as a green Field diapred with Flowers; What needs the Body more then ſuch a cover as will defend it from the injury of wind and weather? Provided ſuch a Suit be fit and handſomly made, it is better then all the gaudery of Gold, which does but beguil the eys of thoſe who are not able to look what is in the inſide of ſuch a Suit: As for a compariſon between the feats of Chivalry, and the harmleſs exerciſes of Shepherds, it muſt needs be confeſſed the one is all blood, violence, injury and murder, and the other is all innocency, and gives no offence unto any; the one comes near the nature of Bears, Tigers, and Lions, and the other of men: And as for the reproach which you put upon me for loving the habit of Shepherdeſſes, I ſay that I wiſh I were exempt from all thoſe turbulencies and cares which does torment thoſe that do live in your perpetual confuſion.

She would have continued on, if Palinice had not interrupted; It is not our buſineſs (ſaid ſhe) to diſpute which of theſe two Lives is the happier, but whether we ſhould ſtay any longer here to ſee the fulfilling of the Oracle which ſent us hither, I conceive it good for us to peruſe it again, and conſider ſeriouſly upon the words of it: Upon this ſhe put her hand into her Scrip, and pulled out a paper, in which ſhe read theſe words.

[Page]

The Oracle.

AGainſt the paines which all you three endure,

In Forreſts you ſhall find a certain cure:

One that was dead, and afterwards ſhall live,

Unto you all one medicine muſt give.

Another medicine you ſhall have from one,

To whom againſt her will, a good is done;

Which ſhe rejected, with her will: 'Tis ſhe,

Not you, by whom the overture muſt be.

What ſhe ordains, as if ordain'd by me,

Believ'd, as Oracle, by you muſt be.

Phillis who till now never knew the cauſe of their voyage, ſhe was very glad that ſhe had found it out, even when ſhe leaſt thought upon it; for finding them to be very diſcreet and virtuous, ſhe and her companions were exceeding deſirous of it; not only out of a common curioſity, but a will to do them ſervice: And this had been impoſſible to diſcover otherwiſe, becauſe theſe ſtrangers in obedience to the Oracle durſt not reveal it unto any. But Phillis having found it out, ſhe endeavored to remember the Oracle, which ſhe had never done, unleſs Circenea and Palinice had repeated it ſeveral times, For my part (ſaid Palanice) I muſt needs conclude that we ought to ſtay here yet a while longer, ſince it is certain that the Druide told us, Forreſts was the place where we ſhould meet with our ſatisfaction, and that our happineſs muſt proceed from three perſons, of which, two are hard to be found out; but the goodneſs of God is great, ſince that which muſt inſtruct us, is ſo cleerly expreſſed that we cannot miſtake: for (ſaid ſhe, and I obſerve it in the words) when you ſhall find a perſon who ſhall tell you that God hath appointed you by his Oracle, that a living dead man ſhall be your Phiſitian and Medicine, with a perſon unto whom they ſhall againſt her will reſtore a happineſs, which ſhe did loſe with her will. One of you three upon which the Lot ſhall fall, muſt relate unto her the pain which you endure, and ſhe will appoint you what ſhe conceives beſt for you. The worſt of all this, is (anſwered Florice) the loſs of time which will ſeem very tedious. Circenea anſwered and ſmiled, that no happineſs is attained without pains. Your happineſſe is compleated, replied Florice, for you are of a more Shepherdiſh humour, then the Shepherdeſſes themſelves. I have often heard you ſay (anſwered Circenea) that it is great wiſdom to be pleaſed with any thing that neceſſity makes inevitable.

Whilſt theſe Shepherdeſſes were thus diſputing amongſt themſelves, Phillis who had learned as much as ſhe deſired to know, did think it beſt to ſteal off unſeen; and therefore when ſhe ſaw them moſt eager in their conteſts, ſhe crept away, and went to ſeek Diana, who on her ſide was not a little perplexed; for as ſhe deſigned to ſeparate her ſelf from all converſation, Fortune would have it ſo, that which way ſoever ſhe went, ſhe met with ſeveral encounters; for having quitted her ſelf of Delphire and Thaumantes, as ſoon as ſhe was out of their ſight, looking for the moſt unfrequented place of all the Wood, ſhe had no ſooner ſeated her ſelf under a ſhady thicket, but ſhe heard a ſtranger ſing very neer her, ſinging, and the effect of the ſong was, That men are without any amity.

As ſoon as Diana heard this voice, ſhe had a good mind to go and ſee who it was, but hearing her begin to talk unto her ſelf, ſhe thought it beſt to hear what ſhe ſaid; and ſhe heard her ſay thus: What a hard and ſevere thing it is which Nature hath impoſed upon Women, that they muſt not only live amongſt their enemies, but alſo be ſubject unto their Tyrannical Dominion? Had ſhe but put a little more ſtrength into our body, we had not been ſubject unto that proud and fierce animal, called Man: but why did ſhe not as well ſubject this man, unto an Ox or an Horſe, [Page] which are ſtronger then he, as he is ſtronger then us? For if weakneſs be the cauſe of our ſubjection, why ſhould not they be ſubject unto them? Nay, upon the ſame reaſon, why ſhould not the weakneſs of their minds ſubject them unto our bodies? For the ſtrength of their judgements cannot be equal unto the ſtrength of our bodies. Is it not an infallible argument of a weak judgement, to deſire a thing moſt paſſionately, and mediately not to deſire it? Which is he amongſt men, that has not deceived her that truſted in him? Shew me the man, who makes it a matter of conſcience to keep his word, his promiſes, nay his very oaths and execrations, when he intends to deceive? They think their diſloyalty is handſomly covered, when they ſay, that the Gods will not puniſh the oaths of perjured Lovers: It is true indeed, they do not puniſh them immediately upon the very act, but yet they defer it only, becauſe they will puniſh them according to their merits altogether: there is not a man breathing upon the face of the earth, that does not ſwear and proteſt, and vow, and yet his intention is quite contrary: their deſignes are meer Chimeras, empty clouds; one is no ſooner begun, but another ſeconds it, and quite obliterates the firſt▪ their promiſes and their oaths reſemble great claps of thunder, whoſe noiſe is no ſooner ended, but no more is heard of it: what God is there whom they will not call to witneſs? What curſe will they not call for upon themſelves? And what aſſurance will they not give, when they would obtain any thing of us? But when the humour of it is paſt, or when they have obtained what they deſire, who cares for any performances of promiſe, or fears any curſes they called upon themſelves? But preſently ſeek out for excuſes to avoid thoſe chaſtiſements which they deſerve: they are the very Peſts of the earth, the moſt imperfect works of the Gods, ſent only for our puniſhments and eternal torment.

Diana, who heard every ſillable that this Shepherdeſs ſpoke, and thought all alluded unto Sylvander, ſhe approved of all ſhe ſaid, and going to her with a deſire to ſee her face, ſhe could not tread ſo ſoftly, but ſhe made ſuch a noiſe, that the ſtranger heard her; who thinking at the firſt that it was ſome man, out of a hatred unto the very name, ſhe would have gone away: but afterwards perceiving it was a Shepherdeſs, ſhe ſtayed, but looked about her with ſuch an affrighted countenance, and wild eye, as teſtified, the words of her mouth proceeded from her heart. Diana ſeeing her in this condition, and thinking her aſtoniſhment proceeded from the ſame cauſe that her own perplexities did, [...]he began to pity her; and ſaluting her with a kind aſpect, offered all the aſſiſtance and ſervice ſhe was able. The ſtranger ſeeing her ſo fair and full of curteſie, began to leave her affrighted and wild looks, and aſſume her ordinary countenance and temper. After ſhe had ſaluted Diana, and thanked her for her courteous offers, ſhe anſwered thus; I am very willing and deſirous, Fair Shepherdeſs, to render the ſame ſervices unto you, which you out of your goodneſs are pleaſed to offer unto me, and wiſh with all my heart, I were able to ſecond my deſires with real performances, as your civility does oblige me; but as the caſe is with me, I muſt now be all upon the craving ſide, and not only beg your aſſiſtance, but alſo that remedy, which by the appointment of the Gods, I come to look for in this Country. Aſſure your ſelf, anſwered Diana, that you will find none here who will not be very ready to do you any ſervice: but I believe you will not find any here ſo vain as to think themſelves able to Counſel others, the innocent ſimplicity of our words will not permit ſo much arrogance to be amongſt us: Yet two things, replied the ſtranger, makes me hope well in my voyage; the one, that the Gods are no lyars, nor breakers of their promiſes, but have left that quality unto men: The other is, becauſe my firſt encounter in this Country, is a very good omen that I ſhall find what I look for: your beauty, your civility, and your prudent expreſſions makes me hope for a happy ſucceſs in my voyage. The Gods indeed, anſwered Diana, are no lyars nor deceivers, but ſometimes they are pleaſed to render their Oracles ſo full of obſcurity, that men do often miſtake and deceive themſelves in the interpretation: as for any thing that relates unto me, I wiſh fair Shepherdeſs that the meeting may prove as ſerviceable unto you, as it is pleaſing unto me, and as I deſire to ſerve you. If there be any thing in this Country which you think conducible unto your contentment, I beſeech you, tell it unto me; and if without prejudice to your ſelf you may, tell me what occaſion brought you hither, [Page] and what reaſon you have to enveigh ſo much againſt men? Upon this the ſtranger ſtood mute a while, and looked upon the ground; at the laſt, lifting up her head with a ſad ſih, ſhe returned this anſwer: The queſtion which you ask, Fair Shepherdeſs, is ſo reaſonable, that I will very willingly give you ſatisfaction; knowing very well that the patient muſt diſcover his diſeaſe unto that Phiſitian from whom he deſires a remedy; but before I trouble you with a hearing of it, I beſeech you ſatisfie my curioſity, and tell me whether you be not either Aſtrea, or Diana; for one of my greateſt inducements unto the voyage, was my hopes of ſo much happineſs, as to be acquainted with thoſe two Shepherdeſſes, as well by ſight, as by thoſe reports, which Fame gives of them. There may be many Shepherdeſſes in this Country (anſwered Diana bluſhing) whoſe names may be Diana, and perhaps ſome one of them more favoured by the Heavens above the reſt; ſo as the name of Diana which I do bear, cannot make me believe my ſelf the ſame you ſpeak of, ſince Fame has no ground of any reports from me: but ſuch as I am, I will not deny the name, of which you have ſo good an opinion, and wiſh I were able, as I am willing to do you any ſuch ſervice as might make you continue here. Are you (ſaid the ſtranger) the companion of Aſtrea? I am, replied Diana; Then (ſaid the ſtranger) there are no more Dianas in this Country whom I deſire to know: it is you only and your companion who have filled me ſo full of curioſity, and made me more willingly come into this Country, though the Gods did adviſe me unto it by their Oracle: upon this ſhe ſaluted her with ſuch demonſtrations of good will, that Diana was obliged unto the like.

At the ſame inſtant, Phillis, who had been looking for Diana in all places where there was any probability of finding her, ſaw them thus ſaluting and careſſing each other, and therefore ſhe made the more haſte towards them. The ſtranger ſeeing her coming, and being very deſirous to ſee Aſtrea, ſhe ſhewed her unto Diana, and asked her whether that was her Companion? She is my Companion (anſwered Diana) but I believe, not that Companion whom you deſire to ſee, for the name of this is Phillis; and though perhaps ſhe muſt yeild unto the other in point of beauty; yet I aſſure you, there is not one in all the Country that exceeds her in diſcretion and virtue. I make no queſtion of it (anſwered the ſtranger) ſince ſhe is your Companion: Indeed ſhe is, anſwered Diana, and the deareſt Companion that Aſtrea and I have, and ſuch a one, as when you know her, you will think worthy of Love and eſteem. Upon this, Phillis was come unto them, and broke off their diſcourſe, and Diana going to her, Siſter ſaid ſhe unto her, make much of this ſtranger, and for my ſake Love her, ſince ſhe is come to encreaſe the number of the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon. Phillis, as well to anſwer the deſires of her Companion, as in obſervance to the Laws of the Country, ſhe preſently advanced towards her, and the ſtranger did the like, infinitely ſatisfied with the kind entertainment of theſe Shepherdeſſes, whoſe ſweet civility ſhe could not ſufficiently admire, thinking that they did much ſurpaſs all the reports that Fame had trumpetted in their praiſe.

But Diana, though ſhe made no ſhew of it, yet, was her ſoul full of perplexity, by reaſon of Sylvander; and the conſtraint wherein ſhe was ſince ſhe met with this ſtranger, ſeemed intollerable to be endured any longer: and therefore ſhe intended as ſoon as ſhe had learned the cauſe of her coming into this Country, to leave her: Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto Phillis, This fair ſtranger is come into the Country to find a remedy againſt a diſpleaſure which preſſeth her; and becauſe ſhe merits the ſervice of us all, I ſhall deſire her, ſince you are come, to acquaint us with the cauſe of her voyage, that we may be better enabled to do her that ſervice which we deſire, and ſhe deſerves. Phillis on the contrary, who was not willing to loſe ſo much time as to hear this diſcourſe, ſhe anſwered thus: I muſt confeſs Siſter, that you have great reaſon for your deſire, but me-thinks we ſhould much wrong our companion, if we do not anſwer her expectation of our company; and therefore I conceive it beſt to defer it until ſuch time as Aſtrea may be preſent. Diana did quickly underſtand the reaſon which cauſed Phillis to ſay ſo, and approving of it, they all went together towards the great Walk; into which, as ſoon as they entred, they ſaw Florice, Cercenea, and Palinice very near them; who having long debated upon the ſubject which Phillis overheard, they came thither to paſs away their time, till [Page] the reſt of the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes aſſembled according to their Cuſtome.

When the ſtranger firſt ſaw them, ſhe knew them not, nor ever imagined that they were in this Country, alſo their habits of Shepherdeſſes did ſo diſguiſe them, that ſhe might very well miſtake them; and when they came nearer, ſhe knew them by their voices, and not by their viſages: I am either extreamly deceived (ſaid ſhe in a great amazement) or elſe I do ſee my dear friends. Florice then and her two companions looking upon her, and hearing her ſpeak, they knew her; they went unto her, and embraced her with ſuch extream joy, as made it manifeſt that people love one another better when they meet in a ſtrange Country, then when they are together in their own: For they had not ſo much patience as to embrace her one after another, but fell upon her all at once; one kiſſed her lips, another her cheek, and a third graſped her hand, with ſuch demonſtrations of good will, as perhaps never paſſed amongſt them when they met upon the Banks of Arar.

Phillis who ſaw all theſe great careſſes, and was half weary of this company; Siſter (ſaid ſhe unto Diana in a low voice) had we not beſt leave this ſtranger amongſt her acquaintance? For I am afraid Aſtrea will not like we ſhould carry her unto her, before we have given her notice, as well in reſpect of Alexis, as becauſe you know ſhe will be in the habit of the Druide. Siſter, anſwered Diana, I am of your opinion, and am very glad that theſe other ſtrangers come in to relieve us; for otherwiſe I know not how we ſhould have been rid of her.

Whilſt they were thus talking, Florice and her companions could not ſufficiently ſatisfie themſelves with careſſing their companion, and had not ceaſed ſo ſoon, but for Phillis, who addreſſing her ſelf unto them; Fair Shepherdeſſes, ſaid ſhe unto them, ſince my companion and I do ſee there is ſo much intimacy and affection amongſt you, we will not be any cauſe of ſeparating you; and therefore, ſince we muſt needs go and wait upon the Druide, who (as you know) ſtays at the houſe of Aſtrea for the love of us, we cannot leave this fair ſtranger in better company then ſhe has met withal: And therefore, ſaid ſhe unto the ſtranger, I beſeech you give us leave to pay our duties, and we promiſe that ere it be long we will wait upon you unto Aſtrea. Fair and wiſe Shepherdeſſes (ſaid ſhe) ſince it is your pleaſure I ſhould ſtay with my dear friends whom I have met withal, I will willingly do ſo: but upon condition you will be as good as you promiſe, in making me known unto the Fair Aſtrea, and in the mean time aſſure her, that you have met with one who with all her ſoul deſires the happineſſes of her Love. All this (anſwered Diana) we do faithfully promiſe, and more, we promiſe to do any thing elſe which may conduce unto your real ſervice.

In the mean time Phillis thought it expedient to engage Florice, Cercinea, and Palinice, leſt their impatience ſhould make them depart the Country too ſoon; and therefore when ſhe ſaw that Diana had taken her leave of the company: Siſter (ſaid ſhe unto her in a loud voice) I beſeech you ſtay a little for me, and I will wait upon you preſently, for I muſt needs talk a little with theſe three fair Shepherdeſſes. Siſter, anſwered Diana, what haſte ſoever I have, yet I will ſtay for you, and therefore ſay what you pleaſe unto them. Then Phillis addreſſing her ſelf unto theſe three ſtrangers, Florice (ſaid ſhe, in a low and grave countenance, otherwiſe then ſhe uſed) and you Cercinea and Palinice, The Gods do let you know by me, that which they have already ſpoken unto you by their Oracle, how that one who was dead, and yet lives, is to be your medicine, and likewiſe another unto whom is rendred againſt her Will, a benefit which ſhe loſt with her Will. O ye Gods! cryed they all out, and clapped their hands together, oh bleſſed Shepherdeſs, whom the heavens have ordained for our happineſs and contentment, may you for ever find the accompliſhment of your deſires, as we have of ours in meeting with you: Then gazing upon one another, Is it not moſt certain (ſaid they) that the Gods are no Deceivers, but will at the laſt moſt infallibly perform all their promiſes? Upon this, all three ſaluted Phillis with ſo many expreſſions of joy, that Diana, and the other ſtranger who knew not the cauſe of their coming, ſtood amazed: But Phillis who continued her grave countenance, after ſhe had returned their ſalute; Now, ſaid ſhe, I cannot ſtay with you any longer; the time is not yet come that your pain muſt have an end, but it will be [Page] very ſhortly: content your ſelves therefore with this, that the Gods have not forgotten what they told you by their Oracle, but will in fit time and place accompliſh it. Florice then began to ſpeak; now (ſaid ſhe) we know unto whom the Gods have committed the care of us, we will with all contentment wait as long as you ſhall pleaſe; aſſuring you ſage Shepherdeſs, that we are infinitely pleaſed with the choiſe which the Gods have made of you. Diand and the other ſtranger was very attentive unto their diſcourſe, but not underſtanding it, Diana asked Phillis, what contentment this was which they ſpoke off. The Gods, anſwered Phillis have ſent theſe three ſtrangers into the Country to receive a remedy unto ſome perplexities which troubles them, and by their Oracle have forbidden them to ſpeak of it unto any, but unto that perſon who ſhall repeat the anſwer which they received from the Oracle. Now I have repeated it unto them, and more, I do aſſure them, that they ſhall receive all manner of ſatisfaction and contentment. As Diana was aſtoniſhed at the firſt, ſo was ſhe much more, when ſhe heard theſe words, for ſhe could not imagine how her Companion ſhould come to the knowledg of this Oracle. But Phillis counterfeiting admirably well, that it was by divine inſpiration; after ſome other ſuch diſcourſe, ſhe took her leave of them; aſſuring them, that ere long they ſhould find eaſe and ſatisfaction to their minds: and by the way, ſhe related unto Diana how as ſhe was ſeeking her, ſhe met with them, and unſeen of them, heard them repeat and diſcourſe upon this Oracle.

Thus they went talking upon this encounter, till they came to the houſe of Aſtrea, but finding her no further dreſt, then when they left her; Oh Siſter (ſaid Phillis and ſeemed to wonder) what, not farther yet? Do I find you juſt as I left you? It is to ſhew (anſwered Aſtrea) that I am no changeling. Nay, nay, replied Phillis, my meaning is, you are dreſt no more then you were when I went to ſeek Diana: Pray what have you been doing all the while? Certainly Siſter, anſwered Aſtrea, you are very weary, ſince the time ſeems ſo long unto you: I aſſure you I thought you but newly parted: It ſeems quite contrary with you, anſwered Phillis, and that you have been ſo pleaſed, that hours ſeem but minutes unto you. If contentment and happineſs can do it, replied Aſtrea, I muſt needs confeſs what you ſay: and yet Siſter, do not think that I have done nothing ſince you went, for in this ſhort time, I have gotten the Faireſt Miſtris that ever was: And I, ſaid Alexis, the ſweeteſt Servant that ever lived. I warrant you (ſaid Phillis) you have ſpent all this morning about this piece of work. Siſter (ſaid Aſtrea) you need not ſlight it ſo much; for it is not a work ſo eaſily done; ſome are whole months and years, nay whole ages about it. Yes, (ſaid Diana) and for all the haſte which they make, they have time enough to repent all the dayes of their life: That is a thing (ſaid Aſtrea) which I ſhall never do, unleſs I repent that I begun it no ſooner: I do believe it, anſwered Diana, becauſe your Miſtris is a Woman, but if it were a man, believe it Siſter, you would be no more exempted then others; and for my part, I ſhall adviſe all thoſe that deſire to have a quiet life, never to contract amity with any but Women, and to ſhun all the aſſurances of any good will which Men uſe to make, as a Serpent does the words of enchantment. I do wonder (ſaid Alexis) you ſhould accuſe men of that vice which they do ſo much charge us with all. Madam, anſwered Diana, did you never hear the Proverb, The Debtor demands money; Men likewiſe do prevent us, and blame us for that which themſelves are guilty of: believe it, the greateſt ſervitude that nature did impoſe upon us, is in that ſhe conſtrained us to live in their company. Then (ſaid Alexis and ſmiled) how happy are the reſt of our Druides who are exempted from this inconveniency. Doubtleſs they are Madam, anſwered Diana, and you will know it better, if you will but he pleaſed to conſider what I ſhall ſay unto you; certainly if men be at any time pleaſing unto thoſe they court, it is when they are inflamed with Love, and ſeem as if they adored them, for then they are all complacency, all ſervice, all cares, all ſubmiſſion, all flatteries; briefly their continual ſtudy is to get the favour of thoſe who hearken unto them: ſo as queſtionleſs if ever a man be not troubleſome, it is at this time; and yet if we do but well conſider it, into how many inconveniences and troubles do they bring thoſe poor unfortunate women, whom they have deſigns upon? For if they do not Love them, then all their cares and courtſhips are ſo many wrongs and injuries unto them: and if [Page] they do Love them, conſider, I beſeech you Madam, how unſupportable they are if they find entertainment, and how troubleſome they are if they be rejected: they think one favour to be a ſtep unto another, and never leave till they arrive at the higheſt: if you reject them, then they are all complaint, reproaches, and deſpaires, and very often driven unto hatred and revenge: if thou entertain them, they are ſtill never contented, till they arrive at that which they cannot obtain, without the ruine of thoſe that give the entertainment; if you do not grant them all that they deſire, then, the more favours you have done them, the more occaſions have you given them to ruin you. Then to Crown the work; when they are arrived at the height of their deſires, you run a hazard either to be ſlighted, or to live in a continual inquietude for their inconſtancy. As for thoſe that are repulſed at the firſt; how infinitely troubleſome they are unto us? What inſupportable torments they are by their importunities, and ſubtilties? They will hang upon you like a bur; they will follow you as a ſhaddow does the body; they will never be abſent from you, but when night comes and ſeparates you from them and all others: you can have no other object before your eyes but them; and will be ſo troubleſome unto you, that you will be glad to baniſh from you ſuch company as you love, only to be rid of them you love not. At the laſt, if their love do die, as they are very ſubject unto ſuch changes, what is it which their ſpite will not make them belch forth againſt you? Their calumnies will blaſt the moſt unblameable life that ever lived: the herceſt Tygers that ever nature created, are not ſo full of revenge as they will be againſt us. So then it muſt be concluded (ſaid Phillis, and interrupted) that men are troubles at all times, according to Dianas Doctrine. For my part (ſaid Aſtrea) I ſhall not need to fear them, when I am with Alexis amongſt the Virgin Druides of Carnutes: but to tell you truly, I do believe, there are very few men who have not a tincture of thoſe vices, wherewith Diana upbraids them. Theſe few words from Aſtrea, did touch Celadon ſo to the quick, that he knew not what to ſay, yet leſt he ſhould give any notice of it, he thought himſelf obliged to ſay ſomething: For my part, replied Alexis, I know not what to ſay, for I never made any tryal of theſe deceivers, and have known ſome changing women: Then turning to Aſtrea; Oh Servant, (ſaid ſhe in a low voice) when we are amongſt the Virgin Druides, we ſhall care but a little for the inconſtancy of theſe wavering men, and we will laugh at your Companions who do live in that ſervitude. I hope ſo, (anſwered Aſtrea) and I proteſt unto you Miſtris, I do with extream impatience long to ſee the day when we muſt depart.

Diana ſeeing them whiſper, leſt ſhe ſhould interrupt them, did ſtand a little farther off, but Phillis who was of a very pleaſant and gay humour, and knew very well that Alexis would take delight in it, Siſter, (ſaid ſhe unto Diana) is not my prophecy come to paſs? Does not Aſtrea who was wont to Love none but Diana and Phillis, and who took delight in no company but theirs, does not ſhe I ſay, diſdain them now? and Loves only this new Shepherdeſs? Whereby you may note, that men may well accuſe us alſo of levity, and inconſtancy. Ah Phillis (anſwered Astrea, and ſmiled) do you not obſerve that I am now no Shepherdeſs? Do you ſee, how I am become a Druide? And do you not know that honours change manners? But I hope, replied Phillis, that when this Druide is gone, who has infuſed ſo much pride into you, then you will return unto your former humility, I beſeech you angry Shepherdeſs, anſwered Aſtrea, withhold your revenge upon me till that time, and then I will not complain of any hurt you can do me: your meaning is replied Phillis, that then you will be full of greater diſpleaſures then ours, and will not value what we can do: that, replied Aſtrea, is not my meaning. Then, ſaid Phillis, do you think us of ſuch good diſpoſitions, that ſeeing you afflicted for others, we will have no mind to augment your diſpleaſures? But you will deceive your ſelf in that; for ingratitude is a vice ſo deteſtable, that it turns the ſweeteſt natures into harſh diſpoſitions, and makes the moſt courteous and kind, become ſurly, and vindicative. That is not my meaning neither, replied Aſtrea, but it is, becauſe you ſhall not ſee my here after my Fair Miſtris is gone; for I am fully reſolved to follow her whitherſoever ſhe ſhall go, and ſhe is pleaſed to permit me. Nay, nay, ſaid Philis, Calidon will never permit that voyage; Calidon, anſwered Aſtrea, has no more [Page] to do with me, then I will have with him: But Phocion (ſaid Phillis) will order it after another manner. The will of Heaven and of my deſtiny, replied Aſtrea, is above the will of men. But I beſeech you, added Phillis, has not thoſe friends which you have here any prevalence with you? I muſt needs confeſs, anſwered Aſtrea, that if any have, it is they, and this conſideration only can make me reſent my diſpleaſures: but when I think upon thoſe ſorrows, which I have received from the deteſtable River of Lignon; I ſhall deſire to be ſo far diſtant from it, as that the memory of it may be quite extinguiſhed. If that be your deſign (ſaid Diana) then you muſt reſolve to carry us with you, for you know our affection will never ſuffer us to be far from you. Should Heaven conſent unto that, replied Aſtrea, I ſhould be but too happy: I hope, anſwered Diana, that Heaven will favour us as well as you, and deliver us from that ſervitude wherein we live. Paris and Belinde (ſaid Alexis) will pronounce an arreſt againſt you: Yes, ſaid Aſtrea, and Lycidas will no leſs oppoſe the voyage, unleſs he may have leave to follow Phillis. Paris and Belinde, anſwered Diana, will never ordain any thing againſt my will, nor againſt the ſervice of Tautates; for both of them are Religious and Wiſe. But if they ſhould, I ſhould be excuſable in my diſ-obedience to Belinde, becauſe I ought to imitate my Mother in dedicating my ſelf unto the ſame God unto whom ſhe her ſelf is devoted: And as for Paris, I hope that I may diſpleaſe him to exempt my ſelf from all manner of diſpleaſures. This conſideration therefore, need not to hinder you from carrying us with you. If this conſideration will not hinder, (ſaid Phillis and ſmiled) I have one that will, which is, a reſolution never to put Lycidas unto the trouble of following me ſo far; for I do not intend to be diſtant from him, farther then the limits of our Town will extend.

Alexis and Aſtrea could not forbear laughing at Phillis, which cauſed her to add further; do not think Siſter, whatſoever I ſay of Lycidas, but that I love you as wel as any Siſter in the world can: but I muſt needs confeſs, that the affection which I bear unto the Shepherd, is of another kind then that which I bear unto you: were I as well learned as Sylvander, perhaps I ſhould make a better definition of it; but ſo it is, that I can hardly be deprived of his ſight for any other: I hope you will not take my freedom in an ill ſence, but rather excuſe it, becauſe lying is not permitted amongſt us. Siſter, anſwered Astrea, I ſhall never be one that will condemn your humour; but perhaps I ſhall be extreamly ſorry to be ſo far diſtant from you. Could I divide my ſelf into two parts, replied Phillis, the one ſhould wait upon you which way ſoever you went: but ſince that cannot be, I beſeech you, give me leave to make good my promiſe unto Lycidas. Diana then ſmiled and ſaid, I perceive there is none but my ſelf who will keep the promiſe which we made unto Aſtrea. I ſhall ſupply the place of Phillis (ſaid Alexis) and perform the office of amity which that Shepherdeſs hath ſworn unto her. Do not think Madam, replied Phillis, that I will ever fail in my promiſe to her: but ſhe knows very well, that when we contracted our league of amity unto each other, one condition was, not to deny any thing that the one ſhould ask of the other; and ſince I ask her pardon if I do not follow her, ſhe cannot, unleſs ſhe be perjured, deny it. It is very true, anſwered Aſtrea, and ſighed, nor will I blame you for what you do, no more then you upbraid me with my paſt miſ-fortune.

Their diſcourſe had laſted long, had it not been for Aſtreas dreſſing her ſelf: but Alexis being taller then ſhe, and by conſequence her Gown too long for her, Diana and Phillis did take it in, by tucking it up ſo handſomly, that it was as fit as if meaſure had been taken of her. The Druide, on the other ſide thinking that ſhe had counterfeited ſick long enough, alſo fearing that if ſhe continued in bed, ſhe ſhould diſcover the defects of her breſts; ſhe reſolved to get up, and walk in the little grove of Haſles with Aſtrea; foreſeeing that otherwiſe if ſhe ſtayed in her chamber, they two ſhould never be alone, and ſo ſhould be deprived of the pleaſure which ſhe took in talking with the Shepherdeſs without interruption. In order therefore unto this deſign, Servant (ſaid ſhe unto Aſtrea) ſee what an excellent operation your diſcourſe has had upon my ſickneſs: Since you came hither, I have been as well as I can wiſh: if therefore you will let me riſe, we will go and walk away the reſt of the morning in the little Wood: If I have been any Inſtrument of your well being, anſwered [Page] Aſtrea, I ſhall think my ſelf the happieſt Woman in the world, for I have no greater ambition then to do you ſervice. Oh Madam, ſaid Phillis; we will all thank Aſtrea for being ſo good a Doctor. Indeed, ſaid Alexis, I find my ſelf very well, and if you will give me the Gown which I am to put on, I will dreſs my ſelf and go with you whither you pleaſe. Phillis ran preſently to reach Aſtreas Gown, and helping her to put it on, ſhe was dreſſed preſently: then coming unto the window, ſhe dreſſed up her head, and tricked up her ſelf ſo, that this diſguiſed Druide appeared to be one of the Faireſt Shepherdeſſes of Lignon: Aſtrea ſeeing her, could not chuſe but ſay unto Phillis; Well Phillis, do you think the time I ſpent in getting ſuch a Fair Miſtris, was not well imployed? Certainly it was, anſwered Phillis, and ſmiled, if you were Aſtreas Brother; for it is the cuſtom in this Country, when one ſpeaks of a Miſtris and Servant, a Shepherd and a Shepherdeſs is to be underſtood. Oh Phillis (anſwered Diana) amongſt the Virgin Druids, the cuſtome is quite contrary; and you muſt know, (added Alexis) that in the Sacrifices of Veſta, men are not received.

When the Druide was dreſt, ſhe took Aſtrea by the hand, and led her out; and the Flocks of Diana and Phillis being neer the door, Alexis would needs drive them, to ſhew ſhe was not aſhamed of her habit; but to make them believe ſhe was ignorant in that miſtery, ſhe uſed her Sheephook and talked to the Flock very aukwardly, at which Aſtrea could not chuſe but laugh, and Diana would needs undertake to direct and teach her what to do. After they had a while made themſelves merry at this exerciſe, they walked to the Wood, into which they were no ſooner entred, but they ſpied upon their left hand, a great company of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, who were walking there in the ſhade: this encounter did a little trouble the two diſguiſed parties, for being not yet grown confident enough of themſelves, they were afraid to be ſeen by any; and therefore they deſired Diana and Phillis, to walk towards that company, whilſt they, leſt they ſhould be known, would take another way: the two good friends according to their deſires, went forward and came up to the company; who ſeeing them, did advance themſelves to bid them good morrow. Diana having met with Daphnis amongſt them, as her ſpecial and intimate friend; ſhe went to embrace her, and ask her how ſhe had paſſed away the night. All complements and ſalutations being ended, Hylas who was in the company, and Corilas alſo, not being able to be together without ſeveral diſputes, they continued on the diſcourſe, which they had begun before thoſe two Shepherdeſſes came unto them. Good Hylas, ſaid Corilas, tell me one thing; when thou didſt change Alexis for Stella, at what game didſt thou play? Why, (anſwered Hylas) do you ask me that queſtion? Becauſe I think, replied Corilas, that thou dareſt hardly ſay it was the game of the Faireſt, as thou wert wont to ſay when thou didſt leave Phillis for Alexis; for I cannot believe thy eyes ſo bad, but thou muſt needs ſee, that ſhe whom thou haſt left, is Fairer then ſhe whom thou haſt taken: Oh thou ignorant novice, in beauty (cryed out Hylas) what is it that can be called Fair, unleſs it pleaſe? I confeſs (ſaid Corilas) that beauty does pleaſe; but I cannot confeſs, all that pleaſeth to be Fair: and ſo that which a depraved taſte thinks good, ought not to be eſteemed ſo therefore. How now friend? (replied Hylas) What, one of Sylvanders diſciples? Perhaps thou thinkeſt as he does, that beauty is a right proportion, and a true mixture of colours; Oh how groſly thou art miſtaken, if thou thinkeſt ſo? Beauty is nothing but an opinion of her whom we judge to be ſo: and to demonſtrate it unto thee; when a woman has a little mouth, a well proportioned noſe, a cleer skin, a freſh complexion, and buxſom plumpneſs, doſt thou not call this beauty? I do ſo, anſwered Corilas; then tell me (replied Hylas) beauty, and uglineſs, are they the Mother and the Daughter of one another, or are they contraries? Certainly, ſaid Corilas, beauty does never engender uglineſs, and they are ſo contrary, that the one cannot be without deſtruction unto the other. Then confeſs, replied Hylas, that beauty, and uglineſs are only in opinion: for I will ſhew thee how that which very oft we eſteem Fair, does ſeem very ugly unto us, according as opinion commands. When a dog has a crooked noſe, a wide mouth, large lips, and eares hanging down to the ground, do they not ſay, that ſuch a one is a very fair and a fine dog, and yet all theſe are quite contrary unto what you call fair. [Page] All this were right, replied Corilas and ſmiled, if the beauty of a Woman, and the beauty of a Dog were all one and the ſame thing. Nay, nay, ſaid Hylas, this excuſe will not paſs, and if thou wert but as learned as thy maſter Sylvander, I would ask thee queſtions concerning Ideas of Beauty: But thou my Friend, who art not ſo high a Flyer, I muſt deal with thee by demonſtrations more eaſie and ſenſible: Thou thinkeſt that thou haſt given me a ſufficient anſwer, in ſaying, That the beauty of a Woman, and the beauty of a Dog are not the ſame: But what wilt thou alledge when I ſhew thee that the beauty of Women has a contrary eſtimation: The Gauls eſteem white to be Beauty, the Moors eſteem Black to be the ſame: The Tranſalpines loves thoſe that are high coloured, almoſt red, they eſteem great and fat women to be the prime Beauties, the Gauls are for the ſlender and lean: The Greeks admire the Black eye, the Gauls the Grey. All Europe eſteem a little mouth, red lips, and an even proportioned noſe: The Affricans quite contrary, a wide mouth, flapping lips, and a large ſaddle noſe: Now my good friend, prithee tell me, wherein does Beauty conſiſt? If thou doſt deny it to be in the opinion of him that looks upon it, tell me no more that Alexis is fairer then Stella, ſince thou judgeſt by the Genius and Rules of thy Country, and I by mine, which is Camargue; for I will tell thee, that according to the Rules of that place where I was born, there is none ſo fair as ſhe who pleaſeth.

Every one did laugh ſo much at the diſcourſe of the Inconſtant Hylas, that Corilas could not anſwer him: and juſt as he began, they heard a Shepherd begin to ſing, who by his voice was known to be Sylvander. All the company did preſently turn their eyes upon Hylas, as if they did advertize him, that now he was like to have a more powerful enemy. Stella who took notice of it: Servant (ſaid ſhe) all the company looks upon you, to ſee whether you begin to look pale at the encounter of this fierce Champion: I amongſt the reſt do expect to ſee what defence you will make of my Beauty, for I ſhould be very glad for your own honours ſake, if you can with honour bring about the enterprize: Not that I care for my own Intereſt at all, for I do know very well that if Beauty do conſiſt in opinion, there is not a Shepherdeſs in the world who has more of it then I have. Miſtris, anſwered he, let this Giant come when he will, I value him not, it is not the firſt time we have grapled together. Then ſaid Corilas, I am confident the victories were never doubtful. No more then thoſe I obtained over you, anſwered Hylas. I ſhould confeſ [...], anſwered Corilas, if you could perſwade me that Stella is fairer then Alexis, you have gotten a moſt ſignal victory of me. It is very hard, replied Hylas, to perſwade a man that is wilful; but I am contented that all who hear us, do judge me to be in the right. If they do, replied Corilas, it may be ſaid that Right is without Reaſon.

In the mean time Sylvander came unto them, with a countenance of contentment more then he had cauſe for: For Diana, who was not able to diſſemble her anger, and left her countenance ſhould diſcover it more then ſhe was willing, ſhe went unto Phillis, and whiſpered in her ear; I beſeech you Siſter (ſaid ſhe) do not follow me: for I am conſtrained to go unto Aſtrea upon a buſineſs which I forgot, and I would not by any means draw you from this good company. I will do whatſoever you command me, anſwered Phillis, but I ſhall be very glad to go with you. Do what you pleaſe, ſaid Diana, but if you do come, let it be a little after me: Upon this ſhe went away four or five paces; and then, as if ſhe had remembred ſomthing which ſhe had once forgotten, ſhe turned haſtily back to Phillis, and ſaid unto her in a low voice; Be ſure Siſter you remember the Bracelet of my Hair, for I deſire you by all means to get it from him; and afterwards I ſhall be extreamly deſirous to hear what diſcourſe you have had with this Lover of Madonthe. Siſter, anſwered Phillis, you believe upon too light grounds, but if you will, I ſhall ſpeak unto Sylvander, and give you an accompt of his anſwer. His anſwer! ſaid Diana, No Siſter, I deſire it not, nor any thing elſe from him, but that unfortunate Bracelet which he had of mine; But if you will take ſo much pains as to obſerve his countenance and geſture when you ask it of him, you will do me a pleaſure if you relate it unto me. I know your mind, anſwered Phillis and ſmiled, and therefore trouble your ſelf no further, but commit the care of it to me. Upon this Diana went away as faſt as ſhe could go, and durſt hardly look back, leſt ſhe ſhould give ſome ſuſpition of the paſſion [Page] which ſhe deſired to conceal. On the other ſide, Alexis and Astrea who were ſeparated from the company, purpoſely to enjoy themſelves in freedom of diſcourſe, they were no ſooner alone, but Aſtrea with contentment, began thus: I cannot tell Miſtris what will be the end of my Enterprize, nor how the Deſtinies will diſpoſe of me; but this beginning is ſo infinitely pleaſing unto me, that nothing can be added unto my deſires, for I am able to ſay, that hopes never durſt promiſe unto themſelves ſo much as the kindneſs of my ſweet Miſtris hath granted unto me. Servant, ſaid Alexis, ſuch is your merit, that you may well aſſure your ſelf of all the favours you can deſire from me: But if you will oblige me, conſider I beſeech you how favourable the Heavens are to me in meeting with you: For having ſuch a bitter remembrance of the change in that woman whom I loved ſo well, and yet do love her, that bitter memory of her is driven from my heart, by the ſweetneſs which I find in your amity, making it appear that the beſt remedy againſt a miſery, is alwaies the contrary. Give me leave, ſweet Miſtris, replied Aſtrea with a little ſmile, to tell you, that by theſe extream favours which you do me, you do make me jealous. Is it, replied Alexis, becauſe I ſay that I do love this Maid ſtill, of whoſe change I complain ſo much? Have I not a little reaſon for it, ſaid Astrea? Servant ſaid Alexis, You have no reaſon for it; for I love you as my Servant, and her as my Miſtris. This anſwered Aſtrea, does not remove my jealouſie, but rather much more augment it, becauſe the love which one bears unto a Miſtris, does much ſurpaſs the good will which one bears unto a Servant. Well Servant, ſaid Alexis, to let you ſee that I will conform my ſelf unto any thing you would have me, I will take this courſe: To ceaſe loving this woman of whom we ſpeak, is impoſſible, as well becauſe it ſhall never be ſaid that I am unconſtant, as becauſe it would be an unpardonable error to ſee ſo much merits and not love them: But to cut the thred as even as I can betwixt you, I will love this changeling ſtill, but I will love her only for your ſake. Perhaps I ſhould be ſatisfied with this promiſe, if I did underſtand it, replied Aſtrea. My meaning is, replied Alexis, That I will love her only, becauſe I am certain that when you do know her, you will love her as well as I do: and if it do not prove ſo, then I proteſt that I will not love her: But Servant, I remember you once told me, that you did love a Shepherd, I beſeech you let me know who that happy man is; for if our amity continue, as I make no queſtion but it will, then it is not reaſonable we ſhould live together, as we are reſolved to do, and let any thing be concealed from each other. Though Alexis had a great deſire to know the cauſe of his Baniſhment, yet this queſtion came out before ſhe was well aware, otherwiſe, her fears of a ſharp anſwer would doubtleſs have ſtopped her mouth: But the word being out, and paſt recal, ſhe expected Aſtreas anſwer, as a ſentence of either life or death. The Shepherdeſs on the other ſide, or rather the new Druide, ſhe was a little troubled at this queſtion, and knew not well what anſwer to return; but at laſt, after ſhe had ſtood a while mute, ſhe returned this anſwer, with a deep ſigh: Ah Miſtris! you command me to tell you a thing which hath coſt me many a bitter tear; and the very memory of it cannot come into my mind without much ſad reſentment: But ſince I am forced unto it by your command, I will ſhut up my ſorrows within my ſoul, and tell you, becauſe I have made a vow never to diſobey you. Know therefore Miſtris, that the name of this Shepherd whom I loved is Celadon, and an enmity that was betwixt our Families, was not able to give any ſtop unto the affection that was between us; but when we were in our higheſt hopes of a happy concluſion, Death did raviſh him away from amongſt men, and made me a widdow before I was married. This, Miſtris, is it that hath coſt me a Sea of Tears, and I beſeech you pardon me that I make no longer a relation of it unto you: for beſides that I think it both out of ſeaſon, and impertinent; alſo I deſire you to have ſo much pity upon your Servant, as not to open a wound, which perhaps will never be cured, and which is the moſt ſenſible that ever any received. Alexis might well have been contented with this anſwer, but his extream deſire to know the full cauſe of his miſery, urged him to go further, and ſay; I am very ſorry Servant, I ſhould be any cauſe of your ſad reſentments; but you may think that this my curioſity is no ſmall teſtimony of my affection to you; and therefore if this conſideration have any influence upon your ſoul, I beſeech you tell me why and how this Shepherd died, when he was at the very top [Page] of all his hopes? Ah Miſtris, ſaid Aſtrea, you touch the wound where it is moſt ſore, and yet let the pain be what it will, I cannot diſobey you.

When Aſtrea was ready to ſatisfie the Druide, they were at the end of the long Walk; and when they turned back, they ſpied the Shepherdeſs Diana at the other end, who was coming to them, purpoſely to avoid the ſight of Sylvander. Aſtrea was very glad of this encounter, which would ſerve her for an excuſe in not ſatisfying the curioſity of Alexis; who deſiring to have no witneſſes, was the firſt which entreated her to defer this diſcourſe until another time.

Preſently after, Diana came unto them, with a countenance that ſpoke the diſpleaſure ſhe had received by meeting with Sylvander: And becauſe this alteration was very apparent, Aſtrea and Alexis perceived it as ſoon as ever they ſaw her. This moved Alexis to ask her whether ſhe was not well: to whom ſhe anſwered yes, but was on the contrary much delighted at the diſcourſe of Hylas againſt Beauty: But ſaid ſhe, he found a more eaſie Antagoniſt of Corilas then he will of Sylvander. Sylvander! ſaid Aſtrea, is he in the Country? Yes, anſwered Diana faintly, he came juſt as I came away, and I ſaw all the company preparing themſelves to hear him. Then Aſtrea ſmiled, and turned towards Alexis; Miſtris, ſaid ſhe unto her, you need not ask Diana whether ſhe be ill, for I know from whence proceeds that alteration which we obſerved in her face. The reaſon of it is, ſaid Diana, becauſe I made ſuch haſte in coming to you; and indeed I have not found my ſelf of late ſo well as I was wont to be. This excuſe, replied Aſtrea, cannot hide it from us, nor will our amity permit you ſhould be thus cloſe unto us. Do you not conſider (ſaid Diana) in whoſe preſence you are? Very well, replied Aſtrea, both what I ſay, and in whoſe preſence; But my Miſtris is pleaſed to allow us ſo much liberty and freedom, that you ought not to uſe any ſuch diſtimulations and diſguiſements, which it ſeems you would hide your ſelf withal, both from her and me. Servant, ſaid Alexis, and ſmiled, unleſs you will have me accuſe you of the ſame fault for which you blame Diana, you will tell me openly what it is that ſhe diſſembles. Miſtris, anſwered Aſtrea preſently, I cannot conceal any thing which you have a deſire to know: but leſt this Shepherdeſs ſhould have any reaſon to complain againſt me, I beſeech you command me, and I will tell you. Then I command you, ſaid Alexis, with all the power that you have given me over you. Aſtrea offering to ſpeak, Diana put her hand before her mouth, and hindered her: But Aſtrea putting her hand away, and pulling Alexis betwixt them, Diana, ſaid ſhe, though it coſt me my life, I will obey my Miſtris in all her commands. Madam, ſaid Diana, Do not either hear or believe her, for ſhe cannot tell you any thing either of truth, or worth your hearing: But if you pleaſe, you may ſpend your time much better in hearing the diſputes between Hylas and Sylvander, which cannot chuſe but be very pleaſant, ſince your ſelf is concerned in it; for the Diſpute is betwixt your Beauty and Stellas. We will do ſo ſaid Alexis, ſince you will have us, though neither Aſtrea nor I have any great confidence in our new Habits; and as we go, Aſtrea ſhall tell us what it is which you are ſo ſhye in imparting to us. I would not have her tell you Fancies and Imaginations for truths, replied Diana, eſpecially ſuch imaginations as cannot be told without much offence. Then Alexis taking in each hand one, they walked that way from whence Diana came: And Aſtrea began thus: Siſter, ſaid ſhe, you will be ſoon offended if what I ſhall ſay will do it: For when I aſſure my Miſtris that the alteration which ſhe obſerves in your face proceeds only from your meeting with Sylvander, do I tell any thing but what is truth? Why ſhould ſhe change her countenance (ſaid Alexis) at the ſeeing of one whom ſhe ſo much loves and honours? Miſtris, ſaid Aſtrea, I beſeech you do but look upon her, and you ſhall ſee her face anſwer for me. Diana then held her hands before her eyes, and turning her head the other way, ſhe held it ſo a long while, and would not be ſeen: But at laſt, conſidering that her companion would certainly tell what ſhe deſired to conceal, ſhe thought it better to tell it her ſelf, then ſuffer another to do it. Madam, ſaid ſhe and ſmiled, What Aſtrea tells you is a meer Imagination: but ſince you have ſuch a deſire to know, I had rather tell it my ſelf, then ſuffer her; and when I have told you, then judge what probabilities there is in the matter. You know Madam, that according to the Wager that was betwixt Phillis and Sylvander, this Shepherd ſeemed [Page] long as if he had really loved me, and ſince we have diſcovered that he is extreamly in love with Madonthe. Who is that Madonthe? asked Alexis. A ſtranger, anſwered Aſtrea, who was here a while amongſt us, and one whom Diana has an opinion that Sylvander is in love withal. An opinion, replied Diana, Why Siſter do you not poſitively ſay, ſhe is one whom Sylvander loves as much as he can love, for you know it to be true? Did I know it, anſwered Aſtrea, I would ſay as you do, but I ſwear that I think all he does is only out of civility. Civility! cryed out Diana, Do you call it Civility to cry, to pray, to beg, to importune, and to kneel at the feet of Madonthe, to get leave that he may follow her? If this be civility, then I do not know what is Love. Siſter, ſaid Aſtrea, you believe all that Laonice tells you, and I would have you ſuſpend your Belief, until the Shepherd return, that you may have the truth from his own mouth. Fie, fie Friend, replied Diana, I wonder you ſhould ſpeak thus: Would you have me look for any truth from the mouth of a Man? a man in Love? Or (to ſpeak all in one word) from a Sylvander? from him that thinks he can by the volubility of wit and tongue blind the eyes of our mind, as Juglers do the eyes of our Body? No, no, there is no credit to be given unto any thing he ſays. Why ſhould you think, ſaid Alexis, that Sylvander loves any but your ſelf? I never thought he loved me, anſwered Diana, nor ever had any intention to ſuffer him. Surely, ſaid Aſtrea, you had an opinion once that he did love you; but if he did not, why ſhould he take ſo much pains about you as he did? To paſs away his time, anſwered Diana, or becauſe he had nothing elſe to do. Do you think, ſaid Aſtrea, that ſo fine a Wit as Sylvanders can find it ſelf nothing to do but to trifle away his time about one whom he loves not? You may remember Siſter, if you pleaſe, how that Shepherd lived before he caſt any amorous eye upon you, and compare that time with the time of his love unto you, and conſider what a difference there was; which of your commands, nay the leaſt ſhaddow of your will did he not obſerve as a Law inviolable? To be brief Siſter, Tell me what greater reverence he could render unto any Grandee upon earth, nay unto the Gods themſelves, then he hath alwaies done unto you? And whether there be not certain ſymptomes, ſigns, and conſequents of a real love, let any hearer judge? Siſter, anſwered Diana, ſince you ſpeak ſo highly in behalf of Sylvander, I believe you think as you ſay; But I who never ſaw, nor will ſee any ſuch matters, I will believe the reports of Laonice; and if thoſe ſigns which you have obſerved in him be any teſtimonies of Love, they may be of his love to Madonthe. No replied Aſtrea, for I have heard him in my preſence ſay a hundred and an hundred times, that it is you, and you only whom he loves. It is the common quality of men, anſwered Diana, thus to delude thoſe ſilly women who hear them: and do you not think he has ſaid as much in private unto his dear Madonthe? But if I be not much deceived, he never ſaid as much to me, nor ever ſhall. I perceive, ſaid Alexis, you are apt to believe all that is ſaid againſt Sylvander, as confidently as if you had ſeen it your ſelf. I believe it Madam, anſwered Diana, becauſe it is true: But I am contented to forgive him with all my heart, and will believe all that Laonice has told me. Me thinks ſaid Alexis, you are over-apt, and too partial to believe the reports of that woman: you ought to ſuſpend your belief and judgement, till you hear him anſwer for himſelf. Ah Madam, ſaid Diana, I aſſure you that I care ſo little either for his love or hate, as I would not have one word more ſpent about the matter: For do you think to draw truth from a falſe and diſſembling tongue? For my part, ſaid Aſtrea, I cannot believe him in any fault: But if he be in fault, his fault is his love unto Madonthe; now when ſhe is gone, his fault will appear; and if he be in no fault, then he will continue his addreſſes ſtill unto you. I do not think (ſaid Diana) that he will continue them. But if he do continue them, ſaid Aſtrea, what will you ſay then? I will ſay, anſwered Diana, that he will be aſhamed to ſhew his Inconſtancy. If he was aſhamed of that, replied Aſtrea, he would not have ſo freely diſcovered it before all thoſe who ſaw him take his leave of Madonthe. Perhaps, anſwered Diana, he was not ſo abſolute a maſter of himſelf, but he was ſurprized with this ſudden and unexpected departure; ſo as though he be his Arts maſter in matter of lying, yet he could not chuſe but upon ſuch a ſurprize diſcover the truth. But Siſter, why ſhould we ſpend ſo much time about a thing which is not worth it? Let [Page] us leave Sylvander to his beloved Madonthe, and have no more memory of him then he has of us; for I believe his ſoul is capable of no thought but his ſorrows at this ſad ſeparation.

Whilſt theſe Shepherdeſſes were thus diſcourſing, preſently after Dianas departure from Phillis, Sylvander came to the place from which Diana went; and he had hardly ſaluted all the company before Hylas accoſted him.

Will you, ſay Sylvander (ſaid he unto him) that Diana is Fairer then Stella? Will you deny Hylas (ſaid Sylvander) that the Sun is cleerer then Darkneſs? All the Company began to laugh at the anſwer of Sylvander, and the queſtion of Hylas: but Hylas without being at all daunted, I will maintain (ſaid he) that Stella does not only equal, but much excel the beauty of Diana. I do not wonder at what you ſay (anſwered Sylvander) but yet me thinks thy very ignorance ſhould have made a better judgment then ſo; I ſhould anſwer you after another manner (ſaid Hylas) if I had not right on my ſide, and if I did not think to make you confeſs before we part in the preſence of all theſe Shepherdeſſes, that Stella is fairer then Diana, at the leaſt if you will anſwer me. Doubt not but I will anſwer unto all you ſhall ask, ſaid Sylvander and ſmiled, but if you make me confeſs what you affirm, and which I can never believe, I will ſay you can do more then is poſſible, and makes uſe of ſome enchantment. The enchantments which I will uſe, anſwered Hylas, ſhall be the ſtrength of my reaſons, of which, not you, but all the company ſhall judge: therefore Sylvander, anſwer unto this queſtion; How Fair do you think Diana to be? As Fair, anſwered Sylvander, as any woman can be. And I, ſaid Hylas, do think Stella to be Fairer then any Woman in the world can be: thus you ſee Sylvander how you have ſpoken truth before you were aware; you hold the beauty of Diana, only in the comparative degree, but I Stellas in the ſuperlative: If opinion, replied Sylvander, were to end the difference, or were that which makes a perſon more or leſs Fair, then I ſhould confeſs that in this argument you have in ſome ſort the advantage of me. But how groſly are you deceived if you have that belief; for beauty is the perfection of that which hath it: and can you ſay that perfection is only an imagination? But can you deny, replyed Hylas, that beauty, even the beauty of Women, is any thing elſe but the opinion of him who ſees it? For if it were otherwiſe, ſhe who ſeems Fair unto one, would ſeem Fair unto all eyes, which holds falſe in the opinion that you have of the beauty of Diana, and the greater beauty of Stella. The ground you build upon, replied Sylvander, is ſuch a looſe ſand, that it muſt needs fall preſently to ruine: for it is not opinion which ſets a value upon things, but their own proper quality which is in them; for otherwiſe a piece of Glaſs or Alchimy well wrought and counterfeited, were as good as Gold, or a right Diamond, for they are oftentimes thought to be as good as the other: but Hylas, you know from whence this opinion has its riſe; even from nothing but ignorance: for if people knew that the Alchimy, and the Glaſs, were counterfeit; they would never ſet ſo much eſteem upon them: the very like is of the judgement which you make of Diana and Stella; for did you know what beauty is, you would give a ſound judgment, and not raſhly at random as you do: for my part, replied Hylas, I cannot think my ſelf in any error, I have moſt men on my ſide; and moſt ignorants alſo, replied Sylvander, yet if you will refer it unto the vote of this company, I am confident you will find very few on your ſide: for as there is commonly more ſound then ſick perſons, ſo there are more ſound then ſimple judgements, otherwiſe nature was defective in her works, and did not accompliſh them according to the right rule, which to think, were a blaſphemy both againſt her, and the God of Nature.

Silvander having an ample field for his diſcourſe, would have continued it longer, if Hylas had not interrupted him with another queſtion.

I know Sylvander (ſaid he) that it will be a very dear year when you want words: but anſwer me to this; If beauty be not meer opinion, then how comes it to paſs that one ſhould affect the grey eye, another the black, a third the brown, and every one according to their ſeveral fancies; is this from ignorance? whole Provinces we ſee of the ſame opinion, and contrary unto another; this, anſwered Sylvander, is eaſily anſwered: I know the Gaules are for grey eyes; the Greeks and Latins black, [Page] becauſe the women there are commonly black, and the Gaules white: now Hylas, can you fancy that white eyes, and white hair, would ſhew well upon a black complexion; or black hair or eyes upon a white complexion? But Hylas, all theſe anchantments which you menaced, cannot make me confeſs Stella to [...]e ſo Fair as Diana. Upon this, caſting his eye upon Phillis, and ſhe making ſigns unto him that ſhe would ſpeak with him, he would not ſtay any longer; but [...] towards Hylas, content your ſelf (ſaid he unto him) that I have loſt ſo much time already; when Diana is preſent, I ſhall read you as long a leſſon as you pleaſe: ſo leaving him, he went to Phillis, and ſaid unto her, in a low voice; Who, would have thought, Oh my enemy, if I may ſo call you, that you would have par [...] from that Miſtris which you have given unto Sylvander? Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, all things are ſo apt to change, that it is no wonder to ſee any thing go contrary to cuſtom: As for the name of enemy which you beſtow upon me, I kn [...]w not how I may deſerve it; but you muſt not give the name of Miſtris unto Diana▪ Sylvander was a little aſtoniſhed to ſee Phillis ſo ſerious, and hear her ſpeak ſo; yet conſidering that Phillis was wont to play the wag with him; he ſmiled: but then thinking that ſhe did perſonate too well to be in jeſt, and continued it too long, he ſeperated from the reſt of the company leſt he ſhould be heard: but it was more then needed, for all the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes gathered ſo about Hylas, and ſee [...]ed him with the victory which he had gotten, that none took notice of his action; but being diſtant from all the company, he began th [...]; Your language Phillis, and your geſture, does ſpeak you to be my neemy. But as for Diana, there is none but [...] me that ſhe is my Miſtris. Whatſoever I am, anſwered Phillis, it is no matter; [...] as for Diana, I am ſure ſhe is none of your Miſtris: Oh my moſt cruel enemy, ſaid Sylvander, I beſeech you no more of this counterfeit language, leſt it cauſe my death. Whatſoever occaſion you give me to hate you, ſaid Phillis, yet my hatred ſhall not reach ſo far as to wiſh your death▪ but if you will go a little farther, I will tell you that you are not now upon the ſame terms with Diana you were wont to be: and if all reports be true you are to blame. I beſeech you Shepherdeſs, ſaid Sylvander, if you ſpeak thus only to perplex me, tell me as much, and I ſhall thank you: Shepherd, Shepherd, ſaid Phillis, I have no intentions of perplexing of you, but rather deſire to bring you out if I can; for believe it Sylvander, I ſpeak in good ſerious earneſt▪ Diana is extreamly angry againſt you, and if all be true that is ſaid, ſhe has good reaſon. Oh ſweet Phillis, ſaid Sylvander, for Heavens ſake tell me what i [...] ſaid of me? I tell you the very truth, replied ſhe, and that you may believe I do not lie; know alſo, that aſſoon as ever ſhe ſave you, ſhe went away from the company, and gave me a charge to get a bracelet of her hair from you, which ſhe gave you, for ſhe ſayes the time that you were to keep it being expired, there is no reaſon ſuch a teſtimony of good will ſhould remain with one who can make no better uſe of it. Sylvander was ſtruck dead with wonder, he ſtepped a pace or two back from Phillis; folded his arms a croſs his breſt, and being not able to open his mouth, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, and ſtood like a Statue without any life or motion. Phillis ſeeing him ſtand ſo long in this ſad poſture, ſhe had compaſſion upon him, and pulled him by the arm: he ſtarted out of his ſtudy, and looked wildly about him, as if he were affrighted out of his wits, and ſaid, Oh God, what fault have I committed againſt thy power? Doubtleſs it is ſome great one, ſince you ſuffer me to be ſo unjuſtly condemned for a fault which I never committed, and which I never will commit. Theſe expoſtulations, ſaid Phillis, and interrupted him, are all in vain, for you know, the God of Love is Priviledged above all the reſt of the Gods, and that Heaven never puniſheth his falſities. But Shepherdeſs, ſaid Sylvander, do you and Diana alſo believe that I have no good will unto her? I do not ſay that I believe it, replied Phillis, but I ſay that if all be true which is told Diana, ſhe has no reaſon to Love you: for do you think Sylvander, that ſhe is a Shepherdeſs that will be contented to be a pretence for your affection unto another? Do you find ſo little merit in her, as that ſhe is not worthy to be ſerved any further then as your ſtalking horſe, to hide another amity? Tricks and diſſimulations may perhaps ſomtimes deceive ſuch as do not ſuſpect any treaſon in them; but when notice is taken of them which rubbed a little, it will preſently ſhew its falſity. There is nothing comparable [Page] to a free, cleer, and genuine way in all things; ſubtilties, tricks, and fetches, are arguments of a vile and baſe Spirit. I do confeſs (ſaid Sylvander) all that you ſay, but I beſeech you what have I done? You know, anſwered Phillis, better then any: the thing is made publique, and if you will have it from my mouth, I ſay Sylvander, that you have made a ſhew of loving Diana, whilſt you have given your whole ſoul and affection unto Madonthe: this is a truth which you cannot deny, unleſs you be the moſt brazen faced Shepherd in the whole univerſe; all the Country knows this, and laughs at it; Diana her ſelf amongſt the reſt makes it her rallery; if you be ſorry for any thing, it is, that Diana cares not for your Love: It is a great credit indeed to be courted by an unknown vagabond Shepherd as you are; eſpecially to her who is to eminent in virtue and merit; but all our ſorrows proceeds from our being ſo much miſtaken in you: Tell me truly, Sylvander, what deſign did you aim at in all your diſſimulations? How could you imagine you ſhould continue long undiſcovered? And when you were diſcovered, could you think to avoid a ſe [...]ere but juſt cenſure from all the world? Diana is Fairer at her worſt, then Madonthe is at her beſt; the very frowns of Diana, are ſweeter then Madonthes ſmiles: and Dianas anger is more eſtimable then Madonthes careſſes and favours: where was your eyes and your wits Sylvander, when you made ſo bad a choiſe? Can Diana believe all this? replied Sylvander: Believe it, ſaid Phillis, why ſhould ſhe not believe it, when every one ſays it? And ſince ſhe has ſeen ſuch apparent effects of it, for elſe why ſhould you he every way ſo obſequious and obſervant of that ſtranger? Why all that eloquence to perſwade her not to depart? Why elſe ſhould you caſt your ſelf at her feet? Nay why tears when you bade adieu? and why that unſeaſonable voyage which you made with her? Now Sylvander, I tell you all this, not that Diana cares a ruſh for it, but on the contrary, ſhe thanks God, that ſhe is ſo well rid of all your importunities and troubles; my aimes are only to let you know, that all your diſſimulations and tricks are diſcovered, and that there is no more hopes of deceiving us by any arts you can uſe.

Thus ſpoke Phillis unto Sylvander, not that ſhe had any commiſſion for it from Diana, whoſe modeſty was ſuch, and Spirit ſo great, that ſhe had rather have died then make any ſhew that the diſſimulations of Sylvander did diſpleaſe her; but Phillis did it, becauſe ſhe was angry with that Shepherd, and reſented the injury done unto her Companion, as her own, And well it was they were ſo far from the reſt of the company; for otherwiſe it would have been impoſſible but every one would have perceived the diſorder which this diſcourſe had cauſed in him, and which indeed was greater then Phillis expected. His regret to ſee himſelf accuſed of a fault which he never committed; the loſs of Dianas favour which he hoped that he had obtained, and the harſh language of Phillis, which he ſuppoſed came from his Miſtris, all theſe did ſo ſurpriſe him, that he was not able to utter one word; he was conſtrained to lean himſelf againſt a tree, and growing weak, he fell down to the ground, where ſuch a faintneſs of heart ſeiſed upon him, that within a little time, he was immoveable, and without any ſenſe. Phillis, who ſaw him in this condition, did pull him ſeveral times by the arm, and afterwards, ſeeing him ready to dye, ſhe ran to a little Rivelet which was cloſe by, and taking ſome water in her hands, ſhe came and threw it in his face: but theſe remedies doing no good, ſhe was extreamly affrighted, and ran that way which ſhe ſaw all the company paſs, to call ſome to come and help; but moſt of the Shepherds were all gone to their ſeveral homes, for it was neer dinner time; ſo as ſhe had run long in vain, had ſhe not ſpied a far off Aſtrea, Diana, and Alexis, who were going in gentle pace to hear the diſpute betwixt Sylvander and Hylas, although Alexis and Astrea had no great deſire to be ſeen amongſt all that company in thoſe habits; nor Diana any mind to be in the place where Sylvander was: ſo as it ſeems they walked without any deſign but taking the air; and as if the good Genius of Sylvander had conducted them thither, to ſee him in that condition. When Phillis ſaw them, ſhe cryed out as loud as ever ſhe could, and made ſigns unto them with her hand to make haſte, though ſhe was ſo affrighted and out of breath, that ſhe could not be heard at any diſtance, Aſtrea was the firſt that heard her, and fearing that ſome miſchance had hapned unto her: I beſeech you, ſaid ſhe unto the reſt, let us make all the haſte we can to help Phillis; [Page] for I ſee her run and make ſigns, certainly ſhe ſtands in need of us. Upon this all of them doubled their pace; and Diana, as if ſome Demon had inſpired her, did feel ſuch a kind of unaccuſtomed temper upon her heart, as made her almoſt divine what the matter was. When Phillis was come nearer, and within diſtance of hearing; Oh Diana! Diana! cryed ſhe out, Sylvander is dead! Sylvander is dead! Sylvander! replied Diana, who killed him? You and I, anſwered Phillis, you in commanding me, and I in obeying you. At this Diana was ſeized with ſo much ſorrow, that ſhe could not ſpeak a word, nor go one foot further; making it appear, that in her heart ſhe never believed what was reported of Sylvander, and that what ſhe ſaid againſt him, was only words of an offended Love, which was prone to jealouſie. Aſtrea and Alexis on the contrary, who did highly eſteem the vertue and merit of that Shepherd, Alas, alas, ſaid they, is he dead? It is but too true, anſwered Phillis, his face is pale, and all tears; do but follow me a little, and you ſhall find him in the condition I tell you. Then both of them began to run after her as faſt as they could, they preſently ſaw him lying all along upon the ground, and in the ſame condition Phillis left him. Diana who followed a ſlower pace after them, leſt ſhe ſhould too much diſcover that paſſion which ſhe deſired to hide, ſhe no ſooner caſt her eye upon the Shepherd, but her cheeks were all tears, which ſhe was not able to with hold, and which to teſtifie the ſorrows of her heart, forced their paſſage through her eye-lids: And becauſe the modeſty of this Shepherdeſs would not permit her to diſcover this paſſion, ſhe ſtayed ten or twelve paces from her companions, and turned her ſelf fromwards them, ſeeming as if the accident did not trouble her. But Alexis, Aſtrea, and Phillis, out of abundance of compaſſion, were very buſie about him; one lifted up his arm, another his head, and a third feeling if his heart did beat; but finding no ſignes of life in him, they gave over all hopes, and ſaid unto one another that he was dead. Theſe words reaching the ears of Diana, were ſo many ſharp ſwords, which wounded her heart with new ſorrows: and coming unto Phillis, ſhe whiſpered her in the ear; Good Siſter ſeek about his arm for the Bracelet which you know of, leſt it ſhould be found. Phillis to give her companion ſatisfaction, and thinking that ſhe had good reaſon to deſire that none ſhould know of it, ſhe took the Shepherds arm, and pulled off the Bracelet; But as ſhe was untying it, ſhe and her companions alſo ſpied a mark which in all probability he had worn from his Mothers womb; it was a branch of Miſleto, ſo plain, that any might know it to be ſo; for the leaves, the berries, and the knots of Branches, although they were not green, yet were ſo perfectly marked, that none could doubt it to be Miſleto.

Whilſt they were buſie in looking upon this Miſleto, and untying the Bracelet, and Diana at a good diſtance from them, Sylvander revived out of his ſwoon; but ſo much amazed to ſee himſelf in this condition, and amongſt ſo many Shepherdeſſes, that he knew not whether he dreamed or waked. All three did not a little rejoyce to ſee him alive, after they had lamented his death; for the vertue and merit of that Shepherd, did get the love of all that knew him. When he revived, Phillis had not quite untied the Bracelet; and though he perceived they had unlooſed his ſleeve, yet he did not perceive the theft, but thought that they only untied his ſleeve to feel his pulſe. Alexis ſeeing that he ſpake not a word, but let them do what they would unto him, ſhe thought it good to begin. Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, How comes this to paſs? What? Does your Courage fail you? Sylvander taking Alexis for a Shepherdeſs by reaſon of her Habit, he thanked her and her companions for the pains they had taken about him, and then told them, that it was rather a ſigne of want of courage to endure the miſeries which he reſented, and not die. No, no, ſaid Aſtrea, you are deceived, for it is courage to ſurmount all manner of accidents whatſoever: and believe me, your miſery is not ſo great, but being a man you may eaſily ſurmount it. Phillis who feared that this diſcourſe would renew his grief, Come, come, ſaid ſhe, Let us talk no longer of miſeries and diſaſters, but let us think how to cure them. Sylvander then anſwered Aſtrea, taking her for a Druide becauſe of her Habit; This Shepherdeſs, Madam ſaid he, knows the Grand [...]ur of my diſeaſe better then any other, and therefore, ſhe thinking it to be incurable, has reaſon not to have it ſpoke of. But (ſaid he, and raiſed himſelf up, though with [Page] pain) the good Genius which hitherto hath had a care of my deplorable life, will conduct me ere long unto a place where I hope to find a cure, though that Shepherdeſs think it impoſſible. Upon this, thanking them for their help, he offered to go away: But all of them conſidering how wildly and ragingly his eyes looked, they were afraid that he would kill himſelf. Aſtrea, as beſt experienced in the like accident, ſhe took hold of his arm, and ſeeing that he took her for a Druide, Know Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, that the Genius of whom you ſpeak, commanded me to come hither, as well to help you, as to tell you for him, That he would have you live with aſſurance, that his aid ſhall never fail you, neither in this occaſion, nor any other: Alſo that within three days you ſhall find ſome favourable effects of his aſſiſtance, unleſs you want will and courage to wait the time. Remember what I ſay, and I take all theſe Shepherdeſſes to witneſs that I have told you. Upon this Aſtrea who counterfeited her voice as well as ſhe could leſt ſhe ſhould be known, ſhe went away, ſeeming as if ſhe did not know any of the Shepherdeſſes in the company, and as if her coming thither were only upon that occaſion. Now, ſee what power an opinion of Divine aſſiſtance has over the ſpirits of men; Aſtrea had no ſooner pronounced theſe words, but Sylvander received them as coming from an Oracle: ſo as beginning to hope again, thoſe wilde and raging looks which deſpair had brought into his eyes, did leave them, and his countenance became more calm and ſetled: Afterwards with a religious look, he kneeled down upon the ground, lifted his hands and eyes up to heaven, and uncovering his head, he ſaid: From you, oh omnipotent Tautates and Tharamis, Do I expect that help which from no other I can hope for: You know my puniſhment to be unjuſt, and that I am not guilty of that fault for which I am condemned: Help, therefore, Oh great Gods! thoſe injured perſons who truſt in you. Alexis who ſaw Aſtrea go away, and who could not endure to be from her, ſhe intended to follow: and becauſe ſhe was afraid leſt the Shepherd ſhould know her in Astreas clothes, ſhe would ſtay no longer: upon theſe conſiderations, they made a ſigne unto Phillis to ſtay with him a while, leſt he ſhould follow them: At parting, ſhe ſaid unto him, Remember Shepherd you follow the good advice your good Genius hath given you, and take heed you do not make your ſelf incapable of that help and aſſiſtance which he hath promiſed. Then not ſtaying for his anſwer, ſhe went away towards Astrea, whom ſhe quickly overtook: And it ſeems that Heaven would have Aſtrea render the ſame Office unto Sylvander, which formerly Celadon had done upon the like occaſion unto Vrcaſes.

When Phillis was alone with Sylvander, ſhe was much moved to think what harm ſhe had done him, which indeed was much more then ever ſhe intended: Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, ſince heaven has taken care of your conduct, I hope you will find more contentment then ever yet you did: but I beſeech you tell me, and tell me ingeniouſly and freely, and with an aſſurance that you tell it unto one of your beſt friends, and one that can keep a ſecret, and will, if it concern your good: Is it true or no that you love Madonthe? It is not a crime unpardonable to love a fair woman as ſhe is: There is none but does know that it was the wager which was betwixt us did give beginning unto the Love which you bore unto Diana; a thing which cannot oblige you any longer then the time of the wager, and the cauſe which gave it a being.

Whilſt Phillis was ſpeaking to this purpoſe unto Sylvander, Diana though ſhe went away before the Shepherd revived, yet ſhe ſaw him riſe up, for ſhe was continually turning and looking back to ſee what would become of him: And when ſhe ſaw he was not dead, as ſhe once thought that he was, for all her anger, ſhe could not chuſe but be extreamly glad, and reſented as much joy, as her apprehenſions of his death cauſed ſorrow. Her jealouſie and anger had ſo much power, as to make her ſenſible of the offence which ſhe thought was given her, but not to extinguiſh the affection which really ſhe had unto that Shepherd; and upon this occaſion, ſhe gave an apparent proof of it; ſince ſeeing Aſtrea go away, and preſently after Alexis follow, ſhe was ſwelled with an extraordinary curioſity to hear what they two (Phillis and Sylvander) ſaid, and be unſeen, aſſuring her ſelf that their diſcourſe would be relating unto her: And in order to this deſigne, ſhe crept behind a Buſh, [Page] and came time enough to hear the queſtion which Phillis asked, and the anſwer which the Shepherd gave, which was this, Phillis (ſaid he) if ever the Gods did puniſh perjury, I beſeech them to puniſh me with the rigour of their fury, if I do not give a true anſwer unto your queſtion: may the Druides excommunicate me from their ſacrifices; may they all deny me juſtice when I ask it, may men baniſh me from their Society, may fire and water, and all the reſt of the Elements, be my enemies, may I never thrive in any of my hopes or deſires, may all theſe curſes fall upon me at once, if ever I Loved any but Diana. I know that this word Love is too raſh, and does not become me, I know this declaration is too bold, conſidering the merits of that Shepherdeſs and my own unworthineſs: but diſcreet Phillis, ſeeing your compaſſion upon me and my miſery, and knowing your good will unto Diana; I ſhould think it a crime never to be forgiven, if I ſhould diſſemble the truth: aſſuring my ſelf, that I ſhall find you as diſcreet in this as I have known you upon all other occaſions.

Shepherd, anſwered Phillis, you have reaſon to truſt me, eſpecially in any thing that rela [...]es unto that Fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſs, ſince the affection which I bear unto her, is not equalled by any but your own; and knowing her merits, and your judgement, I will believe all you tell me concerning your affection unto her. But Shepherd you muſt firſt clear your ſelf unto me, and give me your reaſons why yon were ſo officious and indulgent towards Madonthe. You know Sylvander that Love is like a little child, & is offended at a ſmall thing, ſoon angry, & as ſoon jealous: do you think thoſe extraordinary indulgencies which you manifeſted unto Madonthe, the tears you ſhed at her departure, the earneſt ſupplications you made to wait upon her into Aquitain, nay to go with her, almoſt whether ſhe would or no; do you think I ſay, that all theſe circumſtances coming to the knowledg of Diana, are not ſufficient enough to make her offended at you? Ought you not to have conſidered, that as Madonthe would not ſuffer you to follow her any further, leſt ſhe ſhould offend Therſander whom ſhe loved, ſo you ought not to have made the motion, for fear of making Diana jealous, whom you loved? Could you hope for any better looks from her at your return then now you have? For my part, I think ſhe has obliged you in treating you thus, and no otherwiſe: for if ſhe had, you might have thought her to be in a ſtate of a cold indifferency towards you, which is a moſt certain ſign of ſmall good will.

Whilſt Phillis talked thus, Diana who loſt not a ſillable of what ſhe ſaid, did ſo approve of it, that if any had ſeen her, they might eaſily have known her diſeaſe. For when Phillis talked upon thoſe points which touched her moſt, ſhe made ſuch actions with her head, her hands, and every part of her body, as plainly ſhewed what ſhe ſo much deſired to conceal: but when Sylvander began to ſpeak, ſhe was immoveable: her eyes fixed upon him, and her mouth half open, and ready to convince him of a lye upon the firſt excuſe he ſhould make: Being then thus prepared, ſhe heard him ſay thus: Diſcreet and Wiſe Shepherdeſs, I beſeech Heaven to furniſh me with a good occaſion and opportunity to requite this compaſſion which you ſhew upon a poor afflicted and innocent Shepherd; as innocent and as much afflicted as any that lives upon the face of the whole univerſe: you accuſe me, Shepherdeſs of a crime unto which I am ſo far from being acceſſary, much leſs guilty, as I am conſtrained, moſt earneſtly to beſeech you, that you would be pleaſed to tell me more cleerly and plainly, the ſault wherewith you charge me, that I may anſwer unto it which ſuch candid ingenuity and truth as becomes me. Diana who heard him, ſee the crafty man (ſaid ſhe to her ſelf) he knows not what to anſwer, and he would have her make a repetition, that he may invent an excuſe in the mean time; and then ſhe heard Phillis reply unto him thus; Confeſs freely your fault Sylvander, here is none to hear or obſerve your actions; or if they do, none that will tell Diana: I do believe alſo, that ſhe who acquainted her with theſe things, did not think any harm, for ſhe ſpoke very ſimply and innocently: I beſeech you, ſaid Sylvander, what did ſhe ſay? She ſaid, anſwered Phillis, that you your ſelf were inſtrumental to your own hurt, of which, afterwards you could not cure your ſelf: for meeting Madonthe, you acquainted her with the coming of that ſtranger, who had ſome bad deſigns upon her: It is moſt true, anſwered the Shepherd, I did ſo: and I [Page] thought my ſelf obliged unto it by the Laws of Civility. The Laws of Civility did not enjoyn you to accompany her as far as Aquitane, replied Phillis, much leſs when ſhe denied you, to fall upon your knees, and with a torrent of tears, beg, nay force her to give leave you might wait upon her, at the leaſt, part of a dayes journey; telling her, after your tears had obtained leave, that ſhe might well permit you the happineſs of ſo ſhort a time, ſince you were to endure ſo long a torment of abſence from her. But here comes the miſery of it: when ſhe anſwered you with a ſmile, that though her abſence did grieve, yet the preſence of Diana would comfort you: you anſwered again, Diana merits much more then my ſervice, but I pay them unto her only upon a wager: I wiſh ſhe were to go this journey in your room, and you to ſtay in hers here in this Country. Do you think Shepherd that any Laws of Civility oblige you to uſe any ſuch diſcourſe unto Madonthe, and to ſpeak with ſuch ſcorn of Diana? Do you think it ſtrange ſhe ſhould be offended at you, and reſolve to take all occaſions from you, of treating her ſo unworthily? Oh Heavens! Oh Earth! Oh God! Oh Diana! (cri'd Sylvander) What treaſon is invented againſt me? Treaſon, (ſaid Phillis) why? Can you deny it? How? replied the Shepherd preſently, I ſay or do any ſuch things as theſe; I had rather my Sheep-hook were run through my heart, then any ſuch thoughts ſhould be in it; do you deny (replied Phillis) that you accompanied Madonthe, as far as ſhe would permit you? I muſt confeſs, anſwered Sylvander, that it is true, I did accompany her, but it was upon ſuch reaſons, as if I have done otherwiſe, I had been blamed by all thoſe that heard of it; and that you may know the truth, give me leave to make a ſhort relation of it unto you.

Diana hearing Sylvander prepare himſelf to ſpeak; I am confident (ſaid ſhe to her ſelf) that if one word of truth be in his diſcourſe, it is againſt his will and deſign; but ſee with what a brazen face he ſets himſelf to lie: Then Sylvander began thus; Shepherdeſs (ſaid he) it is long ſince Paris was telling how that ſtranger was come into the Country, with a bad deſign upon Madonthe, and when I ſaw him much troubled how he ſhould acquaint her with it, I took upon me to make it known unto her: he does not tell (replied Diana to her ſelf) how ready he was to offer himſelf in this ſervice, leſt any other ſhould undertake that charitable office. In the mean time Sylvander went on with his ſtory. Yeſterday morning (ſaid he) I met her with Therſander, and I thought the blame of all the accident might be charged upon me, if I did not acquaint her, I told her therefore as it was told me, and ſeeing her eyes flow in tears, I muſt confeſs I was much moved unto compaſſion: nay paſſion you ſhould have ſaid, (replied Diana to her ſelf) And I to aſſure her (ſaid Sylvander) againſt the injuries of this unknown perſon, I offered my ſelf to accompany her with ſome of my friends, if ſhe pleaſed. He is her Champion (ſaid Diana) and will defend her againſt all her enemies. And ſo I did (ſaid Sylvander) but it was no further then the place where Paris ſaw that ſtranger: It was (ſaid Diana) becauſe ſhe would not ſuffer him to go any further. Could I do any leſs (ſaid Sylvander) unleſs I tranſgreſſed againſt the Laws of Civility and Humanity? If I did any more, then what I have told you Shepherdeſs, may I be denied Heaven, and periſh eternally as a puniſhment of my crime. But, ſaid Phillis, did you not follow her as far as Aquitane, or would you not if ſhe had permitted you? Had I thought, anſwered Sylvander, that ſhe had ſtood in need of me, I muſt confeſs, I had accompanied her farther, thinking it the duty of man to help any in diſtreſs, Henceforward, ſaid Diana, we ſhall have this Shepherd become the Hercules of Gaul, and wander from Province to Province, to fight with Giants and Monſters. But, continued he, that I ſhould be importunate, or preſs her, or do any more then civilly deſire her, is a thing ſo falſe, as I admire any ſhould be ſo impudent as to invent it, or ſay it. None more likely then Sylvander (ſaid Diana) 'Tis true, I did offer my ſelf (ſaid Sylvander) to be her convoy, and guard her till ſhe was out of Forreſts. But is it true, replied Phillis, that you did not ſhed any tears, nor kneel down, nor ſpeak of Diana, nor lament her departure? Now, ſaid Diana, is he pumping, and preparing himſelf for a lie. Shepherdeſs, (anſwered Sylvander) if any one ſillable of all theſe be true, let the Juſtice of Heaven ſtrike me dead immediately; let the earth ſwallow me up alive, and never let me ſee the face of men again; let the anger [Page] of Gods and men do all their worſt againſt me, if all that you have ſaid unto me be not falſe, and invented by ſome who wiſh my death, and has ſome deſigns upon Diana. Now has he hit upon it, ſaid Diana, for what pretenſions or deſigns can Laonice have upon me, or his life? Shepherd (ſaid Phillis) when you know who it is, certainly you will be of another mind: But you muſt needs confeſs a fault in accompanying this Shepherdeſs without asking leave of your Miſtris. Ah Siſter, ſaid Diana, I beſeech you give no ſuch Name unto me, that Shepherd ſhall be none of my Servant. You know Sylvander, ſaid Phillis, that one who loves truly, ought never to diſpoſe of himſelf without the Will of the party loved; why then would you go away and never tell her? He is at a non-plus, ſaid Diana, and knows not what to ſay. Certainly anſwered Sylvander, if the journey which I was to take had deſerved the name of a journey, I had done as you ſay; but ſince it was not above two or three miles, I thought neither ſhe nor you could take any exceptions: Beſides, Madonthe departed ſo ſuddenly, as it was impoſſible for me to have done it, unleſs I had failed in doing her that civil office. Obſerve (ſaid Diana) that rather then fail Madonthe, he will fail in his duty to us. But it is impoſſible (ſaid Sylvander) that the excellent wit of my Miſtris (Raze out the words, ſaid Diana, unleſs you ſpeak of Madonthe.) It is impoſſible I ſay, (continued he,) that the Judgement of Diana, which is never deceived, (Unleſs in you, ſaid Diana) ſhould ſo eaſily believe ſuch a falſity: But good Shepherdeſs tell me, If it were true that I were in love with Madonthe, and had taken upon me that office which Paris gave me, to acquaint her and Therſander with the coming of this ſtranger; If I ſay, I was ſo greedy and affectionate to take it upon me, can you think my violent love would have let me ſtay ſo long before I acquainted her? Yet if Diana pleaſe, ſhe may remember I received this Commiſſion the ſame day that we went unto Adamas, and I did not acquaint them before yeſterday. Believe it Shepherdeſs, thoſe that are enflamed with Love, are ſeldom ſo ſlow in rendring ſuch ſervices, or to ſay better, in forgetting them as I did: for I ſwear that I never thought upon it till I ſaw them; and had I not ſeen them, I think I ſhould have never remembred it. But I beſeech you conſider, that if I were ſo far in love with this woman, as you ſeem by your diſcourſe to believe, why ſhould I not follow her whitherſoever ſhe went? What conſideration ſhould ſtay me in this Country? unleſs my love to Diana, I know no occaſions I have elſe in it, more then any where elſe: My miſerable Fortune is ſuch, that I have neither Parents or Eſtate to ſtay me, nor do I get any thing here more then my induſtry would get me in any other place. If then I do not leave this Country to follow Madonthe, me-thinks it ſhould be a ſtronger argument unto my Miſtris and you, that I do not love Madonthe, and that nothing ſtays me here but the love of Diana. But I beſeech you Phillis, Did you not ſee that I did not love her before our Wager? I know you will confeſs you never ſaw the leaſt inclination in me that way: I muſt confeſs, that naturally I am not prone unto that paſſion, But then the converſation which I have had with Diana, has forced me to ſerve her; ſhe has raviſhed my heart. I cannot tell what you have thought of me ſince I have had the honour to live amongſt you; yet I think you have had a good opinion of me, and thought me not without ſome Wit and Judgement, till this action whereof I am accuſed, and which is a diſaſter ſo fatal, that I cannot tell whether the poor Adraſtes had a greater. What a groſs defect in Wit and Judgement were it, to chuſe Madonthe, and reject Diana? Diana! the faireſt, the wiſeſt, and the moſt accompliſhed woman in the whole Univerſe; and Madonthe, who only merits to be eſteemed in her reſemblance of Diana, though in an inferiour degree of perfection. Moreover, were it not madneſs in the higheſt degree, if I knowing that Madonthe does love a Cavalier, and wanders in queſt of him, if I ſhould pretend to divert her: Theſe conſiderations are ſo ſtrong that when I reflect upon them, I cannot chuſe but admire at the opinion which you have conceived of me, and fear, that heaven which from my birth hath condemned me unto ſo many misfortunes, will have the end of my life like the beginning.

The Shepherd had many other arguments, and was full of ſuch diſcourſe as this, unto which Phillis and Diana did hearken with much attention; for though the opinion of Diana was extreamly prejudicated, yet being rational, theſe laſt conſiderations [Page] did work upon her heart, and made her think there was ſome truth in them: moreover, commendations which are given without ſuſpition of flattery, do get more favour then ſuch as are given in preſence; ſo that this diſcreet Shepherdeſs began to relent, and champ upon the reaſons which Sylvander urged: yet her haughty ſpirit would hardly permit her to clear him abſolutely, but put the queſtion whether Laonice or he ſaid truly: And that ſhe had learned enough for that time, alſo fearing ſhe ſhould be perceived either by that Shepherd or Phillis, ſhe ſtole away as ſoftly as ſhe could, and went to ſeek Alexis and Aſtrea.

Phillis alſo at the ſame time, thinking the Shepherd to be well recovered, and that her ſtay any longer at that time would do him no good; Well Shepherd ſaid ſhe unto him, I am very glad to hear as much as you have told me; Comfort your ſelf, and believe that your diſcourſe ſhall not be unprofitable to you: for indeed, when I conſider your reaſons, I believe you to be wrongfully accuſed; and I promiſe you, I will not be mute unto Diana, but hope that ere long you ſhall find the effects of my ſolicitation: in the interim, do what is fit to be done on your part, and continue loving that Shepherdeſs, who cannot poſſibly be excelled in Beauty and merit by any, nor equalled but by very few.

Upon this Phillis left him, and ſtayed not to hear the thanks which he would have given her for her kind promiſes, nor the proteſtations of inviolable and eternal affection which he would ever have unto Diana, what treatment ſoever he had from her. But when he was alone, and none to divert him, then did his diſpleaſures preſent themſelves before his eyes: And though the aſſurances which he received from that Druide which was unknown unto him, and the promiſes which Phillis made, did give him ſome hopes, yet the conſideration of thoſe misfortunes which beſel him even from his cradle, did put him out of all hopes, for againſt them the arms of prudence & reaſon were almoſt of no validity. Being thus preſſed with extream ſorrows, he walked gently towards the River Lignon, and ſate himſelf down upon the Bank [...] Then there was not a ſillable of that cruel meſſage which Phillis brought him from Diana, but the ſolitude of that place did freſhly bring into his memory; and he lamented the croſsneſs of his ſullen fate, in a thouſand various expreſſions. He had continued longer in this lamenting vein (had not Florice, Cercinea, and Palinice, with that ſtranger their companion, who were retiring homewards) heard him, Cercinea knew his voice; and becauſe the ſtranger was deſirous to know how they ſhould paſs away the reſt of the day, Cercinea ſaid unto her, that if they were in the company of that Shepherd whom they heard talking, it would be impoſſible to think the time tedious or ill ſpent, and I am confident, ſaid ſhe, when you ſee him, you will ſay as much as I. But tell me I beſeech you ſaid ſhe, if he be a man, how will it pleaſe Dorinde? who ſays, that if ſhe were one, ſhe ſhould not abide her ſelf. I do believe, ſaid Cercinea, and I dare venture a wager, that when you have ſeen Sylvander, if you do continue your hatred of men, yet at the leaſt you will ſay that Shepherd is not a man: What ſhould he be then asked ſhe? Somthing more anſwered Cercinea, and the tryal will but coſt you the time that you ſhall employ in ſeeing him. He muſt indeed be more then a man (ſaid Dorinde) if he force ſuch a confeſſion from my mouth; For if a God (be it ſpoken without blaſphemy) ſhould aſſume the ſhape of a man, he would grow near to become ungrateful, and a Traytor, and I could not chuſe but hate him.

It ſeems (ſaid Florice) that you have a very bad opinion of men. Yes, replied Dorinde, and worſe then my words can expreſs; for I do believe that there is none, no not one ſingle one that can love. You will alter your opinion ſaid Palinice when you ſee Sylvander with Diana. I cannot tell what I may do, anſwered Dorinde, but I never yet met with any woman who truſted in them, that was not deceived. When you underſtand, replied Florice, how ſome do drown themſelves, ſome baniſh themſelves, and others kill themſelves by reaſon of too much paſſion, you will be very hard of Belief if you do not confeſs that there are men in this Country that can and do love. Thoſe reſolutions of which you ſpeak, ſaid Dorinde, are indeed very high, but anger may produce them as well as love, and who knows but that they were tranſported with that Paſſion? for believe it Ladies, Men are of a very bad Nature, they do all by contraries; they are a kind of Beaſts, which never do any good, but when they think to do ill.

[Page] Thus as theſe Shepherdeſſes diſputed, they came to the place where Sylvander was, whom they found ſo plunged in his own ſad thoughts, that for all the noiſe which they made, he never heard them: he lay all along, his head leaning upon his hand, his eyes up to Heaven, and upon either cheek a river of tears. Dorinde after ſhe had looked upon him in this condition; Is this the Shepherd (ſaid ſhe in a low voice), that never deceived any who truſted in him? Why do you ask this queſtion? anſwered Palinice; becauſe, replied Dorinde, if he never did deceive any, he weeps becauſe he never did: and if he has deceived any, he weeps becauſe he has deceived no more. This Shepherd, ſaid Cercinea, has a better reputation then ſo; and is held for a very good man: This reputation, anſwered Dorinde, is the ſtalking horſe, by which men come to deceive us. But dear friends, obſerve how a glaſs ſhews thoſe things which are on the right ſide to be of the glaſs in its left ſide, the beſt remedy is to do ſo with them; take all that they do or ſay by contraries: and as for the tears of this Shepherd, aſſure your ſelves my Companions, they are but the tears of a Crocadile: he can cry and feign, till he has gotten one into a belief of him, and then he will deceive.

Nature to our miſery, has given them power to cry or laugh when they pleaſe, ſo it be but to deceive a poor woman that puts her truſt in them: they are of a moſt depraved nature, and are like unto hunters, who make it their delight in taking abundance of paines to catch a poor ſilly harmleſſe Woman that flyes before them.

The earneſtneſs wherewith Dorinde ſpoke, made her raiſe her voice ſo high before ſhe was aware, that Sylvander heard her: and turning her face towards them, he was aſhamed they ſhould ſo ſurpriſe him in that condition: for ſuch was his warie diſcretion, that he had rather have dyed, then give them any knowledg of that real affection which he bare unto Diana: therefore to remove all ſuch ſuſpitions, he enforced himſelf to ſhew them a more contented face, then his heart was; ſo as drying his eyes as well as he could, and ſeeming to be doing ſomething elſe: Oh Fair Shepherdeſſes, (ſaid he unto them) how much am I obliged unto you for diverting me From a melancholy mood. There is none of us, anſwered Florice, who are not very glad to pleaſure Sylvander in any thing, and thinks not our walk well imployed ſince we have met which ſuch a courteous Shepherd: and the rather (added Cercinea) becauſe at the firſt we were afraid, leſt we ſhould be a diſturbance unto you: Oh never, anſwered Sylvander, it is impoſſible but the preſence of ſuch Fair and Lovely Shepherdeſſes, ſhould bring me all manner of happineſs and contentment: The poſture in which we found you, replied Palinice, made us doubt it: for every thing will trouble us, when we are troubled our ſelf: Sylvander now conceived that they ſaw thoſe tears which he would have concealed; and to drive them from any opinion that they proceeded from any Love: It is very hard (Wiſe Shepherdeſſes, ſaid he unto them) to keep dry eyes, when the ſoul is preſſed with any tormenting thoughts; for to conſider, that I know neither who was my Father nor Mother, no nor the ground upon which I firſt breathed, nor to have any eſtate or fortune, or any hopes but in my own induſtry: are not theſe thoughts enough to draw tears from the heart of him who is in that miſerable condition? Did I not ſay, replied Dorinde, that they were not tears of Love? Though all my Companions would needs perſwade me to the contrary. Sylvander then looking upon her, and not knowing her, but ſeeing her to be very Fair, and Lovely: Why Fair ſtranger, ſaid he unto her, can you diſcern tears of Love from others? Before you ask that queſtion, anſwered Dorinde, you ſhould tell me, whether there be any ſuch things as tears of Love: Nay rather (replied the Shepherd) whether there be any elſe but tears of Love. Why? ſaid Dorinde, do you think one never cryes but for Love? I do not only think it, ſaid Sylvander, but I am ſure you will confeſs it when I have made you underſtand it; That, ſaid ſhe, can never be, at the leaſt I am ſure, that if one never cry but for Love, Dorinde never cryed; your beauty and your age, anſwered the Shepherd, will hardly excuſe you from paying that tribute, unleſs Love be contented, which make thoſe only cry who do Love you. If ſome muſt cry, replied ſhe, I had rather the lot ſhould fall upon any other then my ſelf: yet to return unto what we ſpoke of before; be aſſured Sylvander, that if none ever cryed but for Love, then never any man cryed, for never any man neither did, nor will, or can [Page] Love. This opinion, replied Sylvander, is much worſe then the firſt; and if you pleaſe to give me leave, it ſhall be the firſt that I will make cleer unto you. I am afraid; anſwered Dorinde, you will but loſe your labour, becauſe I have had moſt certain experience of what I ſay, againſt which no reaſons, nor arguments, be they never ſo well framed, can prevail or work any effect upon me. But perhaps, (anſwered Sylvander) when we ha [...] examined your reaſons and experiences by a true touch-ſtone, you may be convinced of your errour, Upon which, ſhe was ſo prepoſſeſſed with this opinion, that ſhe would needs turn the diſcourſe upon ſome other ſubject: but her Companions did almoſt force her to hear what Sylvander would ſay, and then the Shepherd began thus.

Amongſt all the Doctors in the Maſſilian Schools, I learned this leſſon, never to diſpute with thoſe that will deny Principles: Tell me therefore Fair Shepherdeſs, whither you do believe that there is any ſuch thing in the world as is called Love. I do believe, anſwered ſhe, that there is ſuch a paſſion which is called by that name, and which men are not capable of. We will not meddle with that yet, ſaid Sylvander, but I am contented that you do confeſs there is ſuch a paſſion which is called Love. Then tel me I beſeech you, what do you think this Love is? It is, ſaid ſhe, a certain deſire to poſſeſs that thing which one judges good and beautifull. There is not a Druide in all Gaul, replied Sylvander, who could have given a better anſwer then this Fair Shepherdeſs. But, continued he, and turned towards her, is there not in the world ſome Animals that have reaſon, and ſome that have none? I have heard ſay, anſwered Dorinde, that there are ſuch. And in which of theſe two ranks, replied Sylvander, will you place man? You put me to it, (ſaid ſhe and ſmiled) for I cannot deny but that they are rational in ſome things, and not in others, and moſt commonly without any reaſon at all. Yet is it not true, (added Sylvander) that men do always ſeek after their delights and contentments? Of this, anſwered Dorinde, there is no doubt: for there is not one of them but will loſe the beſt of their friends, rather then the leaſt of their delights. I am ſatisfied, replied Sylvander then, that you confeſſe there is a Love, that this Love is a deſire of that which one thinks good or beautifull: and that men are very earneſt to accompliſh their deſires. Now it will be an eaſie matter to prove unto you, that men do not only Love, but alſo, that they do Love better then women. If what I have ſaid, anſwered Dorinde preſently, will help you to prove what you ſay, I will unſay it again: and I had rather be reproached with it, then ſuch a falſe concluſion and conſequence ſhould be drawn from any thing which came from me. All the company began to laugh at this anſwer, and deſired Sylvander to continue on, which he did in this manner.

There needs not many words, Fair Shepherdeſs, to decide the buſineſs: for it muſt of neceſſity be concluded, that ſince men have ſuch violent deſires of their contentment, and the will having nothing but a good for its object, or at the leaſt eſteemed ſo, it follows by conſequence, that Love being nothing but a deſire, as you have confeſſed, he does Love moſt, who has moſt objects of good before his eyes; and the woman being much fairer and fuller of goodneſs then man, who can deny but that a man Loves better then a woman, who has not ſo worthy a ſubject to imploy her deſires upon? I do confeſs all, ſaid Dorinde, until you come unto the concluſion which you infer: you cannot, replied Sylvander, unleſs you take away that advantage which women have above men, and therefore it is better for you to confeſs, that there is none in all the world that knows how to Love ſo well as man: yet if it happen that any judg the contrary, it is not that the truth is ſo, but is like a ſtreight ſtaff, which being put into the water, will ſeem crooked; and all that we ſee through a glaſs, ſeems to be of the ſame colour that the glaſs is: for the Meduim by which the ſight is conveyed, does repreſent it falſe to the eye: Even ſo it comes to paſs that the actions of a Lover are ſeen and judged otherwiſe then indeed they are; and all by reaſon of ſome defect in the Medium, through which they are ſeen. But the truth is, every man does Love, and this aſſertion is ſo true, as one may boldly ſay, that all thoſe who Love not, are not men; for there was never any man that did not Love.

Though Sylvander was in no fit humour for any ſuch diſcourſe, yet he could not but ſmile when Dorinde anſwered: and when he began to offer other more ſolid reaſons [Page] he was prevented by the coming of a great company of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, who where all returning to their ſeveral homes, as well to dine, as to paſs away ſome hot hours of the day in the cool ſhade, and therefore he deſired thoſe Fair Shepherdeſſes to give him leave to retire himſelf for that time. They who were very deſirous to hear him talk, and had a deſire alſo to reſt themſelves, eſpecially Dorinde, they invited him to their Cabin; but he excuſed himſelf, upon a promiſe, that when they pleaſed at any other time, he would better explain himſelf upon this ſubject.

Upon this leaving them, Dorinde after ſhe had conſidered well of him; I muſt needs confeſs, ſaid ſhe, that if all the men of this Country were like unto Sylvander, when I ſpeak of my hatred unto all men in general, I muſt except thoſe who live about Lignon.

In the mean time, this great company [...]rew neer, and theſe four ſtrangers having no mind to engage with them, they retired themſelves to their Cabins; ſo likewiſe Sylvander, who deſiring to ſhun all company: he was no ſooner out of ſight, but he ſate himſelf down under the firſt hedg he came to, & entertained himſelf with his own new thoughts But his good Genius, who had the care of his conduct, being not willing he ſhould gangrene his wounds too much by being alone, did conduct all this great company which he deſired to ſhun, unto the very ſame place where he was, and ſo opportunely, that when he began his complaints, he was prevented by their coming; and ſome of them knowing him by ſight, did ſtay all the reſt, to ask him whether he knew where the great Druide was, or elſe where he was that uſed to judg cauſes in his abſence. The great Druide Adamas (anſwered Sylvander) is perhaps at his houſe, which is a remote diſtance from hence, on the other ſide of the River Lignon, upon a little hill, which you may ſee on your right hand as you go to the great City of Marſelles: but the Druide Cloridamantes is not far from hence, dwelling at an ancient Pallace, which is called Julius, after the name of him who conquered Gaul. Then all the company entreated him to conduct them thither, to the end they might have more ſpeedy juſtice upon an injury which had been done unto all the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon, and by one whom they had brought along with them. Sylvander hearing this, and caſting his eyes upon the Shepherdeſs that had been wronged, alſo being much moved as well by her beauty and modeſty, as by the general offence, he thought himſelf obliged to conduct them, although he had a great deſire of ſtaying alone, to complain againſt his miſery and diſaſter. He quitted therefore his ſhady buſh, and went before them to ſhew the way; having an opinion that if he did otherwiſe, the Gods perhaps would puniſh him for the offence which others had committed, ſince they had directed this company unto him.

All the way as they went, this great company obſerved a very wary and ſtrict ſilence; which was no ſmall contentment unto Sylvander, for by that means he could both guide them, and entertain his own ſad thoughts. When they were come to the houſe, and Cloridamantes underſtood that they were perſons who demanded reparation of ſome injury which had been done; he came into the great Hall, where he was wont to do Juſtice unto ſuch as demanded it: and there entred, not only all thoſe whom Sylvander brought, but alſo many others who followed them, only out of curioſity. Cloridamantes was no ſooner entred into the Hall, and ſeated upon his Tribunal, but an old Paſtor, holding his wife, almoſt of the ſame age, by the hand, began to ſpeak thus unto him:

Moſt Reverend and moſt Juſt Father, you ſee here before your Tribunal, a Father and a Mother extreamly grieved and offended by a new way of Proceeding, and by injuries committed againſt them and their only Daughter, all who come to demand Juſtice of you: we have brought before you, the offences, the offenders, and the witneſſes, that when the matter is heard, equity and right may be done according to your cuſtom, and wicked offenders puniſhed according to their merits.

The Druide then, with ſuch a gravity as became a Judge, aſſured them that the Scale of Juſtice ſhould be held even betwixt both parties, offences ſhould be puniſhed, and right ſhould be done unto them all: and to the end, continued he, a more ſound and juſt judgment may be given, make choice of one amongſt you, who is not [Page] intereſted in the buſineſs, who may let us underſtand your difference, and afterwards let each party alledg what they can for themſelves. Then the old Paſtor turning himſelf towards thoſe who came with him, to ſee who amongſt them was without intereſt, and knew all the particulars of the difference: all the company caſt their eyes upon a Shepherdeſs who came with them: and becauſe doubt was made whether being a woman the Druide would admit of her; yes, yes, ſaid Cloridamantes, truth is as good from the mouth of that woman, as from any other, provided the parties intereſted, do acknowledg what ſhe ſays: and therefore if you think her able to inform us of the whole matter, we will admit of her: for the innocency of her age and ſex, will be a ſtrong argument and teſtimony of the truth. By the command therefore of the Druide, and by the election of all parties, this woman began thus.

The Hiſtory of Silvanire.

SInce it hath pleaſed you, moſt Reverend Father, that I ſhould relate unto you the cauſe of our coming before you, I ſhall do it with as much truth as poſſibly I can, or you can deſire: and ſince you think a Perſon un-intereſted is required to be the Relator, I cannot altogether ſay that I am ſuch a one; for I am a friend unto the parties who are moſt offended: and beſides, I am concerned in the general injury that is done unto all the Shepherdeſſes of this Country: but withall I muſt tell you, that what intereſt ſoever I have, my humour is not to lie, eſpecially in this occaſion, wherein is concerned the life and honour of thoſe whereof I am to ſpeak; and ſince there is not a Shepherd nor a Shepherdeſs in all the company, but can relate all the particulars better then my ſelf, I ſhall faithfully relate all I know: for from my infancy I have been brought up with the young and Fair Silvanire, (ſaid ſhe and pointed to a young Shepherdeſs which ſtood between an old Paſtor and a Shepherdeſs of the ſame age) and therefore I have been a witneſs to all the paſſages of that Love, from the beginning until now, which is the cauſe of our now coming before you: ſo that if you would know every circumſtance which relates unto that buſineſs, none can give you ſo exact account as my ſelf. After therefore a moſt ſolemn-proteſtation to ſpeak the truth, I ſhall tell you, Reverend Father, that neer this place on the other ſide of the River of Lignon, at the foot of that high and great Mountain, which is called Mount Luna, is ſeated that Village where we inhabit, and amongſt us is a very venerable Paſtor, whoſe name is Menander, (ſaid ſhe, and pointed to him) one that is held of the beſt rank and reputation, both for his eſtate, and for his wiſdom: This ſage Paſtor being joyned in marriage many years with Lerice, that wiſe and diſcreet Shepherdeſs whom you ſee next unto him, they never had any teſtimony of their mutual affection, but only that Fair and young Shepherdeſs, whom I named before, and who ſtands now betwixt them. As ſoon as it pleaſed Heaven to beſtow her upon them, all their care was to ſee her educated in all thoſe virtues which beget eſteem: and nature (whilſt her Parents were careful in the cultivating of her mind) did imbelliſh her body with as many graces and beauties, as ſhe was able to beſtow: were ſhe not in preſence I ſhould praiſe her more: but ſo it is, that in the ſpring of her age, ſhe grew unto that height of perfections, that ſhe attracted all eyes upon her, and ſwelled them with admiration at her beauty.

One of Menanders next neighbours, and perhaps alſo one of his beſt friends, was that Reverend old man, whom you ſee upon the other ſide of him, whoſe name is Arion; a Paſtor without reproach, and whoſe Anceſtors have long with great integrity, governed the ſmall buſineſs of our Village. But I muſt tell you, and I hope he will not be angry with me for ſaying it, that his Father was ſtudious to leave him more honour then eſtate: ſo that though he was well to live, yet perhaps not ſo rich as ſome of his neighbours. Some two or three years before Silvanire was born, Arion had that young Shepherd to his Son, who ſtands next him, and whoſe name [Page] is Aglantes, whom he educated in all commendable qualities. The friendſhip and good correſpondency of the Fathers, the neerneſs of their dwelling, the beauty of Silvanire, and the inclination, or rather the deſtiny of Aglantes, made it a thing impoſſible for this young Shepherd to ſee her, and not devote himſelf wholly unto her; and he courted her with a deſign ſo innocent and harmleſs, that none could but think very well of it. Silvanire on the other ſide, ſeeing her ſelf ſerved with ſo much ſubmiſſion, not knowing yet what Love was, did entertain this Shepherd with ſuch a childiſh ſincerity, and good will, that neither her Father nor Mother ſeemed to diſ-approve of it: when Aglantes attained to the age of twelve or thirteen years, and Silvanire unto nine or ten, they always played in the fields together, and ſeldom were they ſeen aſunder: and when they returned home Menander and Lerice did make ſo much of the little Aglantes, that he was more at their houſe, then at his Fathers. All thoſe that obſerved their actions and behaviour, did admire them; the extraordinary indulgence, and continual care of this young Shepherd, in courting this Shepherdeſs, and her ſweet modeſty in intertaining him, was very ſtrange: If the Sheep of this young Shepherdeſs did at any time go aſtray, he was never at reſt till he had brought them back unto Silvanire: If ſhe chanced to lye longer in bed any morning then ordinary, he was ſo careful in enquiring of her health, and in driving her Sheep with his own unto the paſture, that none living could be more officious and careful: And when ſhe came unto him, he would give her an account, not only of what he had done, but alſo of every thought, beſeeching her to have a care of her health, and leave the care of her flock unto him. One day, when he brought back a ſtrayed Sheep unto her; Sweet Aglantes, (ſaid ſhe unto him) which way can I requite all this pains you take for me? By permitting me to ſerve you, anſwered the Shepherd. That payment is eaſily made, anſwered ſhe; but I fear ſuch coyn is not good enough to ſatisfie ſo great a debt: I do eſteem that permiſſion which I ask at ſo high a rate, ſaid Aglantes; that if I do but obtain it, I ſhall think my ſelf over payed, not only for thoſe ſervices which I have already rendred, but alſo for all thoſe which I ſhall or can render: Why do you eſteem that permiſſion, continued ſhe, at ſuch a rate? becauſe, ſaid he, my higheſt contentment, and my greateſt ambition, is all my life to be your ſervant. I ſee, anſwered ſhe, that thoſe ſervants which my Father keeps, do ask other wages then that permiſſion. Oh Faireſt Silvanire (anſwered he) they are not ſervants, but varlets, drudges, or ſlaves: What difference do you put, ſaid Silvanire, betwixt them and ſervants? They, replied Aglantes, are mercenary, and ſerve for money or fear; but ſervants, ſince all they do is out of Affection and Love; are moſt commonly, and may rightly be called Lovers, who are fully contented, if their ſervices be but acceptable to them unto whom they are rendred. I do much wonder then, anſwered the child, why my Father does not rather keep of theſe Lovers, then others; Aglantes could not chuſe but ſmile at this ſimplicity: and though in reaſon, his age ſhould not make him more knowing in theſe things then Silvanire; yet the freedom which is commonly uſed in talk of ſuch things amongſt boys, more then amongſt wenches, had made him better acquainted with ſuch things then ſhe was: he ſmiled therefore, and anſwered thus: There is, Faireſt Silvanire, abundance of difference betwixt ſlaves and Lovers, not only in that which I formerly ſaid, but alſo, in that one may entertain as many mercenary varlets as they pleaſe, but they muſt never entertain above one Lover; and more then that, none but women can have them: So then, replied ſhe, ſince you are my Lover, muſt I not entertain any other? The truth is, anſwered he, that unleſs you do me wrong, you muſt not. I ſhall never by my good will wrong you, anſwered ſhe with a ſtrange innocence, but if it happen ſo that any other ſhould meet with one of theſe Lovers who is ill favoured, and diſ-agreeable, can ſhe never have any but him? Sweet-heart, anſwered Aglantes, you muſt know, that Shepherdeſſes are not conſtrained to entertain all the Loves which preſent themſelves; they have liberty to chuſe: but when they have once made their choiſe, they cannot quit them without ſhewing themſelves, either inconſtant or weak in judgement; and both theſe reproaches, are ſhame unto a diſcreet and wiſe woman. Then it ſeems, replied ſhe, that if any of thoſe Lovers do offer themſelves unto me, I may refuſe them, by ſaying that I have one already.

[Page] I do relate theſe trivial particulars, Reverend Father, to ſhew you, at what age Silvanire and Aglantes began to Love one another. For ever ſince that time, this plant ſo grew, that whoſoever offered to cut it up, was doubtleſs puniſhable before the Throne of Love. But when Silvanire was grown a little elder, and old enough to know the truth of theſe Queries which ſhe put unto Aglantes, ſhe learned that every wiſe woman ought to obey thoſe unto whom ſhe owed her being, and not to diſpoſe of her ſelf according to her own will, farther then as they approved. And becauſe this knowledg came a little too late, becauſe Love had already ſowed ſuch ſeeds, as had taken deep root in her ſoul, and could not be pulled up without abundance of ſorrow; ſhe reſolved, ſince ſhe could do not better, to feign that ſhe was free in her captivity. And though this diſſimulation was a hard task, yet ſhe ſhewed her ſelf to have a very great power over her actions. Aglantes for four years together, lived in ſuch incertainty of her good will, that he could not ſay he ever received any other teſtimonies, then ſuch as might make him think that ſhe held him in the rank of common indifferency, ſuch as ſhe ſhewed unto all: a moſt incredible prudence, for a woman of her age, and certainly not to be parallelled.

At that time, I began to be familiar with this Fair and Wiſe Woman; and I muſt confeſs that her virtue, her diſcretion, and her beauty, made me almoſt in Love with her: and to my great happineſs, I met with a mutual return; alſo I believe, that upon this, ſhe reſolved to retire in appearance, from that good will which as a child ſhe had ſignified unto that Shepherd: ſo as by help of this diverſion ſhe was able to be abſent from him.

The cold uſage wherewith ſhe began to entertain Aglantes, went ſo to his heart, that it almoſt ſtruck him dead with wonder to ſee ſuch an alteration: and after he had filled all our ſolitary places, woods, and caves, full of his complaints; an old Paſtor came unto him when he was in a dark valley, and thinking that none heard him, he broke out into a thouſand ſad complaints, which might give knowledg unto this old and experienced Shepherd of his miſery: this old man, being long ſince a friend unto the Father of Aglantes, after he had harkned a while unſeen, he went unto him, and gave him a very ſharp reprehenſion, telling him he ought not to ſpend his pretious time in ſuch vain thoughts, but rather in comforting his aged Father, and looking to his Flocks and Family. That the Gods would puniſh him if he thus deceived the hopes which every one had in him; that this enemy which kept him in ſuch ſervitude, was to be overcome by flying; that idleneſs was both the Mother, and the Nurſe of contempt and want; and repentance would be all the fruit he would gather from it. But the young Shepherd being ſwelled with his pleaſing paſſion, Father anſwered he, I muſt needs confeſs that thoſe who do Love a ſubject which does not deſerve it, ought to be blamed and reprehended; and thoſe again who do not Love that which is amiable, want judgment, and are ignorant: and therefore for my part, I will cheriſh my affection; and when I ceaſe, my life ſhall ceaſe with it. As for Arion, I hope he will help me to ſupport my torment; I know what filial duty belongs unto him, and I have ever found his Paternal affection towards me: ſo as I hope that when he remembers how he himſelf has heretofore paſſed through the ſame difficulties, he will conſider mine: and as for you Father, who ſhews ſo much good will in your ſapient admonitions, I do beſeech and conjure you to aſſiſt me with all your aide and power. Aglantes, anſwered the good old man, it is true I love you, and knowing how hard a thing it is for a young heart to be rid of that paſſion which you reſent, I wiſh you were free from it, that you might avoid thoſe evils which may fall upon you, and which I ſee almoſt inevitable: but ſince you are reſolved, hearken unto the counſel that I will give. Does ſhe whom you court deſerve to be your wife? I know your paſſion will make you tell me wonders of her merit; but for this time ſetting aſide all partiality, anſwer me if you can, like a judicious man, and ingeniouſly tell me who ſhe is, that I may out of my Love to Arion, to you, and your Family, give you ſuch ſound counſel as may be good for you. Aglantes knowing this old man to be a lover of him, and all his Family, did name Silvanire. The good man, hearing her named, anſwered thus; I muſt confeſs Aglantes, that if you have committed a fault in Loving, you are to be pardoned, and your [Page] crime is commendable: I would yet farther know, whether you ever did let that Fair one know that you Love her: I have ſpent all my time hitherto in ſerving her, anſwered he; and to my miſery, when ſhe was not in an age to know Love, ſhe ſeemed as if ſhe did know it, and Love me: but ſince ſhe came to be of age, ſhe ſeems abſolutely inſenſible: Perhaps, ſaid the prudent old man, ſhe does it to try your conſtancy: Four years, anſwered Aglantes, is too long for a tryal; Does ſhe not Love ſome other? (asked the old man) The queſtion may better be asked, ſaid Aglantes, whether ever ſhe turn her eyes upon her ſelf: Did you ever give her any cauſe, asked the Paſtor, to alter her good will unto you? Never that I know of, anſwered Aglantes. Then ſaid the old man, believe it from me, and aſſure your ſelf, that you will not repent it; ſhe Loves you, and to diſſemble it, according to the humour of moſt women, leſt other ſhould ſee it, ſhe will not make it appear unto you. I aſſure you, ſaid Aglantes, that I cannot accuſe her of diſſembling it; for ſhe treats all others, as ſhe does me, and behaves her ſelf towards all alike: So much the better (anſwered the old man) for were ſhe engaged unto any other, you would find much more difficulty in your enterpriſe; but ſhe does diſſemble it, to make you the more affectionate; knowing that things moſt hardly obtained, are moſt deſired: Oh Father, (ſaid Aglantes, and interrupted) I fear that in this you are miſtaken, for ſhe cannot wiſh me more affectionate, then ſhe knew I was. Then (ſaid the old man) it is becauſe her Father has commanded her ſo to do; and ſhe being wiſe and virtuous, will not diſobey him: but be her reaſon what it will, I would adviſe you to make a ſhew as if you Loved ſome other; for by that, you will know what her deſign is: ſhe is extream crafty if ſhe diſſemble it then; and to tell you truly, women are ſomtimes tyred with being too much loved: as you ſee, there is none but loves light, but too much light dazles, and we are oft forced to put our hands before our eyes to eaſe them: I do believe (ſaid Aglantes) that this ſtratagem might be good in them that can act it; but I muſt confeſs, it is impoſſible for me to do it: I ſhould be aſhamed that any ſhould think me of ſo little judgment, or that Silvanire ſhould any way ſuſpect my fidelity. Oh young man (ſaid the old one and ſmiled) you are a very novice in the miſtery of Love; the ſhame or the glory of him that attempts any thing, is to effect it, or not effect it: and if a Lover can make himſelf loved, that is all he deſires or aims at. For my part, ſaid Aglantes, my deſign is to Love her: and, ſaid the old man interrupting him, to be beloved: To be beloved, replied Aglantes, is above all my hopes. Then Shepherd, ſaid the Paſtor, if you cannot ſeem to Love another, I would adviſe you however, to let it be reported ſo; for you muſt know, that theſe young women, though they ſhew the contrary, are not always affectionate, when they ſmile upon thoſe that court them; but it is more out of vanity, that it may be ſaid their beauty has gotten ſuch a number of ſervants, and ſomtimes out of envie at their companions; but be it what it will, it is ſtill very good for him that Loves, to put them into ſome doubts: and if you be not ſo hardy as to undertake this enterpriſe, leave the paine of it unto me; and I will effect it for you: it will be ſufficient for your diſcharge, that when it is a fit time to make known your real affection, to ſay that you are not acceſſary unto the ſtratagem.

The wiſe old man made it preſently be rumoured abroad that Aglantes was changed in his affection; and every one was apt to believe it, becauſe Silvanire was ſo cold towards Aglantes. But though Silina a Fair and Virtuous Shepherdeſs, and Daughter to this old Paſtor, was reported to be his Miſtris, and that the marriage was ready to be ſolemnized; yet Silvanire would never believe it. 'Tis true, it did a little trouble her, but not ſo much as to make her alter her behaviour towards Aglantes: for Menander her Father had a deſign to marry her unto Theaner one of the richeſt Shepherds in all our Village; and though ſhe did ſcarſe know him whom they would have her to marry, yet was ſhe reſolved to follow the will of Menander. One day, I chanced to ſurpriſe her, as ſhe was ſaying aloud unto her ſelf, that he could not change, though he faigned the contrary. Silvanire was a little aſtoniſhed to ſee her ſelf ſurpriſed as ſhe was ſaying ſo: but ſeeming as if what ſhe had ſaid, was not any thing that concerned her, but only a part of ſome ſong which ſhe had heard ſome other ſing, ſhe continued talking upon ſeveral other ſubjects: but as cunning as ſhe was, I ſuſpected that ſhe was troubled at the report of the marriage of [Page] Aglantes: And by fortune, as if that Shepherd came purpoſely to anſwer for his own innocency, we ſaw him afar off coming with a ſheep before him; as ſoon as Silvanire ſaw him, ſhe knew the Sheep; Yonder (ſaid ſhe) is the man that is to be married, who it ſeems thinks very little upon it; for yonder ſheep which you ſee, is the ſame which I loſt this morning. It will be very hard for him, anſwered I, not to have Silvanire alwaies in his memory: But, continued I, what do you conceive of that marriage? You muſt ask him that queſtion, anſwered ſhe. But replied I, what do you think of it? I believe (ſaid ſhe) that he never yet thought upon it, and that he is too young to think of it yet this long time. When I would have replied, Aglantes came to us, who preſenting the Sheep unto Silvanire, told her where he found it, what miſchance it had, and what great care he had of it: The Shepherdeſs thanked him kindly, but yet with ſuch a modeſty as might be called coldneſs in any but Silvanire: And becauſe I ſaw Aglantes was a little aſtoniſhed at it, though he was ſufficiently accuſtomed to ſuch uſage, to let him underſtand why my companion uſed him ſo, I ſaid unto him, Have you any mind Aglantes, or any permiſſion to ſerve any other then Silina? Silina? ſaid he, and ſtood amazed, why ſhould ſhe pretend more unto my ſervice then any other Shepherdeſs? Becauſe, anſwered I, you are ere long to marry her; Do you think to carry it ſo ſecretly that we muſt not know of it? No, no, ſaid he, aſſure your ſelf that my wiſe is yet unborn: Silvanire could not chuſe but laugh, and ask him why? Becauſe, ſaid he, ſhe whom I would have, my own ſmall merits makes me receive a denial; and ſhe who perhaps I may have, my heart forbids the Banes. But I hope, ſaid I, that when ſhe is born we may know her, and tell us in the mean time (I beſeech you) what kind of creature muſt ſhe be that pleaſeth you? If Silvanire do command me, anſwered he, I will tell you. I am very willing (ſaid Silvanire) that you ſatisfie my friends curioſity. Know then Foſſinde (ſaid he, and addreſſed himſelf unto me, for that is my name) that ſhe muſt reſemble Silvanire in all things; and aſſure your ſelf, that if ſhe differ from her in any thing, ſhe ſhall never be mine. Yet Aglantes (ſaid I unto him) let me tell you that Silina is a very handſome woman, but ſhe does not at all reſemble her: I confeſs, replied he, that ſhe is handſome, and has no reſemblance of Silvanire, and therefore I have nothing to ſay unto her: How? ſaid I, will you not marry Silina? No, no, ſaid he faintly, Silina deſerves better then me, but yet though Silina were Galathea, and would have me, yet I would have none of her: But ſuppoſe ſhe did reſemble Silvanire, and were Galathea, ſaid I, would you refuſe her? Though ſhe did reſemble Silvanire, ſaid he, yet being Galathea, I ſwear by the ſacred Miſleto, I would not have her.

Whilſt we were thus talking, my companion made a ſhew as if ſhe minded nothing but the found ſheep, yet I obſerved that ſhe hearkned very attentively unto us, which made me afterwards look a little more narrowly into all her actions; ſo as within a few days after, I came to know, that though ſhe made it not appear, yet ſhe did love him: And truly I cannot but admire the wiſdom of this young Shepherdeſs, who at ſuch a tender age had ſuch an abſolute power over her own will.

At the ſame time Tirintes returned into our Village, he is the Shepherd that is brought before you as a Delinquent, and againſt whom, ſage Clorimantes, all this company demands juſtice: I ſay, he returned into our Town: for though he was from thence originally, yet was he educated and lived upon the confines of Furan: his Father ſent for him home, and as we all know, very unluckily. When this Shepherd was amongſt us, he no ſooner ſaw Silvanire, but he fell in love with her, and that ſo paſſionately, that many thought him in danger to imitate Adraſtes.

Silvanire on the other ſide, whoſe reſolution was upon exact obedience unto her Father, and had no inclination unto any but Aglantes, though ſhe ſhewed it not, ſhe did diſ-intangle her ſelf from the addreſſes of Tirintes with as much diſcretion as poſſible ſhe could; and though ſhe carried a very great indifferency both towards him, and towards Aglantes, and all the reſt of the Shepherds who courted her, which was no ſmall number, yet his paſſion did from day to day ſo augment, that he reſolved, ſince he could not live in her favour, not to live at all. That Shepherd, oh ſage Druide, whom you ſee before you, and whoſe name is Alciron, he was alwaies a great lover of Tirintes either by reaſon of conſ [...]nguinity, or rather, as I [Page] believe, out of that drawing ſympathy which makes us love or hate one another: He ſeeing his friend ſo unprofitably ſpend his time and labour in the courtſhip of this fair and wiſe Shepherdeſs, he uſed the beſt arguments his Wit would afford him, to diſſwade him from it; and at this time finding him in ſuch a deſperate humour, alſo ſee [...]ng no hopes of his cure, he reſolved upon one of the boldeſt pieces of wickedneſs that can be imagined.

Tirintes had that day driven his Flock almoſt upon the tip of Mount Luna, as well becauſe he would be out of ſight, as to have the more cool Ayr for his ſheep; and perhaps this laſt reaſon made Alciron to go thither a little before; Tirintes not ſeeing him, ſits down under a Fir-tree, ſeemed for a while to be immoveable, his eyes fixed upon ſome certain Rocks which were cloſe by; and at laſt fetching a moſt deep ſigh, Alciron heard him utter many ſad complaints againſt the obduracy of his Miſtris, comparing her unto thoſe Rocks, and his eyes flowing with tears.

As ſoon as he had ended his ſad complaints, it was not long before Alciron would needs help him to condole: oh my dear Tirintes (ſaid he unto him) how long will this moſt lamentable life laſt? Are you not weary with ſhedding ſuch Rivers of Tears, and raiſing ſo many winds of unprofitable ſighs? Do you not know how all your labour and pains is unfruitly loſt? Is not Hope it ſelf (which ſeldom leaves a Lover) quite vaniſhed? Is it poſſible that with the loſs of thy liberty, thou ſhouldſt alſo loſe the uſe of thy reaſon? If thou haſt thy wits, when wilt thou make uſe of them? Muſt they be alwaies unprofitably idle? Doſt thou think any ſervice will ever oblige yonder Shepherdeſs? Will any Tears mollifie her? Will any pains move her? Or will any Affection or faithful obſtinacy win her? Oh Tirintes, if thou art in that error, how groſly art thou miſtaken? She is deaf, and abſolutely inſenſible to all manner of prayers, or ſervices, or tears: She is ſtark blind, Man land cannot ſee any of thoſe pains and paſſions which thou doſt endure for her; and what canſt thou ever expect in any reaſon from ſuch a deaf and blinde ſoul, but that ſhe ſhould neither hear, nor ſee, nor reſent any thing? Oh ye Gods! replied Tirintes, what would ye have me to do? Command me what you pleaſe, I am here ready to obey you in all, but only in bidding me ceaſe to love her. In this, I beſeech you pardon me if I diſobey; for the fault is not mine, but that all-commanding Beauty which I have not power to reſiſt.

He had long continued his complaints, if Alciron, who could not endure to ſee his friend in ſuch torment, had not interrupted him, with intentions to give ſome comfort. The Gods Tirintes (ſaid he unto him) do know our weakneſs and imperfections, and out of their infinite goodneſs, will excuſe and pardon them: But they will not endure the crime of thoſe who will make them guilty of their own errors: Therefore, dear friend, Do not by any ſuch blaſphemies provoke their juſt anger againſt thee. Oh my dear friend, replied Tirintes with a deep ſigh, ſince they do know our imbecilities and imperfections, and will pardon them, doubtleſs they will not impute that crime for which you reprehend me, for it is weakneſs only which makes me commit it; proteſting, that my intention was not to tranſgreſs their commandment, but when I could not obey them. And to make it appear that it is ſo, good Alciron tell me, who is he that can love ſuch a moſt amiable piece leſs then I do? And in loving her ſo paſſionately, who can blaſpheme leſs then I, if it be blaſphemy to ſay that I cannot chuſe but love her? Oh Tirintes, replied Alciron, Do not flatter thy ſelf in thine own fault, for this paſſion which you ſay is ſo potent in thee, is indeed only thy own Will, which if thou wouldeſt ſurmount, thou haſt power enough to do it. I do confeſs (ſaid Tirintes coldly) that it does depend upon my own will: But do you not ſee that I cannot will any thing but what ſhe pleaſe? So then it ſeems ſaid Alciron, you will ceaſe to be a man, that you may become a Lover. If being a man, ſaid Tirintes, be not to love Silvanire, I neither am, nor will be a man. Not to make uſe of Reaſon, replied Alciron, is not to be a man; and can there be any thing more unreaſonable then to ceaſe loving ones ſelf, to love another? Is not ſelf preſervation the great and principal law of Nature? Oh dear friend, ſaid Tirintes, let me not ſee the greatneſs of my wound; I hope it is not incurable: but you take the courſe to make it more deſperate: But the ſtone is thrown, it is reſolved upon, that I will die in loving Silvanire; and be aſſured, that I wiſh for nothing now, but [Page] to end this life quickly; for here I hope for no mitigation of my pain. And I conjure you Alciron to promiſe, that when I am dead, you write this Epitaph upon my Tomb, Here lies he that was murdred by the Faireſt Eyes under Heaven: I hope, that one day this cruel Fair One, will in theſe few words read my affection, and her own cruelty, and the Gods to my ſatisfaction move her unto ſome repentance. Oh how happy ſhould I be, if in the other life I hear one ſay that her Fair Eyes was once wet, or that one ſingle tear did trickle down her Fair Cheek: Fie, fie, Tirintes, ſaid Alciron, why this talk of death and Tombs? Love is the God of life, and nothing can ruine his empire but death: Live, live man, though it were for nothing but to preſerve a faithful Lover for this Silvanire whom you Love ſo well: and for my part, I will promiſe you, that if you will follow my directions, and do as I bid you, I will quickly give this Fair One unto you. Oh Alciron, ſaid Tirintes, impoſſible promiſes never oblige thoſe unto whom they are made; this which I do promiſe, replied Alciron, is no impoſſibility, provided you will but do as I ſay: then he continued thus.

Tirintes (ſaid he) I deſire as much as I do my own life, to ſee you rid of this tormenting paſſion; but ſince I ſee all perſwaſions are in vain, I promiſe to give you this woman, in a very ſhort time; ſhe ſhall be ſo much your own, that it ſhall be long only of your ſelf, it you do not diſpoſe of her according to your own will: do not think it a thing impoſſible, for you ſhall preſently find it effected, and confeſs that I never promiſed, but I performed. In order to this, within a few days after, he came unto him again, and brought him a Mirrour, in which he forbad him to look; and aſſured him, that if by any artifice he could ſo contrive it as Silvanire might caſt her eye upon it, certainly ſhe were his own, How? ſaid Tirintes, is it an enchantment? No, anſwered Alciron, but it is a natural power, which is in this glaſs; and what effects will it cauſe? asked Tirintes. Nay, nay, ſaid Alciron, be not too inquiſitive; be contented ſhe ſhall be yours. And what? ſaid Tirintes, will ſhe Love me? Still too much curioſity, anſwered Alciron, can you not be contented that ſhe ſhall be yours? But Tirintes, take ſpecial heed that neither you nor any other whomſoever, look into it; for the conſequence will be very bad: and if you ſhould before you are aware, caſt your eye upon it, come preſently unto me, that I may remedy the fault which you ſhall commit.

Tirintes took this Mirrour with much contentment and thanks, and to loſe no time, went preſently unto Silvanire, unto whom he preſented the glaſs with many ſupplications ſhe would be pleaſed to take it. And becauſe ſhe made ſome queſtion whether ſhe ſhould receive it from him; as thinking it not handſome, for any maid to take any thing from a young Shepherd, without the knowledg of her Parents, he preſſed her with ſo many humble entreaties, and arguments of perſwaſion; that at laſt, ſhe would give him that ſatisfaction; but upon condition, that ſhe would keep it no longer then ſhe pleaſed. So after ſhe had looked in it, and much commended it, ſhe gave it him preſently back: he who ſaw his deſign was attained, he preſſed her no farther, but was well ſatisfied that he had done as Alciron appointed him: but his contentment laſted but a while; for preſently after, Silvanire was taken with ſuch a giddineſs in her head, and ſuch a drowſineſs, that ſhe fell a ſleep, and they could not awake her, ſhe was troubled above three hours in this manner, and none knew her diſeaſe.

The noiſe preſently ran about the Town, that this Fair One was poiſoned, and no hopes of life left in her: you may imagine that Aglantes and Tirintes did run with ſad hearts to ſee what the matter was: but as ſoon as Tirintes ſaw her in that condition, he knew it to be an effect of the Mirrour, which made him ſo extreamly angry againſt Alciron, that had he met him, doubtleſs he had dyed for it. This villain (ſaid he to himſelf) deſigned her death, to deliver me from the affection which I bare unto her: but cruel wretch that he is, he never conſidered that my life depended upon hers, and that when ſhe dies, it is impoſſible for me to live: O thou moſt inhumane Tiger! Couldſt thou find a heart to hurt this Fair One? Who never thought thee the leaſt hurt? Certainly, the blackeſt fiend in Hell was thy Nurſe and gave thee ſuck: but Barbarian, thou ſhalt receive a death by no other hand but my own: Oh Tirintes, Tirintes! Canſt thou know who did this damned act, and live or breath without revenge?

[Page] This Shepherd in this mind, went as faſt as ever he could to ſeek Alciron, tranſported with ſo much fury, that had he met him, he had never told who hurt him: In the mean time Silvanire grew worſe and worſe, and none looked for any thing but death. Amongſt thoſe that were in the Chamber, and who, ſadly reſented this loſs, was the ſad Aglantes, whoſe grief was ſo great, that he ſwooned almoſt as ſoon as ſhe. Menander alſo and Lerice, whoſe hopes and comfort was in this Fair Daughter, ſeeing her in this ſad condition, they repented that they had lived ſo long, and accuſed the Gods of cruelty, in beſtowing ſo many rare endowments upon Silvanire, and depriving them of her ſo ſoon; all eyes that ſaw her in this ſtate, were turned into tears in ſuch abundance, that nothing could be heard but ſighs, groans, and great lamentations. At the laſt, ſhe being in extream agony, and not looking to live, ſhe forced her ſelf to ſpeak thus unto her Father and Mother, who ſtood ſighing and ſobbing by her bed ſide.

Father, ſaid ſhe, I am afraid, leſt the Gods ſhould be offended at your exceſſive ſorrow for my death; you know better then I call tell you, that life is not more natural then death; and thoſe who begin to live, begin it with a condition to dye: why then ſhould you be ſorry, that I am now ready to pay that debt, which all humanes are obliged to pay unto death? Perhaps you are ſorry the Fatal Siſters have ſpun the thred of my life no longer, and your good nature makes you deſire, that as you preceded me in life, ſo you might in death: But Oh my dear Father, conſider how good and wiſe the Gods are; who foreſeeing the miſerable condition of a young woman that is deprived of Father and Mother, they would not leave me in this wicked world without a guide: if you do but conſider this favour which they do me, you will acknowledg it to be the greateſt they ever gave me. But perhaps you will complain, that having taken ſo much care, and beſtowed ſo much coſt in my education, I ſhould now be taken from you, when I am beſt able to render you thoſe ſervices which I ow. I muſt confeſs, that if any conſideration can move me to deſire longer life, it is this; for it is a kind of ingratitude not to deſire the payment of that debt which I ow: at this word, her pain forced her to ſtop, and recover a little ſtrength, and ſhe gave leiſure unto all that heard her, to admire her wiſdom and courage, thinking her to reſemble a Candle, which gives greateſt light at the laſt end: this conſideration forced ſo many ſighs and tears, from all that heard and ſaw her, as they were not able to ſpeak; ſo as when ſhe had recollected a little ſtrength, ſhe ſpoke again unto Menander and Lerice in this manner.

I have many things to ſay, but my end which I perceive approacheth, does hinder me; only I beſeech you both, my dear Father and Mother, to conform your ſelves unto the divine will of God: and aſſure your ſelves, that I ſhould depart from hence more contentedly then ever I lived, were I but eaſed of two burthens, which extreamly oppreſs me. Menander then forcing himſelf to ſpeak, diſcharge your heart my deareſt child (ſaid he unto her) and aſſure your ſelf, that as never Father had a better child then I, ſo never child had a Father who loved her more then I do you. This permiſſion (ſaid Silvanire) is the only thing that can make me leave this life with contentment; which ſince you are pleaſed to allow, I ſhall tell you Father and Mother alſo, that I was extreamly troubled, having received ſo many favours and benefits from your goodneſs, and having been hitherto ſo unhappy in my return of that ſervice which I ow unto you both, as I ſhall grieve in my very ſoul if your good natures does not make it appear, that you accept my good will, and deſires, in recompence of ſo many infinite ſervices which I ow. Then Menander kiſſed her, and with flowing eyes ſaid, your good deſires, ſweet child, are accepted far above the duty or ſervice which you ow: great God be praiſed, ſaid ſhe, but alas, d [...]e I diſcharge my ſelf wholly? Indeed beſt Father and Mother, I want courage, and muſt ask a new permiſſion, or elſe I cannot. Lerice and Menander alſo, and all that heard her, could not forbear their ſighs to ſee her pain, and their admiration to hear her ſpeak, even when every one judged her to be at the laſt gaſp; all that were about the bed preſſed Menander to give her a ſpeedy permiſſion, which he freely did, and then Silvanire fetched a deep ſigh, and lifting her eyes up to Heaven to ſhew her extream contentment, and forced her ſelf to utter theſe weak words.

You have both of you ſo often taught me, that ingratitude is the moſt deteſtable [Page] vice amongſt humanes, as I think the Gods would never forgive me, if I preſented my ſelf before them, ſtained with that horrid ſin. Therefore I cannot hide the extream contentment which this your permiſſion brings me; ſince by it, I may not only waſh away the crime, but alſo the thought that I was guilty of it. Then taking a little breath, and ſtriving againſt the violence of her diſeaſe, ſhe continued thus: You ſee (ſaid ſhe and pointed at Aglantes) that Shepherd who ſtands at my beds-feet, and who ſeems to reſent my ſickneſs ſo ſadly, be pleaſed moſt dear Father and Mother, to know, that ever ſince the infancy of our days, he has had ſo great affection to me, that perhaps not any about the River of Lignon, can equal him, and yet all this while, I do proteſt, I never could obſerve in him, the leaſt action or word that could offend the moſt modeſt maid upon earth; but the great Gods who know my actions, my words, and my moſt ſecret thoughts, are my witneſſes and judges, whether in all this time I ever let this Shepherd know that his amity and affection was pleaſing unto me. And yet Aglantes do not think that any ſcorn was the cauſe of it, for I know you deſerve better then what you deſire: but it was only the duty of a maid, as I am, which conſtrained me to uſe you ſo.

Upon this word, feeling her ſelf extreamly in pain; Oh death! (ſaid ſhe with a deep ſigh) I beſeech thee ſtay a little longer, and give me leiſure to end that diſcourſe which I began. Then taking a little breath; Oh Aglantes, ſaid ſhe, though I have been brought up in theſe Woods, and amongſt wild Rocks, yet am I not ſo inſenſible as they: your Virtue, your Love, and your Diſcretion, did work that effect in me which you deſired; but knowing that my Father had a deſign to [...] me otherwiſe then with you, and being reſolved never to diſ-obey my Parents, I reſolved alſo never to let you know that good will which I wiſhed unto you▪ and from hence proceeds all thoſe incivilities, and diſcourteſies which you have erceived from me. But now, ſince the Gods, who are all goodneſs and wiſdom, have by my death untied thoſe knots which tyed my tongue, as ſince thoſe who have the power over me, do give me leave: Know friend, that never was any greater affection conceived in the heart of any human, then the affection which Silvanire does bear unto you. And that I may be cleerly purged from that ingratitude, wherewith I might be charged, give me a little farther leave, Oh my moſt dear Parents; which they permitting, and ſhe thanking them; ſhe haſted to utter theſe words: Alas! (ſaid ſhe) I can do no more. Then holding out her hand unto the Shepherd, ſhe ſaid unto him; here Aglantes, [...]ake my hand and my heart, in aſſurance that though I cannot live the Wife of Aglantes, yet I will die the Wife of Aglantes; and as the laſt favour I ſhall ever ask, or you give, O moſt honoured Parents, I beſeech you conſent unto it.

The Father who had another deſign, would not have been ſo forward if he had thought ſhe would have lived; but thinking her even dead, he thought it good to let her die contentedly: and indeed he had no ſooner conſented, but ſhe turning her head gently towards her Shepherd: Oh Gods! (ſaid ſhe) I die, but Aglantes I die thine: Upon this word ſhe grew ſpeechleſs, and lay as dead in the arms of Menander and Lerice. To relate here all the lamentations and cryes of the Father and Mother, and principally of Aglantes, I conceive it not pertinent; for it will eaſily be imagined they were extream: but ſo it was, that they were forced to take them oft her, even by plain force, and carry them away, for grief did enrage Aglantes: & to remove the occaſion of ſo much ſorrow, they intended to bury her out of hand, without any Pomp or Solemnity; and had according to the cuſtom embalmed her, had not Alciron prevented them, who told them that it was not humane to bury people, eſpecially of her quality, before they were quite dead, at the leaſt quite cold: ſo as upon this, they left her without pulling off her clothes, in this ſad condition.

Tirintes on the other ſide, he was in raging queſt of Alciron, that he might open his breſt, and pull out his heart, and ſo [...]e revenged for the wrong he had done him; and afterwards with the ſame ſword, ſacrifice himſelf upon the Tomb of this Fair One. And doubtleſs if he had met him, he had done ſo, though he was the greateſt friend he had: but the Prudent Alciron, he went to him in bed, becauſe he feared the anger which Tirintes might conceive againſt him. At the firſt when Tirintes ſaw him enter, he rouſed out of bed to run upon him; but Alciron holding [Page] the door half open half ſhut; Tirintes ſaid he unto him, can you poſſibly imagine, that he who loves you the beſt of all the world, ſhould ever deprive you of that which you hold moſt dear? And yet cruel Tyger, ſaid Tirintes, and interrupted him, the Fair Silvanire is dead. Silvanire, replied Alciron, is alive, and I will die the moſt cruel death your rage can invent, if I do not put her into your hands alive, and well, within this hour, if you will let me go where ſhe is. Tirintes all amazed at this, is not Silvanire dead? ſaid he, and did not you cauſe her to be let in the room by her ſelf? It is true (anſwered Alciron and ſmiled) but ſhe is left there for you; Oh good Gods! Alciron (ſaid Tirintes) Silvanire to be dead, and to be for me are two things that cannot hold together. I confeſs, replied Alciron, that they cannot; but to be alive, and be yours may: Surely, ſaid Tirintes, you do deceive me: why ſhould I deceive you (ſaid Alciron) or indeed how can I, when I offer, if you will go with me, to put her into your hands alive and well the ſame hour? And if it were otherwiſe, why ſhould I come unto you? You ſee I do not ſhun you, nor fear meeting with you. Come, come, ſet your mind at reſt; dreſs your ſelf, and come with me, and you ſhall preſently ſee what I ſay punctually performed. But prethee tell me, ſaid Tirintes, and ſhrugged his ſhoulders, can you fetch ſouls back after they be once waſted over the Stigian Lake? Will Charon ſuffer that? No, no, I cannot (anſwered Alciron) but Tirintes know moſt aſſuredly that Silvanire is not dead, but by a ſecret virtue of nature, which is in that glaſs which you had of me, ſhe is ſo ſtupified, that every one thinks her ſo. Oh Heavens, cryed out Tirintes, what wonders do you tell me? I tell you nothing but truth (replied Alciron) and to ſatisfie your wonder, and perplexity, know Tirintes, that the glaſs is made of a Stone, called the Memphitique Stone, which has a virtue to ſtupifie the ſenſes ſo extreamly, that as ſoon as it is touched by the eye, it preſently takes away the underſtanding: And unto this Stone is added ſome of the bones of a Fiſh, which is called the Torpedo, extracted by ſuch art, and concocted together, that as the Torpedo benums the arm of the Fiſher, when it touches the hook that is faſtned to the line; ſo alſo as ſoon as the eyes are touched by this glaſs, they receive a poyſon ſo ſubtile, that firſt ſeiſing upon the brain, it dilates a general ſtupifaction all over the body, as every one would think it dead. Now Tirintes, judge whether I have not reaſon to complain againſt you, who ever found my extream affection flowing towards you; and yet can think I would offer ſuch a mortal diſpleaſure: what advantage could you imagine I could draw from the death of this woman? If it be ſo, ſaid Tirintes, and went neerer him, you were to blame Shepherd in that you did not acquaint me with it: By that, replied Alciron, you may better know that I do love you; for did I not know Shepherd, that thou neither wouldeſt nor couldeſt live after thou wert deprived of Silvanire, and couldeſt thou hope ever that thy ſervices or thy merits could gain her? I know, that having but that only remedy, thou wouldſt never have uſed it, if I had acquainted thee with all the effects of it: conſider ſeriouſly with your ſelf, and anſwer me; ſhould I have told you, that as ſoon as ever Silvanire did look in the glaſs, ſhe would fall into ſuch extremity of pain, as ſhe would fall down like dead, and being ſo judged by all that ſee her, they will embowel her, and put her into her grave: anſwer me I ſay Tirintes, durſt you have executed ſuch an enterpriſe upon her? No, no, I know what power a perſon that loves hath, to make any ſuch attempts upon the party Loved.

Tirintes hearing this, and knowing that Silvanire was not dead, he held out his arms, and went to embrace Alciron, with ſuch abundance of contentment, that he was almoſt ſpeechleſs; but recovering himſelf, he asked a hundred pardons for the anger which he had conceived againſt him: and dreſſing himſelf as faſt as ever he could, he beſeeched him to conduct him unto the room where Silvanire reſted, to the end that ſhe who was the life of his ſoul, might not remain any longer in the lodgings of death. But dear friend, continued Tirintes, by the way as they went, when Silvanire is taken out of the vault, (for you muſt underſtand that they had carried her out of the Town into one) How do you mean ſhe ſhall be mine? Yours? anſwered Alciron, who will take her from you? Does not every one think her dead? And when ſhe is in your hands, who will ask her of you? Oh Tirintes, Tirintes! learn how to make uſe of the time preſent, as well as I do: and if you do not, blame [Page] not me, but your ſelf. With ſuch diſcourſe as this they came to the place where the Vault was; where the ſtone being preſently taken away, Silvanire was found in the ſame condition they left her, at which Tirintes was extreamly aſt [...]niſhed for all the aſſurances of life which Alciron gave him. But to ſee the wonderful qualities and effects of ſome things which Nature doth produce; as ſoon as ever Alciron threw a little water which he had in a little Bottle, into her face, and rubbed her pulſe and temples, ſhe ſhewed ſome ſignes of Life; ſhe began to breath, and preſently after ſhe perfectly waked. Then ſaid Alciron unto Tirintes; Here Friend, I give you Silvanire, I have performed my promiſe, and make uſe of your Fortune and opportunity: Upon this he left them alone together, as thinking that he had no more to do with them.

But Silvanire opening her eyes, and finding her ſelf in that place, and at that time, for it was hardly day, ſhe was the moſt aſtoniſhed woman in the world; for ſhe remembred all that had paſſed very well: but ſhe could not imagine how ſhe ſhould come out of the Tombe: ſo as remaining a while in her aſtoniſhment, and ſeeing none by her but Tirintes; Shepherd (ſaid ſhe unto him) I pray tell me what miracles are theſe? Faireſt Silvanire, ſaid he, I can tell you no more, but that they are the ordinary effects of your Beauty. But Tirintes, replied ſhe, have not I been dead? and, am I not now alive? You are not only alive, replied he, but can give life unto whom you pleaſe. If I was dead, added Silvanire, how came I to be alive again? who was able to bring me back from the Stygian Lake? One that is ſo fair as Silvanire, anſwered the Shepherd, cannot ſtay in ſo foul a place. This is flattery, ſaid the Shepherdeſs, but pray Tirintes tell me ſeriouſly, was I not dead? and am I not now alive? Dead you never were I am ſure ſince I knew you, ſaid Tirintes, for you were alwaies alive in my heart. The truth is, the affection of Tirintes unto you is ſuch, that when death was ready to triumph over you, I changed death into ſleep, and afterwards, that ſleep into the condition wherein now you are. Your affection replied Silvanire, changed my death into ſleep, and that ſleep into the condition I now am in? How could you do it? For my part I muſt confeſs I do not underſtand it.

Tirintes who had no mind to ſtay any longer in that place, leſt he ſhould be found by ſome who might mar all the plot before him, he thought it beſt to deal plainly, and tell her truly the whole paſſage. Know therefore Silvanire (ſaid he) that to ſatisfie your curioſity, after I had loved, ſerved, and adored you with infinite devotion, and found all to be in vain, I had recourſe unto Art. Do you remember a Glaſs which I beſeeched you to take from my hand? I do remember it very well anſwered ſhe, for I never had my health ſince. That Glaſs, ſaid Tirintes, was of ſuch a compoſition, that as ſoon as any did look in it, they were preſently ſurprized with ſuch a ſtupifaction and lethargie, that they would ſeem to be dead: The ſame operation it had upon you; and they laid you in this Vault, from whence I now come to take you out. Oh Heavens! cryed out Silvanire, How dangerous all men are? But what was your deſigne in ſo doing? My deſign was, anſwered he, to do as I did, that is, to make all believe that you were dead, and afterwards to live the reſt of our days together in ſome place where none might trouble us. Oh Tirintes ſaid ſhe, and ſhook her head, could you ever imagine I would conſent unto it? I thought (ſaid he) that an obſtinate ſervice might ſurmount your obſtinate rigour. Service (anſwered ſhe) which is not pleaſing, is always in vain. Love, replied he, did put me into that hope. Love, anſwered ſhe, is never the Author of ſuch Treaſon; and that you may find the truth of what I ſay, Love will ſo puniſh your treaſon, that you have quite loſt all the hopes of my being ever yours; you are much miſtaken Shepherd in your deſigns, for Silvanire is not her own to diſpoſe of if ſhe would. How, ſaid Tirintes, not Silvanire her own, unto whom is ſhe given? She is his, replied the Shepherdeſs, unto whom you have given her, which is, unto Aglantes. Who I? replied Tirintes, Did I ever give you unto Aglantes? Yes, anſwered Silvanire, Tirintes did give me unto Aglantes: Hearken and I will tell you how: Menander and Lerice my parents, did intend to marry me unto the Shepherd Theantes: And the truth is, by my good will I would never marry any but Aglantes; Death is more welcome to me a thouſand times, then to be the wife of any other: [Page] yet I was ſo fully reſolved never to fail in my duty to my Parents, that Aglantes, nor any other, ſhould never make me fail in my obedience to them. Now being in this extremity of pain, your artifice did obtain that for me, which otherwiſe I never durſt ask; The poiſon in your glaſs proved my happineſs: So as when every one did think me dead, Love did inſpire me to ask my Parents conſent to beſtow my ſelf upon Aglantes, in gratitude and reward of his long and faithful ſervices: They ſeeing me in great pain, did give me free leave to diſpoſe of my ſelf; upon which I took Aglantes by the hand, and declared my ſelf to be his wife: Therefore Tirintes, your hopes are all blaſted, and it is in vain for you to attempt any further. Come, come (ſaid Tirintes in a great rage) Menander, Lerice, and Aglantes alſo are dead unto you, as you are to them. Upon this he offered to take her by the arm, and carry her away: But the Shepherdeſs with a greater confidence then the place could allow her, did ſtoutly defend her ſelf againſt his violence; ſomtimes by perſwaſions, otherwhiles oppoſing force againſt force, and ſomtimes flying. But ſhe ſeeing him paſt all reſpect, and that her flight and reſiſtance was in vain, ſhe was conſtrained to cry out: As Fortune was, Aglantes came in upon her voice, who (as I underſtood ſince) was looking for the Tomb of that Shepherdeſs, that he might there end his days: When he ſaw her firſt, he had an opinion that it was ſome deluſion of his Fancy; but afterwards, knowing him to be Tirintes, and hearing her voice, he knew that ſhe was alive whom he thought to be dead: and fell into ſuch an extream paſſion, that he fell furiouſly upon Tirintes; ſo doubtleſs one of them had ended his days, (for they were both extreamly incenſed) had not a great number of Shepherds come in and parted them; and who ſeizing upon the miſerable Tirintes, brought him hither before you, oh ſage Cloridamantes, to be puniſhed according to the quality of his offence.

But all theſe that came in the company, did not come upon the ſame cauſe; for the joy and contentment of Menander, Lerice, and Aglantes was ſo great, that they would willingly have forgotten the injury, or at the leaſt would have diſdained all revenge. But their coming is to have judgement upon another difference which hath hapned ſince.

Be pleaſed to know therefore, oh Reverend Father, That this great Tumult being appeaſed, and Tirintes in the hands of thoſe who have brought him hither, Aglantes full of joy to ſee the fair Silvanire riſen from the dead, or to ſay better, born again, addreſſing himſelf unto Menander and Lerice, he beſought them both that they would be pleaſed to conſummate his happineſs by a concluſion of this ſo much deſired marriage, as thinking that the delay of ſuch a happy union could not be profitable unto any. Menander at the firſt ſtood a while mute, ſeeming as if he heard not; but Aglantes ſeconding his firſt deſire with moſt earneſt ſupplications, he took notice that Menander walking about the room with his hands behind him, he muttered ſo as none could underſtand him, or as if he was deaf on that ear; but he went ſhaking his head, as it is uſual for one to do that would deny a requeſt. This ſilence and this action did exceedingly ſurprize Aglantes; for he thought his marriage ſo ſure, that when he ſaw the old man make a doubt of it, he firſt grew pale, and afterwards was taken with an extream trembling. Many of the Shepherds that were in the room wondering at the ſilence of Menander, and his way of proceeding, they drew nearer, and ſeeing Aglantes in that condition, to wit, almoſt beſide himſelf, they feared that if Menander did not keep his word, ſome fatal accident would befal his houſe; therefore gathering about him, they beſeeched him not to trouble their great joys, by ſuch an alteration as appeared to be in him: But Menander not ſo much as giving them a look, he walked ſtill on, and held his eyes fixed upon the ground. Friends (ſaid he unto them at laſt) New matters, new reſolutions. How, replied Aglantes, New matters, new reſolutions? What do you mean by that? My menning is, replied Menander, That when I promiſed my daughter unto yon, I thought her dead, and ſo I am contented ſhe ſhould be yours; But now, ſince (thanks be to heaven) ſhe is alive, I mean to diſpoſe of her another way. Menander (anſwered Aglantes) you have already given your Daughter unto me, her Mother conſents unto it, and Silvanire would have it ſo: I have accordingly taken her, I conceive her to be mine, and none can take her from me, but they muſt take away [Page] my life alſo. Your life (replied Menander) is nothing unto me; but my Daughter is my own, and none can take her from me; you cannot pretend unto her by vertue of my promiſe; for if promiſes oblige, Theantes may better claim her as his, becauſe I made a promiſe unto him long before any to you: Therefore Aglantes, if you have a mind to marry, you may do well to look for a wiſe ſomwhere elſe. Oh ye good Gods (cryed out Aglantes, ſtamping his foot againſt the ground, and ſtriking his hands together) Oh heavens! oh Earth! is there any Juſtice amongſt men? Is it not beyond the bounds of any patience to endure ſo great a wrong.

All the Shepherds who heard them talk thus, fearing (and with reaſon) ſome great diſaſter if this diſpute went any further, they gathered themſelves together, and were of opinion that the beſt courſe was to preſent themſelves before you, and receive ſuch judgement as in your prudence you ſhould think moſt fit in ſuch a caſe. It was not without much ado that they conſented unto it; for Menander thought it an undervaluing himſelf and his daughter; and Aglantes could not endure a thing ſo juſtly his due, ſhould be ſo much as diſputed, or put unto the arbitriment of men: yet at laſt, by the mediation of friends and kinred, they were perſwaded to ſubmit unto whatſoever ſhould be ordained by you.

Foſſinde had no ſooner ended, but Menander tranſported with rage, and not ſtaying till the Druide gave him permiſſion to ſpeak; he ſtood up, and in a loud voice began thus: I do demand Juſtice, Oh ſage Cloridamantes, againſt the inſolency of this age; which would take away from a Father, that power which nature hath given him over his child: I do conjure you to maintain, that which all Laws ordains, all cuſtoms obſerve, and all the world approves of: I demand no novelties, ſince from the beginning of time, Fathers have uſed to diſpoſe of their own children: I require nothing but what is juſt, ſince nothing is more equitable then for every one to be the Maſter and Lord of his own workmanſhip: and I require nothing but what is according to natural ſence and reaſon, ſince it is reaſonable, that thoſe whom a grave experience has preferred above others, ſhould be believed and obeyed, in what they adviſe and appoint. The whole diſpute reſts upon this ſingle point, whether a Father may not diſpoſe of his child as he will: If the negative, then I have loſt my cauſe; but then I would adviſe all Fathers, never to care for having any children, nor to trouble themſelves with giving any education unto them, ſince they are not their children, but their companions nay, their Maſters; if the Proverb be true, which ſays, Have a Companion, and have a Maſter. Then will the Father, who is Lord Paramont in his little Republique, be outed of his Dominion by him whom he bred in his own boſom; Oh moſt depraved age! I have ſeen the time when if a child had in the leaſt circumſtance diſ-obeyed the command of a Father, he had been hiſſed at in the ſtreet, and pointed at by every finger: but now, it is grown wit to domineer; it is courage and ſpirit to ſlight commands, and it is duty in a child to uſurp authority from the Father. The name of Father, ſage Cloridamantes, does ſignifie abſolute Lord and Soveraign Maſter of his child. This being ſo, I am moſt confident that you honour the Gods ſo far, as to maintain my Title and Prerogative over this young Daughter which is mine, and whom I have brought up with ſuch abundance of care, coſt and paines. For my part, I will uſe no other argument but this, ſhe is my Daughter; if ſhe be mine, I may diſpoſe of her as I pleaſe. If the diſpoſition of her be taken from me, It muſt alſo be declared that ſhe is none of mine: and if I may diſpoſe of her, I do give her unto the Shepherd Theantes, according to my promiſe long ſince made unto him: of this, Aglantes cannot complain, becauſe he has no right but what he claims by promiſe; but if my promiſe oblige, then that promiſe which I made firſt unto Theantes, has much more ſtrength and validity in it, by reaſon of precedency: and therefore I conclude, that, Oh Aglantes, if you have any deſire to marry, you muſt ſeek ſomewhere elſe for a wife.

Thus Menander ended, and Aglantes offered to anſwer, but becauſe Silvanire thought that his paſſion perhaps would make him over ſharp in his argument, ſhe pulled him by the arm and interrupted him, beſeeching Cloridamantes to appoint ſome other to anſwer for them, whoſe ſpirit was leſs poſſeſſed with anger and choller; for elſe, ſaid ſhe, Aglantes in the heat of paſſion, may utter ſomthing which may diſpleaſe Menander. Cloridamantes admiring the diſcretion of this young woman, [Page] man, and impoſing ſilence upon Aglantes, he looked amongſt all the Company for one that ſhould ſpeak in his behalf; and after he had veiwed them all, he made choiſe of Sylvander, to anſwer Menander, and plead thoſe reaſons which Aglantes could alledge. The Shepherd would gladly have excuſed himſelf, becauſe he was in no good humour: but thinking it a crime to refuſe any thing the Druide commanded, he undertook it: ſo after he had required a little time to conſider how he ſhould frame his Arguments, he began thus:

The anſwer of Sylvander, in behalf of Aglantes and Silvanire.

THE weight which you lay upon me, Oh wiſe Cloridamantes, is a little too heavy for my weak ſhoulders to bear: for it is not a light matter to ſpeak in this place, or to undertake the cleering of the duty from a child to the father, or the authority of a father over his child: there are few here who are not intereſted, either as a father, or as a child; and to hold the ballance ſo even, as it ſhall not lean more on one ſide then another, is not a thing ſo eaſie as many may perhaps think it. Do not think Aglantes, that if by the command of this Reverend Druide, I do undertake to anſwer Menander, it is any way to maintain, that children are not obliged to obey their parents; God forbid I ſhould utter ſuch a word, for all our ſervices and all our obedience that we can render unto them, cannot acquit us of that duty which we ow unto them: neither would I have Menander think that if I do declare the exact obedience of children to their Parents, I do infer thereby as you do, that the Father has power to do what he will with his child. 'Tis true, the Gods have named them Fathers, but has not made them abſolute Lords of men; but it is rather to ſhew the love that the Gods do bear unto them, becauſe nothing can more reſemble it then the love of a Father to his child; and to teach men that they ought to ask all things that are neceſſary for them, and expect them from their goodneſs. For that tyrannical authority which you ſuggeſt, is not that which Fathers ought to have over their children; that does too much reſemble the authority of a Maſter over his ſlave: there is a vaſt difference between a child and a ſlave. 'Tis true, a Father ought to be obeyed in all things; but ſtill with this proviſo, that the Father do command as he ought, and according to reaſon: for a child is more obliged to obey reaſon, then any one that can command him; for it is reaſon which gives him a ſoul, and makes him different from irrational animals: and this ſoul is it which gives him his very being. A man, Menander, is compoſed of a ſoul and a body; the body he has from his Father, but that is common with all brutes: The ſoul he has from God, and this ſoul is rational: conſider now, whether a man be obliged more to him that gives the body, or to him that gives the ſoul; I think then you will conclude with me, that a child is not bound to obey the command of the Father, if the command be againſt reaſon; for in ſuch a caſe, his obedience would be a ſin: and therefore I ſay, Fathers have no ſuch abſolute power as you imagine, nay perhaps they have no power at all, if they go beyond the bounds of reaſon: 'Tis true, the child ought not of himſelf to judg whether the commands of the Father be juſt or unjuſt, or unreaſonable, unleſs they be ſo apparently groſs that common ſence will ſhew them ſo, but if the child do at any time doubt, he ought alwayes to incline towards the obeying ſide, and that he think his Father more wiſe and better able to judg then himſelf, until thoſe who are conſtituted judges, do determine and declare it otherwiſe. Now, the caſe which is preſented before you at this time, Wiſe Cloridamantes, is of this nature; for here is Menander, who is not willing that Silvanire ſhould marry Aglantes, but would have her marry another Shepherd; ſhe who is wiſe, and knows how far the name of daughter does oblige her unto obedience, ſhe preſents her ſelf before you, to know whether the command be reaſonable or no: It is you, Wiſe Druide, that muſt ſet down the Law unto her, for ſhe [Page] is ready to obey it; the reaſons of Menander are that abſolute power which he pretends unto over his child: that the promiſe which he made unto Aglantes, does not oblige him for two reaſons; the firſt, becauſe he promiſed Theantes before: the ſecond, that though he did promiſe her unto Aglantes, yet it was when he thought his daughter would dye that ſame hour. The reaſons of Silvanire and Aglantes (for they are inſeparable) are, that the promiſe which he made unto Theantes, was never conſented unto by Silvanire; and her conſent unto Aglantes was not only in the preſence of Menander and Lerice, but alſo by their permiſſion, conſent and approbation: that the eſſence of marriage conſiſts principally in the will of the two parties who do marry, and therefore reaſons tels her that ſhe is more obliged to perform this laſt promiſe, then that which Menander made unto Theantes, unto which ſhe was never privy, though had ſhe been called, ſhe would have conſented. As to that point of Menanders, that his intention was not to ſuffer this marriage, but only becauſe he belived his daughter would dye the ſame hour; Aglantes anſwers, that contracts are never made by thoughts, but by words: for thoughts are not to be dived into.

Sylvander would have proceeded, when Menander tranſported with extream impatience, did interrupt him: But upon the firſt word he uttered, Cloridamantes commanded him to be ſilent, and Sylvander alſo, when he offered to continue his diſcourſe, telling them, that the caſe was well enough underſtood, and therefore there needed no more time to be ſpent. At the ſame inſtant Theantes deſired audience, and in a loud voice ſaid, Oh wiſe Cloridamantes, there is no greater folly under the Sun, then to love without any hopes of ever being loved again; and marriage is a moſt miſerable torment when it is not tyed with mutual and reciprocal knots, and therefore I conclude and declare, that Silvanire may marry, but never Theantes: Upon this he made an humble reverence to the Druide, and the Aſſembly, and went his way.

Cloridamantes then roſe up to ask the opinion of other Druids, and to give judgement upon the caſe; But Tirintes, who could not with any patience endure to hear that Silvanire ſhould be given unto any other, he ſaid with a raging voice, and incenſed eye, Who is he that does accuſe me? and why am I kept here a priſoner? Foſſinde then began to ſpeak; Wicked Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, Dare you be ſo impudent as to ask why you are kept here, or who will accuſe you? Does not your own conſcience tell you, that never was a greater malefactor brought before the Tribunal of any Juſtice? Does not every thing, every circumſtance accuſe you of Treaſon and Infidelity? The Heavens that ſee you, the Earth that bears you, Trees, Men, Gods, and all things, oh perfidious and miſerable Shepherd, do accuſe you, and call for vengeance upon your crime.

Every one wondered to hear Foſſinde give ſuch tart language; for there was very few in the whole aſſembly who did not know that ſhe loved Tirintes, and though unfruitfully, yet had done long; ſo as to ſee her now thus exaſperated againſt him, it ſeemed much againſt the ſtream of her long continued cuſtome, and it was ſtrange that her extream affection ſhould ſo ſoon change it ſelf into ſuch an implacable hatred, as ſhe would have made him loſe his life. But Tirintes ſtood ſtill, and without any alteration in his countenance, Speak (ſaid he) unto the Judges if you have any charge againſt me, it is they from whom you muſt have juſtice: Do you think I have not courage enough to abide all your objections? Foſſinde bluſhed at theſe words, and turning towards Cloridamantes, ſhe beſeeched him to ſit down again, and hear what ſhe could ſay; and then ſhe began thus.

This impudent Shepherd, oh wiſe Cloridamantes, who is brought before you, is the moſt worthy of death of any man that lives; he ſays he loves Silvanire, but who believes him? Nay, who can believe him if they conſider his actions? Moſt certainly he never knew the power of Love, though to excuſe himſelf, he would caſt all the fault upon that God. For what are the effects of love? To ſerve, to honour, nay even to adore the perſon that is loved: But what witneſſes does this wicked Shepherd give of his affection unto Silvanire? In lieu of ſerving her, he gives her poyſon; he cauſed her to be buried alive, and ſuffer intollerable torments; in lieu of honouring her, he would have blaſted her reputation, and made her the moſt infamous [Page] Shepherdeſs that lives: if theſe be the effects and conſequents of Love, I dare ſay that Love has changed its Nature: But haply he will be apt to ſay, that theſe are meer impoſtures, and aſperſions caſt upon him, and that he did never commit any ſuch crimes. Sage Druide, here is the wicked man, he cannot deny it, his conſcience flies in his face, and ties his tongue: The truth is, his vilany is ſo great, that it is hard to find words to excuſe it under the umbrage of a Lover, or with any gloſſes of affection and fidelity: To give poyſon unto a poor innocent woman ſo ſubtilly couched in a glaſs, what excuſe under heaven is there for ſuch a black horrid invention? He cannot gloſs it over with an excuſe of ignorance, nor ſay that Alciron did not tell him the effects of it; for it is moſt infallibly certain, his intention was to make her die, and be revenged upon her for loving another, or at leaſt, for having no inclination unto him: But ſeeing his deſign fruſtrated, perhaps by the ſtrong conſtitution of Silvanire, which reſiſted the poyſon, or as it is moſt probable, by the Will of God, who would not deprive the world of ſo fair, ſo wiſe and ſweet a woman, to excuſe or extenuate his crime, he muſt pretend that his intention was only to caſt her aſleep. But oh ſage Druide, I beſeech you ask the good Menander, Lerice, Aglantes, and all thoſe that ſaw her in the Agony ſhe was, whether in any ſleeping fits they uſe to have ſuch cruel pain, ſuch convulſions, ſuch contraction of Nerves, and ſo many ſymptomes of inevitable death; and then judge whether it was not a moſt mortal poyſon, which the Gods by a miracle made ineffectual to his intentions. But this cruel Barbarian, not being ſatisfied with her death, but he would alſo with the ſame cruel eyes ſee her in the Tomb, to glut his cruelty; and finding her revived, he never offers to ask a pardon, but would carry her into ſome deſolate place, God knows where, and certainly, but for the relief of thoſe Shepherds which came in upon her cry, he had executed his moſt wicked deſigne. Judge now, juſt Cloridamantes, whether in all this there be the leaſt ſhadow of any Love: Conſider, that if ſuch a Treaſon as this paſs unpuniſhed, there is no ſafety for any Shepherdeſs to live in Forreſts; How can we guard our ſelves againſt ſuch violences? I beſeech you therefore let us dwell ſafely in our houſes, and quietly in our fields; and make this man exemplary, by inflicting ſuch ſevere puniſhments, as may be a terror unto others. Thus ſpake Foſſinde, who after a low congie unto the Druide and the reſt of the Aſſembly, ſhe fate down in her place. Every one were aſtoniſhed to hear this tart accuſation, Tirintes only ſtood un-amazed; for having loſt his hopes of Silvanire, he valued not his life: But making a ſigne that he deſired to ſpeak, and the Druide permitting him, he anſwered thus.

This Shepherdeſs, moſt wiſe Cloridamantes, is in the right, when ſhe ſays that I have done ill; but ſhe is in the wrong, when ſhe accuſes me of a crime unto which I never conſented, but am as innocent as her ſelf: No, no Foſſinde, I refuſe not one of thoſe torments or puniſhments which are prepared for me, and which I know are my due; I will not excuſe my ſelf, for I cannot; and aſſure your ſelf, that though I could, I would not: But bitter and malicious Shepherdeſs, Why ſhould you add falſe crimes unto crimes that are true? You had no reaſon in the earth for it; for thoſe which I have committed, are ſufficient to glut your ſoul, be it as cruel as it can be. Oh Cloridamantes, the affection which I bear unto the fair Silvanire, is too great to make me think of any ſuch impieties as Foſſinde falſly charges me: It is true, I did give poiſon unto the Fair one, but it was becauſe I was deceived by the words of him whom I could not ſuſpect to have any ſuch thoughts. Let the fair Silvanire tell you how ſhe found Alciron and me about her, when ſhe awaked, with a Bottle of Water which we caſt in her face to awake her. All thoſe of Menanders houſe can teſtifie, that it was Alciron who hindred that Faire One from being embalmed, leſt it ſhould have hurt her: Oh Cloridamantes, Could I but be declared innocent of this impoſture, I would willingly confeſs all the other crimes which are charged upon me, I value not the torments of death a ruſh, ſo my love and my fidelity be preſerved pure and innocent, for them do I extreamly deſire to carry with me unblemiſhed into the other world.

Thus ſpoke Tirintes, leaving all the Auditory raviſhed at his reſolute alacrity and pittying his miſ-fortune: Alciron who could not endure to ſee his friend thus at the ſtake, and himſelf the author of the crime: Sage Druide, (ſaid he) Tirintes is not [Page] only cleer and free from any guilt againſt Silvanire, concerning the glaſs which I gave unto him, but alſo from all the conſequents of it: for firſt, though the glaſs be broken, yet the pieces are to be ſeen, and eaſily tryed whether the compoſition be mortal poyſon, or only of a ſtupifying quality. It is compounded of ſuch ingredients as Foſſinde hath named: here are the pieces, and tryal of them if you pleaſe may be made; then he pulled out his handkerchief wherein he lapped them up, when Tirintes in anger againſt Foſſinde broke it. Every one turned away their eyes, leſt they ſhould be tainted by the virtue of this Stone, and Cloridamantes himſelf commanded him to put it up; no, no, ſaid he, I cannot believe that either you or Tirintes had any ſuch abominable intention; becauſe it is an act ſo extreamly horrid, as it cannot be imagined it ſhould enter into the thoughts of any in this Country: but if you have any thing to ſay which will quit Tirintes of the violence which he offered unto this Shepherdeſs, you may ſpeak it before all this Aſſembly. Then Alciron offered to ſpeak as to that, when Tirintes interrupted him; Peace, peace, friend, ſaid he unto him, for I will dye; and happy is he that dyes who cannot live happily. Yet I thank thee hartily for thy good will, and evidencing that it was not my intention to make Silvanire dye, whoſe life I beſeech the Gods preſerve to eternity. But for all this, the affection of Alciron made him begin to ſpeak; yet he had no ſooner uttered the firſt word, but Tirintes interrupted him again. Oh ſage Druide, ſaid he, it is only compaſſion upon his friend, and not the truth, which makes him ſtrive for ſome arguments to defend me, for my part, I diſavow what he ſays, and beſeech you not to believe him, but to do Juſtice according to the Law.

Cloridamantes then, after he had impoſed ſilence upon Alciron and the reſt, he aroſe from his ſeat, and went to gather the voices of the other ſeven Druides; for when the life of any one was in queſtion, they were to call that number at the leaſt to aſſiſt them. The time which he imployed in taking their votes, was very long, becauſe there was ſome difference of opinions concerning the judgement. Tirintes being reſolved to dye, ſince he had no hopes to obtain Silvanire, all delay was tedious unto him: Aglantes and Silvanire, who thought the pain no leſs then a death to be ſeparated one from the other, they expected the iſſue of their enterpriſe with incredible impatience: at the laſt, the Druide after a long diſpute and debate of the matter, came and took his ſeat; then pronounced theſe words.

The Judgement of Cloridamantes.

WE Cloridamantes, being eſtabliſhed in the abſence of Adamas our Arch-Druide, by the Great Tautates, by Amaſis, and by all the order of Druids and Cavalry, to do Juſtice in this Country of the Seguſians; after a full hearing of the difference that is betwixt Menander and Lerice of the one part, and Aglantes and Silvanire on the other: and alſo of the accuſation preferred againſt Tirintes for an attempt againſt Silvanire, after a long ſolemn and ſerious debate, and conſideration of the premiſes, We do Sentence and declare, that a Father and a Mother, have by the Laws of God and Nature, all that power and authority which can be had over free perſons; and that their children in this quality cannot diſobey them without offence againſt Laws both divine and humane: but withal, we Sentence and declare that children are not born ſlaves, but free: for otherwiſe it were a ſhame for Fathers to get none but ſlaves; and it would be a moſt miſerable blemiſh to the Country, that it of all Gaul ſhould produce none but people of ſuch vile quality: for theſe cauſes therefore, and for many other juſt and good conſiderations us thereunto moving, we do ordain, publiſh and declare, that marriages be free, and that no contract be but with conſent of both parties that are to tye themſelves together with that holy knot: and that the rigour and compulſion of Fathers in ſuch caſes, be held as tyranny, and be null. Upon theſe grounds this contract betwixt Aglantes and Silvanire is declared to be firm and indiſſolvable, all due circumſtances and conditions being obſerved. And furthermore, as in Juſtice to Tirintes, ſince, ſlights, [Page] ſubtilties, and artifices are permitted by the Laws of Love, we do publiſh and declare him free and abſolved from the fault which he is charged with by the artifice of the glaſs; but in as much as all manner of force and violence is expreſly forbidden by the Laws of Love, and ſince it is averred that he hath made violent attempts upon the perſon of her whom he loved, we do declare him guilty of high Treaſon, againſt that great God and his Laws, and therefore we do doom and condemn him to be thrown down headlong from the Fatal Rock.

The faces of all the Company were full of great joy, and of great ſorrow at this Sentence; Aglantes, and Silvanire, and their friends, ſeeing their marriage was declared according to their wiſhes, their joyes were tryumphant: on the other ſide, abundance of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes grieved for poor Tirintes; for he was a very kind and courteous Shepherd, and ſuch an accident had not hapned of a long time.

So as every one was very ſorry for him, and blamed Foſſinde for her bitter and malicious accuſation. Tirintes himſelf was the only one who ſeemed not to be troubled at it: for he received the Sentence of death with a ſmiling and contented countenance; and turning towards Silvanire, Shepherdeſs, ſaid he unto her, I hope that now you are contented, and indeed ſo ſhould I be, if I did but go out of this world with a pardon from you: Tirintes (ſaid ſhe unto him with tears in her eyes) if your life were in my power, as well as a pardon, be aſſured you ſhould live many years: for I do not only pardon, but pity you; and ſhall grieve for you as long as I live. Then Tirintes kneeled down upon the ground, and moſt hartily thanked her and ſaid, that he ſhould be more happy in his puniſhments, then ever he was in his ſervices.

In the mean time, Foſſinde ſeeing her deſign did hit according to her wiſh, ſhe went unto Tirintes; Shepherd, ſaid ſhe unto him, It joyes my ſoul to ſee you reduced unto this point which I have ſo long and ſo much deſired: and I, ſaid Tirintes, am alſo very glad my death will give you ſo much contentment, and I ſhall leave the world without any rancor or malice in my heart. Oh Tirintes, Tirintes! (ſaid ſhe unto him) you ſhall know ere it be long, that I am as free from any malice or rancor as you, and that my own life is not ſo dear unto me as yours: alas, all that I have done is only out of the exceſſe of my love; then addreſſing her ſelf unto Alcas her Father; Father, ſaid ſhe unto him, you promiſed that you would very willingly give me leave to chuſe my Husband; moſt true, anſwered Alcas, and I will perform it, for I do not approve of the humour in Fathers to be tyrannical towards their children. Then addreſſing her ſelf unto Cloridamantes, and the other Druide. Oh ſage and juſt Judges (ſaid ſhe unto them) you have according to the Law condemned Tirintes to die: and by the ſame Law, I do demand him for my Husband, and by that means, free him from that puniſhment, unto which he was condemned.

Upon this all the Aſſembly ſhouted, and clapped their hands in ſign of joy, and ſaid with an univerſal voice, Thanks, thanks. Then did all the friends of Tirintes run to imbrace him, and rejoyce with him. Every one commended the good act of Foſſinde: for it was a Law moſt religiouſly obſerved, that if any woman came to demand a condemned perſon for her husband, he ſhould be delivered unto her. Menander and Lerice, only looked but half contented, and could not conſent unto the marriage of Silvanire; but ſeeing the publique joy, and Aglantes upon his knees with Silvanire, at their feet, their anger began to cool, and they imbraced both Aglantes and Silvanire with a joyful countenance, and confirmed the Sentence of the Druides. Then all the Aſſembly rejoyced: and Cloridamantes, who by the force of the Laws had condemned Tirintes, was very glad of ſuch an occaſion to deliver him; and therefore cauſing ſome Chaplets of Flowers to be brought; he firſt put two upon the heads of Silvanire and Aglantes; and afterwards turning towards Foſſinde, here Shepherdeſs (ſaid he unto her) take this which I put upon your head, and I leave the other in your hands; give it unto Tirintes, for a teſtimony that you have given him both his life and Foſſinde.

The Shepherdeſs rendred moſt humble thanks for the favour, and ſaid, I do take this which you have given to me, and put it upon the head of Tirintes, and I do [Page] take his, and put it upon my own, in witneſs that we will never be ſeparated. And now, ſince ſuch an univerſal joy was unexpectedly fallen upon them all, it was thought fit to go into the Temple, and thank the Gods: And ſince the impatience of theſe two Lovers were very great, it was reſolved upon, that they ſhould then be married, and the reſt of the ceremonies be performed afterwards, when they returned to their homes. But Sylvander who could not endure to be amongſt ſo many joyful and contented perſons, after he had received many thanks from Aglantes and Silvanire, he left the company, and went into the Woods to lament his own miſerable fortune.

Diana and Phillis who dined that day with Aſtrea to keep Alexis company, being riſen from the Table, and the queſtion being put how they ſhould ſpend the reſt of the day, they were advertized that a certain ſtranger was come, who was exceedingly deſirous to ſee Aſtrea, ſo as (ſaid they that did advertize them) unleſs you make very great haſte away, aſſure your ſelves ſhe will be before you, which if ſhe be, you muſt reſolve upon her company all the day. Alexis who was extreamly afraid of any ſuch diverſions; oh God, good Servant, ſaid ſhe, let us not ſtay her coming, for we ſhall not be rid of her all the day; and if I be in ſo long a conſtraint, I ſhall moſt infallibly be ſicker then I was in the morning: Aſtrea laughed to hear her ſay ſo: Dear Miſtris (ſaid ſhe) command, and be obeyed: I think it beſt, anſwered Alexis, to take our own habits, and go to meet her: This motion was no ſooner made then executed, and the more ſpeedily, becauſe Diana who conducted them, did make more haſte then uſual, becauſe ſhe was exceedingly deſirous to ſee this ſtranger, who inveighed ſo much againſt men, of whom ſh [...] had as bad an eſteem, though ſhe knew how to cover it diſcreetly.

When Florice ſaw theſe Shepherdeſſes afar off, ſee Dorinde, ſaid ſhe, how courteous the fair Aſtrea is, who knowing your coming, prevents you in civility, and is coming to meet you. I ſhould be aſhamed, anſwered ſhe, that all thoſe diſcreet Shepherdeſſes ſhould take ſo much pains for me, but I muſt confeſs I have an extream deſire to ſee them. Since it is ſo (ſaid Circinea) and if you would not be overloadned with curteſie, let us go as faſt as we can to meet them, to the end they may know, that if you had known their deſigne, you would not have put them to that trouble. Upon this, the four ſtrangers taking hands, they went as faſt as they could towards theſe fair Shepherdeſſes, who received them with ſuch free expreſſions and teſtimonies of good will, that Dorinde could not enough admire them, both for their Beauty and their Civility. Alexis alſo was not a little in their eſteem, who knew how to play the woman ſo well, that not one of her actions did belye that name: and becauſe Dorinde obſerved that every one did bear a great reſpect and honour unto the Druide, ſhe thought it becoming her to do the ſame; ſo as addreſſing her ſelf unto her, Madam, ſaid ſhe, one of my wiſhes is accompliſhed, for I have very long deſired to ſee Lignon, and all thoſe Beauties about it; and I ſee heaven is very favourable to my deſires, in letting me ſee the beſt firſt. I confeſs, ſaid the Druide, that when you ſee Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis, you have ſeen the glory of Lignon, which heaven hath favoured above all the Rivers in Europe; and there is none precedes theſe whom ye ſee before your eyes. Theſe commendations (ſaid Aſtrea) which it pleaſes the fair Druide to beſtow upon us, are teſtimonies of that honour which ſhe confers upon us by her love; my companions and I do receive them upon that account, though they be much above our merit: But fair Shepherdeſs, I would not have you deceived by them; leſt that belief ſhould cauſe you to eſteem leſs of the Shepherdeſſes of Lignon; for do not think, that though thoſe you ſee here have no great matter of Beauty to boaſt of, that the reſt are the ſame, aſſuring my ſelf, that when you ſee them, you will confeſs that they do not deſerve contempt: As for us, we beſeech you to love us, not in the quality of fair, but of good, and as thoſe that do highly deſire the honour of your favour, and are ready to pay thoſe duties of Service and Civility unto you, which by the cuſtome of our Country, and your own merits we are obliged unto. Aſtrea (ſaid Dorinde, for I know that is your name by the luſter of your Beauty) I ſay fair Aſtrea, I do think the pains of my journey to be highly recompenced by the very ſight of you, and I find my ſelf beyond all meaſure ſatisfied, when I conſider your fluent curteſie and civility; but let me tell you, that [Page] I am infinitely aſhamed in not being able to requite it. Their complements had continued longer,, if Florice, who was much offended by the too much luſter of the Sun which ſhined full upon them, had not interrupted; wherefore ſhe beſeeched the Druide, and the reſt of the Shepherdeſſes, to honour her ſo far as to ſhade themſelves under her Cabine, which was cloſe by the River Lignon, and ſhaded with ſeveral leave-ſpreading trees; ſo as the motion being accepted, they went that way, to ſpend part of the day under thoſe ſhady trees, till the heat of the day was a little over.

Diana remembring the promiſe which that ſtranger made, of telling her the reaſon of her hatred unto men, and finding her ſelf in a good humour, Fair Shepherdeſs (ſaid ſhe after they were ſet) we have a cuſtome amongſt us, that we eſteem all promiſes to be due debts: we do hold the obligations as firm, and reckon upon the payment, as certainly as if it were indented and ſealed; and therefore I beſeech you, do not think it ſtrange that I ſhould in the preſence of this good company ſummon you to the payment of that debt which you owe unto me; and I conceive that beſides your promiſe, the time, and the place, and every thing does invite you to it. Although (anſwered Dorinde) I were not obliged by my promiſe, yet ſhould I be very ready to pay obedience unto any thing you ſhall either command or deſire; I am ſorry for nothing, but that what I ſhall tell you, will not be worth the time that will be ſpent in hearing: Yet ſince it is your command, I had rather fail in obeying you, then in not ſatisfying your deſires. Then after a while of ſilence, ſhe began thus.

The Hiſtory of DORINDE, of PERIANDER, of MERINDOR, and of BELLIMARTES.

IT is with great reaſon that learned Phyſicians ſay, Interior diſeaſes are moſt dangerous, and difficult to be cured, becauſe the ſight cannot reach them, they know by conjectures only what they are: The heart, and the moſt noble parts, are more eaſily infected, and ſooner ſeized upon, then thoſe that are without us. The diſeaſes of the ſoul, are the ſame with the diſeaſes of the body; and thoſe which do proceed from things without us, are much leſs dangerous then thoſe which are from within us. I do call thoſe things which are without us, Riches, the favour of others, health, ſickneſs, and briefly, all things upon which Fortune has a Soveraign Authority: And I do call thoſe things which are within us, every thing that does depend upon our own wills, and within the power of our own ſouls: For it is but little hurt that Fortune can do unto one that is reſolved, and fully intends to do what they ought in every thing. But on the contrary, when the Will and the Underſtanding are infected and corrupted, every trifle is a torment, and he muſt look for a cure from the party from whom his malady proceeds. I ſpeak all theſe things (moſt fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſſes) by experience, for I have found them in my ſelf, and to my coſt do know, that a prejudicated underſtanding does deceive the Will, which is blind, and miſled by every thing which it judges good. But oh God, of all poyſons which does moſt eaſily invenome us, there is none more dangerous nor worſe to be avoided, then the treachery of men; for, as if they were our ſworn mortal enemies, they will attempt any thing in the world to venome our ſouls with their poyſon: If we have high ſpirits, they will fall down upon their knees, even upon the bare ground, they will honour, reverence, and adore us, they are our very ſlaves, they will not live but to obey us, and will not change their ſervitude for an Empire: If they meet with a more inferiour or humble ſoul, what ſervices will they not offer? Into how many ſhapes will they transform themſelves? What will they not invent to pleaſe her? How many Balls and Treatments will they give? [Page] how will they ſpruce up themſelves in variety of habits? And how careful will they be to render themſelves pleaſing in the eyes of thoſe whom they have any deſigns upon? And why all this art, care and paines to pleaſe, but only to win upon thoſe whom they will afterwards deceive, or rather kill with grief and vexation at their perfidies and treaſons? I am ſure, the ſtory which you deſire to hear, will make this moſt apparent unto you, which I am the more willing to relate, becauſe I may make others more prudent and wary by my example, and by the knowledg of all ſubtilties and treaſons of men. Be pleaſed to know therefore, Madam, and all you Fair and Diſcreet Shepherdeſſes, that the ancient City of Lyons was the place of my birth, where my Anceſtors ever held themſelves of the prime Rank: the name of my Father is Arcingentorix, and my Mothers Alcinea; ſhe left me when I was in my Nurſes arms; but my Father with abundance of care did educate me in all the accompliſhments fit for a woman of my quality, as dancing, ſinging, ſeveral Inſtruments, and ſuch Ornaments; by which he did ſo imbelliſh my youth, that many of the beſt Rank did Court me in the way of marriage: but my Father, who deſired to marry me very advantageouſly, and ſaw me yet very young, he waved all motions that were made, to ſee if any better match would offer it ſelf unto me: I muſt confeſs, that ſomtimes I was angry at it; and at that time blamed the Prudence of my Father, which I now commend; now I ſay, ſince I know how miſerable that woman is who is a ſubject unto the ſervitude of Tyrants; which are called indeed Husbands by our Fathers, who are in effect the executioners of mens Tyranny.

The firſt that caſt his eyes upon me, or at leaſt, whom I took any notice of, was one called Theombres, who ſince married Florice. I was then of an age ſo innocent, as I did believe my ſelf in no fault if I did believe him. But the clowniſh behaviour of that man (be it ſpoke without offence unto Florice) together with my young years, which had not made me capable, but inſenſible of ſuch addreſſes, and the ſhort time he ſtayed there, did defend me from any wicked deſigns he could have upon me; for whether he had already ſerved this Fair Florice, whom he ſince married, or that then he began to love her preſe [...]tly after, I cannot tell; but ſo it was, that his addreſſe ſerved to no other purpoſe, but to teach me (if I had made uſe of it) that all men are deceivers; and that the moſt conſtant amongſt them, is like unto a Camelion, which changes colour, according to the objects it looks upon.

Almoſt at the ſame time Periander, a young and lovely Cavalier, and owner of many excellent qualities, free from the vices of cuſtom, which are in all men, he would make me believe that he was in Love with me. And becauſe his Fathers houſe was not far diſtant from the place where I dwelt, he had all the convenient opportunities of ſhewing his good will, that he could deſire. Indeed I was very young, and knew not at all what it was to Love; yet his conſtant addreſſes, the time he ſpent, and the flattery of domeſtiques, made me believe he wiſht me well; my capacity was able to reach no farther: and ſee how much children are obliged unto their Parents; and how thankful they ought to be unto Heaven, when they have ſuch as are Wiſe and Prudent. If Arci [...]gentorix had been too haſty in marrying me, as many Fathers are who deſire nothing more then to be rid of their daughters, he had certainly beſtowed me upon Periander; whom now I ſee rather then I would have married, I would with my life have pulled my heart out of my breſt.

But my Father out of a Prudent deſign which he had, was the cauſe why this marriage was delayed: many thought it a match very ſutable and advantagious for me, as well in reſpect of age, as of the nobleneſs and valour of Periander, but eſpecial of his eſtate, which is the main thing moſt Fathers conſider. This buſineſs being ſpun out to the length, it hapned preſently after that one Hylas, a Cavalier, or a Paſtor of the Iſle of Carmagues in the Province of the Roma [...]s, came accidentally unto Lyons.

There is none in the company (ſaid Aſtrea and interrupted) who does not know him very well. Dorinde then ſmiled; ſince you know him ſo very well, replied ſhe, I ſhall nor need to relate his tricks which he has put upon me. We do know, ſaid Diana, of his Love unto you: how he put his picture in a glaſs, and preſented it unto you: and briefly of all his behaviour with you and with Periander until his departure from Lyons. I believe (ſaid Dorinde) that he has been forward enough [Page] in blazing his Heroick Acts, but I make a queſtion whether he was true in his relation. Do not doubt it Coſen (ſaid Florice) for I heard all he ſaid, and he has not the gift of lying, as he has of inconſtancy. Leſt then I ſhould be tedious, (continued Dorinde) I will wave all diſcourſe concerning him, only will obſerve, that Hylas is the ſecond perſon that deceived me; for Periander who was the ſecond who loved me, he had not yet compleated his treaſon. But I muſt needs confeſs, that of all thoſe who ever deceived me, I complain leaſt of Hylas, for he proteſted ſeriouſly unto me, that he would Love me moſt faithfully as long as his humour continued; but if that were paſt, neither Heaven nor Earth had bonds ſtrong enough to hold him: ſo as this free and ingenious confeſſion, keeps me from blaming him; and when I think upon his change, I do only accuſe the general fault of men, amongſt which I reckon Hylas the leaſt deceiver of all. But ſince you know all the paſſages betwixt him, Periander, Florice, and my ſelf, I will return to the diſcourſe where I left. I muſt tell you, that Theombres carried Florice out of the Town, and how Cryſeide that Fair ſtranger eſcaped out of King Gondebauts priſon, aſſuring my ſelf Madam, that he could tell you no farther; ſince then he left the banks of Arar to follow the Fair trans-Alpine, Cryſeide, as many ſay.

Be pleaſed to know then, that Periander ſeeing himſelf alone with me, having loſt the Rival whom he always much feared, he did ſo devote himſelf wholly unto me, at leaſt in ſhew, that his Love was unknown only unto ſuch as would not know it. As ſoon as ever I waked every morning, I was ſure of a ſervant from him to bid me good morrow, and to bring either ſome flowers, or ſome rare fruits of the ſeaſon: I no ſooner ſet my foot out of doors towards the Temple, but I found him ready to tender his ſervices unto me: after dinner, no garden or publique rendevous of gallantry was about the Town, but he carryed me thither: after ſupper, bals never failed either at my houſe, or ſome of my friends, by his procurement: that night was very bluſtering and ſtormy, if I had not muſick at my window, ſomtimes voices, ſomtimes Inſtruments, ſomtimes one ſort, another time another: all his Domeſtiques wore no other Livery but mine; himſelf never wore any favour but what he begg'd from me. To be brief Madam, all this was not done in a corner, but (as I may ſay) upon the houſe top: he called and profeſſed himſelf my ſervant publiquely. I muſt confeſs that he did ſo flatter my young unexperienced youth, as I did comply with him: and the rather, becauſe my Father conſidering the merit of this young Cavalier, and the affection which he expreſſed unto me, was minded, contrary to his deſign, to marry me unto him.

About the ſame time, there was two Cavaliers who did both caſt their eyes upon me; one was a ſtranger and called Bellimartes, the other was a neighbour about the banks of Arar, and his name was Merindor: the firſt of theſe came with King Gondebaut from beyond the Alps, and was a Goth; to ſhew, that be a man born in any Region whereſoever, yet he cannot be exempt from the fault of his ſex, I mean from being giddy, unconſtant, and a deceiver. This Bellimartes was he who kept Arimant priſoner, the ſervant, and ſince the Husband of the unfortunate, and happy Cryſeide, for ſo I praiſe the unfortunate and fortunate events, which ſhe reſented during the time of their Loves: and were not the ſtory too long, I would relate it, for I am confident you would be of the ſame judgment. You need not take ſo much pains (ſaid Aſtrea) for we know it already, partly from Hylas, and partly from the Fair Florice. 'Tis very well, ſaid Dorinde, for thereby you will better underſtand the ſequel of my relation.

This Bellimartes then, after he had renounced all his pretenſions unto Arimant, as Florice I believe has told you, he addreſſed himſelf particularly unto the King, and put him in memory of all his long ſervices which he had done, the dangers he had paſſed, the wounds he had received, and the blood he had loſt, alſo ſhewed many great ſcars which he had in ſeveral places: then he beſeeched him to conſider, that for all theſe he had got nothing, but the bare honour of ſpending in his ſervice both his dayes and eſtate: that true it was, he held this honour at a high price, and would not exchange it for any recompence he could give: But though this was honourable for Bellimartes; yet it was not ſutable with the grandeur and Majeſty of a great King; that it ſhould be ſaid he had ſo long and ſo faithfully ſerved, and ſerved [Page] a Maſter and received no other gratification, but the empty ſound of being called his ſervant; this would argue that I did not ſerve a good Maſter. Unto theſe conſiderations, he added many others, which ſo moved the heart of that generous King, as after he had layed the fault upon himſelf in never asking any recompence, to ſhew ſome effects of his good will, he beſtowed upon him the Regiment of ſtranger Souldiers, which for the guard of the Town, he entertained in Lyons: an office truly ſo honourable and ſo beneficial, as it was a gratification beyond all his hopes, and by which he did thrive ſo well, that in a ſhort time he might without preſumption aſpire unto the beſt matches in all the Country.

All theſe things fell out whilſt I was aſſiduouſly courted and ſerved by Periander. And becauſe Bellimartes had a mind to ſettle himſelf in that Province where he had ſuch a beneficial office, he intended to match himſelf ſo, that he might rather get friends then money for the portion; upon this ground he caſt his eye upon me, and at ſuch a time that I was ſo much againſt him, as I could never ſince endure the memory of him. At the ſame time alſo Merindor being newly returned from travel, he did unluckily ſee me at the marriage of Parthenopea, and from that time began alſo to court me: ſo as Periander found himſelf more company then he deſired. 'Tis true Merindor did carry the matter much better, and with more diſcretion then Bellimartes, who preſuming upon the Kings favour, and the authority which he had in the Town, did at the very firſt accoſt me publiquely, as thinking, that though Periander was more in favour with me, yet the advantages of his fortune would prevail with Arcingentorix, to make choiſe of him before Periander.

This addreſs did inflame the affection of Periander more then ever, and he expreſſed more Love unto me then before; he was ſo netled to think that another ſhould take from him that prey which he had been ſo long in chaſe after, that he thought time to beſtow himſelf. So that he reſolved, with my conſent, to make the motion of marriage unto my Father. I muſt confeſs that I did conſent unto it, becauſe I did not like Bellimartes; his age and his rough behaviour reſembling a man in armor, did make me almoſt afraid of him. As for Merindor, I was not yet acquainted with him, for he carried the matter with ſo much cautious diſcretion, as it was hard to know whether he was in earneſt or in jeſt. Periander then, to loſe no time, did motion the marriage unto Arcingentorix; and at the firſt overture, ſubmitted himſelf wholly unto him, and deſired him to write what conditions he pleaſed; my Father firſt thanked him for his good will; and told him, that truly he had yet no thoughts of marrying me, ſince my age required no great haſte: but yet to make it appear how much he eſteemed of his alliance, he would promiſe him within a month to let him know his full reſolution. All theſe things could not be tranſacted ſo ſecretly, but Bellimartes and Merindor were advertiſed, and therefore they both reſolved to croſs this treaty as much poſſibly they could; but believing that Arcingentorix would not marry me againſt my will, they thought the beſt way was to gain me, and therefore they declared themſelves more openly then before.

I remember that Merindor in this reſolution meeting me one morning in the Temple, whither Periander conducted me, and went out; he kneeled down cloſe by me, and ſaid; Did you come hither, Fair Dorinde, to pray unto the Gods, or to thank them? I did not know how to anſwer him, becauſe I knew not what he meant; and therefore after I had looked upon him without giving any anſwer, I returned to my prayers again. What means this ſilence (ſaid he again) is it a teſtimony of ſcorn? or is it becauſe you would be importuned? Neither, ſaid I unto him, for I do much eſteem Merindor, but it is becauſe I do not underſtand you: for what do you mean by prayers and thanks? I ask you (ſaid he) whether you came to pray the Gods that you may marry Periander, or give them thanks, becauſe they have granted that requeſt before? Neither the one nor the other, (anſwered I, and ſmiled) you are a diſſembler, ſaid he, to ſay ſo: you are incredulous, anſwered I, if you do not believe me. Why? ſaid he, can you deny a thing which is known unto all? Why? anſwered I, and turned my head the other way, why doe you ask me if you know, and if you will not believe me? I do know that which all knows, ſaid he, but I do ask you that which you only can tell me: tell me therefore upon what conſideration do you take this Husband? As a daughter ſhould take him (anſwered I) [Page] who is given her by her Father. I wiſh to God (ſaid he and ſighed) that you took him only out of obedience and not will: my will, anſwered I, ſhall be alwayes the will of Arcingentorix: but pray tell me Merintor, what intereſt have you in all this that ſhould make you ſigh for it? Well may I ſigh, (ſaid he) for that which I ſhall never ceaſe weeping; upon this I ſaw his eys began to flow with tears: and becauſe he would not as I think, let me know any more at that time, he went away and ſpoke not a word, leaving me fully aſſured that he did Love me, and that this marriage pierced him to the very heart: but all this had no operation upon me, becauſe I was already wholly dedicated unto Periander, and thought that his merits and affection did oblige me unto it.

The little account that I made of Merindors diſpleaſure, when he went away, went ſo neer his heart, that being almoſt out of all hopes of getting my Love, as long as Periander lived, he was in two or three minds to fight him, and ſee, upon which of the two, the lot would fall. As he was deeply in this thought, a friend of his did meet him, in whom he had great confidence. Euphroſias (for that was the name of his dear and wiſe friend) ſeeing Merindor walk with his hat pulled over his eyes, looked upon the ground, and his cloke lapped diſorderly about him, walking in the ſtreets, and never looking upon any; he knew that ſomthing troubled his mind: and becauſe he knew that youth and courage are often apt unto too violent reſolutions, which they may repent of when it is too late, he went unto him, and ſaluted him: and when he ſaw that he did not anſwer what Merindor (ſaid he and took him by the arm) will you not ſpeak unto your friends? Merindor hearing this voice, and feeling himſelf held by the arm, ſtopped ſhort, and looked upon Euphroſias as if he were newly revived out of an extaſie: and after he had ſtood a while mute; Good Euphroſias (ſaid he) pardon this fault which proceeds from a very bad humour which has ſeiſed upon me. I will (anſwered his friend) upon condition you will tell me the cauſe. Though perhaps you would not know it, anſwered Merindor, yet I beſeech you hear it, for I have need of your counſel in a buſineſs which concerns me as neer as my life: but let us go aſide leſt any ſhould hear us diſcourſe. Upon this making choiſe of a private place, he began to tell him the original of his Love, the progreſs, and the preſent condition wherein he was: afterwards he acquainted him with the Love of Bellimartes and Periander: but when he came to the diſcourſe he had with me in the Temple, and my anſwers in favour of Periander, he entred into ſuch a paſſion, that the Prudent Euphroſias did ſee, that the affection which he had unto me, was too great to be diverted either by reaſons or entreaties: and therefore to avoid the two evils which he foreſaw, he thought it moſt neceſſary to draw him only from the moſt dangerous, which was his hatred unto Periander, and as for the cure of his affection, there was no way but to refer it unto time: therefore in lieu of any ſharp reprehenſions, or any four looks, he ſmiled upon him, and anſwered thus; Good Merindor (ſaid he) tell me upon your faith, if this be all the cauſe of your being thus diſcompoſed? How? (ſaid Merindor) is not this enough, ſince my affection is ſuch unto Dorinde, that it is a thing moſt impoſſible for me to help it? And do I not ſee before my face, the man that is the great obſtructor of my happineſs? Is there no way, anſwered his friend, to find a remedy? None, anſwered Merindor, that I know, but to take away the life of him, that takes away from me that happineſs without which I cannot live. Oh Merindor! cried out Euphroſias, you take things at the worſt. Tell me, I beſeech you; do you think Dorinde Loves Periander? Think it? ſaid Merindor, nay I were the moſt incredulous fool that lives if I were not certain of it. Then (replied his Wiſe friend) you muſt not go the worſt way to compaſſe what you deſire: for you can never hope to get the good will of Dorinde by murdering that perſon whom ſhe Loves beſt; your paſſion does but flatter and deceive you, for by that courſe you will make her hate you even to the very death. Certainly, ſaid Merindor, there is no remedy, if this be not good: Certainly, ſaid Euphroſias, this is neither good, nor a remedy; but I beſeech you tell me, why you think it ſo neceſſary for Periander to die? Becauſe (ſaid he) the Love that Dorinde bears unto him, is the cauſe why ſhe does not Love me: If that be it, replied Euphroſias, make the ſame reaſon as well obſtruct him, as he obſtructs you; I mean, that ſhe ſhall not Love Periander becauſe ſhe Loves Merindor. [Page] Yes, yes, ſaid Merindor, you are very kind; but here is the difficulty, how ſhould I make her love me? Do as Periander does, anſwered Euphroſias, nay, and better; why ſhould you think heaven will not be as favourable to you, as any other Cavalier of your age? But Euphroſias (ſaid he) ſhe does love Periander. So much the better, anſwered Euphroſias, it is a ſigne ſhe is not inſenſible, nor invulnerable by the blows of Love: Pray why ſhould you think your ſervices ſhould not work as happy effects as his? You ſee Merindor that you do love Dorinde in ſuch a height, that you cannot retire; reſolve with your ſelf to love her ſtill in ſuch extremity, that it ſhall invite her unto Love again, or rather to conſtrain her unto it. Oh my dear friend, ſaid Merindor, and ſighed; how difficult is it to bring this enterprize to paſs! Yet let me tell you, notwithſtanding all I told you before concerning Periander, that I do verily believe ſhe does not love him; but all ſhe does, is only in obedience unto her Father. So much the better ſtill (ſaid Euphroſias) for if ſhe does not love him, you will far ſooner win her, then if ſhe were engaged unto any. Oh but if ſhe do love Periander, (ſaid Merindor) what hopes can I have? Why ſhould not you hope as well as another, replied Euphroſias? Will not moſt merit ſooneſt obtain? Or ſay that Argument have no validity in it, you muſt know Merindor, that the love of women is one of thoſe things that muſt not be ſought after by the Rules of Reaſon, and of whom one muſt never deſpair; for be moſt aſſured, that there is a certain hour in the day in the which they can deny nothing; And therefore the anſwer of the Oracle was good, when a Lover asked what he ſhould do to overcome the cruelty of his Miſtris; The Anſwer was, ‘Love, be Bold, and Continue.’

With ſuch diſcourſe as this Euphroſias diverted his friend from his deſigne againſt Periander, and filled him ſo full of new hopes, that he began to court Dorinde with ſuch freſh aſſaults, as Periander and Bellimartes could not chuſe but be jealous; for until then he did not openly declare himſelf, but thought himſelf out of hopes, yet now by reaſon of the time of my Father's anſwer unto Periander, he was the only mote in his eye; and certainly not without reaſon, for I ſeeing my father very inclinable to give me unto him, I thought my ſelf already ſo certain to be his wife, that I devoted my ſelf wholly unto him.

Whilſt theſe three were thus ſtriving who ſhould win me, the term which my Father ſet for Periander's anſwer drew on; and he who expected with extream impatience the day whereon he ſhould be pronounced happy, that very evening he failed not to go unto my Father with three of his neereſt kinred; As ſoon as he came into his preſence, he fell down upon his knees, and beſeeched him with as much earneſtneſs as if his life was at ſtake, that he would be pleaſed to give him that anſwer which he promiſed. But Sir, ſaid he, if it be not ſutable to my deſires, make but a ſigne, and it ſhall ſuffice to be rid of me; for I am moſt perfectly reſolved to throw my ſelf, and all my deſires and deſigns, into the bottom of Arar. He accompanied theſe words with ſuch actions of his hands, head, and every part of his body, that every one believed they came from his heart: And my Father, as the reſt, being deceived by this opinion, did hold out his hand to take him up from his knees; Son, ſaid he unto him, for ſo I will hereafter call you, riſe up, and believe, that if I have any thing which is dearer then Dorinde, I will give it unto you and your merit; I do here give her unto you, and pray unto the heavens to make you a moſt happy pair. Periander raviſhed with joy, did kiſs the hand of Arcingentorix an hundred times, with ſo many demonſtrations of Love, as none doubted but that his Love was extream.

At the ſame time my Father called for me, and taking my hand, carried me in to Periander. Daughter (ſaid he) I would have you love this Cavalier, as him that muſt be your husband, and unto whom I now do give you, and within theſe eight days, I will prepare for your marriage. Upon this Periander advanced, and came to ſalute me; and I Sir, ſaid he, do take you for my Lord and Father, and her for my Wife and Miſtris.

[Page] Judge, I beſeech you Madam, and you wiſe and fair Shepherdeſſes, whether ſuch promiſes as theſe ſo ſolemnly made, would not make any one believe them indiſſolvable? But with ſhame to all humane kind, you ſhall hear the perfidie of all men in general included in this one particular man. Theſe eight days which Arcingentorix prefixed for a concluſion of the marriage, were variouſly imployed: For my Father's whole care was in providing all things neceſſary for this marriage: All the Neighborhood to ſhew how much they loved and honoured our Family, deſigned ſeveral diverſions of Tilting, Masks, Dancings, and ſuch like.

Bellimartes on the contrary was perpetually whiſpering into the Kings ear, and contriving how to break off this marriage. But Merindor, what in ſighs and tears, what in careſſing me and my Father, his time was ſo ſpent, that he could hardly ſleep: He was continually telling ſeveral tales, and foretelling me of Periander's inconſtancy, diſſimulation, and perfidie, which ſince I have found but too true, and unto which I would not then hearken, thinking it an offence againſt the love which he bore unto me, and which I had unto that Deceiver. As for Periander, his whole care was in careſſing me, and treating me with all the diverſions about the Town, and thought upon nothing elſe, at leaſt in ſhew. For my part, I muſt confeſs I thought my ſelf ſo obliged to him, that my ſtudy was wholly how to pleaſe him. Now, ſage Druide, ſee how heaven does laugh at all our Deſigns, and can change them.

During this while, whether it was with too much dancing, or by eating too much fruit, or rather, as I think, by coming into ſome infectious place; or to ſay better, whether it was the will of heaven by this ſmall ſickneſs to prevent a greater miſery, I cannot tell; but upon the ſixth day, I was taken with an extream pain in my head, and a Fever ſo violent, as put me all into a flame, and continued ſeveral days, and ſtill with ſuch a drowſineſs upon me, as I could hardly lift up my eyes: and after it had thus tormented me, one morning when the Phiſicians came to ſee me, they found me full of red ſpots, which by little and little growing bigger, did ſo become bliſters, that I was a horrid ſight to be ſeen: It was a diſeaſe which children are commonly ſubject unto; and many other children and young people of my age in the ſame Town were at the ſame time infected as I was.

This malady thus falling out, it prevented all deſigns and preparations; for I was ſo exceedingly tormented, that many thought I would die: Periander at the firſt came twice or thrice to ſee me, and ſeemed to be extreamly diſpleaſed that our marriage ſhould be thus retarded: But as ſoon as the Smal pox appeared, he would never after ſo much as ſet his foot into the houſe where I was; he ſent indeed ſomtimes to ſee how I did, but he was ſo afraid of me, and catching the diſeaſe, that he would not ſo much as come neer the door.

As long as pain was upon me, I muſt confeſs, I did not reſent his behaviour, though every one elſe did think it very ſtrange; but I was ſo full of pain, as I never asked what became of him; yet afterwards, when the violence was a little paſt, I did enquire what became of Periander; and perceiving the little memory he had of me, I began to think that Merindor ſpoke truth when he foretold me of Periander's inconſtancy; and yet I could not chuſe but ſeek out for ſome reaſons to excuſe him: ſomtimes I did imagine, that perhaps ſome buſineſs had carryed him out of Lyons, and that it grieved him as much as it did me that he could not hear how I did; otherwhiles I had an opinion, that my Father had changed his mind, and had forbidden him to ſee me: ſomtimes I thought he was ſick, and that none in my houſe would acquaint me: Briefly, I turned every ſtone, and tryed all my wits, and all how to deceive my ſelf: But my malady continuing long, and this perfidious man alſo continuing in his neglect, I was but too well aſſured that his mind was turned.

What do you think Madam, and you fair Shepherdeſs, the reſentment of this offence might move me unto? At the firſt, I wept and was ſilent, and hid my tears from the ſight of every one; But when I heard it the common talk, and that every one condemned his falſeneſs, it was impoſſible for me to hide my reſentments any longer.

On the contrary, Merindor, as if my ſickneſs had augmented his affection, he was continually at my chamber door, asking how I did, and would gladly have ſeen [Page] me, if they would have permitted him. And as ſoon as ever he heard all danger was paſt, he brought muſique of ſeveral ſorts unto my door, to divert me: and becauſe he knew of Perianders change, I remember, he cauſed a ſong to be ſung at my chamber door, which intimated the inconſtancy of a Lover. And becauſe he thought that perhaps I did not underſtand the words at that diſtance, he ſent the ſong in a paper unto me, by a woman that came into my chamber: yet I was ſo attentive that I heard and remembred every word. I ſeemed not to take any notice of all this, though I had a great reſentment of it: but when I was alone, the thoughts of Perianders neglect and oblivion, made me even hate his humour: and more, when being out of my bed, and yet durſt not go out of my chamber, becauſe my face was much changed, as is common in that diſeaſe; he did not ſo much as ſend to ſee how I did: now I thought it time to forget him, as well as he did me; and I thank Heaven for it, I did ſo exclude him from my thoughts, that I made him a very ſtranger unto them: It would be but loſs of time to tell you what reproaches I laid in his diſh; how I reſolved my ſelf againſt him; how ſadly I firſt reſented this ſeparation; for the truth is, I had ſuch confidence in his promiſed affection, that I thought it impoſſible to alter: but now, finding my ſelf deceived, and my diſeaſe to be the cauſe of his apoſtacy, I could not complain againſt him enough, and indeed againſt my ſelf for believing him: now did I admire his inconſtancy, and for his ſake condemn the fickleneſs and perfidy of all men whatſoever.

Yet notwithſtanding I had ſworn a hundred times never to care for him again, and that though he ſhould return, yet never to look upon him; yet for all this, I could not chuſe but ask him by one that I imployed, what was the cauſe of this ſo ſudden ſeparation? And ſhe who asked him the queſtion, was a woman that waited upon me, and in whom I had great confidence during all the time of his addreſſes unto me. Periander (ſaid ſhe unto him) how comes it to paſſe that you never ſee Dorinde, nor ask what becomes of her? How? Dorinde? (anſwered he) is ſhe alive ſtill? Alive (ſaid the woman) why? ſhe is recovered, and ready to come out of her chamber. Ah Sweet-heart, replied Periander, you are much miſtaken, or elſe does mock me; certainly ſhe is dead: but has left in her room [...], a certain ugly woman, whom for the Love of her they call Dorinde: but the Fair Dorinde whom I Loved is certainly dead, and I am ſo ſorry for it, as I will not go and ſee this Dorinde, leſt the memory of the other ſhould give an occaſion of tears. Fie, fie, Periander, (replied the woman much amazed at his anſwer) is it not enough to ſeperate your ſelf from her, but you muſt mock at her miſery? Dorinde, as I told you before, replied he preſently, is not in the world: What? would you have me go and Love her in her grave? And as for her that is in her room; alas Sweet-heart, ſhe is ſo ugly, that I will leave her to whom that will. As ſoon as he had ſaid ſo, he went away and ſtayed not for any anſwer.

Judge Madam, whether this was to be endured; and yet I muſt ſwallow this bitter pill, and ſeem, as if I did not taſt it. But was it not the height of cruelty, to ſtrike one that was ſo deeply wounded before? For firſt my ſickneſs had ſpoiled my face, which was wound enough, without the addition of another from a perſon whom I leaſt expected it.

A little while after, my Father came to ſee me; and not without tears in his eyes to find me ſo much changed: which I perceiving, Father, ſaid I unto him, never afflict your ſelf for the loſs of that which could not be long kept: but rather, I beſeech you to rejoyce with me, ſince by the loſs of a trifle I am reſcued from an ill fortune. Upon this I told him all that Periander had done and ſaid, then falling down upon my knees, I beſeeched him, that he would not command me to have any more converſe with this perfidious man: Dorinde (ſaid he and took me up) I promiſe you I will not; and I command you, not ſo much as to name him unto me, who thinks him the moſt unworthy Cavalier that lives.

Upon this, my Father went away, and left me extreamly well ſatisfied with his promiſe. And from hence forward I began to think more of Merindor, then formerly I had, as thinking that his behaviour towards me did oblige me to prefer him before any other; for though Bellimartes did ſend often to viſit me, and was very careful in ſending all ſuch remedies as were proper for that diſeaſe; yet his humour and diſpoſition [Page] was contrary unto mine, ſo as I could not for my heart Love him.

In the mean time, I recovered very faſt; not but that my face was ſo blaſted, as I was hardly knowable; and when I looked in a glaſs, I admired to ſee my ſelf: and therefore I ſtill kept the door of my chamber ſhut very cloſe, to the end none ſhould enter but ſuch as waited upon me; hoping ſtill that time might hap [...]y make ſome amendment. But Merindor, whoſe affection to me ſeemed to be greater then before, and who never ſtirred out of my anti-chamber with ſeveral ſorts of muſick, as I told you before: one day when I was alone with that woman whom I ſent unto Periander, and when the door was but ill ſhut, he entred in upon ſuch a ſudden, that he was upon his knees before me ere I could ſee him. As fortune was, I had a mask upon my face: but I could no way hide my eyes but with my hands, and they were ſo blaſted, that I was aſhamed to ſhew them, for I had not time to put on my gloves. You may imagine me not a little ſurpriſed when I ſaw him; I did my ende [...]vour to get into my Cloſet, but he kneeled ſo before me, and held my knees, that I was not able to riſe from my ſeat: Oh Merindor (ſaid I unto him) you are exceeding troubleſome unto me, and would do me a great pleaſure, if you would think upon me no more then Periander doth. Alas, alas, anſwered he, do you think to limit the effects of my affection unto the ſhallow amity of him whom you named? Ah Madam, pardon me I beſeech you, if I think his offence not ſo great unto me, as it is unto you Unto me? anſwered I; I aſſure you Merindor, if Perianders offences trouble you no more then me, you will never complain againſt him: for as for my part, I am ſo far from any memory of his name, that whatſoever he does cannot offend me But let us talk of ſomthing elſe I beſeech you, and tell me, what makes you ſo deſirous to ſee me in this condition wherein I am; for me thinks you ſhould rather ſhun all occaſions of it, then deſire it: upon this queſtion I cauſed him to riſe, and a chair to be ſet for him, becauſe I would not ſuffer him to kneel. Madam, anſwered he, the affection of him who loves, will never let him reſt till he have ſatisfied his curioſity, by ſeeing her whom he loves and adores; and ſuch is mine to you: do not imagine, I beſeech you that I do love you with any reſerved thoughts to leave off, though you ſhould not be ſo Fair as you was before; ſuch a love deſerves not the name: and I do eſteem rather a treaſon, and not to be entertained into any heart that loves well: my affection ſets no other term but eternity, nor no other condition, but to Love Dorinde, as ſhe is, and as ſhe ſhall be; for the future, as well as for the preſent. Now ſee, Wiſe and Fair Druide, how apt one is to judg others by themſelves; a very dog that is burned will fear the fire: yet I, leſſe wiſe then thoſe animals, after I had been deluded by the ſupple language of Periander, could not chuſe but give credit▪ unto the gilded flatteries of Merindor; thinking, that a man well born, and a Cavalier, ought above other men to be juſt, and to have his heart in his tongue: but I confeſs, that I did partly believe that which I ſhould not have believed at all; I began to fancy that I might live happily with him: but to tell you truly, I did it much out of ſpite againſt Periander, thinking it a full revenge, if I gave my ſelf unto another, but never thinking that it was a revenge againſt my ſelf: but it was imprudence, which commonly is a conſequent of little experience, did give me this ſimple counſel, which ſince hath coſt me many a tear, and much torment.

The anſwer that I gave him was this; Do you think Merindor that any one who has a deſign to make themſelves loved, will ſay leſs then you? I think (ſaid he) that thoſe who have the ſame deſires which I have, may make uſe of the ſame words. But (ſaid I) if all thoſe who have the ſame deſires, do ſpeak as you do, and all deceive thoſe who truſt them, what aſſurance can I have in your words? Periander uſed them a thouſand times, and even deafned me with his candid language, which was only a gloſſe upon intended treachery. If my words (replied Merindor) were not accompanied with ſome more aſſured teſtimonies, I muſt needs confeſſe the treachery of Periander, might make you ſuſpect all I ſay. But, Oh Dorinde, I hope I am not ſo unfortunate, but that you have taken notice of my actions, and how, ſince the very firſt day I ever ſaw you, I have devoted my ſelf to be wholly yours. 'Tis true, anſwered I, and I ſhould be very ungrateful if I did not acknowledg that your proceeding and behaviour does much oblige me; but with all let me tell you, [Page] That I think all men make it their glory to deceive thoſe who put any truſt in them. If ſo, replied Merindor, then I proteſt Madam, that henceforward I will not be a man, the very name ſhall be odious unto me, and I will abominate the title, as much as I do that of Vilain or Traytor. Do you ſpeak this in good earneſt, ſaid I unto him? Madam (anſwered he) Do you ask this queſtion in good earneſt? Is it poſſible you ſhould ſtill doubt of Merindors affection? No, no Dorinde, Do not give your eyes, your ears, your judgement the lie; I am ſure they all tell you that Merindor loves you: had he been prone to change, he might with more reaſon then Periander, who received favours a thouſand for one. Merindor (ſaid I) I do confeſs it, and having obſerved your affection to me ever ſince you firſt ſaw me, and continued during all the time of my ſickneſs, I have often ſaid unto my ſelf, what would he have done if he had found as much good will from me, as I have ſhewed unto that Deceiver Periander? But this is not enough to aſſure me that you will not change; for all men, by the example of one hath taught me, that it is Beauty which they love, and not the perſon of her who has it; ſo as when by any accident this Beauty is gone, their love is immediately gone with it. Oh Dorinde (ſaid he) you are an unjuſt Judge, to pronounce ſentence againſt all men in general, for the offence of one particular man: Do you not ſee that into what condition ſoever your ſickneſs hath brought you, yet ſtill I love, nay even adore you? Perhaps (ſaid I) you may love me yet, becauſe you have not ſeen my face, and does not think it ſo deformed as it is by my ſickneſs. But to cure you of your diſeaſe, I will let you ſee it, upon condition you will lament my loſs, and afterwards leave me at reſt to endure my malady alone: Upon this I pulled off my mask, and ſhewed him my face, which had no reſemblance of what it was before, more then the name of a Face: This I did with deſign, that he ſeeing me, might not love me any longer, and ſo I ſhould be neither troubled nor deceived: then if he did continue loving me, I might be aſſured that my uglineſs would never make him change, it being impoſſible I ſhould be worſe then I was. I obſerved that as ſoon as he ſaw me, he ſtood mute, and was much aſtoniſhed, and that tears preſently after trickled from his eyes, ſo as he was not able to ſpeak; but a little after he began thus: I muſt confeſs, Madam, that your diſeaſe uſed you more unkindly then any, unleſs they ſaw you, can imagine; but this alteration cannot change my affection to you, if you think it does, Madam, you do wrong me: Periander's action is unpardonable; but be aſſured, I beſeech you, that only death, and not any accident of Fortune whatſoever, is able to quench thoſe flames which your Vertues and your Merits have kindled in the heart of Merindor. I do not deny but [...]hat it was your-Beauty which firſt invited me unto you, which gave me a will to ſerve you; but ſince I have had the honour and happineſs to be better acquainted with you, oh Dorinde, I find more laſting invitations and allurements unto Love, then any Beauty can be: Your Soul, you Soul Dorinde, your noble and ſweet ſoul is far fairer then ever was your face; and therefore, as your face firſt invited me, your ſoul will eternally keep me to your ſervice.

I ſhould be too long, Madam, ſhould I relate all the diſcourſe which we had upon this Subject; and it is fit I bury them in ſilence, as he did preſently after in oblivion; But ſo it was, I thought that I had found a man that was not a Deceiver, and in that belief I contracted amity with him. The way of your behaviour to me (ſaid I unto him) ever ſince you firſt ſaw me, and the aſſurance you give me that my face does not affright you, nor leſſen your affection to me, does oblige me to eſteem and love you more then I thought I could any, after ſuch an unworthy falſhood as that of Periander; and if you do continue, as hitherto you have, aſſure your ſelf Merindor, that I will love and eſteem you as your merits do oblige me. Oh Dorinde, replied he, I am not contented with this promiſe, ſince your love is to be proportioned according to my merits, and therefore I am afraid your love will be but a little. No, no, ſaid I, it may be infinite, and yet but hold proportion with your merits; but to content you, I do promiſe, that if you do not Perianderize, I will love you as much as you can deſire.

Merindor having this aſſurance, he fell upon his knees, took my hand by force, and though it was covered with marks of my diſeaſe, yet he kiſſed it ſeveral times with ſuch abundance of thanks, as this action gave me more full aſſurance of his love, [Page] then my words could him of my good will, and I believe, that if my Father had not come, he would never have ceaſed his Demonſtrations of Affection and Thanks.

My Father at his entrance ſmiled, becauſe he either ſaw him kneeling before me, or elſe ſome of the Domeſtiques told him. This invited me to tell him all the paſſages betwixt us, and to ſpeak very advantagiouſly in behalf of Merindor: My diſcourſe and my free expreſſions were ſo agreeable unto my Father, that taking me aſide, he asked me whether I did really love that Cavalier, and whether I thought he loved me; and I anſwering, that conſidering both Perianders behaviour and his, I did both love him, and that he loved me. Since it is ſo (ſaid he unto me) I like him better then I do Periander: Sir, ſaid I unto him, you may diſpoſe of me as you pleaſe, for I have no will but yours. We muſt not be too haſty in any thing (anſwered he) nor muſt we ſlight them, ſince he has behaved himſelf ſo well, let us entertain him with a few handſome delays, and reſolve upon the matter at more leiſure: then turning towards Merindor, he looked upon him with a kind aſpect, thanked him for the care he had of me in my ſickneſs, and commanded me to bid him welcome, and honour him as I was obliged.

Since this day, the door was never ſhut againſt Merindor; as ſoon as I was dreſt, he might enter into my chamber at all times without denial: and he, who let no opportunity ſlip, was in it from morning till night, with ſo much ſhew of affection, that it ſeemed my deformity did augment it. On the other ſide, Bellimartes ſeeing how this Cavalier had admittance, and thinking the ſame might as well be allowed unto him, did ſend to know whether he might come in or no: And my Father, ſince Merindor was permitted, durſt not deny him; ſo as one afternoon he came to ſee me; but being advertiſed of his coming, I put on my Mask and my Gloves, with a proteſtation, not to pull them off as long as he ſtayed in my chamber.

The diſcourſe of Bellimartes ſmelt more of a Stateſ-man then a Lover; and though he ſaw the ſickneſs had much changed me, yet he ſeemed not to care; but within a few days after, he made ſuch addreſſes unto King Gondebaut, that he ſolicited my Father to marry me. Bellimartes being of another Nation, and never beloved amongſt us, my Father deſired no alliance with him, but rather with Merindor, whom he thought to be a man of much merit, and whoſe eſtate and parents were not unknown; therefore he beſeeched the King to pardon him, if he not conſent unto the marriage, becauſe I only was the ſupport and comfort of his age, and to marry me unto a ſtranger, who had no ſetled eſtate in his Dominions, was not any comfort unto him. He told him, that if I did diſ-obey him, he would deſire to puniſh me no more, then to marry me unto that man; for I ſhould be as good as baniſhed from him: Moreover, he ſaid, that I was at ſufficient age to make my own choice, and he would never contradict my Will, ſince it was a buſineſs that made me either happy or miſerable all my life; and therefore he would not by any means force my Will: and for a concluſion, he beſeeched the King to remember the faithful ſervices which he and his Anceſtors had ever done him; and for a recompence of all, that he would do him the favour not to conſtrain me unto this. The King, who loved Bellimartes, and intended to oblige him further by doing this office for him, did anſwer unto all thoſe objections which my Father urged, and to every point did give good reaſons to cover that Soveraign power which he intended to uſe in this buſineſs: And as to that objection, that Bellimartes had no eſtate in his Dominions, and that he was a ſtranger, therefore he ſhould never ſee me again; he anſwered, That he would confer ſuch an eſtate upon him in his Kingdom, as ſhould take away that exception; and that Bellimartes did intimate as much in his addreſſes unto me, whoſe Beauty now was not ſuch as could invite him to marry me for any matter of Love, but reaſon of State, and to get Alliance in a Country where he was a ſtranger: That this reſolution would make him more tractable unto me, more obedient towards him, and more ſerviceable towards all our kinred, then any other he could mention unto him. That as to the choice and free liberty of my Will, which he would leave unto me in this buſineſs, that it was great indiſcretion to do ſo; becauſe youth and wiſdom can never be together; and that being ſo young as I was, he would commit a great fault, in leaving it to my own choice; which I [Page] could never make but with indiſcretion: but on the contrary, that he was obliged by the very name of a Father to find out a Husband for me, ſuch a one as might be advantagious, and not to leave it unto me to chuſe at random and without judgement. That if they ordained Guardians to ſuch as are within age; ſo certainly, marriage which is to laſt for life, muſt be contracted by the approbation and conſent of Wiſe and Prudent perſons, who have the Tuition of any young and unadviſed child. That it was generally obſerved, few marriages which were made for Love, prove proſperous in the end; and almoſt all thoſe that were made by adviſe, the contrary: and that the authority of Wiſe Parents is commonly ſeconded by all ſorts of happineſſe and felicities. And as to the ſervices which he and his Anceſt [...]rs had done him, he did make it appear that he had them in memory, by taking ſo much pains in marrying me unto one whom he eſteemed and loved: that had he not remembred them, he would have marryed him unto ſome other within his Dominions who was as rich, and as well allyed as I was: but in this action, he thought to acquit himſelf of thoſe ſervices which he had received from him and his houſe. To be brief, he deſired the marriage might be, and if it was not, he had an occaſion to take it unkindly: upon this he left my Father ſo aſtoniſhed, that he neither could nor durſt anſwer him a word.

The authority of a Soveraign Prince, has ſuch a ſtroke with it in the mind of loyal ſubjects, that it ſtrikes dead what reſolutions ſoever was to the contrary; eſpecially when it comes with a colour of reaſon: for moſt certain it is, that ſubjects ought naturally to obey their Prince; diſ-obedience is againſt honour, and againſt great Tautates: in all other things, good excuſes may be uſed, and cannot be rejected by perſons of judgment. But in this, my Father had no will to beſtow me upon this ſtranger, and had rather have dyed then to ſee me in his hands: one while, he had a mind to tell him that he had already given me unto Merindor, but he was preſently off that, becauſe when the King ſpoke unto him, he did not tell him ſo then; other whiles, he reſolved to marry us ſecretly, aſſuring himſelf, that when it was done, Gondebaut could not break it: but upon a ſudden he foreſaw ſo many miſeries, that would befal both him and us, that he altered his opinion; for he knew the Kings anger would never cool till he was revenged upon us: ſometimes his thoughts prompted him to admit me amongſt the Veſtals; but when he fancied that, he ſaw me ſo reclus'd and buried before I was dead, he waved that reſolution: beſides, the Kings anger would have been as high againſt him for that, as if he had flatly diſ-obeyed him. Thus not knowing what courſe to take, he continued many dayes ſo unreſolved and uncertain, as it troubled him ſo much, that he moved pity from all that ſaw him.

In the mean time Bellimartes whom the King acquainted with all the difficulties which my Father objected, he took counſel from a prudent and wiſe friend, to gain me with a golden ſhower, as the Poets ſay Danae was by Jupiter; I mean, that though his nature was not over liberal, yet upon this occaſion he ſhould overcome himſelf, and ſend rich preſents unto me and my Father: for it was the cuſtom of old people to be covetous, and it was the nature of young women to be deſirous of new dreſſes, and ſhew themſelves brave amongſt their aſſociates. Probably the King was of this opinion; for we were ſure that Bellimartes was not able of himſelf to beſtow ſuch delicate curioſities as he ſent unto me, nor ſuch great and rich preſents as he ſent unto my Father every day. Oh how true a ſaying it is, that ſtones will ſtrike the Thunderbolt out of the hand of Jupiter, and that gifts does ſteal away the liberty of them that receive them. After Bellimartes had continued this courſe ſome twelve or fifteen dayes, his preſents had more eloquence in them, and more authority then the King. There was not a woman about me, nor a ſervant about my Father, but was ſo gained, that they talked of nothing but of his merit and of his valour: all others were not worthy to look upon him; and although he was formerly very il-favoured, thoſe themſelves that were of that judgment, do now cry him up to the clouds; but that which was the greateſt wonder unto me, was to ſee my Father my degrees to approve of that which he ſo much diſproved before: Daughter (ſaid he unto me) this man is not ſuch a Barbarian as we did conceive him; thoſe that ſpend their judgment upon one they know not, are much to blame: [Page] for who would not have been deceived, in this man? Whoſe birth was amongſt Barbarians; whoſe education was in blood and cruelties, and yet his converſation and humour is quite otherwiſe then at firſt we thought him. For my part, I think, upon ſerious conſideration, that it were not amiſs, to give the King contentment in this alliance with him: it muſt needs be very advantagious unto us, and he may one day advance us above all our Predeceſſors: again, it is not good to reſiſt the will of him whom Heaven has commanded us to obey; the ruine of him who commits the crime is impardonable and infallible: for my part, I did reſiſt him when I thought the man to be not ſo good as he is; but now I know him, I find the King has good reaſon to admit him into his favour, I ſee my error and my ſimplicity in not obeying him, and in not acknowledging that happineſſe which he intends towards us.

Oh Heavens! How little reſolution there is in a childs judgment? And how eaſily are they ſwayed by the reaſons of thoſe who know how to argue them with art, they will ſwallow them like bitter pils which are lapt in hony; I did Love Merindor, and I had no inclination at all unto Bellimartes, and yet my Fathers diſcourſe turned me which way he pleaſed. Truth is, when I was alone, and remembred Merindors affection, and with what conſtancy he continued his addreſſes during all the noyſomneſs of my ſickneſs; I could not chuſe but pity and be exceedingly ſorry for him. As ſoon as this courſe was reſolved upon, my Father commanded me not to ſee him ſo often as I was accuſtomed: I muſt confeſs I lamented the loſs of this Cavalier in whom I found ſo much affection. But Bellimartes, who by his preſents had blinded the eyes of my Father, was the cauſe of my reſolution to obey him who had the power over me. Yet being moved unto compaſſion, I intended to advertiſe Merindor, to the end he might betimes decline any further courtſhip or addreſſes to me, and divert himſelf ſome other way.

The next morning therefore when he came to ſee me, according to his cuſtom, as ſoon as I heard that he was at my chamber-door, I beſeeched my Father, he would be pleaſed to give way that he might enter, that I might acquaint him with our reſolutions, to the end he might be no longer deceived; that his conſtant courtſhip, his humble addreſſes, the hopes which was given him, and his merits and quality deſerved all manner of contentment. My Father did much commend my deſign, and to give us the better opportunity of talk; after Merindor was entered, my Father retired to his own chamber, and left me to ſay what I would. Merindor at firſt ſeeing this new favour, entred into great hopes, thinking that my Father retired purpoſely in favour of him: but when he was gone, he obſerved ſuch a hollow kind of behaviour in me, as quite daſhed his hopes again; eſpecially when cauſing him to ſit down, I ſpoke thus unto him

Merindor, your merits, and your good will unto me, does oblige me to honour and eſteem you as much as any Cavalier in the Country, and would moſt willingly by any good ſervice, render ſome teſtimony of my reſentments; which invites me to put you out of ſome doubts, which perhaps you have entred into ſince you ſee me ſo reſerved towards you. Know therefore Merindor, that as long as my Father approved of our marriage, I behaved my ſelf towards you with all the freedom, that a harmleſſe liberty would permit: but now ſince that hope is quite taken away, I thought it would be a great ſin, and ſuch a one as deſerved the Title [...] Perfidy, if I ſhould deceive you any longer by ſuch petty careſſes, that are apt to delude young perſons who do love: do not think. I beſeech you, but that if it were in my own choiſe, I would rather chuſe Merindor to live with all the dayes of my life, the [...] any other whomſoever; and have the ſame thoughts of Arcingentorix: for were it referred unto him, aſſure your ſelf Merindor, that he would never look upon any but you. I have ever found him ſo diſpoſed to Love and honour you, and has held you in ſuch a high eſteem, as doubtleſſe he would have been extreamly well contented, if it had been ſo deſigned by the deſtinies, that I might have paſſed away my dayes with one of ſo much merit as you are. But Heaven has decreed it otherwiſe, and I am not deſtined to ſo much happineſs; for you muſt know (continued I with tears in my eyes) that Gondebaut does force me to marry Bellimartes, Oh Heavens Dorinde, (ſaid Merindor and clapped his hands together) will Gondebaut marry [Page] you to Bellimartes? Yes, (ſaid I unto him ſadly) and I aſſure you Arcingentorix and I have done all we can to prevent it, but find that there is no way to do it but by death. Since there is that remedy (ſaid he preſently) all hopes are not gone, and without ſaying any more, or hearing me, he went ſo ſuddenly out of my chamber, as made it plain he intended ſome violent courſe. I called him ſeveral times, and then run after him as far as the gates, fearing left in that fury he ſhould do himſelf ſome harm; but all was in vain, for he was gone out of ſight upon a ſudden, as if he had wings. My Father who was not far off, hearing me ſpeak ſo loud, he came to me, and hearing how this young Cavalier was gone, he feared leſt he ſhould make ſome attempt upon Bellimartes, and afterwards the King caſt all the blame upon us: upon this conſideration, he went unto the houſe of Bellimartes; he let him underſtand in as diſcreet a manner as he could, all the paſſage betwixt Merindor and me, that if any ill hapned we might be diſcharged of it. Bellimartes who was a man of courage, and had all the authority and power in his own hands, did anſwer, that the buſineſſe did not trouble him at all, and that if Merindor was extravagant, he knew how to tame him.

In the mean time, Merindor tranſported with extream paſſion, did go unto his chamber, where ſhutting the dore, he began to walk a great pace, ſo much out of himſelf, as he knew not either what he did, or where he was: then after he had walked ſeveral turns, and thinking none could hear, he began to ſpeak with a loud voice in this manner: Muſt Dorinde be enjoyed by another, and Merindor ſit tamely and endure it? Can the authority of a Tyrant prevail above all my ſervices, and moſt unjuſtly take that from me which is my due? Is there no remedy againſt this wrong, and I with hazard of life and limb not make uſe of it? And here making a ſudden ſtop, he began to ſay, muſt this depriver of my happineſs, have it to himſelf at any other rate then the price of my blood and life? No, no, if I live, he muſt dye; that's poſitive: Dorinde was in the right, when ſhe ſaid there was no remedy but death. But (ſaid he, as much enraged as at the firſt) if it be ſo, why do I ſtay any longer? And why do I not put my hand to a work that muſt inevitably be done? Do it then Merindor quickly, unleſſe thou hadſt rather turn the ſword againſt thy ſelf.

Merindor thought he had been alone in his chamber; and that there was none to hear him but wals; but as good luck was, his Wiſe and moſt dear friend Euphroſias, being come a little before to ſeek him, was ſaid down upon the bed in expectation of him, and falling a ſleep, did not wake till Merindor began to talk loud; ſo as ſeeing him in ſuch a fury, he was deſirous to know the cauſt, and let him empty his heart by the words which he uttered: knowing very well, that to ſtop the overflowing of our ſouls at the firſt guſh, will make the deluge bigger; and to oppoſe fury in the firſt, does but inflame it the more. But when he ſaw him ready to go and execute what he had ſpoken, he ſtarted up, and took hold of his arm, deſiring him to hear him ſpeak: Merindor, not knowing whether it was a man or a ſpirit, he was ſtruck with ſuch a fright, that his fury was a little cooled; but recollecting his ſpirits, and knowing him to be his dear friend; Oh my God! ſaid he, Euphroſias, from whence come you? Come, come, ſaid his prudent friend, let us walk a turn together [...] and when you have anſwered me to a few queſtions, I will ſatisfie your curioſity and wonder▪ Then he continued; Is it poſſible Merindor that the friendſhip which is betwixt us, can ſuffer you to run into ſuch extream reſolutions without imparting them unto me, and without making uſe of me? Do you think I do not Love you? Or do you take me for ſuch an uſeleſs thing, that in affairs of this importance I neither will nor can ſerve you? Why? (ſaid Merindor) ſhould you uſe any ſuch language? Becauſe, ſaid he, I heard all you ſaid, and the dangerous reſolution which you were going to execute without imparting it unto me. Do you think I know not how the King intends to marry Dorinde unto Bellimartes? And that her Father conſents unto it? Why man, it is all the Town talk, and I came hither to acquaint you, if you were not acquainted with it before, to the end you might reſolve with your ſelf, not only unto the Kings will, but alſo unto the will of God, againſt which there is no reſiſtance: for Merindor, you muſt know that marriages are made in Heaven, and accompliſhed upon earth. How, how? ſaid Merindor [Page] haſtily, do you ſay that marriages are made in Heaven? There is no doubt on it, anſwered Euphroſias, and thereupon it is, that ſo many unexpected marriages come to paſſe. I aſſure you, if it be ſo (ſaid Merindor) it may be ſaid, that as bad a market may be made in Heaven as in Earth; but from this, I do not conclude that Bellimartes muſt enjoy Dorinde, and Merindor live; It muſt be concluded, replied Euphroſias, that whatſoever the Heavens will ordain for you, muſt be done: but tell me Merindor, what is your deſign? To take away his life (anſwered he) that takes away all my contentment. But (ſaid Euphroſias) What will that advantage you? Oh (ſaid the young Cavalier) revenge is ſweet. Revenge, replied the Wiſe friend, is indeed very ſweet, when it does not make the offence greater; but if you ſhould kill Bellimartes, the leaſt puniſhment you can expect, is baniſhment from all places where Gondebaut has any power; and if ſo, what will become of your Love unto Dorinde? Will not then this revenge make your offence which you receive, greater? I do not hold him wiſe, who to put one of his enemies eyes out, will put out both his own. What then, ſaid Merindor, muſt I ſit down tamely without reſentment, and ſee Bellimartes enjoy that which in right ought to be mine? I do not ſay ſo, anſwered Euphroſias, but on the contrary; but if you will be ruled by me, I hope, we ſhall obtain for you, this ſo much deſired Dorinde. Do you think that the King is ſo paſſionate in behalf of Bellimartes, as that he would do you any harm? No, no, it is only to gratifie Bellimartes in a buſineſs wherein he does not think any has any intereſt but Arcingentorix, and of him the King makes no account, though he be one of the chief in all the Country, becauſe he is old and not able to ſerve him, and on the contrary, Bellimartes is young, and may: for you muſt know, that moſt Princes do with their Subjects, as we do with our horſes, when they are old and unſerviceable, then turn them to the cart; believe it Merindor, Princes put a great difference between thoſe that are young and able to ſerve them, and thoſe that are antiquated and cannot. This conſideration moves me to think, that if you did acquaint the King with the Intereſt you have in the buſineſs, he will conſider it: and you ſhall ſee, that though this courſe ſhould not do any good, yet i [...] will not do you any hurt.

The Wiſe Euphroſias, ſaid all theſe things before him, not that he believed they would do any good, or that the King being engaged by his word, would be taken off it; but his drift only was, to cool a little that angry heat which was kindled in the ſoul of Merindor; hoping, that if the firſt impetuoſity were but a little allayed, he might the more eaſily afterwards perſwade him to reaſon. And indeed, it came ſo to paſs, that Merindor conſidering upon what he had ſaid, and finding ſome colour of probability in it, he began to hearken a little unto reaſon: and in concluſion, they did not part until he reſolved abſolutely to follow whatſoever Euphroſias did dictate, until ſuch time as all hopes were loſt: and at the ſame time they determined amongſt themſelves, to imploy thoſe about the King, whom they thought had moſt credit with him: this Wiſe friend made every thing look with ſuch a face of facility, as wrought much upon the young mans apprehenſions; and he promiſed unto him ſeveral aſſiſtances of great prevalency, though all was only to divert him: for he knew that the beſt way to perſwade, is to infuſe great hopes of that which is much deſired.

But Madam, I beſeech you hear how Heaven is pleaſed to play with men, and how fortune does even what ſhe pleaſeth; when Merindor made addreſſes to the King, and humbly beſeeched him he would not force Arcingentorix to give his daughter unto Bellimartes, becauſe of the intereſt which he had; King Gondebaut anſwered, that he did not know of his Intereſt, when he firſt engaged himſelf in the buſineſs: but being now ſo far engaged, he knew not how to come off, without much prejudice unto his Authority. So, ſee how Merindor is blaſted in all his hopes on that ſide; and Bellimartes ſo aſſured to be my Husband, that the Articles were drawn; and nothing wanted but going to the Temple. Who would ever think this buſineſs ſhould be broken off? But ſee the black malice, and extream per [...]dy of men? When all things were ready, and every one in order to go unto the Temple, a grave Honourable Matron, accompanied with two daughters and four ſervants, came to the door of our houſe, and with much ado got paſſage through the croud [Page] of people which flocked thither, ſhe deſired to ſpeak with my Father; and after civil ſaluation, Sir, (ſaid ſhe unto him, and raiſed her voice that all might hear) I come to acquaint you, that my daughter whom I hold here in my hand, and whoſe name is Alderina, is the Legitimate wife of Bellimartes the Viſigot; and that four years have paſſed ſince he publiquely married her in Gergovia, as all the Druides and Nobles of that Province can atteſt, and as I will make appear before the King, at whoſe feet I am now going to proſtrate my ſelf, in hopes of Juſtice, and that the Common Right of Nations will be maintained and obſerved. Upon this, ſhe made a reverence, and went ſtraight to the Palace Royal, not without great ſhouts of the people, when they heard this news.

Whether Arcingentorix was aſtoniſhed, judge you; for he was ſtruck into ſuch an extaſie, that he was not able to utter one word: but going into the Hall, where we all were ready to go out, and asking for Bellimartes, Sir, (ſaid he unto him aloud) do you know a Lady whoſe name is Alderina? At the word Alderina, we obſerved that he changed colour: why, (ſaid he) do you ask that queſtion? Becauſe, (anſwered my Father) ſhe and her Mother are at the door, and do let you know, that they are going to the King for Juſtice againſt you. Againſt me, ſaid he, and why? Becauſe, anſwered my Father, this Alderina is your wife, and becauſe you cannot marry another, as long as ſhe is alive. Upon this, a great noiſe of aſtoniſhment was heard, which was made by all thoſe in the Hall: and though Bellimartes made a laughing matter of it, and ſaid, it was not true, nor ought to retard the marriage, yet none of my kindred were of that opinion, eſpecially my Father, who told him freely, that he had ſuch a belief in what the woman ſaid, as he would never conſent his daughter ſhould marry him, till this impoſture was cleered. Bellimartes who was naturally of a proud imperious temper, and thought himſelf ſupported by the Kings favour; let me tell you Arcingentorix, ſaid he, that I care neither for you nor your daughter, and that I do find my ſelf much miſtaken in the alliance which I intended to make with you. My Father, who was generous, and though age hung heavy upon him, yet could reſent the honour of himſelf and his Anceſtors, Bellimartes, ſaid he unto him, I had rather you ſhould deceive your ſelf then me; and let me tell you, that I value you far leſs then you can do my daughter or me. As God would have it, Bellimartes never heard theſe laſt words, for he was gone all in a rage, and left all the company in a ſtrange confuſion. But for his part, he was in the greateſt confuſion of all; becauſe his conſcience, which is a thouſand witneſſes, did convince him of that unworthy act which he would have done. This hour, I believe, was the happieſt of all my life: for certainly if this Lady had ſtayed but this hour longer then ſhe did, I had been married unto him: and moſt certain it is, this perfidious wretch had a wife, and as we are informed ſince, had quitted her, becauſe ſhe was not rich enough: But ſee here, what the faith of men is? And how miſerable that woman is who truſts them; for this Alderina had been long courted by him, and with ſo many paſſionate expreſſions of affection, as it is hardly credible he ſhould forſake her: yet avarice did ſince moſt ſhamefully overcome his Love. But ſo it was Madam, that for this time, I was almoſt miraculouſly delivered from a miſ-fortune: for Alderina, having made her addreſſes to the King, and convinced Bellimartes, who though he denied all, yet he was ordained to take her for his Lawful wife; and charged upon ſevere penalty, to marry no other, as long as ſhe lived: many did wonder that Alderina being very fair and handſom, Bellimartes ſhould leave her for me, whoſe face was enough to affright him: and when anſwer was made that he did it out of covetouſneſs, it was hard to be believed, becauſe of the many rich preſents which he ſent unto us, and which ſince we ſent back: but they did not conſider that thoſe gifts, which made him thought liberal, they were not given, but only lent, which he knew well enough would return back if he married me, ſince then all we had was his: ſo as this ſo much eſteemed liberality, was moſt certainly a baſe and unworthy ſelf ended avarice. Merindor who was going upon his laſt, and was fully reſolved that when all hope was paſt, to kill himſelf, but yet to ſend Bellimartes out of the world before him, he was not the laſt man that was advertiſed of this accident; and as if a new life had been given unto him, he leaped up, clapping his hands together, and bleſſing the Fates for this happy fortune: then leaving his [Page] chamber, he made all the haſte that poſſibly he could unto mine, where he expreſſed himſelf the moſt joyful man alive, and asked an hundred merry queſtions: He asked me how I did after my marriage? and whether it was good to be two wives to one Husband; and becauſe I knew not well whether I ſhould laugh or cry, I ſaid unto him, well, well Merindor, do not mock at me, perhaps when you are married, you may alſo find a wife that has two husbands. If I have (ſaid he) the ſtronger will drive the other out of the houſe; but I fear not any ſuch accident will ever befal me, unleſs it be by you. By me? anſwered I, Nay, Merindor, the reſolution which I have, will free you from that fear; for within theſe few days, if my Father will give me leave, I will become of thoſe that are to keep in the Sacred Fire. How, how? replied he, will you become a Veſtal? Yes certainly (ſaid I) purpoſely to be rid of men, amongſt whom I find nothing but deceit and p [...]fidie. You do wrong me (ſaid he) not to put me out of the general number, ſince I am ſure you never ſaw any action, or heard any language from me, which was derogatory from my vowed affection, or which in any reaſon could induce you to put me into that rank: One indeed, replied I, does make no number; but what do you ſay of Theombres, of Hylas, of Periander, and of Bellimartes? I ſay (anſwered he) that they deſerve not only to be razed out of the rank of men, but alſo out of the number of the living: But I ſay, that all men ought not to be blamed for them, and of all men, eſpecially Merindor. Oh Madam, give me leave to tell you, it is moſt extream injuſtice to puniſh a number of innocents for a few culpable; and ſince faults are perſonal, every perſon ought to bear the burthen of his own puniſhment. I muſt confeſs Merindor, ſaid I unto him, that you are in the right, but I am not to be blamed; for having found ſo much falſhood and perfidie in all thoſe that ever made any addreſſes unto me, I had good reaſon to fear the ſame from all others. This Dorinde (ſaid he) is a ſecond wrong, not inferiour to the firſt; for you rank me in the number of thoſe who have deceived you, ſince you cannot exclude me from the number of thoſe who have made addreſſes unto you. Hitherto (replied I,) I cannot ſay I have been deceived by you; but I cannot tell what you may do upon occaſion.

Whilſt we were talking thus, my Father came into the chamber, ſtill much moved at the former accident; and ſeeing this young Cavalier with me, Come Merindor (ſaid he unto him) are you not much offended againſt my Daughter and me, for the fault which the Kings power cauſed us to commit? Sir (anſwered Merindor) I am more your ſervant, then to be offended at you; but on the contrary, I thank the Gods for making the vilany of that wicked man known unto you; though let me tell you, that if his vilany had been executed, the Vilain ſhould not have lived an hour after; for I ſwear by the great God Ifeſus, this ſword ſhould have waſhed away his crime with his own blood, for not one ſingle drop ſhould have remained: But Sir, thanks be to God that there is no need of ſuch extremities; and remember I beſeech you for the future, that our old Fathers had good reaſon to ſay, That no man ought to rub an herd which he knows not: And Sir, there are many in this Province whoſe Anceſtors and Eſtates are known unto you; and who would think themſelves honoured and happy in your Alliance: And if heaven would make me ſo happy as to obtain that favour, what ſervices (ſaid he, and kneeled down) would I not pay unto you all my life, and what love, what duty and affection ſhould not Dorinde receive from me? Dorinde I ſay, whom you know I ever loved and honoured, what accidents ſoever hapned. The good old man who knew how affectionate he alwaies appeared, even all the time of my ſickneſs, and ſeeing him ſtill continue his paſſionate expreſſions, he did believe him. But, oh Heavens! who might not as well have been deceived as he? Merindor (ſaid he unto him) ſpeak freely and ingeniouſly, as you are a Cavalier; Are you real, or is it only out of your civility and courtſhip that you uſe theſe expreſſions? Sir, anſwered he, I cannot commit an act ſo unworthy of the name I bear, as to diſſemble or deceive; and therefore I do proteſt and ſwear, that all the words which I have ſpoke, do proceed from the real thoughts of my heart, with all ſincerity and true meaning, elſe may Bellinus root me and my name out from the number of men. If ſo, replied Arcingentorix, and that it prove ſo that Bellimartes has another wife, and that your mother do conſent unto your deſires, I do promiſe you Dorinde for your wife, and I do call the Gods to [Page] be a witneſs unto the promiſe which now I make unto you. And I (added Merindor) do call all the Gods to witneſs, that I do receive this promiſe as the greateſt happineſs I can deſire: for hence forward, I do devote my ſelf unto you Sir, as my Lord and Father; and unto Dorinde as my Lady and Miſtreſs, and I do vow and ſwear unto you both, an affection without end, and perpetual obedience. Who would have thought, that heard theſe ſolemn proteſtations expreſſed which ſo much freeneſs, but that they proceeded from his heart? But alas, ſo they did: I confeſs they did proceed from his heart, but it was from the moſt wicked, vile, perfidious heart, that ever was in any traiterous and perjured man: certainly it is enough to expreſſe him, to ſay that he is a man without any addition of traiterous, or perfidious, or perjured; for I do believe all others that bre [...]th upon the face of the earth, are ſo. Now this man, according to the nature and cuſtom of all others, went from us in appearance full of contentment, as full as man could be, and went unto the Palace to hear more certain news of Alderina and of her marriage: at night he returned again, and told us that the King having ſeen the atteſtations of the Druids and Nobles of Gergovia, was highly offended againſt Bellimartes, and had commanded him to depart his Dominions, and never to come into his preſence again; yet ſome Grandees about Gondebaut, were in hope to obtain, his Pardon, when the King his choller was a little over: and ſo it hapned; for a while after, they were reconciled by the mediation of Alderina her ſelf; who fell down at the feet of Gondebaut, who pardoned her Husbands fault, upon condition he would live with her as he ought:

Whilſt theſe things hapned, it ſeems the Gods were pleaſed to mock Periander, for the ſpring coming on, and ſome remedies which a Phiſitian gave me, did ſo reſtore my complexion and features, that it was much better then before; and indeed my companions, ſaid ſhe unto the three ſtrangers, I believe you will confeſſe it better then ever you ſaw it before: but ſo it hapned, that as my deformity did chaſe away Periander from me ſo my recovery called him back.

I cannot expreſs the joy and contentment of Merindor, when from day to day, he ſaw my complexion return: and not being able (as he ſaid) to endure any longer delay in our marriage, he entreated my Father to give him conſent that he might go unto his Mother for hers, there being nothing elſe which could hinder it. Oh Heavens what new proteſtations did he make to my Father and me when he departed, I have wondred ſince a hundred times, that the earth did not open and ſwallow him alive.

I ſhould but trouble you, Madam, did I relate the whole ſeries of his actions: but ſo it was, that going away, he loſt all memory of me, and all his oaths: about three months after his departure, he ſent one of his Brothers unto me with a Letter, which I will read unto you, for I keep it ſtill about me, to convince him of his falſhood and perjury: then putting her hand into her pocket, ſhe pulled out a paper, and read theſe words:

MERINDORS Letter unto DORINDE:

I Would to God (Fair Dorinde) that I were out of the World, or elſe, that I were not the Son of that Woman who is my Mother; or at leaſt, that I were my Brother: and al to the end, as your moſt humble ſervant, that I might obtain that happineſs which I deſire: but being as I am, it is not permitted me: the offer which I make of him, makes it evident unto all, that all marriages are made in Heaven.

Do you not wonder, diſcreet and Fair Shepherdeſſes (ſaid Dorinde) that Merin dor ſhould write ſuch a Letter unto me? For if he had quitted me, one would have thought in all reaſon, that he ſhould have done it when I was ugly and deformed, as Periander did: but that he ſhould with ſuch aſſiduity abide the horror of my diſeaſe; that he ſhould never care for any deformity in my face, but even then to [Page] court me with ſuch violence and zeal, and then to leave me when my Beauty was reſtored, and when I thought nothing could ſeparate us, but his own will, or rathe levity: this ſeems to be againſt the grain of all reaſon in the World. And I muſt needs confeſs the truth, this action did go ſo neer unto my heart, that I vowed never hence-forward to truſt any man living; but to flye and ſhun all ſuch as bore the name, and never to have any more to do with them. My Father was offended at this as much as I; and therefore without any further conſultation, or heeding any applications that Merindor [...] Brother would have made unto me, he ſent him back with this ſudden and peremptory anſwer, that his Daughter was neither for Merindor nor his Brother: and therefore he intended to diſpoſe of me another way. And becauſe the young man deſired an anſwer unto his Brothers Letter, with my Fathers leave I returned this:

DORINDES anſwer unto MERINDOR:

I Would to God, unfaithful Merindor, that you were not upon the earth, or that I never had had any eyes to ſee you; or at the leaſt that I were a man for a time, and not a woman; and all this to the end, that as your mortal enemy I might take that revenge of your perfidy, which I deſire: but ſince being as I am, that is not permitted me, The offer which you make unto me of your Brother, which I refuſe, makes it evident, that the marriage betwixt him and me, is not made in Heaven; at the leaſt I aſſure you, ſhall never be accompliſhed on Earth.

Now Madam, (continued ſhe) you may obſerve three of the moſt horrid infidelities (to omit the reſt) that ever were committed againſt any woman. Theſe that I have told you, are enough to make any that have eyes or their wits, never to truſt any that has either the name or the figure of a man: but hear what torments they cauſed me to endure; and then I am confident you will confeſs that the hatred which I bear unto this animal, man, is grounded upon moſt juſt cauſe.

Dorinde would have continued, had not the noiſe of men on horſe-back, diſturbed them: theſe Fair Shepherdeſſes being unaccuſtomed to ſee ſuch aſſemblies in their Villages, they all ran out of curioſity to the door: Dorinde and the other ſtrangers did the ſame; then they ſaw paſſe along the way, which joyned almoſt cloſe to the door of this Cabin, fifteen or ſixteen perſons very well mounted, and armed, alter the Burgundian faſhion, having head-pieces upon their heads, Suits of Arms for back and breſt, a Javelin in their right hands, and a Buckler on their left arm. Theſe men marched in order, and in the head of them was him who conducted them, as might be imagined, both by the goodneſſe of his Horſe, which was much fairer then the reſt, and by the richneſs of his Armor, which was almoſt all gilt, and a Plume in his Head-piece, which made him remarkable above the reſt. This Troop marched very faſt, and their Armor and Horſes ſeet made a great noiſe: as for the men they talked not loud, though they did hold ſome diſcourſe which could not any diſtance be underſtood. When they came neer unto this Cabin, they caſt their eyes upon theſe Shepherdeſſes, which out of curioſity were come to the door, and ſeeing them ſo Fair, they ſtayed a little, almoſt raviſhed to ſee ſuch Fair Faces in ſuch rural Cottages. Oh Heavens, cryed he that commanded them, is not yonder Dorinde? She, hearing her ſelf named, and looking him in the face, ſhe preſently remembred that ſhe had ſeen him very often with King Gondebaut: and therefore fearing ſome violence, ſhe retired into the Cabin, to try if ſhe could hide her ſelf: but he, being more aſſured by this action that it was ſhe, did preſently alight, and five or ſix of his companions with him: and entring very bluſteringly amongſt theſe women, they came to the place where Dorinde was retired; who trembling for fear, and hiding her face with her hands, ſhe looked as pale as death. Celadon in the dreſſe of Druide, wiſhed now that he had Arms, to repulſe the injury which theſe ſtrangers ſeemed to offer unto Dorinde, and not being able to endure any outrage [Page] ſhould be done unto her in his preſence, he firſt uſed entreaties and fair language; and ſeeing them ſlighted, and offers made to carry away that trembling woman out of the Cabin, he could not chuſe but joyn hands unto his language, and beyond the ſtrength of a woman, like man, reſiſt this violence. The Captain and the Souldiers would quickly have diſpatched him, had they believed him to be a man, but thinking him to be a woman Druide, their reſpect unto that ſex, and the reverence they bore unto her habit, made them take it into their conſideration. All the reſt of the women, ſeeing this attempt of the Druide, after her example, did their endeavours to ſave Dorinde, and perhaps this feeble defence, had held them long in play, had not the Captain being grown into choller, made a ſign unto the Souldiers, that without any conſideration of theſe women, they ſhould uſe force, and carry her away. As Celadon was holding the arms of this man ſo as he could not ſtir, Aſtrea and Diana were on both ſides of Dorinde, and held her by the arms; but the Souldiers who had received the ſign from their Commander, puſhing them both very roughly away, they conſtrained theſe Shepherdeſſes to let their hold go, and with ſuch violence that Aſtrea fell to the ground. Who crying out, and the Druide turning about her head, ſeeing her ſo unworthily uſed, ſhe grew as furious as any raging Lyon, and letting him go whom ſhe held, and ran upon him who did the affront with ſuch violence, and gave him ſuch a blow upon the face, as ſhe conſtrained him to let Dorinde go, who was already pulled out of the door, and after he had reeled two or three paces, he fell amongſt the horſes feet, which trampled him ſo, as he was not able to do more harm unto this fair company: the Captain in the mean time being out of the Druids hands, and ſeeing they had carried Dorinde out of the place, he went out alſo, to ſee her carried away according to his deſign: but when he was out, he ſaw his companions on foot, and running after her in the fields: for fear made her ſo ſwift, as ſhe ſeemed to have wings at her heels. At the firſt, he laughed, for he confidently believed ſhe would be taken again. But whilſt he was looking and laughing at this chaſe, for ſo may the flight of Dorinde be termed, they ſaw appear ſix Cavaliers, who being very well mounted and armed, came riding the ſame way. At the firſt, they rid in file, as Travellers uſe in a Journey; but when they ſaw ſo many men running after one woman, they drew up together, and galloped to oppoſe the violence which they thought would be done unto her. Yet they could not come in ſo ſoon, but Dorinde was firſt taken; and becauſe ſhe had no other defence, they ſaw her fall down upon her knees, hold up her hands, and make lamentable prayers and ſupplications to them. The Souldiers, on the other ſide, without any compaſſion, took her, and would have carried her away: when theſe Cavaliers came up unto them, they out of pity, though they knew not Dorinde, oppoſed this violence; but one of them upon a ſudden caſting his eye upon her, did know her: Oh ye crew of villains (ſaid he unto the Souldiers) and unworthy to bear arms, ſince you imploy them ſo ill; ceaſe wronging her whom ye all ought to honour and ſerve, or elſe by Heaven (ſaid he, and drew his ſword) I will chaſtiſe you according to your merits. Sir, (anſwered one of them) King Gondebaut commanded us to do what we have done, and none ought or can oppoſe his will. Upon this, not caring for the menace of the Cavalier, and ſeeing him ſo ſlenderly accompanied, alſo his Captain and company coming to his relief, he continued on his way: at which the Cavalier was ſo incenſed, that he gave him ſuch a blow upon the ſhoulder, that for all his Coat of Male, it gave him a deep wound, and being a little diſtant from Dorinde, he rid upon him with his horſe, and trod him to the ground. In the mean time, the reſt of the Cavaliers advanced againſt the Captain, and his Souldiers, who without any expoſtulations, did aſſault them very furiouſly. The Cavaliers being better armed, and better mounted, and having more courage, though they were interior in number, yet gave them ſuch a hot ſalute that the combat did not laſt above a quarter of an hour: for the Captain being killed, the reſt were quickly routed, and fled ſome one way, and ſome another, as faſt as ever their horſes could carry them. This victory was the ſooner gotten, by reaſon that moſt of one party was on foot, and were running after their horſes, which were broken looſe in the fields. But of theſe ſix Cavaliers, two of them were killed, and one ſo wounded that he could hardly ſit his horſe.

[Page] Dorinde ſeeing this unlook'd for relief, although ſhe thought ſhe knew the voice of him who ſpoke, yet not being ſure, becauſe his head-piece covered his face, ſhe retired as faſt as ſhe could in a trembling and panting pace unto her companions, though not ſo much affrighted as when ſhe was firſt ſeized upon: But when ſhe was told of the end of the combate, for ſhe was gotten into the cabbin, and that one of the Cavaliers who defended her was much wounded, ſhe went out of the cabin with watry eyes and cheeks to receive him and help him all that poſſibly ſhe could: And becauſe his three companions took off his helmet to give him Ayr, as ſoon as ſhe caſt her eye upon him, ſhe knew him to be Bellimartes; at which ſhe was ſo ſurprized, that ſhe knew not whether ſhe dream'd or waked: But whilſt the three Cavaliers were laying him upon the Bed, and one of them ſtayed with him, the other two pulled off their helmets, and kneeled down before her, ſhewing all ſigns of humble obedience; ſhe all the while was ſo ſurprized at the ſight of them, that ſhe could not utter a word; for the one was Merindor, and the other Periander. Oh heavens! (cryed ſhe out at the laſt, when ſhe could ſpeak) Oh heavens! Is it poſſible I ſhould be thus much obliged unto three men, who have made me hate all men living for their ſakes? Merindor then began firſt to ſpeak: Oh Dorinde (ſaid he unto her) do not by your disfavours leſſen that contentment which heaven has given us, in rendring you a teſtimony that we do love you more then you would be loved by us. After this, Periander continued, Heaven (fair Dorinde) has made choice of us, to render you this little ſervice; and believe, that the choice could not be made of any others, who have vowed ſo much affection as we: Receive, we moſt humbly beſeech you, the willingneſs we have to expoſe our lives in repulſing that violence which was offered unto you. I do proteſt, ſaid Bellimartes, and turned his head towards her, I ſhall leave this world the moſt contented man that is in it, ſince I have loſt my life in your ſervice; and if you will have me think my death more welcome then ever was my life, fair Dorinde, Do but only ſay, Go in peace Bellimartes.

Dorinde turning her eyes upon Bellimartes, and ſeeing a mortal paleneſs in his face, ſhe only embraced Merindor and Periander, and not having leiſure to ſpeak unto them, ſhe ran unto Bellimartes, who expreſſed ſuch ſigns of perfect contentment, as every one obſerved an alteration in his eyes and countenance; but eſpecially when ſhe took his hand, and ſaid unto him; If heaven hath decreed that you muſt end your days in this relief which your Valour has given me, be aſſured Bellimartes, that it ſhall never be forgotten; and if it be the pleaſure of the Gods, as I ſhall pray it may, to prolong your life unto my contentment, be confident that I will never be ungrateful unto Bellimartes. Madam (ſaid he, and forced himſelf to ſpeak) to give you my life, which is ſo much your due, deſerves no recompence: but I beſeech you accept alſo of my ſoul, which I do moſt religiouſly devote unto you, and will never take it out of the fair hands of Dorinde: Upon this he would have kiſſed her hand, but he wanted ſtrength; for he grew pale and cold, and immediately died in the arms of that Cavalier who held him in the bed, and whoſe tears and lamentations made all beholders pity him.

This laſt action of Bellimartes did ſo mollifie the heart of Dorinde, that forgetting the fault which he had committed againſt her, and reviving the memory of that affection which by ſo many addreſſes he had expreſſed unto her, ſhe could not chuſe but accompany his death with tears of compaſſion and amity; an office which ſhe continued long in performing, and had continued longer, if the company, moved unto pity, had not removed her by force from the Corps; ſo ſeeing her ſelf conſtrained to leave him, Adieu Bellimartes (ſaid ſhe unto his corps) if thou didſt think it a happineſs to have my love, go contented into the Elizian fields, & be aſſured, that thou art happier in thy death then in thy life. Theſe expreſſions were accompanied with tears, to teſtifie they were real, and that he had gotten her love in dying, more then he could have obtained by living.

Whilſt all theſe things thus paſſed, a great number of Shepherds in the neighbouring Vilages came running with Pike-ſtaves, and ſuch Arms as they uſed in hunting, and ſome brought Bows and Arrows, ſuch as they uſed at their general Aſſemblies in the Forreſt of Iſoures, and other meetings: ſo as in a little time there was a [Page] great Army about this little Cabin: Their aſtoniſhment was not a little when they heard of the violence which was offered unto that fair ſtranger by the firſt company, and when they heard of the relief which the laſt brought her ſo opportunely; and their wonder was more yet, when they ſaw thoſe marks which the Cavaliers left of their courage and valour. Merindor and Periander ſeeing Dorinde in the hands of the Druide and Shepherdeſſes, they thought it fit to leave her a little to dry up her tears, whilſt in the mean time they went to pay that office unto their dead companions, which the ſurvivors were obliged unto; and the more, becauſe Periander had loſt a coſin german, and Merindor a brother, whom they exceedingly loved. Leaving therefore the other Cavalier with the corps of Bellimartes, they went out of the cabin, accompanied with many Shepherds, and went afterwards amongſt the dead to look for their kinred: They found them both cloſe by one another; the one was run through with a Javelin which pierced his heart, and Merindor's brother lay under his horſe with a wound given by a ſword through his breaſt; but as a note of their valour, four dead enemies did lie about theſe two, who held their ſwords ſtill in their hands, with viſages which ſeemed to threaten as well dead as alive.

The griefs and lamentation of Merindor and Periander were indeed very great, and had been greater, if ſome Druides had not at the ſame time come thither; and this great number of people were ſent by their authority to appeaſe the tumult, as upon ſuch occaſions they uſed to do. Theſe Druides underſtanding the juſt and generous defence which thoſe Cavaliers had made in relieving this ſtranger; after that they had highly commended them, and in the name of the Country given them many thanks, they endeavoured by all manner of ways to comfort them, and therefore they deſired them to leave their immoderate grief, and alſo leave the care of their friends interment unto them; which after many entreaties they permitted, but not without embracing and kiſſing their dead kinred ſeveral times, and bidding them their laſt farewel.

The Druides being advertized that there was yet one of their companions dead in the next cabin? they went and brought him thither, and there waſhed their Corps in the River Lignon, afterwards interred them in the place where the combate was; and laſtly, they raiſed up monuments of Earth upon their graves, and decked them with all the rural Art that is imaginable. This Funeral ceremony was performed with ſo much honour and order, that Merindor, Periander, and the Cavalier who was friend unto Bellimartes, had reaſon in ſome degree to leſſen their mourning.

Dorinde during all the time of this ceremony, never ſtirred out of the cabin, becauſe ſhe had not yet recollected her ſelf, nor was rid of her fears; The Shepherdeſſes Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis, with the diſguiſed Druide, did keep Florice, Cercinea, and Palinice company; all whom could not ſufficiently wonder at this unaccuſtomed accident: And when Periander and Merindor returned to give an account of that charitable office which they had performed, they, ſaw a Shepherd coming, who ſeemed to be in very great haſte; when he was a little nearer, he was known to be Hylas: Periander no ſooner heard him named, but he cryed out; Oh God, ſaid he, is it Hylas of the Iſle of Camargues, the beſt humored man alive, and the moſt jolly companion? The very ſame, anſwered one of the Druides that came with them, he has ſojourned in this Country ſeveral moneths; and he found every day ſo delightful, as I do not think he will ever leave it. Periander then turning towards Merindor, Brother (ſaid he) I beſeech you go you unto Dorinde, and tell her, if ſhe ask for me, that you left me with Hylas, I am confident ſhe will be very glad to hear it, for I muſt needs go and meet and embrace him as one of my beſt friends: Upon this, he went a great pace towards Hylas, who ſeeing him coming, did not know him, as well becauſe of his Arms, as becauſe he little expected to find him in that place: Periander held out his Arms, and embraced him, he not knowing that theſe careſſes came from Periander. But when he ſaid unto him, Is it poſſible Hylas that you ſhould be turned a Shepherd of Forreſts, and quite forget your good friends? His voice made him know that face which he had forgotten, and therefore he took him about the neck and kiſſed him, and was ſo tranſported with joy, that he ſeemed to be almoſt out of himſelf. Then Periander ſaid unto him, ſee Hylas whether I have not good reaſon to complain againſt your memory, that does not only forget me when [Page] I am abſent but alſo when I am preſent; but I am glad to ſee you, and to teſtifie how really I love you, I am come to ſee you, accompanied with one whom you love the beſt of any in the world. Periander (anſwered Hylas) I pray diſtinguiſh what kind of one you ſpeak? It is a man or a woman? For if it be a man, none can be more welcom unto me then your ſelf, ſince there is none I love better then I do Periander; and if it be a woman, then, if it be ſhe I love beſt, you have met with Stella, for it is ſhe unto whom I have devoted my ſelf. What? replied Periander, have you forgotten Dorinde? Dorinde anſwered Hylas, I perceive my good friend, that you have forgotten the cuſtom of Hylas; you muſt know, that her name has hardly room in my memory: for ſince I have ſeen ſo many Creyſides, ſo many Madonthes, ſo many Laonices, ſo many Philliſes, ſo many Alexiſes, and above all one Stella, who dazles my eyes, I tell you the luſter of ſo many new lights, will not let me ſee, the obſcurities of your City of Lyons.

I perceive (ſaid Periander, and ſmiled) that you are ſtill the ſame Hylas, upon the banks of Lignon, that you were wont to be upon thoſe of Arar. The very ſame (ſaid Hylas) but yet, if Dorinde be here, I ſhall be glad to ſee her, that I may know whether my mouth was not in thoſe dayes out of taſte: If you deſire to ſee her, ſaid Periander, you may go into that Cabin, and find her ſtill frighted, at an accident which hapned: What accident? ſaid Hylas, it is, anſwered Periander, that but for Bellimartes, Merindor, and my ſelf, ſome of King Gondebauts Souldiers would have carried her away: but we finding her juſt in the very nick of time, we made them quit their enterprize; but alas the poor Bellimartes is dead, with Merindor's Brother, and I have loſt a Coſen germane. How? replyed Hylas, have you thus handled King Gondebaut's men? If ſo, I beſeech you, carry me to Dorinde, for I muſt of neceſſity advertiſe her of ſome things which I have heard, and which cauſed me to come hither in ſuch haſte.

They were then cloſe by the Cabin, ſo as Hylas upon this entred, who ſeeing all the Shepherdeſſes about the ſtranger, did judge her to be Dorinde; but faigning not to know her: where is this new Shepherdeſs, ſaid he, who at her firſt coming has ſtained the purity of our banks with bloody Sacrifices? Dorinde then knowing Hylas, roſe up to ſalute him, being very glad to meet him in that place, where ſhe thought ſhe ſhould need all manner of aſſiſtance; and going towards him, is it poſſible Hylas; ſaid ſhe, that my face ſhould be ſo changed, as your eyes ſhould not know her now, whom your heart did formerly know ſo well? I believe, anſwered Hylas, that if my heart were here, it might anſwer the queſtions which you ask, but ſince it is not, I think there are few here who can tell what to ſay unto them. How? ſaid Dorinde, your heart not here? Who is the thief that ſtole it? As for any male thieves, replied he, I know how to keep it well enough from them; but I muſt confeſſe my bad influences has ſubmitted me unto ſome certain Female thieves, againſt whom I cannot poſſibly defend my ſelf: and the worſt is, they are of an humour, that the firſt thing they ſeize upon is the heart, ſo as I can very ſeldom keep this little piece of houſhold ſtuffe in my houſe. I believe, ſaid Dorinde, that when theſe Femal thieves do ſteal it from you, it is not long before you can furniſh your ſelf with another: You are miſtaken (ſaid Florice and interrupted) for thoſe who do ſteal it, do find it ſuch a bad piece of ſtuff, that they preſently reſtore it back again at the next meeting: you are miſtaken your ſelf, ſaid Hylas, and you had better have ſaid, that becauſe it is impoſſible two hearts ſhould dwell together, without the ſtronger driving out the weaker, thoſe who do ſteal my heart, are conſtrained to let theirs come unto me, and become mine, and ſtay with me until ſome other thief do ſteal it from me to give me her own; and therefore Dorinde, if you have any occaſion for your heart, which you ſent unto me, when you ſtole mine, ask it of Florice; and you Florice, ask yours of Cryſeide when you ſee her next: and let Cryſeide ask hers of Madonthe; and if Madonthe will have that back, which I had of hers, let her look out Laonice: and whoſoever has any thing to do with Laonices, they will find it in Phillis: and you Phillis, if you deſire to have yours again to beſtow upon any Shepherd, bid the Fair Druide return it unto you; for as for hers which I had, it is now in the poſſeſſion of Stella, who in a happy exchange, did moſt courteouſly give me hers, which I will keep as long as it pleaſeth me; but Dorinde, ſaid Periander, [Page] and interrupted, I beſeech you let us diſcourſe upon theſe hearts another time when we have more leiſure: Hylas comes to advertiſe you, that you are not ſafe in this place, and therefore it is requiſite you hear what he ſays: you do very well, ſaid Hylas, to put me in memory of it; for this new Shepherdeſs, does ſo put me in mind of what is paſt, that I forget the preſent. Let me tell you therefore that not long ſince, as I lay cloſe in a buſh expecting a Shepherdeſs whom I loved, and was to walk that way with her Flock, I ſaw four men on horſ-back, terribly affrighted, and in great diſorder; and one of them had a great cut upon his hand, which bleeding extreamly, conſtrained them to alight very near the place where I was; and having left one to watch whether any followed, the other held the horſes, and the third tore his handkerchief, gathered a little ground-moſſe, and applied it unto the wound to ſtop the blood; in the mean time I heard one of them ſay, that if they made a little more haſte, they ſhould meet with the reſt of their company from whom they were parted; & then they would return, and be revenged, by bringing away that woman whom King Gondebaut ſo much deſired to have. As ſoon as they were gone, I met with ſome Shepherds, who told me partly what had hapned in this place, unto which I came purpoſely to tell you, that unleſs you have a mind to fall into their hands, you muſt remove from this place. Oh ye Gods! (cryed out Dorinde with tears in her eyes) will not fortune let me remain at reſt, even in theſe ſolitary places? Madam, ſaid Periander, when we came away from Lyons, we heard that you were purſued by many of King Gondebauts guard; and therefore if you will take my advice, you ſhall ſeek out ſome place of ſtrength for your ſecurity: as long as Merindor and I do live, we will defend you againſt all the world; but we being but three, with this Cavalier that is friend unto Bellimartes, our lives may be taken away by a multitude, and you injured, which is worſe then the loſſe of us. Licydas upon this, who was come unto this place upon the noiſe, a little before Hylas. Madam, ſaid he, we will all of us ſerve you, againſt all that ſhall offer you any injury; but give me leave to tell you, that to avoid a mis-fortune, it were good you were conducted unto Marſelles, where your merits would meet with much honour and reſpect from all: the great Nymph Amaſis, and Galathea, will bid you welcom, and defend you againſt all violence.

Every one did much approve of this advice; And becauſe Dorinde was unwilling to put her ſelf into the hands of theſe Cavaliers by her ſelf alone, Florice, Cercinea, Palinice, and Celidea, offered themſelves to accompany her, provided ſome Shepherds would go with them, becauſe they would not return alone. Hylas, Lycidas, Thamires, Calidon and Corilas, did preſent themſelves very freely: and therefore without more delay, after theſe ſtrangers had bid adieu unto Alexis, Diana, Aſtrea, and Phillis, and the reſt of the Shepherdeſſes, they ſet forward: the three Cavaliers, mounted and armed as when they came firſt, kept at a ſmall diſtance from the company, in a poſture to defend them, if any came to aſſault them: and the reſt of the Shepherds, helped the Shepherdeſſes to walk, whilſt Thamires helped his dear Celidea.

Now all the company parted; Aſtrea, Diana, and Phillis, to accompany Alexis, went towards the houſe of Phocion, becauſe it grew very late; and by the way, admiring the accident that had hapned unto this ſtranger: I aſſure you, ſaid Aſtrea, Dorinde is leſſe beholding unto thoſe that love her, then to thoſe that do not; why? ſaid Phillis, becauſe, anſwered ſhe, thoſe that do not love her, do not deceive her, and thoſe that do, betray her: why good Siſter (ſaid Diana) do you not think that all men are deceivers? Certainly you are deceived if you think otherwiſe: for believe it for an infallible truth, that falſhood and treachery will be in the world as long as there is one man in it. Alexis, who though in the habit of a woman, yet could not ſhake off thoſe reſentments of a man which nature had infuſed; is it poſſible diſcreet and Fair Shepherdeſs, (ſaid ſhe) that you ſhould think as you ſpeak? Is it poſſible Madam, anſwered Diana, that you ſhould live to this age, and be ignorant of the truth of which we ſpeak? That men ſhould be ſo bad as you ſay they are, ſaid Alexis, and yet I not know it, is not ſtrange: for my education amongſt Druids has been ſo retired from all men, that we do hardly know them further then by name: but yet I cannot imagine that the great Tautates, who is all goodneſs, would ever give unto [Page] our ſex ſuch a bad companion as you repreſent him. I can anſwer you no otherwiſe (ſaid Diana) but that it is a ſecret reſerved to himſelf: and if it be lawful for me to tell you what I think, I believe it is to make us exerciſe the virtue of Patience. Oh Siſter, ſaid Aſtrea, I am not of your opinion, and I believe very few are: Aſtrea, replied Diana, how were you ſatisfied with Celadon? for my part anſwered Aſtrea, I had no reaſon to be ill ſatisfied with him you name, no more then you were with Philander: I muſt needs confeſs, ſaid Diana, I had no reaſon to be diſ-ſatisfied in him, but I believe if he had lived longer, I might have been, for he was a man: Alexis hearing Celadon named, began to bluſh, and not daring to look upon Aſtrea, ſhe caſt her eyes upon the ground; but when ſhe heard her ſay that ſhe had no reaſon to be more diſ-ſatisfied with Celadon, then Diana was with Philander, ſhe was very deſirous to know what occaſions of diſ-ſatisfaction Philander had ever given her, to the end ſhe might know by that, what it was which his Shepherdeſſe complained of: and ſeeing that Diana, did not anſwer any further, ſhe began: But diſcreet Shepherdeſs (ſaid ſhe unto her) oblige me ſo far, I beſeech you, as to tell me freely, what diſ-ſatisfaction you received from that Shepherd of whom you ſpeak. Madam, anſwered ſhe, the diſcourſe would be too long and tedious for your ears, and for me to relate. You may if you pleaſe, replied Celadon, epitomize it in ſo ſhort a method, as will not be a trouble unto either. Phillis upon this replied for her: Madam, ſaid ſhe, I beſeech you, pardon her from that whole dayes work, which I aſſure you would weary her more then you imagine: I ſhould moſt willingly ſatisfie your curioſity, and tell you what diſ-ſatisfaction Diana received from that Shepherd; but that I know the bad fortune of Philander, made ſuch a wound in the ſoul of Diana, as cannot be touched with never ſo delicate a hand, but it is ſo ſenſible as will grieve her: but Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto Diana, pray tell me, what exceptions have you againſt Lycidas? I ſay, anſwered Diana, that he is not yet dead nor married, and that perhaps before either of theſe come to paſs, ſuch things may fall out, as may give you occaſion to rank him in the Catalogue of men. Oh Siſter, ſaid Phillis, who do you foretel ſuch things as cannot chuſe but infinitely diſpleaſe me? and of which there is no appearance? But I ſee, a pallate out of taſte, makes all viands ſeem bitter. Siſter, replied Diana, I know your meaning; but conſider, that he is a man, and conſequently a deceiver: and when Merindor deceived Dorinde, there was no appearance, nor no likelyhood he ſhould do ſo: and yet you ſee he did. You muſt know, that deceipts, are not deceipts, unleſs they deceive the expectation of thoſe againſt whom they are done, and therefore they muſt be done ſo, as there may be no appearance or thought of them before hand. For my part, ſaid Aſtrea, who has no intereſt in theſe things you ſpeak of, I ought to be believed before either of you, and therefore hearken unto my opinion: I do believe, that men are not ſuch deceivers as many do think them, nor ſo faithful, as many have opinion they are. Good Servant (ſaid Alexis) explain this riddle; Miſtris, ſaid Aſtrea, my meaning is, that ſome men are deceivers, and ſome are not; all ought not to be meaſured by one and the ſame ell; and that the virtues and vices of ſome, ought not to be the honour, or diſ-honour of others: and therefore, thoſe who have cauſe to complain againſt the infidelity of men, ought not to ſay poſitively that they are all deceivers: nor thoſe who have full aſſurance of the fidelity of ſome particular man, muſt not think, but that another may be unfaithfull.

Their Diſcourſe had laſted longer, had they not heard the voice of a Shepherd ſinging, whom they preſently knew to be Sylvander: and coming a little neerer the hedge where he ſate, they heard him repeat ſome verſes, which intimated that he was not changed: Diana who was the firſt that heard him, would have drawn off the company from hearing any further: but for all that, they would needs hear him on: and then they heard him break out into theſe expreſſions.

Miſerable Sylvander (ſaid he with a deep ſigh) why doſt thou drone on this miſerable life, and has ſuch, and ſo much reaſon to die? Is it out of hopes of any better Fortune? Ah fond man, is it not full time to undeceive thy ſelf, at leaſt, if thou haſt any conſideration, any feeling, or any ſenſibility of thy unfortunate life? Thou beginneſt now to enter into the fifth luſter, ſince the miſerable day of thy birth; and in ſo many nights, ſo many weeks, ſo many moneths, and ſo many years, canſt thou [Page] name one minute that was not remarkable for ſome misfortune or other? I cannot indeed call that hour diſaſtrous in which I firſt ſaw Diana, ſince in her I ſaw all the excellencies and perfection that Nature can give unto mortals: but was not that the time that Fortune took a greater Empire over me then ever ſhe had before? For if ſhe had any power over me before, it was only over my poor ſheep; and the little ſtock which I had, but my ſoul was free, and exempt from blows and changes: But oh ye Gods! ſince I ſaw this fair, this divinely fair Diana, my ſoul is a ſlave, and from being inſenſible, is grown ſo weak and ſo ſubmiſs, that the leaſt Will of this Shepherdeſs is a Law unto me, her commands are Oracles, and the leaſt twinkle of her, commands ſo abſolute, that I would rather chuſe the worſt death, then diſobey the leaſt ſhaddow of her Will: and is not this the very height of miſery, that all my cares, all my ſervices, all my endeavours, and all my extream paſſions ſhould be ſo many offences, and ſo many injuries unto her? If the Univerſe, and all that is compriſed in it, be ruled and governed by reaſon, what reaſon is there, that I having no deſigne but to do her ſervice with all manner of affection and fidelity, that ſhe ſhould make no return but hatred and ſcorn? Then making a ſtop, and ſtaying mute a while, he began again: But oh ye Gods! I do underſtand this ſecret, or at the leaſt I think I do; It is to puniſh me becauſe I have loved this divine Diana too much, and have preferred my affection unto her, before that which I owed unto you. But if it be ſo, give me leave with all reverence to expoſtulate a little with you; why did you not make her with leſs perfection? For being as ſhe is, it were a ſin to love her leſs then I do: But well (ſaid he with a profound ſigh) do your pleaſure, and if you think good, double and redouble your puniſhment, for I cannot leſſen or diminiſh one jot.

Whilſt Sylvander was talking thus to himſelf, Diana had got a good diſtance off, and Phillis having no mind to leave her alone, did ſhow her unto Alexis and Aſtrea, and whiſpered them in their ears, that if they intended to ſtay any longer, ſhe would go and ſtay with her; but the Druide and her companion ſeeing it was late, they thought it would be to no purpoſe to ſtay any longer in that place, where they could not receive any better ſatisfaction of this Shepherds innocency then they had; and therefore ſtealing off unperceived, they went as faſt as they could to overtake Diana, unto whom they told all that they could in diſcharge of Sylvander. But ſhe, ſeeming as if ſhe cared not, ſhe anſwered in ſuch a kind of neglective manner, as if he were not Sylvander they talked of, or as if ſhe was not Diana whom they talked to.

Alexis admiring the ſtrength of Dianas ſpirit, knowing very well by experience how hard a thing it is to reſiſt a domineering paſſion; I muſt confeſs, fair Shepherdeſſes (ſaid ſhe) That I could never have met with any women ſuch abſolute Miſtiſſes of themſelves, nor men ſuch Lovers, as I ſee there are about the banks of Lignon. Why do you ſay this? ſaid Aſtrea. Becauſe ſervant (anſwered Alexis) hearing the diſcourſe of Sylvander, and the anguiſh he endures, it muſt be acknowledged that he does love infinitely who can endure it. And with what coldneſs Diana does ſlight it, I muſt needs confeſs and ſay, that in her alone, paſſion does ceaſe to be paſſion, and become ſeeming reaſon. Madam, anſwered Diana, I beſeech you pardon me, if I tell you, That you are miſtaken in both the judgements which you have given: For as to that which relates unto me, believe it to be a very eaſie matter to carry it as I do, having no intereſt at all in the buſineſs, as you think I have: And as to that which relates unto the Shepherd, be aſſured, That not only about the Banks of Lignon, but every place where the name of Love is known, men do ſtudy more to diſguiſe and diſſemble their affections, then to render them real and great: They reſemble puft up bladders, which ſeem to be ſomthing that's big, whilſt they are nothing but empty wind, and the leaſt prick of a pin diſcovers their empty imperfections, Sage Shepherdeſs, replied the Druide, I do believe that you have more knowledge then I in the humours of thoſe you ſpeak of; but give me leave to tell you, that Sylvander does love. I do believe it Madam, anſwered Diana, but it is Madonthe. I do believe (ſaid Alexis) that Sylvander does love, and that he does love none but Diana. Then certainly (replied ſhe) Madonthe has changed her name, and calls her ſelf Diana; and if you will not believe me, I will refer you unto Laonice. [Page] You will find ſaid (ſaid the Druide) in the end, that there is ſome ſecret miſtery in the report of Laonice: for if it were ſo, that Sylvander did love Madonthe, why ſhould he ſeem to love you? What benefit will accrue unto him by diſguiſing it? To blind the eyes, anſwered ſhe, of the jealous Therſander: this might be ſo, replied Alexis, in the time of Therſander, and when Madonthe was here: but now they are gone, to what purpoſe ſhould he ſo do? Oh Madam, ſaid Diana, did you but know the humours of men, eſpecially of Sylvander, you would not make ſuch a wonder at it: you muſt know that there is not a man under the cope of Heaven, who deſires more to give a good opinion of himſelf then he; and this is the reaſon that having made a ſhew of loving me formerly, he is now aſhamed his falſhood ſhould be diſcovered: all his paſſionate expreſſions and behaviour which you ſee, and think they proceed from affection, are but tricks and gloſſes which he uſes, out of ſhame to be thought a diſſembler, and a man of no faith.

If he were aſhamed, as you object, ſaid Alexis, that ſhame would produce contrary effects: for if he loved Madonthe, he would with all ſpeed flye from thoſe places where his diſſimulation would be known; and doubtleſs would follow her whom he loved: for I have heard that he has no relations in this country to ſtay him in it, or invite him unto it more then any other place; for he is a man meerly of fortune, and has nothing but what he gets by his induſtry, which he may do any where elſe, as well as about the River Lignon: alſo, ſince you ſpeak of Sylvander's humour, I muſt tell you, that in this ſhort time I have known him, and obſerved his diſcourſe, I find him to be a Shepherd of ſo free a Spirit, and of ſo pure and genuine wit, as I cannot believe any ſuch abominable vice to be in him, as diſſimulation is; and indeed inſtance me one action of all his life which argues him of that humour: I have heard by a general report of all the Country, that he is a very Wiſe, and Virtuous Shepherd: and is it probable that one ſingle man ſhould deceive ſo many eyes which obſerve his actions? Aſſure your ſelf Diana that you are miſtaken in your judgement. 'Tis true Madam, ſaid Diana, and interrupted, that perhaps I was: but now I am not, and if one could foreſee the future, I never will be in my judgment of Sylvander, unleſs my reſolution do change very much: Phillis who till then ſtood ſilent to hear the reaſons of her companion, ſeeing now that ſhe replied not; ſhe began to ſpeak; Siſter, (ſaid ſhe unto her, for ſo ſhe called her) I have no intereſt in the buſineſs in queſtion, farther then in relation to you, and I aſſure my ſelf no more has any here: and therefore you ought to receive what we ſay, not as coming from perſons who are well wiſhers of Sylvander, but as from your good friends, who had rather be deceived themſelves, then be any Inſtruments that others ſhould deceive you. When you have this belief in us, as truly you ought to have, you will preſently think that when we ſpeak any thing of this Shepherd, it is not to divert you from any good deſign you may have, nor to your prejudice to advantage Sylvander, ſince he is meerly indifferent unto us; but on the contrary, you know we love you, and would if it were poſſible deliver you from an opinion which doubtleſs, (ſet as good a face upon it as you will) will bring you nothing but diſcontent: Conſider Siſter, that every one is blind in their own caſe, and often, that which they moſt would have, is worſt for them. Siſter, ſaid Diana, I never made the leaſt queſtion or doubt of your affection to me, nor of that ſage Druids, ſince ſhe was pleaſed to ſay that ſhe loved me, but muſt needs give credit unto the words of one whom I think ſo juſt; I receive this favour which you are pleaſed to confer upon me, with abundance of reſpect and thanks; aſſuring you, that both in this and every thing elſe, I will always prefer your judgment before my own in all things: but I beſeech you give me leave to tell you withall, that thoſe who are not concerned in a buſineſs, farther then reſentment and compaſſion cauſeth, commonly they do not conſider nor look into the matter ſo neerly, as thoſe who muſt bear all the burthen: and to their advice and their counſels, although they do not proceed from any ill will, but perhaps from much affection, yet may they be miſtaken and be deficient in many things; becauſe the judgment which they give, cannot be good and ſolid, unleſs it be grounded upon moſt certain knowledg: and therefore we do commonly ſay, that every one knows beſt where his ſhooe pinches him, or on which ſide the pain is moſt troubleſome. But Siſter, ſaid Aſtrea, things that are dubious, and cannot [Page] be well made out, me thinks ſhould be decided by plurality of voices: for my part, this has been always my rule, that were I ſee all are of opinion that ſuch a thing is of a green colour, which ſeems red unto me, I do infallibly believe, that my eye is deceived, or elſe I ſhould think the thing to be of the ſame colour which all others do: you have an opinion that Sylvander loves Madonthe, and we all ſay that there is no ſuch thing, nor any probability of it; why therefore ſhould not you conform your opinion unto ours? But Siſter, replied Diana, I am not alone; Laonice who has ſeen the truth, does ſecond me; Laonice, ſaid Aſtrea, is ſubtile enough to ſay it, with a deſign of putting you to abundance of pain and trouble. What profit, ſaid Diana, will accrue unto her by that? The profit, replied Astrea, which ſuch reap who are delighted in ſowing ſeditious, it is their paſtime and pleaſure; and hers may be to ſee how you will carry it out, and perhaps to diſcover, whether it be true that Sylvander does love you, or you him: good Siſter, do not give more credit unto that ſubtile woman, then you do unto your deareſt friends: the judgment of all thoſe who do know Sylvander, will be againſt you; the whole courſe of that Shepherds life has been ſuch, as his very enemies cannot lay the leaſt reproach to his charge: Joyn all theſe together, and add thereunto the reaſons which we have preſented unto you, and afterwards ſee, whether it be likely, or have any ſhadow of likelyhood, that the ſingle teſtimony of Laonice can be true and credible. Furthermore (ſaid Phillis) I have talked with Sylvander, and he does ſo peremptorily deny all that Laonice ſays, that if Laonice ſay truly, he is the moſt deteſtable Shepherd in the world. Yet every one does know (added Alexis) that Sylvander is a man who ſears the Gods, and is not ignorant of what is a ſin againſt them; if he be not ignorant, then he knows how great a ſin perjury is: and if he do fear the Gods, he would never commit it; and therefore I conclude that my judgment was good, when at the firſt I affirmed that Sylvander does love you, and that he loves none elſe but you. Madam, ſaid Diana, and interrupted, not being able to endure the continuation of this diſcourſe, neither Sylvander nor I, do deſerve you ſhould take ſo much pains in talking of us, eſpecially upon a ſubject which concerns us ſo little: for as for him, I believe all his demonſtrations of good will unto me, are only conſequents of that wager which is betwixt Phillis and him: and as for me, I aſſure you that I did never receive them but under the notion of that diſſimulation, ſo as the buſineſs is of ſo ſmall a weight, and we are both ſo little intereſted in it, that it is not worth talking of any further. Oh Madam, cryed out Phillis, I proteſt, ſhe diſſembles, and ſpeaks very far from her thoughts; pardon me Siſter, ſaid ſhe and turned towards Phillis, if I ſpeak the truth, for I cannot endure this diſſimulation. Nay, nay, never bluſh, ſaid Phillis, nor lay your hand upon your face to cover it, leſt we ſhould ſee: you know I ſpeak nothing but truth, and that you do really love Sylvander, alſo that Sylvander loves you, I am ſure you are not ignorant of it: Alexis and Aſtrea, began to laugh at the manner of Phillis in her expreſſions; and Diana her ſelf could not forbear, although ſhe endeavoured to hide it; and therefore recollecting her ſelf, ſhe anſwered thus; I muſt confeſs Siſter, that I did bluſh to hear you ſpeak thus, eſpecially before this great Druide, what opinion do you think ſhe will entertain of me, who has not had the honour to be known unto her till of late? But Madam (ſaid ſhe, and turned towards Alexis) do not believe what this Shepherdeſſe doth ſay; for all is but in jeſt, and ſhe her ſelf does not think as ſhe ſpeaks.

Alexis would have anſwered, and ſo would Phillis, but they were ſo near Aſtreas houſe, that they were conſtrained to change diſcourſe, leſt Phocion ſhould hear, whom they ſaw at the door, and who conducted them in, where ſupper was ready upon the table.

During all the time of the repaſt, nothing was diſcourſed upon but the accident of the day; a paſſage ſo unaccuſtomed in that Country, that Phocion ſaid, in all his time he never heard of the like, unleſſe that of Philander, when a ſtranger offered to wrong Diana. Alas, alas! (ſaid ſhe) that indeed was a day the moſt diſaſterous that Lignon had ſeen of a long time; for ſince the death of him and Philidas, I am ſure that my contentment has been but a little. I aſſure you, ſaid Aſtrea, fortune will play her game out amongſt us humanes every where, as well in the Country, as in great Cities, and as well in Cottages, as roo [...]s of Cedar, and gilded Palaces of [Page] Princes: alas Siſter, you obſerve the [...] day when Philidas died, becauſe in hapned upon your occaſion: there is ano [...] [...] that has good cauſe to remember another accident; I have not forgot that [...] [...]hen Celadon drowned himſelf; for then I loſt a Father and Mother, and am able to ſay and ſay truly, that my eyes were never dry ſince, as oft as I remembred that fatal mis-fortune. And I, ſaid Alexis, may ſay as much, and almoſt about the ſame time, at leaſt if reports make a true calculation. But theſe ſad remembrances are the moſt cruel enemies we have; and therefore for my part, knowing them to be ſo, I ſhun them as much as poſſibly I can: Oh Miſtris, ſaid Aſtrea, It is an eaſie matter for you to expel ſuch ſad remembrances of things which grieve you, for you have a good Father who loves you, and helps you out with ſupplies of comforts; but were you an orphan, deprived of Father and Mother as I am, I believe you would more deeply reſent the remembrance of ſuch fatal loſſes: but however, I have moſt juſt reaſon to be thankful unto Heaven, which after ſo great a loſs has not left me without ſome ſupport, in giving me a ſecond Father, unto whom I am obliged in double bonds of gratitude; but for all that, believe it Miſtris, it is a moſt ſad conſtraint that ſeparates a child from Father and Mother. Upon this Phocion began to ſpeak; It is moſt certain children (ſaid he) for ſo my age permits me to call you, that fortune has the ſame power in all places alike; and that ſhe is pleaſed to make her power known as well in Villages, as in great Monarchies. But it is true alſo, that as high and lofty Towers are more expoſed to the tearing tempeſts and bluſtering winds, then the humble Cottages wherein we live, ſo alſo we do more ſeldom ſee any of theſe bloody conſequences of fortune amongſt us: they are much more frequent in great Empires, and proud Republiques, which the more reſt and quiet they have, the fuller they are of motions and inquietudes, and of greater turbulencies then our poor Villages are capable of: ſo as what we eſteem a ſtorm, is with them a calm. This was the main reaſon why thoſe from whom we are deſcended, did chuſe this kind of life, as the moſt happy which mortals can make choiſe of. But for all that, replied Alexis, I do hear as many complaints and griefs amongſt you, as amongſt the greateſt Potents upon earth. So children, anſwered Phocion, do uſe to cry for the loſſe of an apple, as if it were the loſſe of a great Empire: For my part (ſaid Diana and interrupted) I do not think ſorrows are greater, for having the greater cauſes of them; but that is leaſt which is leaſt reſented. Moſt true, replied Phocion, it is ſo in regard unto the troubled ſoul, but not ſo, if it be reſented, and meaſured according to the right rules of reaſon; for then every thing will be reſented and eſteemed as it is: and oftentimes when the paſſion is ceaſed, we do laugh at that, at which we cryed before; but all our diſcourſe (ſaid Phocion, ſeeing them ready to riſe from the Table) does teach us this, that there is no place under the cope of Heaven which is entirely exempted from the blows of fortune, and that we ought alwayes to ſtand upon our guards againſt them, that when they come to aſſault us, we may not only reſiſt them, but alſo without taking the ſhadow for the ſubſtance, which is commonly the greater, we may meaſure them according to reaſon, and not with any partial reſentments of thoſe blows which we receive, nor with too many tears which ſeldom do any good, but with prudence, reaſon, moderation and patience.

Upon this they aroſe from the Table; and after ſome other ſuch Diſcourſe, bed-time being come, the Druide, and the three Shepherdeſſes, retired themſelves to their chamber:

On the other ſide, Dorinde and her companions, with thoſe that conducted them, went unto Marſelles, and endeavoured to beguil the length of the way, and the perplexities of the ſad Dorinde, with various and pleaſant diſcourſe. But Hylas, who led her by the arm, and was not much uſed to give way unto any melancholy dumps, not being able to endure her ſilence (for when others talked, ſhe was mute) I pray good long ſince Miſtris (ſaid he unto her) how long muſt this ſimple ſilence laſt? My long ſince Servant (ſaid ſhe, and ſmiled) I beſeech you pardon me, for I am in a very naughty humour, and cannot help it. Theſe dumpiſh humours (replied he) are allowable in any that have not a Hylas by them; but in you who has me ſo near you, it is a fault unpardonable; and therefore reſolve your ſelf to leave one or the other, for ſorrow and I cannot be together. I wiſh, replied ſhe, that I were [Page] in a better mood, and you ſhould ſee [...] I deſire it; therefore I pray tell me what you would have me do? Eith [...] [...] [...]and me, ſaid Hylas, to relate the adventures which have hapned unto me [...] ſaw you, or elſe tell me yours; for ſuch and ſo many various actions has befallen me, that you cannot hear them but be delighted: I will promiſe not to make you any ſadder then you are, and commonly it is more delightful to hear the adventures of others, then to tell their own. No. ſaid Thamires, and began to ſpeak, it is more expedient that this fair Stranger do relate unto us the cauſe of her coming into this Country, then for Hylas to relate unto us his conſtant inconſtancies, which every one here does know. Oh good Thamires (ſaid Hylas) indeed you have great reaſon to twit me with my inconſtancies: Pray tell me when ever any of them did ſo much hurt as your obſtinate humour called conſtancy has done? I do not blame you nor your humour (ſaid Thamires) nor do I commend them, but leave it to the judgement of thoſe that will take the pains to conſider them; I only ask you, wherein did my obſtinate humour called conſtancie, do you any harm? It is not to me alone (replied Hylas) that it is obnoxious, but unto all thoſe that are about the Banks of Lignon, and to all the whole Country of Forreſts, all whom do reſent the injury you have done them, in ſpoyling the beauty of this wiſe woman (pointing at Celidea) who was one of the greateſt ornaments of the Country▪ Shepherd (ſaid Celidea, and interrupted him) I do think my ſelf infinitely happy in that which you think a loſs; for by parting with a thing of a poor trivial value, I have in exchange the greateſt tranquility of Spirit, and as much contentment of mind, as can poſſibly be deſired. We do not talk of the tranquility of your mind, wiſe Shepherdeſs, ſaid Hylas, nor of your contentments, but of that happineſs which we have loſt by the obſtinacie of Thamires; and if ſuch a chance had hapned unto Hylas, perhaps you ſhould become as fair as ever you was. Is not Dorinde fairer then ſhe was when firſt I began to love her? Look upon Florice, Cercinea, Palinice; and did you ſee Cryſeide, you would ſay that all thoſe whom I love, are hugely beholding to me; for I leave them all fairer then I found them: and not like thoſe blaſters of Beauty (for ſo may all your Thamyreſes, your Tyrciſes, your Sylvanders, and ſuch like be called) who never leave any one of thoſe they love, till they have either made them ugly, or brought them to their graves, as two of you have done, and you ſhall ſee what will become of Diana, before the wilful Sylvander and ſhe part; you ſee ſhe is now young, and very fair; and I dare venture the affection which I have unto Stella, that before he quit her, either he or ſhe are in their graves; then what will become of thoſe fair eyes, and a hundred alluring features: Well, well, God keep you from ſuch ſervants, as will never let thoſe they love alone till they be dead; nay, even in their very graves they will be troubling them. Pray ſee I beſeech you, if any that ever I ſerved were uſed ſo indiſcreetly: No, no, when I leave them, I leave them in ſuch a condition, as others are contented to love them after me. Do not think Hylas (anſwered Thamires ſoberly) that this conſtancy which we do ſo religiouſly obſerve, and which you do ſo much inveigh againſt, is either an humour, or any obſtinacy, but only an earneſt deſire not to fail in thoſe duties which we owe both unto our ſelves and unto thoſe we love; Unto our ſelves, becauſe alteration of opinion is to condemn that which we once approved of, and there is nothing more ſhameful, nor which ſhews more defects in a man then that; For if it be underſtanding which prefers us before the reſt of animals, are not thoſe who want this underſtanding no better then beaſts without reaſon? But of all vices, Inconſtancy does moſt diſcover and argue that defect; then Hylas, you muſt of neceſſity confeſs, that none can commit a greater offence, then by ſhewing themſelves wavering and inconſtant: For the Will which never conſents unto any thing but what the Judgement tells him is good, chuſing another object, does undeniably argue, that his judgement was deceived either the firſt or the ſecond time: And therefore, though there were no other reaſon but our own particular reputation, we ought never to conſent unto inconſtancy, which renders us moſt worthy of all ſcorn and contempt. But further, it a moſt unpardonable offence againſt the perſon whom we do love; For Hylas, does any change but when they think they change for the better? And therefore is it not an injury unto her whom we loved, to leave her for another, ſince we do as good as ſay that the laſt is the better? Hylas not being able [Page] to endure that Thamires ſhould go any further with this diſcourſe without interruption, he went nearer him, and looked him in the face, and ſeeming deſirous to look under his clothes, Shepherd (ſaid he unto him) let me ſee, if under the habit of Thamires, Sylvander be not diſguiſed, for me-thinks I hear him ſpeak in his tone. Ah Hylas, anſwered Thamires, your having that opinion, is a ſigne you think my arguments to be good; for there is nothing which comes from ſo excellent a wit, which ought not to be eſteemed ſo. You are very much miſtaken good Thamires, replied Hylas, for hearing your arguments ſo ſhallow and ill-grounded, I thought them to be his, or he himſelf which uttered them, and not Thamires, who is held for a very prudent and wiſe Shepherd; and to make good what I ſay, I will ſhew you how falſe your reaſons are.

You affirm that one ought to continue in his obſtinacy of loving one that they once loved, in two conſiderations: The one in reſpect of himſelf; and the other in reſpect of her whom he loves. Ah Thamires! It is an eaſie matter to you who are antiquated; for your clothes are not only made after the old mode, but your opinions are as old, and cut out according to the old Gauliſh garb: Good friend, is there any thing in a man more deſpiſable then ſillineſs and indiſcretion? And is it not the height of indiſcretion and ſillineſs, to know what is happineſs, and to court and follow that which will make him miſerable? I beſeech you fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſſes be judges, and tell me whether you would not think that husbandman a very fool, that has divers times found by experience ſuch a piece of ground is not fit for corn, and will ſtill continue ſowing it with the ſame ſeed, and only out of a fooliſh fear, leſt it ſhould be ſaid that he had no judgement at the firſt. Ah my good friend Thamires, is it any thing but gain and profit that gets reputation in theſe days? And indeed, if one ſhould enquire of the quality and capacity of any one, be it either as a ſervant, or any other ways, Did you ever hear the queſtion asked ſuch a one, whether he be conſtant or inconſtant? No, no Thamires, but only whether he can manage well his buſineſs, whether he be rich, whether he have good flocks, and ſuch things as can encreaſe and keep them, not by an obſtinate reſolution never to part with them, but by ſelling and changing them as oft as occaſion ſhall require. Suppoſe friend, you were upon the Sea, you would quickly be ſhipwrack'd if you kept your Sayl conſtant to one wind; no, no, wiſe men will turn their ſayl to all winds. The very ſame it is in the affairs of the world, and it is ſoverain wiſdom to change according to occaſions. And as to your aſſertion, that changing does offend againſt the perſon whom one did love; good Thamires, what do you think of me? Or, whom do you think I am? Is there not ſome perſons who make bread, and others who eat it? Do not ſome make clothes, and others wear them? Why ſhould I not give them the ſame counſel that I would take my ſelf? I mean, that as I change them for others, ſo let them change me for whom they like better, when they have a mind unto it: But in as much as I think it is impoſſible that thoſe whom I once loved ſhould ever meet with a better, they muſt even content themſelves as well as they can, and conſider, that of all things in the world, ſome are deſtined unto happineſs, and others unto miſery. Amongſt horſes, ſome are for the plow, and ſome are for the ſaddle; amongſt dogs, ſome lie in Ladies laps, and others lick the dripping pan in the kitchin; and ſo amongſt men, ſome to be ſerved, and others to ſerve: 'Tis true, their fate is hard, but will they complain of Hylas for it? No, it is not in me to command him who ordained them that cruel deſtiny; but if they will be complaining, it muſt be for being born under ſuch an unlucky conſtellation: and yet I muſt tell you, that this very offence which you preſuppoſe, is nothing but imagination: For when a Muſician changes notes, does he change them becauſe he thought thoſe he left to be worſe then thoſe he took? No, no Shepherd, but it was to make his Muſique better, and more delightful, which otherwiſe would be dull and tedious. If a Painter change colours, [...]ay ſomtimes the very piece it ſelf, is it becauſe he deſpiſed the firſt colour? No, but on the contrary, becauſe he would more enliven it, and ſhadow the firſt colour ſo, that he ſets it off with greater luſter then at the firſt: So Thamires, when we do leave a Shepherdeſs whom we did love, and take another, it is not as you think, becauſe we eſteem her more then her we left, but only to follow the rules and dictates of Nature, which reacheth us, that it [Page] is nothing but variety which renders the univerſe delightful. Look upon every thing, even from the loweſt to the higheſt, and you will find, that nature has engraved this inſtinct and this Law, in ſuch characters as cannot be defaced. Tell me Thamires, when you lye in your bed, do you never turn from one ſide to another? If you do, you are inconſtant, and ſhews want of judgement, in chuſing the worſe ſide at the firſt: when you walk, or dance; why do you change legs, but rather hop upon the firſt you began with, if you will be punctual to your firſt beginnings? When you ſpeak, why do you not make uſe ſtill of the ſame word? Why do Fidlers finger more ſtrings then one? And why do they vary into ſo many ſeveral tunes? I ſee Shepherd that you laugh at what I ſay: but believe it, I have greater reaſon to laugh at you, when you ſay, that one is inconſtant in loving ſeveral Shepherdeſſes, or that one offends her whom he leaves.

I muſt needs confeſs, ſaid Thamires, that I do laugh at the arguments which you uſe to maintain your fickle humour: I believe there is none in the company but does the like, and perhaps Hylas himſelf alſo, if not in his face, yet in his heart: for it is a very hard matter to forbear upon ſuch a ſubject: and I wiſh Sylvander were here to anſwer (as it is neceſſary) unto your Sophiſtry: I am glad to hear, replied Hylas, that you call for help; it is a ſign you think your ſelf overcome: but never be aſhamed of it, for though Sylvander himſelf were here, whom you accompt your Oracle, yet I am confident he would confeſſe my victory, and himſelf ſubmit unto it: Oh Hylas! (ſaid Thamires) you do miſtake the reaſon why I deſired Sylvanders company; it is not becauſe I want any arguments to anſwer your aſſertions, for it is an eaſie matter unto any that will take the pains: but it is becauſe that Shepherd is able by his ſplendent fancies, and excellent eloquence, to give this fair company better contentment, then is my dull genius: and yet in his abſence, ſince he who is ſilent unto truth, is culpable of a lye; I will briefly anſwer you, but it ſhall be upon a condition, that you give me leave to laugh at what you have aſſerted: in the firſt place, I confeſs Hylas, that Husbandman to be very indiſcreet; who having found by tryal that his ground is not proper for one ſeed, will not ſow it with another, and change his ſeed: but Hylas, this does not prove what you aſſert; for love ought not to precede the knowledg of the party loved. The Husbandman had no knowledge at the firſt of the quality of his Land, ſo as he ought not to change his ſeed till he has found it by experience and knowledg; and therefore all thoſe conſequent arguments which you uſed, to change the ſail according to the wind, and that it is prudence to know how to comply with occaſions, we do agree with you, that it is indeed high wiſdom to be guided by, and according to the weather; and the reaſon is, becauſe we cannot command the wind and the weather as we will: ſo that Hylas, you muſt know, that in things which have dependency upon our ſelves, and which are in our own power, it is a ſhame to change; but on the contrary, in thoſe things which depend upon the power of another, it is high prudence to know how, and when to turn and change according to occaſion. Now Love, which does depend upon the will, there is no queſtion, but it is in our power, ſince God did never give us any thing which is more abſolutely ours, then this will; which has no matter of chance or fortune in it, as there is in the Sea, or in the Winds. But truly your inſtance of Muſitians in changing Notes, and Painters in colours, is a very ſubtile argument indeed: but good Hylas, do you not know, that their firſt deſigns are to arrive at the end of their works? The Muſitian he deſigns to make good Muſique, and the Painter to illuſtrate his work; and by changing Notes, and uſing ſeveral colours, they both arrive at their firſt deſigned end: moſt right (ſaid Hylas, and interrupted) and even ſo I doe never change, but with a deſign to arrive at the end of my deſires. But, replied Thamires, Love will not allow of that, whoſe perfection does ſo much conſiſt in unity, as it can never be perfect until it attain unto that one which it aymes at: and hence it is that our Druids ſay, two perſons that do love, become one and the ſame; which is eaſily comprehended, ſince both parties have one and the ſame will, and ſo conſequently are one and the ſame perſon. As for your arguments of inconſtancy drawn from turning my ſelf in my bed, inferring it to proceed from want of judgement in not chuſing the beſt ſide at the firſt; you muſt know Hylas, that the body, which is heavy and ſubject to wearineſſe, by its own [Page] weight, muſt eaſe it ſelf by turning, that both ſides may bear the weight alike: but the ſoul, which is all ſpirit, is not ſubject unto ſuch inconveniences, and therefore ought not to change: but good Hylas, give me leave to laugh a little before I anſwer your argument of walking and ſpeaking; ſaying, that thoſe who walk, if they will be conſtant, muſt never go but upon one leg, and hop; or when they ſpeak, never uſe but one word: I believe Hylas, if nature had called you to councel, when ſhe appointed to every thing their motions, perhaps you had invented ſome other way for men to walk, and had made hopping ſerve the turn; but ſince you were not, you cannot call them inconſtant, who walk as nature ordained them, ſince they can do no otherwiſe: and as for matter of ſpeaking, know Hylas, that ſpeaking was given unto men, to make thoſe who hear them, underſtand the ſecret conceptions of their ſouls: now do but invent one word, that can make to be underſtood all that the mind conceives; and then I will ſay, we were inconſtant if we uſed any words but that alone: do you ſee therefore how ſhallow all your reaſons and arguments are? Certainly you muſt needs confeſſe, that they are grounded upon ſand, which is as looſe, and fleeting, as your inconſtant humour is. But are you not exceedingly pleaſant, in ſaying, that thoſe whom you quit for others, ought not to lay the blame upon you, but upon their conſtellation and their deſtiny? It is moſt true indeed, that they have reaſon to complain againſt their malignant influence, for I think it a very great miſ-fortune unto them that are troubled with your addreſſes; but are not you extreamly to blame in being the inſtrument of this malignant influence? Tell me, I beſeech you, is not the gallows upon which a malefactor is hanged, a horror unto every one, and ſcorned? Ah my friend, what are you unto thoſe poor women that are deſtined unto your inconſtancies, but the gallows where they receive their puniſhments?

At this all the company laughed a long while, and Hylas alſo, though it was againſt himſelf; and when he began to reply, he was prevented by Adraſtes, who having met with Doris, did ſo hang upon her, that ſhe could not be rid of him; at the firſt he ran unto her, and kneeled before her; he would have kiſſed her feet, and with all humble reverence touched the hem of her garment: but ſeeing ſhe went ſtill on, he would not go out of thoſe limits, unto which he was by a kind of witchcraft confined; he was ſo bold as to ſtay her by her gown, and would have taken her by her arm, which cauſed her to cry out: and Palemon being not far off, ran in to help her; but do what Palemon could, Adraſtes would not let his hold go: when he pulled one hand off, Adraſtes took hold with the other: and Adraſtes being a big ſtrong man, Palemon would hardly have maſtered him, but for the coming of this company, who advancing towards them, the Shepherds took hold of Adraſtes, and gave Doris time to eſcape out of his hands. The ſtate and miſerable condition of this poor Shepherd, moved Dorinde to pity him: and the beauty of Doris made her very deſirous to know how the diſſention did ariſe: Palemon as a very civil and courteous Shepherd, ſaid unto her, be pleaſed to know, fair ſtranger (for ſo he thought her by her habit) that this Shepherd and I were both in love with this Shepherdeſs, & ſhe being adjudged unto me, he received the ſentence ſo ſadly, that he fell mad, and loſt the uſe of reaſon. A thouſand pities, ſaid Dorinde, for he ſeems to be a Shepherd of excellent qualities: were he in the Town where I was born, I believe, there might be found a remedy for him; for I have ſeen one cured of the ſame diſeaſe; and ſo may he, eſpecially if it be not long ſince the miſ-fortune did befal him. It was not above two months ſince (ſaid Palemon) and I am ſo exceedingly ſorry for him, that I would do any thing which might be conducing to his cure▪ doubtleſs (ſaid Dorinde) this will; I have had the experience of it, and the remedy is very eaſie, is there not a Temple of Jupiter in this Country? And is there not another near unto it, dedicated unto the Goddeſſe Minerva? There is many of them, anſwered Thamires, which they ſay, the Romans built; but, as for us, we do never frequent them; becauſe our Druids teach us, that the Majeſty of the Great Tautates is ſo incomprehenſible, that the whole Univerſe is only a Temple worthy of his grandeur, which he himſelf did build; for ſuch as are built by the impotent hands of men, are too mean for ſuch a Divinity: and this is the reaſon why all our Sacrifices are offered in Sacred Groves, and under no other roof, but [Page] the glorious Arch of Heaven. But that people whom I mentioned, had Sacrificers which ſerved in Temples, and I think that I have ſeen ſuch a one in the great City of Marſelles: for the Founder did not only give it his own name, but alſo planted his Religion there, and I remember very well, there is alſo another dedicated unto Minerva, which as I think joyns unto that of Jupiter. If ſo, ſaid Dorinde, and that you deſire the cure of this poor Shepherd, carry him thither, and I am confident of his cure: for there needs no more then to drive a nail which hath touched his Pemples into the wall of Jupiters Temple, which is on that ſide towards the Temple of Minerva. If that be all (ſaid Palemon) I ſwear that to morrow I will neither eat nor drink until I have driven one ſo far, as it ſhall hardly be pulled out, but by breaking the wall. It is not you, replied Dorinde, that ought to do that ceremony, but it muſt be the principal perſon of the place. If ſo, (ſaid Palemon) I will fall upon my knees before Amaſis, I will beſeech her to do that charitable Act, and I will make a vow, that if this poor Shepherd recover, I will not deny the firſt thing that ſhall be asked of me, be it made by whom it will. And becauſe Adraſtes ſtill followed the company, and the place which he uſed to haunt very near, Palemon entreated Doris, that ſhe would either by prayers, or any other way, to make him follow them unto Marſelles, whither he underſtood all this good company was going. Doris, to pleaſe him, though much againſt the grain of her mind, went to that poor Shepherd when ſhe ſaw him ready to leave them. Adraſtes (ſaid ſhe unto him) will you not go with me unto my houſe? He went nearer to her, and after he had looked well upon her, he anſwered, to my houſe do you ſay, Adraſtes and Doris? Yes, replied Doris, will not Adraſtes go with Doris? To which he anſwered not a word but Doris: and turning himſelf about, offered to go away. Doris then calling him by his name, and he turning towards her, ſhe offered her hand and ſaid unto him; come, come, Adraſtes, do not you love Doris? He looked ſeriouſly upon her, and ſaid not a word; and it would have pitied any one, to ſee how tears trickled from his eyes, though he ſmiled. Doris then made him a ſecond offer of her hand; what Adraſtes (ſaid ſhe) do you not know Doris? Then he anſwered, Doris; yes, ſaid ſhe, I am Doris, who entreats Adraſtes to go with her unto Marſelles. Then going to her, and taking her under the arm, he ſaid, Marſelles, Doris, Adraſtes, Palemon, and never left ſaying ſo all the way long: but ſometimes did weep, and ſometimes at the very ſame inſtant laugh, and would never anſwer unto any queſtion, but only the laſt word of it.

They had already paſſed over the River Lignon, and left the houſe of Adamas on the right hand, when they began to diſcover Marſelles; and becauſe Hylas was very ſorry that he could not know the cauſe of Dorindes coming into Forreſts; it is a hard caſe (ſaid he) that ſome fooliſh accident or other does always prevent me in my deſires; what fooliſh accident do you complain of, ſaid Dorinde, which has prevented you in your deſires? Two things, anſwered Hylas, I do complain of, and they are very different; the one is, that Thamires and I have talked ſo long: & the other is, that Adrastes hath made us loſe that time which I deſired ſhould be ſpent in hearing what has hapned unto you ſince laſt I ſaw you. If that be al, anſwered Dorinde, to content you, we ſhal remedy it when you pleaſe: theſe promiſes are eaſily made, ſaid Hylas, but often fail in performance; hold me for a perſon very uncivil, ſaid Dorinde, if I do not give you ſatisfaction in a thing which I may with ſo much eaſe perform; I believe you to be civil enough, replied Hylas, but I cannot tell whether your leiſure and your will can permit it: as for matter of will, anſwered Dorinde, it ſhall not ſtick upon that; and as for leiſure, I believe, that at night when we have nothing elſe to do, we may have as good an opportunity as can be deſired. But pray, why have you not as great a deſire to know the adventures of Florice, of Palinice, and Cercinea, as well as mine? Is it becauſe you already know them? There is a hidden miſtery in that, anſwered Hylas, and the truth is, I do not know them; but I do very much wonder, now I think on it, that I ſhould never have that deſire; then turning towards them, but good (in the dayes of old) Miſtriſſes, tell me, why you did not pay that tribute which was due unto my curioſity and deſire? We do anſwer, ſaid Florice, that neither you nor we had any will thereunto; but yet there is a reaſon which is better, and which proceeds from a cauſe more high; for Heaven did forbid us: [Page] How, how? ſaid Hylas, have you ſuch familiar converſation with Heaven? I do not wonder now I ſhould ſo retire my ſelf from you, ſince you are ſo celeſtial: you muſt not now be loved, but adored as heavenly beauties. Hylas, ſaid Cercinea, you now ſpeak like unto your ſelf, who being one of thoſe Gallo-Ligurians, which retain nothing of the ancient Gauliſh Religion, but the [...] [...]ry name, having received the Graecian fables for truths: but we, who adore nothing but one only Tautates, we do not deſire to be adored. Oh Cercinea (ſaid Hylas) I perceive your celeſtial converſation with Heaven; and your intimate familiarity with Angels, has made you ſo divine, that now there is no coming near you: you do not talk now like Cercinea, but like a Sarronide, an Eubages, a Propheteſs, a celeſtial Druide. God keep me from loving you, ſince you are learned; for when I begin to talk unto you of my affection, in lieu of anſwering, you will reprove me for not ſpeaking well: and God knows how extreamly aſhamed ſhould I be to receive correction at this age. Then turning towards Florice, but pray tell me in good earneſt (ſaid he) how comes it to paſſe I ſhould never know the cauſe of your coming into this Country? Becauſe (anſwered Florice) we would not tell it unto any, being ſo enjoyned by the Oracle, which did forbid us to ſpeak of it, until a thing come to paſs which is not yet hapned. Now I do ſee (ſaid Hylas) that heaven is better to me then I deſerve, ſince I am not afflicted with any deſires of a thing that would have been long before the effect would be obtained. But, ſaid Dorinde, why might not I have ſatisfied this deſire, for I do know all their adventures, almoſt as well as themſelves, and heaven has not forbidden me to tell them? Were we not ſo neer the place unto which we go, ſaid Lycidas, I ſhould humbly entreat that you would be pleaſed to take ſo much pains; for I believe there is not a ſtranger upon the Banks of Lignon, who hath ſo long concealed the cauſe of their journey, as theſe three fair ones have: It ſeems ſaid Hylas, that they have extreamly offended the Gods. Why? ſaid Cercinea. Becauſe (anſwered Hylas) the greateſt puniſhment that heaven can lay upon a woman, is to be ſilent. If it be ſo (anſwered ſhe) heaven has been very favourable to us, in giving us occaſion to ſhew our ſelves more then women.

Such diſcourſe as this beguiled the length of the way; and when they were come to the gates of Marſelles, Periander, Merindor, and their companions asked Dorinde if ſhe intended to do her obeyſance unto Amaſis that ſame night; and where ſhe intended to lodge if ſhe did not. To whom Dorinde anſwered, that it was very late, and that all the company was too weary to go ſo high as the Caſtle, which ſtood upon the top of a ſteep hill; but yet ſhe knew not where to lodge elſe-where, having no acquaintance in the place: Lycidas upon this be-thinking himſelf; I beſeech you (ſaid he) give me leave to go before you into the Town, and if he whom I hope to find in it be there, I am confident your reception will not be bad. Dorinde thanked him; and ſitting down under a ſhade neer the High-way, ſhe told him, that ſhe and the company would expect his return in that place. Upon this Lycidas with the company of Corilas, went into the Town, and went as faſt as they could unto the houſe of Clindor, the dear friend of Alcippes, the father of Celadon and Lycidas, This Clindor has ſtill in memory the affection which he bore unto their father, and ſince the death of Alcippes and Celadon, all his good will was placed upon Lycidas, as all that was left unto him of his dear friend; and therefore as ſoon as ever he ſaw him, he held out his arms of love to embrace him, and ſhewed as much entire affection, as if he had been his own ſon. Father, ſaid Lycidas unto him, for ſo he called him; if I have been backward in rendring that duty which I owe unto you, I beſeech you lay the blame upon the rural woods, which will hardly permit their inhabitants to frequent great Cities, without offence unto the Laws of their ſolitary lives. Son, ſaid Clindor, I do both excuſe and envie you: I excuſe you, becauſe Alcippes did all his life moſt religiouſly obſerve the vow of his anceſtors: and I do envie the happy lives you lead, when I conſider the turbulency and inquietude of ours: But Son, continued he, and embraced him, you are very heartily welcome, and your companion alſo; aſſuring your ſelf, that I cannot receive any greater contentment, then to ſee the ſon of my dear friend Alcippes well and with me. This aſſurance Sir, ſaid Lycidas, made me ſo bold as to offer your houſe to a great number of my friends who accompanied me hither, though I did not know whether it would be thought too [Page] great a trouble: Son, ſaid Clindor with a ſmiling countenance, thoſe who do come unto my houſe, eſpecially under ſo good a conductor as Lycidas, ſhall have as much power in it as my ſelf; the trouble that will be, will be only unto them, but much honour and contentment unto me: and then hearing who thoſe were whom he brought with him; I am very ſorry ſaid he, that I had no ſooner notice: but ſince they have ſurprized me, I hope t [...]y will excuſe the inconveniences of my houſe, and the they are moſt heartily welcome: Then calling for his ſon, Leontidas (ſaid he, for that was his name) go along with your brother, offer this houſe unto thoſe ſtrangers to whom he will conduct you, and tell them, that if my age would permit me, I would have waited upon them my ſelf.

Thus Lycidas with Leontidas went unto the company which expected him, who after many complements of civility, Leontidas took Dorinde by one arm, and Hylas took her by the other; when they came to the gates, the guards asked them who they were, and from whence they came? The three Cavaliers told them their names, and ſatisfied their demands; and Leontidas added, that they were going to the houſe of Clindor. The guards then cryed them mercy, and asked pardon for their ſtrictneſs, becauſe it was but according to their duty and commands received from their ſuperiour Officers. Thus they entred, and were conducted unto the houſe of Clindor, who received them with ſo kind a countenance, and treated them ſo nobly, as every one admired he ſhould have ſet his houſe in ſuch excellent order as they found it.

In the mean time the ſad Sylvander, who after he had left Dorinde and her company, was retired into the thickeſt woods, where he could leaſt be ſeen, and there paſt away the reſt of the day with his own melancholy and mortal thoughts, till at night he came to the place where Diana, Alexis, Aſtrea, and Phillis found him retired: He did ſo avoid the ſight of every one, that he knew not what had hapned unto Dorinde; for as ſoon as he ſaw any, he ſhunned them like a ſavage perſon. His ſad melancholy retained him in this place until it was night; but when he ſaw the canopy of heaven ſpangled with gliſtering ſtars, and thought that none was abroad, he went out; not with any deſigne of diverting himſelf, but only to reſent his ſorrows more apprehenſively, and that his ſorrows might the ſooner do that which his hand durſt not againſt his life, leſt heaven ſhould be offended if he gave himſelf a violent death.

This thought did inſenſibly conduct him unto the place where Phillis delivered the cruel meſſage from Diana unto him: Oh moſt fatal place (ſaid he) and moſt infamous for the higheſt piece of injuſtice that ever was committed upon the Banks of Lignon: Oh thou moſt abominable and and odious piece of ground! I do wonder Heaven does not cauſe the earth to open, and ſwallow thee in her deep Abyſs, and never ſuffer thee to be ſooting for any innocent Shepherd to tread upon again.

Then folding his arms one within another, he continued; But if heaven will needs purſue me with a perpetual hatred, as it hath done ever ſince that curſed day on which I was born, why does it not execute and compleat its cruel deſtinies upon me? Should I wiſh all places where I have reſented the unjuſt malignity of its influence to be Abyſſes; Alas, then all places where-ever I did ſet my foot, muſt be ſwallowed up into the profundity of the earth. Then coming to the place where he fell into a ſwoon, he ſtopped ſhort, and looked long ſilently upon it; at laſt he began again, 'Twas here (ſaid he) where my diſaſterous cogitations did muſter themſelves to overwhelm me; but how comes it to paſs I did endure them and not die? And is not heaven aſhamed to ſee it ſelf ſurmounted by the conſtancy of a mortal? It is not more ſtrange, to ſee how obſtinate the Deſtinies are in rendring me miſerable, then it is to ſee the inſenſibility of my ſoul, in ſupporting their blows. But upon good conſideration I needs muſt ſay, that heaven will either try what power it has in tormenting, or what courage I have in ſuffering. But faireſt Diana, muſt you needs be the inſtrument of ſo many cruelties? Can your beauty ever conſent unto the ruine of him that adores you? What excuſe can you alledge for your ſelf? You are either the partner in this fault, or at leaſt the cauſe and the original; for it is as impoſſible I ſhould love any but Diana, as it is for Diana to live, and not be the faireſt in the whole world; and as long as I live, the moſt loved Shepherdeſs upon earth. [Page] But alas, alas, you look for no excuſe where you cannot repent of the fault: or to ſay better, where repentance would be a thouſand times greater ſatisfaction, then the wrong.

Then ſtanding a while ſilent, and the moon ſhining very clear, he went looking and ſtaring upon every thing about him, like a man that was diſtracted, and hardly knew what it was that he did look upon: at laſt, the cruel diſcourſe of Phillis, and the opinion which Diana had of his change, coming into his mind, he could not chuſe but cry out: Oh God! Oh Heavens! Is it poſſible that the judgment of Diana, which is ſo sound and quick in all other things, ſhould to my miſery, be thus miſtaken? Can ſhe think Madonthe has any power to divert me from her, and her ſervice? Could that Wiſe, Prudent, and Solid Shepherdeſs believe, that thoſe eyes which have her▪ can look upon any other eyes but hers? Have I; Oh Faireſt Shepherdeſs, by any of my actions, given any teſtimony that I become a Hylas or an Adraſtes? For before I commit ſuch a ſin, I muſt needs be either one, or both; and I could not be ſo inconſtant unleſs I were a fool, or a mad man.

This thought entertained him a long time, and would not let him depart from that place, he thought to have found that contentment which he had loft: but on the contrary, he met ſtill with freſh cauſes of grief; for wandering inſenſibly from one thought to another, he began to think upon the ſweet beginnings of his affection, and with what diſcretion Diana received the firſt buds of his love, under the notion of a wager; with what kindneſs ſhe ſuffered that plant to take root, and how prudently ſhe ſaw it grow up to that grandeur which now is arrived at. And as concomitants of this thought, he ſet before his eyes the pleaſant jars of Phillis, the favourable anſwers of his Shepherdeſs; and briefly, all thoſe reaſons which he had to hope, that his affection would thrive, and grow fruitfull. Then did he bethink himſelf of that Bracelet of hair, which was intended for Phillis, and which he had obtained of Diana, as an extraordinary favour. He guided his hand to the place where he was wont to wear it, thinking to have the contentment of a kiſs from it: but not finding it, he looked upon the other arm: but not finding it on either, he was ſurprized with ſo much grief, as not being able to endure the blow of that diſaſter, he fell to the ground, and ſo lay a long time without either motion or ſpeech; but at laſt he revived, and concluded that now all hope was gone.

Sylvander had no ſooner ceaſed his complaints, but (as he thought) he heard ſome coming towards him; and to know who they were, and alſo out of fear to be ſeen, leſt by that means he ſhould be interrupted in his ſolitary thoughts, he kept ſtill cloſe, and ſilent; then did he plainly hear ſome coming and talking very loud, but not ſo as he could underſtand them at that diſtance▪ yet ſtill keeping ſilence, and they drawing neerer, he perceived by the help of the Moon, that they were two men talking together: and when they were cloſe by the place where Sylvander ſtood, they ſtopt a little; then did he hear one of them begin to ſing, and the effect of his ſong was, That he had more love, then ſhe had cruelty. He had no ſooner done, but the other began; and the ſubſtance of his ſong was, That he ought to love her for no other end but to love her. Ah Brother, (ſaid the firſt, and interrupted the other) you are in the right; for whoſoever does love for any other end but loving only, he does abuſe the name of love, and moſt unworthily pro [...]ane that pure and Sacred Divinity. But give me leave to tell you▪ that in what you alledged before, concerning the torments which you and I do ſuffer, you have as little reaſon, as I have much, to ſay, that there is no torment in the world that is equal unto mine. Brother, (anſwered the other with a deep ſigh) that love which every one doth bear unto himſelf, is the cauſe of that judgment: for when you ſee me ſuffer any pain, do you not reſent it more then any ſtranger would? Doubtleſs I do (anſwered the firſt) Then Alcander, replied the other, the ſame reaſon which makes you reſent my pain more then another, does make you reſent your own more then mine: for as it is natural to love a brother more then a ſtranger, ſo it is as natural to love ones ſelf more then any elſe: it is love which gives the weight unto all things which fall under opinion. I do not know Amilcar (ſaid he) how you intend this? It is true that I am partly in the ſame belief, and partly not; I mean, that it is love which doth cauſe reſentment of ſorrows and joyes, and that it is by it, and its ell, we do meaſure [Page] the greatneſs or the littleneſs of all things: but that every one does love themſelves more then ſome others: Indeed brother, I muſt confeſs, that if this be an effect of nature, then nature has failed in me: for I do proteſt and vow, that I do love Circinca, a thouſand times better then I do my ſelf; and it is an eaſie matter to make this evident, ſince I do find in my ſelf towards her, all the effects which a moſt extream love can produce: for firſt, I had rather any evil ſhould fall upon my ſelf, then the leaſt upon her: and I deſire her contentment infinitely above my own; there is nothing, be it never ſo full of difficulty, but I would attempt it, if there was any hopes it would conduce thereunto: If any thing that pleaſed me, diſpleaſed her, believe it, Amilcar, I had rather dye then receive it: and if theſe be not infallible arguments, that I do love another better then my ſelf, I know not what are. Brother, replied Amilcar, I do reſent the very ſame effects of affection unto Palinice, which you do unto Circinea: but oh Alcander, you are much miſtaken if you do conclude thereby, that you do love Circinea better then your ſelf, or that I do love Palinice, more then I do my ſelf. For if we will but ingeniouſly confeſs, it is the love of our ſelves that makes us love them: and as the miſer does expoſe his life for the preſervation of that Gold which he loves; ſo do we Sacrifice our ſelves to the pleaſure of thoſe fair ones whom we adore: Fie, fie Brother, replied Alcander, will you offer ſuch a wrong unto our loves, as to compare them unto a miſers love of Gold? Aſſure your ſelf brother (ſaid Amilcar ſoberly) there is no difference betwixt them, only the love that we do give unto theſe fair ones, is for a thing of greater value and merit, and therefore it is more noble and reaſonable: but the very truth is, the original of all loves, is ſelf love: does not the miſers care to preſerve his dearly beloved Gold, proceed from the love of himſelf, and not his Gold? Doubtleſs it does; for what cares the gold into whoſe hands it fals, ſince whereſoever it is, it is ſtill Gold as well as in his hands. Then let us apply this reaſon unto our ſelves, and you will find that it is the love which you hear unto your ſelf, which makes you have all thoſe cares of Circinea, and all thoſe earneſt deſires of her contentment: would you wiſh her ſo much happineſſe, and endeavour to procure it unto her, upon condition ſhe ſhould extreamly love Clorian, and devote her ſelf wholly unto him, without ever caring for you? But did ſhe love Clorian, replied Alcander, ſhe would not be ſo happy as you ſuppoſe her. But ſuppoſe ſhe ſhould be as happy (ſaid Amiliar) would you wiſh her the enjoyment of all thoſe contentments with Clorian? I ſee you will not anſwer, nor have you any reaſon; but I will anſwer for you: it is moſt certain, that you and I had rather ſee the grim face of death, then to ſee your Circinea happy with Clorian; and I to ſee my Palinice, the happy wife of Sileines: and therefore let us both ingeniouſly confeſſe, that all the happineſſe which we do wiſh unto them, is but like the love of a Miſer to his Gold; that is, for our own particular intereſt: though the exceſſe of our paſſions makes us think the contrary.

Upon this, theſe ſtrangers continued on their walk, and for a while were ſilent. Sylvander who heard them, and thought them to be perſons of merit and underſtanding had a good mind to be talking with them, had it not been for the ſcurvy humour, into which the jealouſie of Diana had put him: but conſidering this vexing humour, he thought it better to be as he was, then interrupt them: and therefore, he deſigned to go away: but as he was going, he ſaw theſe ſtrangers turn back, as men that knew not which way to go; but having found that walk, would paſſe away the reſt of the night in it. His fears to be ſeen, cauſed him to keep cloſe till they were paſt, and afterwards to fall into the thick of the Wood. But whether he made ſome noiſe, as he couched down, or whether the Moon ſhined clearer then it did when they paſſed by before, I know not: but Alcander ſpied him, and ſhewed him to his brother, who ſtepping nearer, certainly (ſaid he) it is a Shepherd who is a ſleep. Sylvander, who ſeeing himſelf diſcovered, and who thought that they would not go away before they made him ſpeak; he thought alſo that it was better to prevent them: and therefore, he anſwered, if I do ſleep, then it may be ſaid, that a man may ſleep and not reſt; for the miſerable condition wherein I am, will not let me enjoy any: do not think Amilcar (continued he, and roſe up) that it is any love which I bear unto my ſelf, makes me judge my miſery unequalled; for ſhould [Page] I judge by paſſion upon that which relates unto me, it would be rather by hatred then love, ſince I am able to ſay, and ſay truly, that I never wiſhed any ſo much harm as I do unto my ſelf. And though the miſery which I endure, be as much as any mortal man can endure, yet am I ſo much my own enemy, that my hatred cannot be ſatisfied, unleſs by wiſhing my miſeries multiplied above the number of all the leaves in this Wood. I muſt confeſs, ſaid Amilcar, that if your condition be as bad as you ſpeak it, all ſorrows muſt ſubmit unto yours. Oh Amilcar, ſaid Sylvander, it is but too true, and did you but know my wounds, you would confeſs it alſo; but becauſe it would be ſome kind of comfort to tell it, I will not give my ſelf ſo much contentment. It ſeems (ſaid Alcander) that the greatneſs of your miſery hath driven you into deſpair, and you know deſpair argues but little knowledge, and little courage: I muſt confeſs, ſaid the Shepherd, that my miſery is changed into deſpair, but I do deny that deſpair, is alwaies from want of knowledge or courage; for were it not a ſtrange ignorance to have ſuch extream misfortunes as I have, and not to know them? And would it not argue a great defect of courage, and reſentment, to ſtand in ſuch fear of death, as to wiſh, living in ſuch miſery? This may paſs amongſt petty and trivial miſchances and miſeries, ſuch as are common and ordinary; but amongſt ſuch as are grown to that height, as there is no remedy, nor no cure, it is a folly, a madneſs, an argument of a poor low courage, to endure the ſhame which cannot be avoided by any way but by being no more, However replied Alcander, it is an argument of a faint and poor courage, to want a heart that will endure the blows of an enemy. Moſt true, replied the Shepherd, but there is no reaſon to hope for a thing which there is no hopes to obtain, and thereupon I ſay it is, that my miſery is deſperate; not that I do conclude thereby, that I will run a ſword into my breaſt to kill my ſelf, or throw my ſelf head long down a precipice: ſuch an act would argue a defect in courage; nay worſe, it is a great impiety and ſin committed againſt the great Tautates; for man being the workmanſhip of his hands, it were a moſt horrid ſin to deſtroy what he hath made; He, as the Potter with his pot, may do what he will with us: and we were made to be as he will have us, and not to diſpoſe of our ſelves according to our own will; if it be his pleaſure we ſhould endure pain and abundance of miſery, we muſt endure, and not endeavour to croſs his will by any ſudden death: but I begin to reſent ſome mittigation of my ſadneſs by this diſcourſe which I have had, and therefore, becauſe I will not do my miſeries ſo much wrong, I do conjure you Amilcar, by your love unto Palinice, and you Alcander, by yours unto Circinea, that you let me go and retire my ſelf into the moſt ſolitary parts of this wood; and in requital I will tell you (that if you ſeek for thoſe two fair Shepherdeſſes) where you may find them; and that is, where I have often ſeen them upon the banks of Lignon in the company of the fair Diana, Astrea, and their companions: upon this, he ſaluted them, and went into the Wood as faſt as he could, leſt he ſhould be followed by theſe ſtrangers.

They on the other ſide raviſhed to hear ſuch diſcourſe come from a Shepherd, they were ſo aſtoniſhed, as they could not ſtir a foot after him; But having held their eyes a while upon the place where he entred into the Wood; Alcander broke ſilence firſt: Brother, ſaid he, did you ever hear ſuch a ſhepherd? His habit indeed, ſaid Amilcar does ſpeak him Shepherd, but not his tongue: for my part ſaid Alcander, I think him to be the good Genius of Lignon who preſented himſelf unto us in that habit, to ſhew us, that there are ſome who are in greater miſery then we are. Perhaps, replied Amilcar, I ſhould have been of the ſame opinion, if we had been in any Country but Forreſts, where I have heard there are ſo many diſcreet and well accompliſhed Shepherds, as the encounter ſeems not ſo ſtrange unto me. If he be a Shepherd, continued Alcander, and the reſt like him, it muſt needs be confeſſed that Cities have reaſon to envie theſe Woods and ſolitary places; but ſaid he, and pointed at a paper which lay in the place where they firſt found Sylvander, I do ſee a thing like a letter, and perhaps the Moon will give us light to read it. Amilcar upon this took up a paper which Sylvander accidentally dropt, in which were writ a copie of verſes, importing, That ſhe, ſhe only is worthy of her ſelf. It is certain, ſaid Alcander, that he is a Shepherd, and not the Genius of this place; but it muſt needs be acknowledged that theſe Woods are extreamly happy in having ſuch gueſts.

[Page] But Alexis in the mean time who lay according to her cuſtome in Aſtreas chamber, where Diana and Phillis alſo lay, ſhe was up as early as the Sun, and taking the clothes of the fair Aſtrea, ſhe dreſt her ſelf as ſoon, and with as little noiſe as poſſibly ſhe could: Then ſhe opened the windows, and ſet a chair cloſe by the bed, that ſhe might the better contemplate thoſe Beauties which ſhe adored. Aſtreas body was half turned towards her bed-fellows, and the weather being very hot, part of her breaſt was open, and her right arm hung careleſly naked over Diana. Alexis having a while contemplated, Alas (ſaid ſhe in a low voice, leſt ſhe ſhould be heard) Ah Alexis! why art not thou metamorphoſed into Diana, or Diana into Alexis? But miſerable wretch that thou art, why ſuch a wiſh, ſince Celadon then is to have no ſhare in it? For oh Alexis! what greater favours canſt thou receive then thou haſt: but all will not do thee any good, becauſe thou doſt not call Celadon to take a ſhare, which it ſeems thou doſt envy him. But ſtill it cannot be envy, for Alexis, canſt thou have any felicity with him, or any happineſs without her? No, no, certainly thou canſt not: but yet his preſence is both terrible, and deſirable unto me? deſirable, in that without Celadon I cannot have any perfect happineſs; and terrible▪ in that he would make me loſe all my hopes: when I do re-enter into my ſelf, I do find that I am a miſcellanie of Alexis and Celadon: and as Celadon I deſire to recover that happineſs which is ravi [...]hed from me, and as Alexis, I fear to loſe that which I poſſeſſe. I am then both Alexis and Celadon mingled together: but now I know who I am; how ſhould we do to find out a way to content Celadon, and to ſatisfie Alexis? Oh there is the work, there is all the difficulty: this is a place ſo ſlippery, that the leaſt treading awry, is to fall into the horrid abyſſe of deſpair. But why ſhould we think that Aſtrea wiſhes ill unto that faithfull Celadon, ſince every time ſhe ſpeaks of him, ſhe ſeems to lament the loſſe of him? But on the other ſide, why ſhould we not fear that ſhe does wiſh him ill, ſince having commanded him not to ſee her till ſhe command, ſhe does not command him, though ſhee ſee him every hour?

This laſt conſideration touched ſo to the quick, that tears dropt from his eyes, and ſuch ſighs ſeconded thoſe tears, that Phillis waked at the wind of them, who ſeeing it light day, after ſhe had ſaluted Alexis, ſhe roſe out of bed in her ſmock, and went to dreſſe her ſelf by the Druide. Diana all this while ſlept ſo ſoundly, as the noiſe which her bed-fellow made in riſing did not awake her; but had ſlept on, if Phillis had not called her ſluggard ſeveral times: and ſpeaking very loud, it ſeems Aſtrea was in a dream, and waked upon it; for turning towards Alexis, Ah Celadon (ſaid ſhe with a deep ſigh) and ſaying no more, ſhe fell aſleep again. Diana and Phillis, hearing her name Celadon, they were very attentive to hear what ſhe would ſay farther: Alexis, though ſurpriſed at the hearing of himſelf named, yet he ſet as good a face upon the matter as he could poſſible; and laying his finger upon his mouth, ſpeak low, (ſaid ſhe) that we may hear what ſhe will ſay of that Shepherd: but though they were all ſilent a long while, and very attentive, yet ſhe ſpoke no more; but perceiving that Diana kiſſed her, ſhe waked, in an opinion that it was Alexis: Miſtris, ſaid ſhe, you are very early, and her eyes being yet not well open, ſhe kiſſed her again in that belief: but when ſhe ſaw it was Diana, ah Siſter, ſaid ſhe, you have deceived me, for I took you for my dear Miſtris, Servant, ſaid the Druide then, I am not ſo far off, but you may eaſily repair that miſtake if you pleaſe: then leaning towards her, Aſtrea kiſſed her, with as much affection as poſſibly ſhe could expreſs. Well, well, (ſaid Phillis, who was dreſſing her ſelf, and who ſaw how diſdainfully ſhe had repulſed Diana) you reject the kiſſes of thoſe lips, which ſome other perhaps would ſooner chuſe then yours. Certainly, ſaid Diana, they are out of their wits who makes ſo bad a choiſe. You may ſay what you pleaſe, replied Phillis, but I believe there are ſome that are of my opinion, and that is Sylvander, whom I believe you do not think to be out of his wits, unleſs it be in one thing; what is that? ſaid Diana, in loving too much, anſwered Phillis, for in that indeed he is in the exceſſe. What Siſter, ſaid Diana, all in one ſong? Will you ſpeak of nothing but Sylvander, Sylvander ſtill? Are you not weary with naming him ſo oft? Siſter, ſaid Phillis, reſolve upon one thing; that I will never let you reſt, until you be reconciled unto him, and he in your favour as formerly he was wont to be: and [Page] I believe it is the part of all your friends to do the like: for if you ſhould loſe that kind Shepherd, I do not think Lignon will ever have his like: good Siſter (ſaid Diana) what you do think of Lycidas, is not he above him? Lycidas, (replied Phillis, after her accuſtomed jollity) is good for nothing but for me; and I ſhould be very ſorry any ſhould envy me: but Sylvander is ſuch a one, as not only you and we, who are ordinarily with him, but alſo all this Country, nay perhaps all the Gaules, have an intereſt in him. Good Siſter, ſaid Diana, ſhall I be payed out of the publique exchequer, for having a care of him, in whom ſo many have a ſhare? You ought (anſwered Phillis) ſince you have all the power; and if he miſcarry, every one will blame you; and though he be all yours, yet ought you not to envy, that every one ſhould receive contentment from that which you have. I am ſo far from any envy, anſwered Diana, that if he be mine, I will give him unto you with all my heart; and with a promiſe never to ask him again. Oh moſt cruel woman, (cryed out Phillis) the Gods will puniſh you for this ingratitude, and as they uſually do, in the ſame manner that you offend. And remember this that I now foretel you, with as much truth as if it came from the mouth of an Oracle. Good Siſter, replied Diana, what is it that you do tell me? that the Gods will puniſh me for that which I intend to do? Is it a ſin to give you that which is mine? Though I had not given him unto you, yet ſtill he had been yours; for all that I had, was long ſince ſo. Fie, fie, Diana, replied Phillis, theſe cruelties that are covered with a cloak of kindneſſe, are not unknown to the Gods: you cannot ſo gild them over, but they will find them to be counterfet ſtuf, and conſider that I ſhall ſee you weep for it; and when that time comes, I will laugh at you, for not believing me when I was in the right. Indeed Siſter, anſwered Diana, very ſeriouſly, you are extreamly unkind; you ſhould rather provide for me good ſtore of handkerchiefs before hand, to dry up the tears which I ſhall ſhed.

Thus theſe two Shepherdeſſes diſcourſed whilſt they were dreſſing themſelves; and in the mean time Alexis and Aſtrea were talking, ſomtimes giving aſſurances of their mutual good will, and otherwhiles kiſſing each other; ſomtimes as women, and otherwhiles as lovers: and therefore Diana ſeeing Aſtrea made no offers of riſing out of bed, ſhe turned to Phillis, and ſaid unto her, me thinks Siſter that though you have been ſomthing out of charity with me this morning, yet we may go together and look to our flocks, and return again before this ſluggard riſe out of bed. Do not think, anſwered Phillis, that my anger is ſo great as to make me fail in that reſpect and affection which I do ow unto her that was my Miſtris, and ever ſhall be ſo as long as I live. And you Siſter ſluggard, ſaid ſhe unto Astrea, ſince we will not command you any things that are either impoſſible or grievous, I pray let us find you in the ſame place at our return, where we leave you at our going away, and in the mean time, that you may have no excuſe for your abſence, we will take care of your flock: ſo bidding them good morrow, they went out of the chamber, and went talking upon ſeveral ſubjects: and Diana being in a little better opinion of Sylvander, then ſhe was, ſhe began to be in her good humour again.

Being then going out of Aſtreas houſe, Phillis who was ſilent a while, did make a ſtop upon a ſudden; and looking upon Diana, Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto her, dare I tell you, what I am thinking upon? Why do you make it a queſtion? anſwered Diana, you know our familiarity does not allow us to conceal the leaſt motion of our ſouls from each other: I was thinking, ſaid Phillis, upon the extream and ſudden amity betwixt Aſtrea and Alexis; and what ſhould be the cauſe of it? I have known Aſtrea long, but I never ſaw her ſo apt and forward to contract amity upon a puſh, with a ſtranger, and leave her old, for new affections: and yet ſhe no ſooner ſaw this Druide, but ſhe loved her extreamly, and in loving her does a little ſlight the company of Diana and Phillis, who were wont to be ſo dear unto her. To which Diana anſwered, I have had the ſame conceptions, Siſter, ſaid ſhe; but then conſidering that Astrea did extreamly love Celadon, and Alexis having ſo great a reſemblance of him, ſhe was quickly moved to love her, as fancying her to be her dearly beloved Shepherd; you know ſhe never loved any but only him: as this being her firſt and only affection, it is no wonder ſhe ſhould keep it alive in this woman; well (ſaid Phillis) this reaſon may paſs, as relating unto Aſtrea, but what do you alledge as in relation [Page] to the Druide, who at the very firſt ſight, was ſo wholly devoted unto a Shepherdeſs, that ſhe forgets and forſakes her very Father and kindred, to be with this Shepherdeſs, and to wear her clothes; and ſeems as if ſhe had quite forgot both Carnutes and all her companions. Unto this, ſaid Diana, no anſwer can be made, but that as Alexis has the face of Celadon, ſo alſo ſhe has his heart: and for my part, I believe ſhe has, when I do ſee her Idolize, after the ſame manner that Shepherds uſe. I aſſure you, anſwered Phillis, you phraſe it right, in ſaying that ſhe does Idolize her, as if ſhe were a Shepherd: have you obſerved her actions and behaviour when ſhe is with her? I aſſure you Siſter, that were ſhe trimmed up in mans clothes, I would ſay, here is a Shepherd. Siſter, replied Diana, you know that Aſtrea has rare attracts to move love, and having an affection unto this woman, ſhe renders her all the teſtimonies of her good will that ſhe can, we ought not to think it ſtrange that her natural perfections ſhould become inchantments; we have found it our ſelves by experience, and I dare ſwear that never any loved better, then we loved Aſtrea; and I do believe that I cannot love any more then her. But (ſaid Phillis) what ſhall we ſay of Adamas and Leonide, who have left her here upon ſo ſlight a cauſe, and ſeem as if they had forgotten her? When Adamas went, anſwered Diana, we know ſhe was not well; and when Leonide left her, ſhe went away in haſte, becauſe the Nymph Amaſis did ſend for her, ſo as ſhe had not leiſure to conduct her unto the houſe of Adamas: and why, ſaid Phillis, did ſhe not carry her with her unto Marſell [...]s, where her Father was? I cannot well anſwer you unto that point, ſaid Diana: but I do believe that Adamas would not have her, ſhe being a Druide, go amongſt great companies, but deſired rather ſhe ſhould paſſe the time away amongſt us, and recover of that ſickneſſe which ſo long tormented her, which was the reaſon of her coming from Carnutes, whither as I hear ſay ſhe is preſently to return.

Thus Diana anſwered unto all the objections in the diſcourſe of Phillis, as ſhe did in real ſincerity think of Alexis; and uſed ſuch good arguments to clear her doubts, that ſhe quite removed them. Afterwards, they walked unto the Wood, where they thought to find no Shepherds ſtirring, becauſe it was very early; but when they came into a long walk, they ſaw at the other end a Shepherd and a Shepherdeſſe, but they could not know whom they were, by reaſon of the diſtance of the place, and ſhade of trees. Theſe two Shepherdeſſes deſiring no other company but themſelves, their deſign was to hide themſelves in the Wood, until the other couple was walked paſt them, and then to continue on their own intended walk; and therefore finding a thick Buſh by the walk ſide, they ſat themſelves down in it with a reſerve of ſilence till they were paſt; and therefore they heard them coming when they were at a good diſtance off, and becauſe they were ſomthing loud in their diſcourſe, they knew by their voices the one of them to be Ti [...]ces, and the other Laonice. Yonder is (ſaid Phillis, in a whiſper) the good friend of Sylvander: and rather mine (anſwered Diana) for ſhe has acquainted me with that which of all things in the world was moſt neceſſary for me to know. Well Siſter, replied Phillis, I hope to ſee the day when you will ſee your errour, and then you will take me under the notion of your good friend: Diana durſt not anſwer, leſt they ſhould be heard, becauſe they were very near: and as they paſſed, they heard Tircis ſay, I proteſt L [...]onice, you are the moſt ſpiteful woman in the world: Phillis and Sylvander are not to be blamed, for they were obliged unto all they did, and not by their own choice, but by the will of the Gods. Tirces, anſwered ſhe, do you not know that thoſe who have been beaten with a rod, and cannot be revenged upon them that beat them, yet they receive ſome contentment, in throwing the rod into the fire and burning it? Tircis, by fortune, ſtopped juſt at the place where the two Shepherdeſſes were hid in a Buſh: and admiring at the wickedneſs of Laonice; what (ſaid he unto her) do you infer from that? I infer, replied Laonice, that though I cannot be revenged of the Gods, from whom I have received this injuſtice, yet I will be revenged upon the rod wherewith they have beaten me, which is upon yonder Miſtris Minks Phillis. and Miſtris Orator Sylvander: What? do you think I have ſojourned ſo long upon theſe banks, and have found out no wayes of revenge? You muſt know, that ever ſince the day, that judgment was pronounced, by which I loſt all my hopes of you, [Page] I have been pretily well revenged upon Phillis; for I ſowed ſuch ſeeds of ſedition betwixt her and Licidas, as have brought forth the fruits of many a diſquiet [...]ight unto them both. What hurt had poor Licidas done, ſaid he, that you ſhould do him ſo much diſpleaſure? Since I could not otherwiſe be revenged upon Phillis, anſwered ſhe, he muſt accuſe his own misfortune for it; and you muſt know, that rather then want my revenge upon one enemy, I will loſe an hundred friends. Oh Laonice, ſaid Tircis, are you not afraid left the Gods ſhould command the earth to open, and ſwallow you up alive? All's one for that, replied ſhe, and ſmiled, there is nothing ſo ſweet as revenge: And as for the Gods, they do not meddle in ſuch matters as theſe. 'Tis true, ſaid Tircis, unleſs to puniſh them. Come, come, replied Laonice, The Gods have reſerved the heavens for themſelves, and have left the Earth unto us: Had I gone without this revenge, I had lived without reſt; but now I am a li [...]le contented, ſince I am revenged upon Judge Phillis, and Orator Sylvander, whoſe ruine I have wrought as well as he mine.

Tircis went back two or three paces, and folding his arms, ſtood looking upon her with admiration, and ſpoke not a word. At laſt, he asked her what ſhe had done unto Sylvander? What have I done? anſwered ſhe; why I have given him ſuch a blow, that a Chirurgion will hardly ſalve up his ſore; for I ſee, as good a face as Diana ſets upon it, the pain of it does reach his heart. But, ſaid Tircis, what do you tell me of pains of heart, or of Diana? I ask you what you have done unto Sylvander? You are very inquiſitive, replied Laonice, and to ſatisfie you this is enough, That I am ſo well ſatisfied in my revenge, that I will not now ſtay a minute longer in this Country where I have received theſe two contentments: The one is, the jealouſie of Lycidas againſt Phillis; and the other, of Diana againſt Sylvander. But replied Tircis, How can Diana be jealous of Sylvander, if ſhe do not care for him; and if Sylvander did never look upon any in the way of Love? Oh Tircis, replied Laonice, if their love or their hatred would have been advantagious unto you, as they are unto me, you would have obſerved them better then you have. You think (ſaid Tircis) that all their diſcourſes of Love did proceed from affection: But do you not know them to be only in jeſt, and cauſed by a wager betwixt Phillis and him? Ah Shepherd, ſaid Laonice and ſmiled, I perceive that you are one of thoſe that believe all that is reported. But my good friend Tircis, if you had loved me, as well as he loves her, aſſure your ſelf he had never been my Judge; and believe it, Diana loves him as well, as Phillis her Lycidas, nay better, until I did her the good office of putting her into a little doubt. Content your ſelf with this I have told you, and that I tell you no more, though I could very much, leſt you ſhould know how to remedie it. The perſons who are able to verifie the contrary, are all abſent, and will not return of a long time to tell them the truth: But truſt me, I have not omitted any circumſtance that might conduce unto my full revenge, either in the manner, or in the time, or in the perſons that I have alledged. Tircis did let her talk on a long time, and did ſuffer her to vomit up all her malice, to the end he might gather ſomthing that might be a remedy againſt it: But ſeeing that ſhe would not out with any thing more, he loſt all patience. Go, go you damned witch, ſaid he unto her in a fury, you fiend of hell, ſent hither upon earth to torment humanes; thou doſt not retain any thing of a woman but only thy habit, and thy name; having under that ſhape the ſpirit of a Divel: Hence, hence thou horrid Hag, get thee out of this happy Country, where ſuch malignant monſters muſt not inhabite: Let thy venomous and impure heart know, that though thou mayeſt eſcape the juſtice of men, yet thou canſt not of the Gods, whom I moſt heartily beſeech to deliver me out of thy wretched hands, and from all thy wicked, malicious, and damned devices.

Upon this he turned from her, and went a great pace, the ſame way he came, and left Laonice ſo aſtoniſhed at his reproofs, which her guilty conſcience told her were true, that ſhe all confuſion, ſtood a while immoveable, looking after him, and ſpeaking not a word; at laſt, when he was gone out of ſight, ſhe went the other way into the thick of the wood, and would not ſhew her ſelf unto any in the Country, but went away unto the place from whence ſhe came, being able to ſay, that ſhe left none behind her that was ſorry for her departure.

[Page] Diana and Phillis who were very attentive to the words of Laonice and Tircis, and who durſt hardly brea [...]h for fear of diſcovery, when they ſaw them gone, they ſtayed a while looking upon one another, and ſaying not a word, but were both of them amazed at this far fetcht revenge; Diana joyned her hands together, ſmiled, and looked at Phillis; who after three or four times biting her lips, and ſhaking her head, ſhe clapped both her hands upon Dianas, Siſter, ſaid ſhe unto her, do you ſee how true all your jealouſies and ſuſpitions are? What do you now think of the poor Shepherds innocency? Where is all that confidence and belief which you had of this malicious woman? I muſt confeſs (ſaid Diana, and roſe up) that without any wrong unto her I may ſay, never was wickedneſs and ſubtilty equal unto her [...]. But Siſter, (continued ſhe, and entring into the walk) could any ever imagine this woman ſhould ever take ſuch great and long pains to be revenged upon poor innocents? For truly Sylvander and you are both innocent of her diſpleaſure, ſince you were choſen unto that office which you did her, by lot and hazard. But ſuppoſe that you were culpable; what have Lycidas and I done, that could give her ſo great offence? Did you not hear her ſay, replied Phillis, that rather then want her revenge upon one enemy, ſhe would ruine a hundred friends? Good God, ſaid Diana, keep us from any ſuch friends. Now Diana, replied Phillis, learn from hence, that all which is ſaid, is not always true, though never ſo probable: Moſt true, anſwered Diana, for who could avoid believing this piece of wickedneſſe? Conſider, I beſeech you, how cunningly ſhe made her relation, and upon what likely probabilities ſhe grounded it? How ſubtilely did ſhe take her time when Madonthe went away, and Sylvander accompanied her? So as every circumſtance was a confirmation of what ſhe had related: Oh Siſter, ſaid Phillis, thoſe that live with ſuch turbulent ſpirits as theſe, had need be well adviſed, I muſt confeſſe, ſaid Diana, that I was deceived; but the falſhood was ſo contrived as I was not to blame, but on the contrary, had been blamable if I had not been deceived by it; for I did thereby make it appear that my pure and innocent ſoul was free from any ſuch wickedneſſe, ſo as I could not imagine any ſuch thoughts could enter into any other. But Diana (ſaid Phillis) what ſhall we do to poor Sylvander, whoſe ſorrows may be his death, and who perhaps is looking for ſome way to finiſh his diſaſterous life? I ſhould be very ſorry, anſwered Diana, that Sylvander ſhould receive any harm, for I plainly ſee he is not culpable, and the firſt time that I ſee him, that ſame hand which gave the wound, ſhall cure it.

I pray God, replied Phillis, that deſpair do not drive him into ſome deſperate courſe: No, no, ſaid Diana, Sylvander is not in any ſuch danger; deſpair will not eaſily work upon ſuch a ſpirit as his. Yet let me tell you, replied Phillis, that perſons of ſuch a cold conſtitution, as his, when griefs ſeiſes upon them, are apt for ſtrange reſolutions. Siſter, ſaid Diana, as ſtrong conſtitutions when a Fever ſeiſes upon them, have fits more violent then thoſe that are weak, ſo alſo can they reſiſt them better, and endure them longer. It is the ſame with ſuch ſtrong ſpirits as that of Sylvander; it is certain, they are more ſenſible of pain, but then they are more able to endure and reſiſt it: However Siſter, ſaid Phillis, let not this confidence make him endure any longer pain: I am confident, ſaid Diana, that we ſhall ſee him ſometime this day, and then, he ſhall not depart without a good remedy, if he be in any ſuch neceſſity of it, as you think he is. But in the interim I conceive it beſt to take our way towards Aſtrea and Alexis, and acquaint them with the mornings adventures. Upon this they made their courſe towards the houſe of Aſtrea, whom they found ſtill in bed.

For as ſoon as theſe two companions were gone out of the chamber, in lieu of dreſſing her ſelf, ſhe was talking with Alexis, and ſhewing her ſuch abundance of good will, that the diſguiſed Druide was hardly able to reſiſt ſo many expreſſions of favour; and the truth is, never was any lover ſo near delights without a taſte, as Celadon was under the guiſe of a woman, which he durſt not throw off. This conſtraint went ſo againſt the grain of this diſguiſed Druide, that ſhe bluſhed ſeveral times, which Aſtrea perceiving; Miſtris, ſaid ſhe, I am afraid, that you are not well; for I have obſerved your colour to change ſeveral times, I beſeech you, uſe no conſtraint, for you cannot be in any place of the world, where you have more power [Page] then in this houſe. Servant, anſwered Alexis, I value not the pain, as I do the favour which you do me, in obſerving the colour in my face: 'Tis true indeed, I am not well, but it does not much trouble me, for it is only a dreg of my laſt great ſickneſs, which I am often troubled with, but it will be paſt immediately, and I am ſorry that you took any notice of it. Ah Miſtris, replied Aſtrea, you ſuffer no pain which is little unto me, and you do me wrong in concealing it from me, ſince I might as your ſervant have ſought out for ſome remedy. Servant, replied the Druide, I perceive that you do love Alexis, more then ſhe deſerves, but never trouble your ſelf at her pain, for my body is not in ſo much diſorder as my mind. Your mind, ſaid Aſtrea, I beſeech you Miſtris, what is it that can be a trouble to it? Does not all things comply even to your very wiſhes? Have you not a Father that loves and cheriſhes you above all his children? Are you not ſupplied with every thing your heart can deſire? Moreover, are you not eſteemed and honoured by all that ſee you? What then is it that can poſſibly trouble your mind? You have forgot one thing, ſaid Alexis, which would be a greater contentment unto me then all the world, and which I deſire to poſſeſſe before it, which is, that Aſtrea will love Alexis: Oh God, anſwered Aſtrea, and embraced and kiſſed Alexis, it is a ſin impardonable, if Miſtris you do not think I love you: Yes, yes, Miſtris, I do love you, and love you ſo, that I wiſh Heaven may never love me if I do not, and puniſh me with eternal torments, when I have the leaſt thought of any ceaſing to love and honour you. Do not ſay that you do love me, anſwered the Druide, but that you do love Alexis. I do not underſtand (ſaid Aſtrea) what you mean by that; but I am ſure that if I do love Alexis, it is not the name; for if you had any other, my love to you will be ſtill the ſame; and if you will know what it is that I do love, it is your perſon, your ſpirit, and your merit. Suppoſe I were not a Druide, replied Alexis, would you love me then? I would to God. anſwered Aſtrea, that without any prejudice to your ſelf, you were for my contentments ſake a Shepherdeſs of Lignon, for then I ſhould hope that the equallity which would be betwixt us, would more invite you to accept of my affection. Suppoſe alſo, ſaid Alexis, that I were a Shepherd, would you ſtill continue the ſame good will unto me? Unto that (replied Aſtrea very ſoberly) I will anſwer very freely, that it is abſolutely impoſſible for me to love you any otherwiſe then I doe. And truly it would not well become me to love a man ſo well as I do you; and though it were permitted me, yet I think that I could not; it is enough that I did love one, and therefore will love no more men. Alexis was ſorry her curioſity had gone ſo far; but ſince the Ice was broke, ſhe would ſtep a little farther. I knew ſervant (ſaid ſhe unto her) that it was only Alexis whom you loved, and not her perſon; for otherwiſe, if the Gods ſhould make me become a Shepherd, why ſhould you then ceaſe to love me? If the Gods ſhould do ſo, anſwered Aſtrea, I ſhould have an occaſion to complain againſt them for depriving me of all the happineſs that I hoped ever to receive: and from that time, I would bid adieu unto all delights and contentment. But why ſhould you not ſtill love me, ſaid Alexis, ſince my body would be ſtill my body, and my mind and ſoul, ſtill the ſame? Alas Miſtris, anſwered the Shepherdeſs, what would you have me ſay? This is all I am able to ſay, that it ſhall never be ſaid, Aſtrea did love two Shepherds. I beſeech you, dear Miſtris. no more of this diſcourſe; for though I know that ſuch a change cannot be, yet the very imagination of ſuch a thing does freeze my blood to Ice; and indeed ſhe did begin to look very pale in the face: Which Alexis ſeeing, and thinking it not good to drive the nail to the head, ſhe ſaid thus unto her: Well ſervant, ſaid ſhe, I will not talk any longer upon this ſubject, upon condition you will tell me, what you dreamed this morning when you waked: with all my heart, anſwered Astrea, if I can but remember it: but Miſtris, continued ſhe, why do you deſire it? Becauſe, anſwered the Druide, as you were betwixt ſleep and waking, I heard you ſay, as you turned towards me, in a pitifully complaining voice, ah Celadon: Miſtris, ſaid Aſtrea, by that word you put me in memory of part of my dream, which otherwiſe I ſhould have forgotten; I dream't that I was in a grove ſo thick with trees, bryers, and ruſhes, that I tore all my clothes; and the obſcurity of the place did hinder me from ſeeing which way I ſhould paſſe; at laſt after much ſtrugling and long labour in vain to get out of this place, me thought I ſaw one, whom I [Page] did not know by reaſon of the darkneſs; coming towards me, and ſaid, holding her hand before her face, that if I would follow her, ſhe would help me out of that thorny Labyrinth wherein I was: After I was helped out, me thought I thanked her for her aſſiſtance, and went following her; and followed her, until both of us were ſo wildered, that neither of us could get out of the Wood: At laſt me-thought that ſome one coming betwixt my guide and me to part us, ſhe graſped my hand ſo cloſe, and I clung ſo cloſe unto her, that the other was forced to uſe all the ſtrength he had to part us; and at laſt, he pulled off the hand of her that guided me. At the ſame time me-thought I ſaw a little light, and therefore deſiring to look upon the hand which remained in mine, I found it to be a heart which panted, until he who had ſevered me from my guide, returned with a great knife in his hand, and do what I could, did give the heart ſuch a blow, that it made me all bloody: The horrour of this did make me throw it away upon the ground; which I had no ſooner done, but I ſaw that the heart was turned into Celadon; which put me into ſuch a fright, that it cauſed me to cry out as you heard me, and then I waked.

This dream, replied Alexis, does certainly ſignifie ſomthing; for though moſt of them be falſe, and only impreſſions of things precedent, which we have either ſeen or heard; and ſomtimes are only vapours ariſing from a ſurcharged ſtomack or elſe from the complexion, and according to the good or bad conſtitution of the Body: yet this has none of thoſe qualities which dreams uſe to have; for they are full of non-ſenſe, and have neither head nor feet: but this is a compoſed ſtory, and holds a correſpondency in all parts, alſo it was in the morning, when vapours from the ſtomack could work no effects: ſo as if you pleaſe, I can give you the interpretation of it. I ſhould think my ſelf much obliged (ſaid Aſtrea) if you would be pleaſed to take the pains.

This Wood ſo full of thorns and obſcurity (ſaid Alexis) wherein you were, and out of which you were ſo out of all hopes to get out, is the troubles and perplexities wherein you are; ſhe who appeared and offered her ſelf as a guide through this labyrinth, repreſents my ſelf; He which would ſever us, is, that I ſhall be conſtrained to return unto Carnutes by Adamas; we muſt both reſiſt as much as we can, at the laſt they will part us, but I ſhall leave my heart with you, which you ſhall take in lieu of Celadons; and in the knowledge of this you ſhall live more contentedly then ever you did.

Ah Miſtris (ſaid Astrea) I like well the interpretation of my dream, but for that ſad ſeparation; and that indeed I cannot ſuffer, nor me thinks ſhould you▪ Does it not grieve you to part from ſuch a ſervant as loves you with ſo much paſſionate affection, as ſhe thinks the time of parting to be the time of her death? As ſhe uttered theſe words, tears trickled down her fair checks; and becauſe Alexis looked upon her, and ſpake not, ſhe continued: Ah Miſtris, Miſtris, will you not afford me one word of comfort? Is it poſſible you ſhould ever conſent unto any ſeparation? Judge you, replied Alexis, whether I conſent unto it or no, ſince your dream tells me, that I am to leave my heart with you; and do you think I would not be where it is? Oh Miſtris, replied the Shepherdeſs, this is not enough to give me ſatisfaction; but ſwear unto me you will not, by that thing which will moſt inviolably oblige you unto it. Then it ſhall be (replied Alexis) by the affection which I do bear unto the fair Aſtrea: Be it by what it will (ſaid Aſtrea) ſo it be by an oath inviolable. Swear unto me, deareſt Miſtris, that you will never forſake me, and in retaliation, I will ſwear unto you by the ſoul of that perſon whom I loved moſt, and by my affection unto you, and alſo by all that is ſacred, that neither any oppoſition of parents, conſideration of eſtate, or any other reſpect whatſoever that can be imagined, ſhall ever be able to ſeparate me from my deareſt Miſtris, whom I do embrace (ſaid ſhe, and took her in her arms) and will never let her go out of my arms, until ſhe has made this oath. Alexis then embracing her alſo, Servant (ſaid ſhe) I do ſwear unto you by the affection which I bear unto you, which is all I have; I ſwear unto you by Ifeſas, Bellinus, Tharamis, the great Tautates, and I ſwear by your ſelf Aſtrea, without whom I pray heaven I may never be happy, That neither the authority of a Father, nor the obedience I owe unto my Superiours, nor any thing under the cope of heaven, ſhall ever ſeparate me from fair Aſtrea. Upon this kiſſing each other, to [Page] the extream contentment of Alexis, and incredible ſatisfaction of Aſtrea, they parted nor, till they heard one open the door of the chamber: and then, leſt they ſhould be ſeen, Alexis ſate down in her ſeat, and Aſtrea continued in bed. Then Diana and Phillis entred; and Phillis in a joyful manner cryed victory, victory, we have got the victory: here is this incenſed woman (pointing at Diana) here ſhe is, that confeſſeth all ſhe ſaid, and all ſhe did was wrong: Siſter, ſaid Diana, ſoft and fair; you go a little too faſt and far: for I do not confeſſe that I was in the wrong, but indeed I ſay that I was deceived, and the opinion which I had of that Shepherd was falſe: but that I did it in believing what was told me, I am ſo far from confeſſing, that I think I had done ill, if I had done otherwiſe. But I beſeech you Siſters (ſaid Aſtrea) exp [...]nd your words, that this fair Druide and I may rejoyce with you: Ah ſluggard, ſaid Phillis, as deep in bed yet as when we left you? Had we two been in bed ſtill as you are, we had never underſtood what we do, which you deſire to know: may I not ſee him to day that I Love beſt if I do tell you. Then tell it to me, ſaid Alexis; yes to you I will, ſaid Phillis, becauſe you were the cauſe of our riſing ſo ſoon, and conſequently of the encounter which we met withall, and which only could drive that angry Shepherdeſs out of that opinion which ſhe entertained; had we miſſed this occaſion, we had never recovered it, becauſe ſhe who hatched and brought forth all theſe traiterous deviſes, went away as ſoon as ever ſhe had (unknown to her ſelf) done this good office unto Sylvander. Hereupon ſhe related the whole diſcourſe betwixt Laonice and Tircis, and forgot not a ſillable of thoſe things which Laonice ſpoke, either againſt her, or againſt poor Sylvander.

Here is now, ſaid ſhe, that cholerick Diana convinced; ſhe that would not give credit unto any but Laonice; who thought that ſhe only could ſpeak the truth, and that poor ſilly we were all lyers: I thank God, ſaid Aſtrea, for conducting both you and Diana ſo opportunely to hear her, and all her trechery; for had you been ſeperated, I verily believe Diana would not have believed your reports: nay, though ſhe her ſelf had heard it without a witneſs, it would have been a long time before ſhe would have confeſſed her knowledge. 'Tis true, anſwered Diana, and I thank the goodneſſe of Heaven that has ſo happily directed me to the only means that could clear all my doubts. From hence may be obſerved (ſaid the Druide) that innocency is never left without a helper, ſince the poor and innocent Sylvander has found it when his hopes were moſt remote. And ſee, ſaid Aſtrea, how good Heaven is, and how ſomtimes to our conſolation it cauſeth future things to be foretold by perſons who ſpeak them in jeſt, I my ſelf have found this to be ſo in this accident; for when I was honoured in the habit of my Miſtris; I told Sylvander that within three dayes he ſhould ſee an end of the pain wherein he was, I ſpoke it only to keep him alive by infuſing this hope, and not that I thought it would come to paſſe: yet you ſee, I foretold the event as truly as if I had received it from the mouth of a God. To make your predictions true, ſaid Phillis, it is very requiſite and full time you riſe out of your bed, that we may go unto the place where Sylvander uſes to be, unleſs you will carry your bed with you into the wood, where we will go and deſire that Shepherd to bring you your ſmock. Neither you nor he need to take that pains, anſwered Astrea, pray go you unto him, and bring him hither into this chamber, where he never yet was whilſt I was in my bed: Is it poſſible? ſaid Alexis, no I aſſure you, ſaid Astrea, neither he nor any other Shepherd, and of this I dare take an oath. Never ſwear, replied Alexis, unleſſe you be moſt certainly aſſured: I believe you do think ſo, but perhaps you may be deceived, and what do you know but that there may at this time be one concealed and hid? You are pleaſed to jear me; replied Aſtrea, but believe it Miſtris, we do keep a more reſerved diſtance with the Shepherds of Lignon, then you do think we do. Siſter, ſaid Diana, the time was when I durſt have taken ſuch an oath as that, which if I had, you know I had been forſworn. However, ſaid Aſtrea, if you will pleaſe to give me a little leiſure, I will dreſſe my ſelf to ſave Sylvander a labour of coming hither.

Upon this, Alexis roſe up and fetched her own cloaths unto her dear Shepherdeſs, Servant, ſaid ſhe, I would have you take my cloaths; be you my Miſtris and call me ſervant; and when I take them, then I will be the Miſtris, and you the Servant. What will people ſay, anſwered Astrea, when they hear me call you ſo? They [Page] will ſay, replied Alexis, that it were ſtrange if you ſhould call me otherwiſe, I being in the habit of a Shepherdeſſe, and you in a Druides, and ſo of me, if I ſhould call you by any other name then Miſtris: for my part, ſaid Astrea, I had rather fail, by obeying you, then not to do as you command; and to ſhew my obedience: Servant, ſaid ſhe, if you do not help me to put on this Gown, I aſſure you I am ſo ignorant, that I know not where to begin. Alexis then took Aſtrea by one hand, did put that into one arm of the Gown; and then getting upon the bed, did put her other arm into the ſleeve of the Gown, and with ſo much contentment, or rather rapture, that ſhe knew not what ſhe did: for this new Druide did ſo confidently believe her to be a woman, that ſhe did not hide any thing from her. At the laſt, ſhe was dreſſed: and becauſe it was ſomthing late, they left the houſe, and went all together to bid Phocion good morrow, who ſeeing them diſguiſed in this manner, did at the firſt, miſtake them; but afterwards taking better notice of them, he was extreamly delighted at it. But theſe fair Shepherdeſſes had ſuch a deſire to put Sylvander out of his pain, that without entertaining any motions of dinner from Phocion, they all took their leaves of him, and went unto the place where they hoped to meet Sylvander.

Sylvander, after he had got into the wood to avoid the company of Alcander and his Brother, went walking and wandering up and down all the night, until it was break of day; and he by fortune found himſelf upon the banks of Lignon, where reſting himſelf, ſleep ſo ſeiſed upon his eyes, that the Sun was a good height, when ſome dogs of the neighbouring Towns running at wolves, did awake him. Before his mind was thus tormented with theſe turbulent perplexities, if he had heard the barking of a dog, he would have been the firſt of all the Shepherds in running to preſerve either his own or his friends flocks: but now, he ſtirred no more then if he had no intereſt in any flocks; which ſhews that the ſtronger paſſion makes the ſoul contemn the weaker. By fortune at the ſame time an Officer who uſed to wait at the Oracle of Mount-Verdune, and who knew Sylvander, paſſing by him, and ſeeing him not ſtir at the courſe of the dogs, he did much wonder at it; and had an opinion that he was not well, becauſe it was not his cuſtom to ſit ſtill upon ſuch an occaſion. But coming to him, and ſeeing no ſigns of any ſickneſſe in his face, becauſe he diſſembled the anguiſh of his looks and mind, when he ſaw him approach: how now Sylvander, ſaid he unto him, who would have thought you ſo backward in purſuance of the common enemy to our flocks? I know not of what enemies you ſpeak, anſwered Sylvander ſoberly, for there are ſo many ſorts of them, that he who undertakes to purſue them all, has work enough; truly, ſaid the Officer, I know that the Gods do intend ſome great and miſerable miſ-fortune towards us; and there is not any more certain ſign of a Countries ruine, then when Tautates takes from it great and eminent perſons, by whoſe counſels and valour it was preſerved: and when the reſt are careleſſe of its welfare and defence. And why, ſaid Sylvander, do you ſpeak theſe words? Becauſe, anſwered the Officer, all the victimes which we Sacrifice, are found ſo defective, that they do aſtoniſh all the Sacrificers; ſuch miſfortunes never hapned in my dayes; I ſay miſ-fortunes, becauſe it is a preſage of the worſt miſ-fortunes that can befal us: and now, at this time, I ſee that Sylvander, who was wont to be the moſt careful man in all the Country, in the preſervation of his eſtate and flock, is now grown careleſs, and ſeems as if the publique loſs did no more concern him, then if he had no ſhare in it. You ought not, replied Sylvander then, to conclude of an augure from my actions: for firſt, Heaven would not have them take notice of a perſon ſo miſerable as I am: and next, I am worth ſo little, that it ought not to be conſiderable. The Officer then anſwered; there is an exceſs, as well in too much deſpiſing, as in too much eſteeming ones ſelf: and ſomtimes as much vanity and pride in the one as the other; as the Philoſopher told him who to ſhew how much he deſpiſed rich and coſtly habits, did wear an old rotten cloak full of holes; take heed, ſaid the Philoſopher, that your pride do not appear through the holes of your cloak: and ſo Sylvander, take heed leſt in ſpeaking leſſe advantagiouſly of your ſelf then you deſerve, you be not chargeable with the ſame fault: all that knows Sylvander, knows alſo his merit, and his capacity, and what eſteem he is in this Country; and therefore to ſpeak againſt the opinion of every one, is either, [Page] that he would declare himſelf his own enemy, or elſe would give occaſion to be commended more: upon this, without any ſtay for the Shepherds anſwer, he went on his way, leaving Sylvander in ſome ſort aſhamed of the eſteem which he had of him.

This thought ſtayed him a while in that place; at laſt returning unto that which moſt touched him to the quick: and conſidering the inevitable accident which was faln upon him that was ſo innocent, he thought that Heaven was certainly incenſed againſt him: and that by this correction it would make him re-enter into the conſideration of himſelf; to the end that ſubmitting himſelf unto him from whom all true conſolations can come, he might receive that remedy which he ought to expect only from him. This thought cauſed him to fall down preſently upon his knees, and holding up his hand to Heaven, he implored aide: and at the ſame time reſolved to conſult with the Oracle of Cleontine; in order to this deſign, he paſſed over the River Lignon, went to Mount-Verdu [...], conſulted with the Oracle, and received this anſwer:

THE ORACLE.

THy preſent grief ſhall quickly ceaſe;

But ſhe who only doth thee pleaſe,

Paris muſt marry her: N'ere pretend

To compaſſe thy deſired end,

As long as thou haſt any breath,

But only by Sylvander's death.

When the ſad Shepherd received this cruel anſwer, he ſtood as immoveable, but not ſo inſenſible as a rock; for ſuch was his reſentment, that after he had folded his arms, he fell down, and for a very long time gave no ſign of life, unleſs by the tears that flowed from his eyes: ſo that the Vacies and Eubages there preſent, were exceedingly moved to compaſſion; but he anſwered them all with ſilence, turning his eyes only upon him that ſpoke, but in ſuch a pitiful manner, that he forced tears from the eyes of all the company. At laſt, a good part of the day being paſt, he went from Mount-Verdune without ſpeaking a word, and ſo retired himſelf into the great wood next the long walk, not with any other deſign but to be in that place, where Phillis delivered that cruel meſſage unto him, thinking that the ſight of this place would augment his grief, and ſo much the ſooner end his miſerable life, in which he hoped for no manner of content.

But by fortune, Alexis, Astrea, Diana, and Phillis, came thither at the ſame time, to paſſe away the heat of the day, according to their cuſtom. Phillis was the firſt who ſpied the Shepherd, and ſhewed him preſently unto her companions: ſhe would have called unto him, but Diana did prevent her, ſaying, I would not have him think that I have been jealous, for ſuch a ſpirit as his would draw no ſmall conſequences from ſuch a thought. What then, ſaid Phillis, would you have us do? We muſt and ſo muſt you, have compaſſion upon his pain. True, anſwered the Shepherdeſs, but you muſt alſo have compaſſion upon me; and me thinks it is not a matter of ſuch ſmal concernment unto me, but it deſerves very great conſideration: upon this, ſhe turned towards Aſtrea and Alexis, who were a little retired, and propounded unto them the difficulty which ſhe found in the buſineſs. It is a hard caſe, ſaid Alexis, that one ſhould take ſo much pains to conceal truth. What truth Madam, replied Diana, do you ſpeak of? You would not have Sylvander know that you love him, anſwered Alexis; and to hide this truth from him, you are pumping for ſome tricks and artifices to delude him: is it not much better to live freely with him, as you ſee this fair Shepherdeſs and I do? Madam, ſaid Diana, you and Aſtrea are both of one ſex, and therefore allowed. But, ſaid Aſtrea, what do you think then of Phillis and Lycidas? I do think Siſter, ſaid Diana, that if Belinde my Mother would approve of Sylvanders marriage and mine, as Artemis does [Page] of that between Phillis and Lycidas, perhaps then I ſhould make no difficulty to do as Phillis does: but knowing that this a thing impoſſible, why ſhould I make my good will appear unto this Shepherd? It would not perhaps avail him any thing at all, but perhaps bring much harm unto me; for I know that I will never chuſe a Husband without Belindes conſent, and I am moſt confident that ſhe will never conſent unto a marriage betwixt Sylvander and me.

Alexis then began to ſpeak; I do not know, ſaid ſhe, of what mind and humour Belinde is, having never ſeen her; but I do find Sylvander to be a man ſo very well qualified, as I cannot think but if Belinde knew him, ſhe would approve of this alliance. For a man is to be preferred before eſtate, I mean ſuch a man as Sylvander, whoſe qualities are ſo highly eſtimable, as ſuch another is not to be found in all Gaul. Oh Madam, ſaid Diana, virtue now a dayes does get but little credit, if it be not ſet off with riches: beſides this, my Parents will never conſent that I ſhould give my ſelf unto a perſon that is unknown: one whoſe fate is ſo diſaſterous, that he himſelf does not know who was either his Father, or his Mother, or his Country. This circumſtance, replied Aſtrea, is very conſiderable; but as we conclude that a Roſe grows upon a Roſe-tree, ſo may we the ſame of Sylvander; ſeeing him ſo full of excellent perfections, who can doubt but that he is deſcended from Excellent and Virtuous Parents? Theſe conjectures, replied Diana, are very good; but it belongs not unto me, neither to urge them any farther, nor to deny them: but for my part, I will lay all the fault upon Phillis. Upon me, replied ſhe, I beſeech you wherein am I culpable? Was is not you, ſaid Diana, and ſmiled, which did him all the harm in telling him? This is an excellent good reaſon indeed, anſwered Phillis, it was I that did him all the harm in telling him: pray who did all the harm in putting me upon it, and giving me a commiſſion for it, nay preſſing me unto it? I ſee, anſwered Diana, that it is an eaſie matter to give a commiſſion, but a very hard matter to give prudence and diſcretion to execute it. And good my Lady Embaſſador, who gave you any inſtructions, to run and tell Sylvander every word which paſſion did ſhake from my tongue? You whoſe paſſions were calm, and judgment free and ſound, why did you not ſtay a little, and give me leave to conſider in cool blood, till the heat of paſſion was over? Had it not been time enough now to have delivered him ſuch a meſſage as might have coſt him his life? But you were ſo haſty, and all upon the ſpur, to tell him that which ſhould have been ſeriouſly pondered, and conſidered upon with grave and ſerious deliberation, and after you had been many times prayed, entreated, deſired ſolicited, nay preſſed unto: I beſeech you tell me, Suppoſe Sylvander had dyed upon it; did you think it would have pleaſed me? Nay, could you think I would not have hated you all the dayes of my life? Oh with what prudence and ſolidity theſe offices are to be performed? For could you imagine that you would not be culpable of all the inconveniences that ſhould enſue upon it? And were not you worthy to bear all the blame? Aſtrea and Alexis could not chuſe but laugh to hear Phillis thus charged, and to ſee that ſhe could not anſwer unto it, and therefore they condemned her to do whatſoever Diana deſired of her. I do aſſure you, ſaid Phillis, a very fine Sentence; which yet, in reſpect of my Judges, I will obey; but unto what puniſhment, I beſeech you, muſt I be condemned? Not ſo great as your crime, anſwered Diana, I will only, that when you ſee Sylvander next, you ſhall aſſure him, that all which you told unto him was only out of [...]allary, and that I did never know any thing concerning it: ſo that he may think all proceeded from your mouth, and that when I do ſpeak next unto him, I may treat him as I was wont to do, before the trechery of Laonice. I do aſſure you Siſter, ſaid Phillis, I did alwayes think you to be very ſubtle, but never ſo ſubtle as I find you now. No, no, ſaid Alexis, this is no ſubtilty, but prudence; for Diana has reaſon to deſire it, and though you had not committed the fault whereof you are convicted, yet you ought to do as ſhe ſays. Madam, anſwered Phillis, I ſhould be more willing to do it, were I not obliged unto it; for I am of ſuch an humour, that I had rather give twenty gifts, then pay one debt.

Whilſt they were thus talking, Sylvander all ſorrow, and hanging down his head, came through the wood, till he was juſt upon the place where theſe Shepherdeſſes were: and by fortune ſo near, that when he ſaw them, and would have turned [Page] back, Phillis in obedience to the command upon her▪ did ſpeak unto him; Sylvander, Sylvander, ſaid ſhe unto him, do you remember the time when you put me out of all patience againſt Lycidas, and made it your delight to make him jealous? And becauſe he anſwered not, ſhe continued; If you do remember, let it be a warning to you for the future, not to offend a woman, for it will not be long before ſhe be revenged: and if you will not believe it, let me ſerve you for an example. I do not know (anſwered Sylvander very dejectedly) what you mean: I do mean, replied Phillis, that all the ſtories which I told you concerning Diana, and her anger, were things only invented by my ſelf, to be revenged of you for making Lycidas jealous of me, when he obſerved the familiarity which was then betwixt you and me. How (ſaid Sylvander) Diana not know any thing of all that which you told unto me? Not at all, I aſſure you, anſwered Phillis. Diana hearing her ſelf named, and faigning to be ignorant what the matter was, ſhe went unto them, and addreſſing her ſelf unto the Shepherd, I heard you name me, (ſaid ſhe unto him) I beſeech you, what ſhare have I in your diſcourſe? I am ſo confounded (ſaid Sylvander) to hear and to ſee what I do, as I do think my ſelf to be in a dream. Phillis then breaking out into a loud laughter, Siſter, (ſaid ſhe unto her) you muſt know from me, what this Shepherd does know but in part; upon this, ſhe began to relate the jealouſie of Lycidas, the pains ſhe put upon him, and how Sylvander behaved himſelf towards her. To be brief, ſaid ſhe, I thought that if I were not revenged, I ſhould never enjoy any contentment in my life. I knew how Sylvander [...]ccompanied Madonthe, and never acquainted you with it: I thought this to be a fit opportunity for my revenge; and indeed, ask him how he likes it, and whether he will take ſo much pains again to vex me any more. But I beſeech you, ſaid Diana, what ſhare have I in all this buſineſs? You have had what ſhare I pleaſed, anſwered Phillis: For I made you ſpeak, even what I would, Truly Siſter, ſaid Diana, I am very much obliged to you, for making me to ſpeak when I never thought upon you. I beſeech you Siſter, ſaid Phillis, to pardon me, for I muſt needs be revenged. Oh Heavens! (cryed out Sylvander, recoyling a pace or two, and folding his arms one within another) Oh ye Gods, is it poſſible that Diana ſhould have no hand or knowledg of that meſſage which you told me from her? No, replied Phillis; ſhe knows not one ſillable of it; and that you may ſee I ſay truly, here Sylvander, continued ſhe, and gave him the bracelet which ſhe took from him, take this again, for I am contented with thoſe tears which my theft did coſt you. Sylvander kneeling down upon the ground, he took it and kiſſed it a hundred times: and Diana the better to colour her ſeeming ignorance: Siſter (ſaid ſhe unto her) what is that which you give him? and what theft do you ſpeak of? Content your ſelf, anſwered Phillis, that ſince you had no hand in the taking it away, there is no reaſon you ſhould have any in the reſtitution. Sylvander was ſo extreamly joyed in receiving the dear bracelet, as [...]rgetting all his ſad thoughts, his countenance began to change upon a ſudden: [...] turning unto Phillis▪ I cannot tell, oh my enemy, ſaid he unto her, whether I ſhould complain againſt you, for the harm you have done me in ſtealing a thing which I eſteemed ſo infinitely dear; or whether I ſhould think my ſelf obliged unto you for the favour you have done me in reſtoring it: For I cannot ſay which is the greater, the diſpleaſure I received, or the contentment which now I have. Aſtrea then began to ſpeak; Truly Phillis, ſaid ſhe, I cannot chuſe but admire at the cunning piece of revenge which you have taken upon this Shepherd; and I muſt confeſs, that I never thought you had a ſpirit ſo reſolved upon any ill. Good Siſter, ſaid Phillis, why ſhould I not prevent this Shepherd from putting any future diſpleaſures upon me? Do you not conſider that impunity gives boldneſs to commit new offences? Alexis who admired the wit of this Shepherdeſs, as well in diſguiſing the buſineſs, as inventing the way of it ſo ſuddenly, ſhe concluded that the wit of any man could not poſſibly be ſo quick at invention, nor ſo ſlie in diſsimulation as the wit of this woman: and from thence drawing conſequences which ſeemed unto her to be unqueſtionable. Alas, alas! (ſaid ſhe in her ſelf) unto what a miſerable fate is that lover deſtined, who falls into ſuch hands: but Miſtris, ſaid Sylvander in the mean time, and addreſſed himſelf unto Diana, will not you be pleaſed to help me in taking revenge, ſince ſhe was very near ridding you of the moſt faithful ſervant [Page] that ever lived? Shepherd, anſwered ſhe, if you will be adviſed by me, you ſhall not have any longer thoughts upon revenge, but rather to make her a friend, ſince you ſee how well ſhe can remember offences: if her memory be as good at courteſies, as it is at offences, anſwered Sylvander, ſhe may remember that it was I who compoſed all differences betwixt Lycidas and her: and you alſo may remember that I have done the like for you, anſwered Phillis: pray conſider that I could have kept you a long time in this torment; whereas I contented my ſelf only with two or three dayes: and you are beholding unto me for no leſs then your life. 'Tis true, (anſwered Sylvander faintly) for I cannot term that a life which I ſhould have lived: but cruel enemy, did you but conſider what miſeries you have cauſed upon me, I cannot think you would have thought upon any revenge, but rather have pitied the poor unfortunate Sylvander, who had no hopes of any contentment, but in his grave. Shepherd, anſwered Phillis, you may believe, that for all my revenge, I ſhould have been very ſorry that any ill accident ſhould have hapned unto you, eſpecially upon my occaſion. Alas, oh my enemy, replied Sylvander ſadly, you are the occaſion of my greateſt miſery, which is of ſuch a nature that no remedy can cure. Certainly your miſery muſt be very great, anſwered Diana, if it be beyond all cure; and yet I will condemn Phillis to contribute all her endeavours towards it, as thinking her obliged thereunto; and not only ſhe, but all us, nay all the Country, who certainly are all very much concerned in the diſpleaſures of ſo kind a Shepherd. Phillis then interrupting Sylvander, who would have anſwered unto theſe obliging expreſſions of Diana. No, no Shepherd, ſaid ſhe, hold your peace; all you can ſay will do more hurt then good unto your diſeaſe: but Diana, ſince you think me obliged to cure the miſeries of this Shepherd, be they of what quality they will, I will promiſe to cure them, provided alwayes, that you, on your part, will contribute your endeavours alſo. Diana ſmiled, and anſwered; you muſt be a very good Phyſitian, if you cure ſuch deſperate diſeaſes. Let it ſatisfie you, replied Phillis, that I will do it, ſo he will tell me his diſeaſe. My diſeaſe (anſwered the Shepherd with tears in his eyes) is incurable by any thing but death. Without your death, anſwered Phillis, I will cure you, if you have but the courage to tell your diſeaſe, and Diana a will to apply the remedy. When you ſee the greatneſs of it, (replied the Shepherd) you will be out of all hopes. Is it poſſible (ſaid Aſtrea) that ſuch a man as Sylvander ſhould have leſs courage then ſuch a woman as Phillis? The courage which ſhe has, anſwered he, proceeds from her ignorance of that which I do but know to well. Let the proof, bear witneſſe, ſaid Phillis, only tell me your diſeaſe, for both the Phyſitian, and the Phyſick are ready, Alas, alas! cryed he out, there is no reſiſting Heaven. This morning being plunged in the abyſſe of ſorrows, which your diſſimulation cauſed, I went to conſult with the Oracle at Mount-Verdune, which gave me an anſwer ſo deſperate, as makes me wiſh the Mountains may fall upon me, ſince I muſt not hope for any contentment amongſt the living [...] What is the Oracle? (ſaid Alexis) If you deſire to hear it, anſwered Sylvander, I ſhall tell it; and when you have heard it, I am confident, you will pity the diſaſterous fate of this unfortunate Shepherd. It is this:

THE ORACLE.

THy preſent grief ſhall quickly ceaſe;

But ſhe who only doth thee pleaſe,

Paris muſt marry her: N'ere pretend

To compaſſe thy deſired end,

As long as thou haſt any breath,

But only by Sylvander's death.

Oh ye Gods, continued the Shepherd, what hopes for me, ſince Paris muſt enjoy all my deſires? And what ſhould I deſire, ſince in my death only, all my deſtres [Page] are to be accompliſhed? Oh Diana! (ſaid he and caſt himſelf at her feet) give me leave to tell you, ſince you are to be anothers, that before this fatal day do dawn, I will pervent it by my death, leſt living, I ſhould endure every hour a thouſand torments worſe then death. Diana who did love this Shepherd, as diſcreet as ſhe was, ſhe could not chuſe but ſhew her diſpleaſure at this Oracle, by ſome tears, which her heart did ſent into her eyes, which Phillis and Aſtrea obſerved very well; but ſhe being very wiſe, did recollect her ſelf as well as ſhe could. And becauſe this Oracle ſtruck all the company with ſilence except Sylvander, who never ceaſed his complaints, but ſtill continued them, and went the hand of Diana with his tears, Phillis began to ſpeak: This Oracle, ſaid ſhe, is indeed very ſtrange; but if it pleaſe Diana, it is abſolutely to your advantage. To his advantage? ſaid Diana, yes, ſaid Sylvander, to my advantage, ſo far as by my death to take me out of this miſery: No, no, ſaid Phillis, it is clearly in favour of Sylvander if Diana will. Either I do not underſtand the words of this Oracle, ſaid Diana, or elſe▪ the words of it, do not at all relate unto my will. But (ſaid Phillis) if they do relate and depend upon your will, will you let this will conſent unto his cure? Diana made a ſtop at this, and did not anſwer, which gave occaſion unto Alexis and Aſtrea to ſpeak; and addreſſing themſelves unto Diana, they told her, that if this Oracle had any relation, or dependency upon her will, it was an argument and will that the Gods did command her to conſent: If the Gods (ſaid Diana) do command me, and Alexis and Aſtrea deſire me, I cannot in all reſon refuſe. Will you conſent, ſaid Phillis, unto whatſoever the Oracle would have you? I will, anſwered Diana, Nay, ſaid Phillis, I will not truſt you, without an Oath; ſwear therefore, by the God of Lignon, and by the Miſleto of the New-year, that you will conſent unto any thing that ſhall be neceſſary for the rendring this Oracle advantagious unto Sylvander▪ I do, ſaid ſhe, provided that I may not contribute any thing but my will. Then Sylvander, ſaid Phillis, riſe up; thank Diana for the favour ſhe has done you; and henceforward, eſteem your ſelf the happieſt Shepherd of all Lignon: and hearken how the Gods have pronounced unto you all manner of contentment by this Oracle. As for the firſt verſe, which tells you that your preſent pain ſhall quickly ceaſe, there needs no better interpretation, then the event which you have already found. As to the ſecond which ſeems ſuch a fatal ſaying unto you, it is delivered in an ambigious manner, as moſt Oracles are; the ambiguity reſts in this word, Marry, which has a double ſence, and may be taken two wayes: firſt, we uſually ſay, that a husband does marry his wife: and ſecondly, we ſay that the Druide does marry the husband and the wife; and it is in this laſt ſence it is to be underſtood, that Paris muſt marry Diana: he ſhall become a Druide like unto his Father Adamas, and it ſhall be he who ſhall marry you together. But (ſaid Sylvander, and ſighed) I muſt not expect the accompliſhment of my deſires, but in Sylvander's death. Ah thou ignorant Shepherd, replied Phillis [...] have you not told us a hundred times, that he does dye in himſelf, who does perfectly love another? And therefore the Oracle does advertiſe you, that you muſt not expect the accompliſhment of your deſires but by the death of Sylvander; that is, by loving Diana ſo, as thou ſhalt dye in thy ſelf and become her: Aſtrea and Alexis hearing this, doubtleſſe, ſaid they, the Oracle is to be thus underſtood, and there wants nothing to make good her promiſe, but adding her will. Diana, who perhaps was as well pleaſed with this interpretation, as Sylvander could be, though ſhe made it leſſe appear: do you not ſee (ſaid ſhe) that I am not concerned at all in the buſineſſe? Nay, nay, ſaid Phillis, never deny it, for it is plain that the Oracle refers wholly unto you: do [...]u not ſee that Sylvander can live in you, and dye in himſelf, if you will? Love (Siſter) is one of thoſe miſteries which cannot be in a ſingle perſon: moreover, do you think that Paris can marry you unto Sylvander unleſs; you will? Unleſs you will give the Gods the lie, and unleſs you break your Oath, you muſt make good all that the Oracle would have you; which is, that you do not only let Sylvander love you, but alſo that you love him, ſo as he may live in you, and you in him. Ah Siſter! (ſaid Diana, and turned a little the other way) no, no, ſaid Phillis, and took her by the arm, let me hear no more of your ah Siſters, there is no middle way to be taken; you muſt either be perjured, or do as I ſay; otherwiſe there is no recovery of this Shepherd. Siſter (ſaid Diana, with a becoming bluſh, [Page] and holding down her eyes) what would you have me do? I would have you obſerve the Oath, anſwered Phillis, which you have ſworn, and promiſed: what did I promiſe (ſaid Diana, and ſmiled) you did ſwear, anſwered Phillis, to do all that was neceſſary, to make this Oracle advantagious unto Sylvander. 'Tis true, ſaid Diana, and what ought I now to do? You muſt, as I told you before (replied Phillis) love Sylvander in ſuch a manner, that he may live in you, and you in him. That (anſwered ſhe) is above my Oath. No, ſaid Phillis for amity conſiſts in nothing but the will: Diana, ſaid Alexis, and Aſtrea, you muſt needs give your conſent; Well, ſaid Diana, after much importunity, ſince you command me, I will: this will, ſaid Phillis, muſt be a little better explained; and ſay, that I will love Sylvander ſo, that hereafter as he lives in me, I will live in him. Oh Heavens! ſaid Diana, is not that too much? Yes, ſaid Sylvander, too much for my merit; not for his merit of affection, replied Phillis, nor to ſatisfie the Oracle. Well, ſaid Diana, I will do all that Alexis, Aſtrea, and Phillis, would have me; but if it be a fault, let it be yours, and upon the counſel which you give me; ſo be it, ſaid Phillis, but furthermore, I do ordain, that for aſſurance of your words, Sylvander by your conſent, do kiſs your hand, with a proteſtation never to depart from your obedience. Sylvander fell down upon his knees, raviſhed with too much joy, and was ſo ſurpriſed at this unexpected happineſs, that taking Dianas hand and kiſſing it, it was a long time before he could ſpeak one ſillable; and looked as if his eyes were dazled with too much light: this inexceſſive joy did almoſt take away from him the uſe of reaſon; but his ſilence and his raptures had more eloquence in them then he had, and better-ſpoke the grandeur of his affection then his tongue could: and had it not been for Alexis and the Shepherdeſſes who helped him up, he had continued long in this amorous extaſie, not knowing ſo much as what he did. Diana her ſelf was no leſs moved, though ſhe ſet a better gloſs upon it: but Phillis, who obſerved all this; and helped him to recover: come Sylvander, ſaid ſhee unto him, muſt I be ſtill your enemy? Do you ſee how fully I can revenge thoſe wrongs that are done unto me? The Shepherd being a little returned to himſelf, I muſt needs confeſs Phillis, ſaid he unto her, that you are the ſweeteſt enemy that ever was; and confeſſe alſo, ſaid ſhe, that I have as much power as the greateſt Gods: for wherein is their power more ſeen, then in the good and bad fortune which they give? And have not I, when it pleaſed me, made you the moſt miſerable, and then when it pleaſed me, the moſt happy man upon earth? What is it that fortune can do more then I? Good fortune and bad fortune, happineſſe and miſery, have their dependency upon my will. I muſt confeſs, oh puiſſant Shepherdeſs, ſaid Sylvander, that if your power do extend it ſelf over others as it has over me, Altars will be erected to you. However, repl [...]d ſhe, you cannot deny but that Sylvander ought to adore me. If it were permitted amongſt us (anſwered the Shepherd and ſmiled) to adore many Gods, Phillis ſhould certainly be an adored Deity unto me: but ſince it is not lawful, and that we muſt acknowledg but one God, I hope I ſhall be excuſed, if I do not render that devoir. I am very well contented (ſaid Phillis then) that you do adore but one Deity in Heaven, and another upon earth: ſo I ſhall, replied the Shepherd, Tautates in Heaven, and Diana upon Earth. Oh moſt ungrateful wretch, ſaid Phillis, are you not more beholding unto me, then to Diana? Is not all the contentments you receive from my hand? I ſhould be moſt ungrateful indeed, replied Sylvander, if I did not acknowledg what is due unto you; but I ſhould be much more ungrateful, did I equal my obligations I ow unto Diana, with thoſe I ow unto you: for thoſe I do ow unto you, are but conſequents of my love to her; and thoſe which I [...] ow unto her, are no conſequents, nor upon any conſideration but love it ſelf, without any relation to you. And therefore Phillis, undeceive your ſelf in this: all the benefits which you have done me, I take as coming from her; for otherwiſe I would not eſteem them benefits. I perceive, replied Phliis, and ſmiled, that all my labour in obliging you is but loſt, ſince all my benefits are ſet upon the ſcore of that Shepherdeſs. What would you have me do? ſaid Sylvander; for ſuch is my affection unto Diana, that I give Heaven no thanks for the life it hath given me, unleſſe I may ſerve and adore this Divine Diana, unto whom all humane hearts ought to render homage.

[Page] Thus did Diana let Sylvander know that ſhe loved him; and ever ſince this day ſhe was not ſhie, nor made any difficulty to live with him, as Aſtrea was wont to do with Celadon, and Phillis with Lycidas: ſo as Sylvander has ſince oftentimes ſaid, that he had never been happy, if he had not been firſt miſerable.

The joy and contentment which might be ſeen in the eyes and actions of Sylvander was ſuch, that Aſtrea and Phillis did extreamly admire at it: and the changing of his complexion and countenance in ſo ſhort a time, was an infallible argument unto them of his real affection. As for the diſguiſed Druide, ſhe meaſured the grandeur of Sylvanders joy by her own, which ſhe ſhould have received if under the notion of Celadon, and not of Alexis, Astrea had been ſo kind as ſhe was unto her. But when Sylvander obſerved the change of habits between Alexis and Aſtrea; I muſt confeſs, ſaid he with wonder, that Phillis has ſo infatuated my underſtanding, as till now I never found my miſtake. Oh Sylvander, ſaid Phillis, aſſure your ſelf that a woman can deceive a man a hundred wayes when ſhe has a mind unto it, and therefore it concerns you to keep my friendſhip very carefully. All the company did fall to laughing, and they walked along the River Lignon, till they came to the place where Celadon did caſt himſelf into the water; which Aſtrea ſeeing, let us flye, ſaid ſhe, let us flye away from this fatal place, from which me-thinks nothing can come but diſaſters.

The Druide knew very well that it was the place where ſhe received thoſe cruel commands, which conſtrained her to turn her ſelf from Celadon into Alexis: and it was impoſſible for her, not to give knowledge of ſome reſentment. But not being able to imagine that this Shepherdeſs ſhould call the place fatal for that cauſe: and why my dear Servant (ſaid ſhe unto her) do you term this place of Lignon fatal? Astrea did not anſwer, but looked upon her, changed colour, and could not chuſe but ſigh. Which Diana perceiving, Madam (ſaid ſhe unto her) Aſtrea has good cauſe to call this place fatall, becauſe ſhe was very near being drowned there: for ſhe fell into the River, and but for ſome happy help which came in opportunely, this Country had for ever loſt the faireſt Shepherdeſs that ever lived in it. I pray tell me (ſaid Alexis) how chanced that accident? Phillis, who was unwilling Sylvander ſhould take any notice of Aſtreas diſquiet; Mis-fortunes (ſaid ſhe) and diſaſters are not to be talked on in a time ſo full of joy as this: but yet, they ſay, ſaid Sylvander, that the memory of paſt miſeries does bring contentment, and are pleaſing: yes, replied Astrea, when the miſeries which are related, do not make miſerable again: but that for which I give the phraſe of fatal unto this place, does never come into my memory without infinite grief: and ſee Sylvander whether I have not good reaſon for it; for when I fell from that fatal place into the water, poor Celadon deſiring to help me, was drown'd: and ſome curſed reporter carrying the falſe news of my death unto my Father and my Mother, they both dyed preſently after, ſo as I had no ſooner bewailed the one, but tears began to overſwel my eyes for the other. Aſtreas eyes could no longer refrain from tears, and certainly they had flowed into a torrent, had they not heard a Shepherd ſinging, which diverted Astrea, and cauſed all the company to look that way: As ſoon as Diana had turned her ſelf, I am, ſaid ſhe, very much miſtaken, if yonder Shepherd whom we ſee, and the company which is with him, are not coming hither to look for me: what moves you unto that thought? ſaid Alexis, I will tell you (anſwered ſhe) but let us hear what he ſings; and they being very near, alſo he ſinging very loud, they heard him ſing, That whereſoever he came, he found the repreſentation of him and his Miſtris. I am not miſtaken, ſaid Diana, as ſoon as the Shepherd had ſung that verſe, for the Gods have choſen me to Judge a difference which is amongſt them; yeſterday they deſired me to undertake the office, and I promiſed them to meet them here at this place this hour; happy I am that we light ſo opportunely both of the place and the time, for I ſwear unto you that I had quite forgot it. By that, Miſtris (ſaid Sylvander) you may draw aſſurance that it is the will of the Gods you ſhould take that office upon you, ſince they have ſo opportunely conducted you.

Upon this, the ſtrangers were ſo near, that Diana out of civility went to ſalute them; a little after, Alexis, Aſtrea, and Phillis, did the ſame: you may ſee, ſaid Diana, that I am a perſon of my word, and have brought all this good Company▪ [Page] with me, not only out of curioſity to know the cauſe of your coming to me, but to help me in the judgement which I am to give unto you. We are much aſhamed, fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſs, replied Delphire, that we have made you ſtay ſo long; and we do find our obligations doubled, ſince we have greater hopes that our cauſe will receive a more equitable judgment, by the aſſiſtance of your company of which do not doubt, for all our reſt and tranquility depends upon what you ſhall pleaſe to ordain amongſt us. But, oh juſt Judge, ſaid Thomantes, and interrupted, what ſhall be done unto thoſe that are condemned, and will not obſerve the Sentence which you ſhall doom? This queſtion is not moved without reaſon; for I have ſeen this fair one (pointing at Delphire) ſo negligent in the obſervance of thoſe Laws, which all other humans hold inviolable, as I have good cauſe to fear ſhe will not obſerve what you ſhall ordain, if it be againſt her mind. Oh Thomantes! (ſaid Delphire) this reproach is inſupportable; and were I not in hopes that ere long our juſt Judge will revenge all the wrongs which I have received from you, I would demand Juſtice upon this injury in particular. You are ſo accuſtomed (replied Thomantes) to complain without a cauſe, as I do not think it ſtrange you ſhould now do the like; nor think it a leſſe wonder to hear me ſpeak ſo openly and freely, having all my life behaved my ſelf towards you, under the Laws of ſuch a grand reſpect, that any complaints were not permitted me in my greateſt pain: but now we are here before our Judge, and it is fit ſhe ſhould know both your cruelties, and my torments, that ſhe may the better give judgment upon them. I will not enter or hold any Diſcourſe with you (ſaid Delphire) but will only hint unto our Judge to obſerve from your language, that it is the higheſt injuſtice to blind Juſtice. Only beſeech her not to loſe any more time in hearing you, but imploy it upon that which ſhe is ordained unto by the Gods.

Whilſt Delphire and Thomantes were talking thus, Diana ſeated her ſelf upon the ground, and Alexis, Aſtrea, Phillis, and the reſt of the Shepherdeſſes, ſeated themſelves in ſuch places where they might beſt hear this difference argued: Filintes, and Aſphales, with Sylvander, did the ſame: Now (ſaid Diana) fair Shepherdeſſe, and you courteous Shepherd, if you deſire any thing from me, let me underſtand your demands and difference; and in beſt order thereunto, it is very fit you make choiſe of one which knows all the paſſages betwixt you, to relate them unto us, and afterwards both parties to ſpeak for themſelves. Fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſſe, ſaid Aſphale then, we are four Shepherds and two Shepherdeſſes that are intereſted in the judgment which you are to give, and therefore if you think it good, Androgenes, ſaid he, and pointed to him, or I, will relate unto you what concerns Thomantes, Filintes, and Delphire; and afterwards, either Filintes or Thomantes will relate the difference of Doriſſea, Androgenes, and my ſelf: I conceive, anſwered Diana, that for brevities ſake, it is better that the Shepherdeſſes make the firſt relation, and not the Shepherds, who know too well to anſwer their reaſons: and therefore Doriſſea, I do appoint you unto the office, not only to relate what concerns Delphire, but alſo what concerns your ſelf, not queſtioning but ſo direct a Shepherdeſſe will give us true information. Hereupon Doriſſea, after a low reverence, took her place, and after a little time of conſideration, ſhe began thus.

The Hiſtory of DELPHIRE and DORISSEA.

[Page]

IF thoſe who have heard tell of jealouſie, had but the experience of it as we have, Oh Wiſe, and Prudent Shepherdeſs, doubtleſs they would all ſay that it is a great enemy unto love: and as cold is contrary to heat, ſo is it directly contrary to that paſſion which cauſeth love: for fear i [...] the Mother of it, and conſequently it muſt be cold, but love is always burning, and in a flame. Some on the contrary do eſteem it to be the daughter of Love, and ſo neceſſary to its preſervation, that as the water which the Smith throws upon the fire to make it burn more violent and ardently, ſo likewiſe jealouſie augments and makes the flame of love more violent in the ſouls of Lovers. Had you not commanded me moſt Wiſe Shepherdeſs, to relate unto you the differences betwixt Delphire, Thomantes, Aſphales, Androgenes, and my ſelf, I would have inſtanced ſome examples to prove what I ſay, but I aſſure my ſelf, that in the Diſcourſe which I ſhall make unto you, there will appear ſo many proofs of it, as will force you to confeſs with me, that if love can hardly be without jealouſie, jealouſie can never be without effacing love.

Be pleaſed to know then, fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſſe, that Thomantes being the only ſon of his Parents, was brought up with abundance of tender care, by the Wiſe Shepherdeſs Ericanthe his Mother, and by Eleaman his Father: ſo tender was their care over him, that they would never ſuffer him to be out of their preſence, as thinking that as ſoon as they loſt the ſight of him, he was loſt for ever. And becauſe Eleaman and Ericanthe were the wealthieſt in all our Town, as well in the great abundance of flocks and paſtures, as in the great number of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, unto whoſe charge he committed the care of them, the young Thomantes was brought up in all the qualities and exerciſes fit for a Shepherd of his rank, in which for his age, he did ſo profit himſelf, that none in all our coaſts could equal him. Being got out of the hands of his Nurſe, an ancient and Wiſe Paſtor was ſet over him as his Governour; not that he was thereby excluded from the company of thoſe women, who waited upon his Mother; for on the contrary he was amongſt them till the age of ten or twelve years, ſo beloved and careſſed by all, as well were they that could love him moſt, for beſides his being very amiable, and had all the good qualities that one of his age could have, he was looked upon as the darling and delight of the Paſtor Eleaman, and of the ſage Ericanthe their Miſtris. But as it commonly happens at that age, rather by inſtinct then by election, to love one above another, the young Thomantes no ſooner ſaw ten years of age, but he ſhewed a great inclination to love Delphire, who was then brought up with Ericanthe, and and not above eight or nine years old at that time. Their innocent age, and their deſign without deſign, not being yet inſtructed in the art of diſſimulation, every one took notice of the particular affection of Thomantes unto Delphire; whereof Ericanthe was very glad, as well becauſe that Shepherdeſſe was indeed very handſom, and worthy of love and ſervice; as becauſe many do think that there is nothing does more awake and enliven youth, nor rouſe it up unto noble deſigns, then love: doing in this the office of Steel, which makes a flint to ſparkle, that is of it ſelf cold, and without light. One may eaſily imagine what kind of infantine affection this was, which they bore one to the other, for I am confident none can think it above matter of play for pins, or making preſents of cheries, and telling old tales, that their Nurſes taught them in the Univerſity of the Nurſerie: but ſo it was, that theſe trifling beginnings did ſomtimes produce great effects, and love was pleaſed to raiſe by degrees theſe childiſh inclinations unto great affections: the Shepherd when he was arrived at his fourteenth year, was able to call himſelf old Lover, it being now five [Page] or ſix yeares ſince he began the profeſſion; and yet all this while he was not ſo good a proficient as to know that it was love: but afterwards, both of them growing every day more learned then other, they came to underſtand the Miſtery; and then confirming by their wills what they had done before by hazard, or at leaſt by a blind inclination, they began to lay the foundation of a real affection.

The c [...]res of Thomantes were great, how to teſtifie unto Delphire the good will which he wiſhed unto her: and the modeſty of Delphire was no leſs in a diſcreet receiving of it, according to the duty which ſhe owed unto the ſon of Ericanthe: ſo as every one did ſee the love of this Shepherd, and every one did commend and eſteem the wiſdom of the Shepherdeſs, in carrying her ſelf ſo even, and learning no more to one ſide then to another: I mean, ſhe walked even betwixt love, and reſpect, ſo as one could not know whether her actions proceeded from affection or from duty: the love of Thomantes was now known unto all thoſe in the houſe of Ericanthe: Delphire her ſelf could not doubt it, before ever the Shepherd did let her underſtand it by his words: and all his actions did ſpeak that, which out of a puiſſant reſpect, his tongue durſt not: but at laſt, his affection from day to day growing ſtronger, it broke thoſe ſtrings of reſpect which tyed his tongue.

The firſt time he took the boldneſs was the day of his birth, which Ericanthe in thanks to the Gods did every year celebrate upon the day that he was born.

Not far from the ſourſe of our delightful Lignon, Bleaman and Ericanthe had a houſe, which nature had imbelliſhed with all the ornaments that could make it delightful; it was ſeated upon a Hill, whoſe proſpect, though a little limited, by reaſon of ſome petty Mountains; yet it was ſo pleaſant, as thoſe that would take a landskip of delight, might make that their pattern for a ſcituation. Lignon ran below it with its lovely meanders, as far as the ſight could extend; mead [...]ws made a moſt agreable object to the eye: all one ſide of the Hill was covered with a ſhade of trees quartered in walks, where one might walk and defie the ſcortching heat of the day, till they came to the River Lignon: flowers at all times, and of all colours, do grow in great abundance; Nightingals making choiſe of it for their conſtant habitation, do people it in ſuch ſort, and warble it in their anſwers of each other, like a world of Muſitians, as if they had forſaken all other places of the Country, to come and chant it there; to be brief, the place was the delight of all the neighbouring Towns, and commonly had a great concourſe of people in it, eſpecially upon dayes of ſolemnity, as this birth day of Thomantes was.

It ſeems Heaven would let this young Shepherd know, that he had not been born, but only to live in the ſervice of this fair one; for though he had opportunity enough to ſpeak unto her, and to let her underſtand his affection, yet he ſtayed till the day of his birth before he would declare it by word, as if he had ſaid, that the day whereon ſhe received him for her ſervant, ſhould be the firſt day that he did rightly begin to live. It fortun'd ſo, that a little before, an Uncle unto Delphire dyed, which cauſed her, according to cuſtom, to be in a mourning habit. Delphire having an excellent grace in decking and dreſſing her ſelf more handſomly then any of the young Shepherdeſſes in the Town, ſhe appeared ſo fair and handſom in that habit of ſorrow, as there was no eye which looked upon her without raviſhment and admiration, as well at her beauty as her ſweet civilities: and Thomantes was not ſo much an admirer as an adorer, but indeed both; and took ſuch delight in contemplating her actions, as his eyes had no other objects: he could not ſatisfie himſelf with commending her; ſomtimes he doted upon her complexion; ſomtimes upon the ſymetry and features of her face; ſomtimes upon the vivacity of her eyes; ſomtimes the coral of her lip; ſomtimes upon the ivory of her teeth; otherwhiles, he was wholly taken up, with her ſtature, garb, and mind: otherwiles with the delicacy and whiteneſſe of her hand: otherwhiles in the advantage ſhe had above all her Companions in her dreſſe: ſo as he concluded that there was nothing under Heaven, ſo fair, nor ſo lovely as Delphire. You make me a relation of hiſtory ſo new, (anſwered ſhe and ſmiled) and ſo incredible, that for my part, I can give no credit unto it. I do know very well (replied he) from whence this incredulity comes; it is becauſe you cannot ſee your ſelf: for if Heaven had done you that favour, I do not think you ſuch an enemy to truth, as to ſay I am not in the right. I have ſeen [Page] my ſelf ſeveral times in fountains of water, replied ſhe, and in ſeverall glaſſes: but I could never find what you out of flattery are pleaſed to tell me. Oh Delphire, anſwered he, how imperfect are thoſe repreſentations, and what infinite wrong they do unto your beauty? Do you think thoſe dead and ſenſleſſe things are able to repreſent you? You I ſay, who are the very life and joy of all thoſe that have the happineſs to ſee you: if you have a mind to ſee your ſelf as you are, be pleaſed to take a living mirrour of my preſenting unto you; and I aſſure myſelf, that if you will daign to caſt your eye upon it, you will there find in your ſelf more beauties then any tongue can tell: what is that, ſaid the Shepherdeſs, which you call a living mirrour? My heart, anſwered he. Oh Thomantes (ſaid ſhe) how falſe and deceitful are all ſuch mirrours? For as one cannot ſee in them what one would, but onely what thoſe deluding mirrours pleaſe to repreſent; ſo there is no aſſurance or credit to be given to their repreſentations, becauſe they are only ſuch as the paſſion of the ſoul does bid them. I do believe (anſwered he) that the heart does repreſent nothing but what is in the ſoul, and therefore you may ſee in mine, Delphire in her perfect beauty, becauſe you are ſo imprinted in my ſoul, as nothing can be more perfectly repreſented. Thomantes (ſaid ſhe) what a lyer you are, and how you jear me, and would laugh at me, if I had ſo little wit as to believe you? There is nothing ſo ſhameful to a perſon of honour, anſwered he, as to be ſurpriſed in a lie: you need not fear that ſhame (replied ſhe) for you know that none can look into your heart to convince you. Actions (anſwered he) are they that open the doors of a heart; and you ſee that all mine do teſtifie unto you, how Thomantes does love Delphire, and that he does never look with the eyes of love upon any other beauty but hers; and I do make this declaration unto you upon my birthday, to teſtifie that I believe Heaven gave me life only to imploy it in loving and ſerving you; which I do vow to do, with ſo much affection and fidelity, that I am forced to call my ſelf your moſt devoted ſervant.

Thomantes added unto theſe many other expreſſions, which (for brevities ſake) I omit, and which Delphire did not interrupt; becauſe, though ſhe had a quick wit, and ſound judgment, yet was ſhe ſo ſurpriſed, that ſhe could not anſwer: for the reſpect which ſhe bore unto him as the Son of Ericanthe, the good will which ſhe already had unto him as Thomantes, the virtues and affections which ſhe found in him, and her fears to fail in her duty, did hold her in a ſuſpenſe of reſolution, and therefore Thomantes, after a while of ſilence in expectation of her anſwer, and when he ſaw ſhe remained ſtill mute, he continued thus: I perceive, faireſt Delphire, that your ſilence does menace me; and that thoſe hopes which the ſweetneſſe of your eye does promiſe me, are not very certain: but on the contrary the augure which I might take from that black habit which you wear, does but too truly portend my ruine. Upon this, he changed colour, and his words did die in his mouth; and though he did offer ſeveral times to fall again into his diſcourſe, yet he was ſo confuſed at her returning no anſwer, that he could not ſpeak.

Delphire then, to eaſe him from any longer pain, ſhe ſaid unto him: The words Thomantes which I heard you utter, are very like unto thoſe which moſt Shepherds do commonly uſe unto Shepherdeſſes; and I will believe they were ſpoken more out of cuſtom, then with any deſign: yet the reſpect which I do ow unto you, and the honour which you do me in diſcourſing with me, does oblige me to eſteem them, as coming from ſo kind a Shepherd, whom I will alwayes eſteem and honour as I ought, and as he deſerves: and becauſe ſhe would not have this diſcourſe continue any longer, or go any further at this time, ſhe went away unto her Companions.

Be, oh ſage Shepherdeſſe, pleaſed to know, that a long time before, Filintes who is that Shepherd whom you ſee next unto Delphire, and who is a near kinſman unto Thomantes, was become a ſervant unto that ſame Shepherdeſs, and being older then he, he had alſo more boldneſs to declare himſelf ſo. But ſome urgent affairs conſtraining him to leave our Town, and to take a long voyage; it ſeems Heaven would favour the deſign of Thomantes, in taking from him this rival, who was no ſmal mote in his eye.

Filintes then departed, full of love and full of ſorrow, and about twelve or thirteen months after, returned with the ſame love he carried away, unleſs perhaps encreaſed [Page] and grown bigger as his body was. But at his departure he had an opinion that he had ſome advantage of Thomantes, yet found at his return, what a mortal enemy abſence is unto Love: for he found the deſign of his rival ſo thriven, and his own ſo blaſted, as any but himſelf, would have loſt all hopes. Yet his generous courage would not ſhrink at any difficulties, and therefore reſolved a ſecond defeat: at his return then, he renewed his addreſſes; added new ſupplications to his old prayers; and ſeconded his old ſervices with new ones. Briefly, he was ſo aſſiduous, and did ſo importune her, that though he could not win any thing upon the reſolved mind of Delphire, yet he raiſed moſt extream ſuſpitions and ſtrong jealouſies in the ſoul of Thomantes. For though Delphire did prefer Thomantes, yet the true love of that Shepherd, would not let him be in reſt, knowing very well, that love works wonders, and does miracles. And from hence did proceed ſo many diſquiets, and ſo many torments, which theſe two Shepherds have cauſed unto each other.

And yet, although their loves were very great, and the violence of their affections did daily increaſe; yet for all this, the friendſhip and amity that was betwixt them did not alter: a quality which was highly eſtimable in Filintes, who was leaſt loved; and whoſe humour was naturally ſplenetique: and yet who could ſubmit himſelf unto the laws of reaſon. The advantage of Thomantes was great, having the authority of Eleaman, and principally of Ericanthe, to back him: and yet the encouragement of Filintes was not a little, having a ſiſter, brought up alſo with Ericanthe, who had a very great prevalency with Delphire: and indeed, it was unto her, to whom Filintes did commonly make his complaints. At laſt it fell out, that this Shepherd, after he had obſerved upon ſeveral occaſions how this Shepherdeſſe preferred Thomantes before him, and after he had made all the complaints he could, ſeeing that he received nothing but freſh teſtimonies of his being not loved, and being out of all hope and patience, he reſolved to make a retreat, and draw off from a ſiege which would diſgrace him if continued. So ſeeking for an opportunity of ſpeaking to her; at laſt finding her in a place where none could hear, he gave her this language: You know Delphire how I have loved you; and I ſay you know it, for your excellent and pregnant wit cannot chuſe but clearly ſee it in all my actions, ever ſince you can remember me: you know alſo, that coldneſſe, nor your diſdains, nor my too long abſence, could ever divert my affection, nor in the leaſt degree diminiſh it. But now being preſſed, or rather oppreſſed by thoſe ſcorns and injuries which I daily receive from you, I come to tell you, that finding them inſupportable, I muſt quit the name of ſervant unto Delphire, and that which neither any time nor abſence, nor your rigours could do, your ſcorn, which is inſupportable to my ſpirit, does move me unto a juſt ſpleen. Delphire without the leaſt diſquiet, and almoſt glad of this his reſolution, did anſwer him extream careleſly; I never thought, nor deſired, Filintes, that you had any mind unto that Title which now you quit; and it is a thing ſo very indifferent unto me, that if you think there is any one amongſt my Companions, that deſerves it, I ſhall adviſe you to love and ſerve her.

This cold anſwer, and the careleſſe manner of giving it, did ſtill more offend the courage of Filintes, and this was the reaſon why he went away with a lowring brow, which ſufficiently ſhewed his ill ſatisfaction. But ſpleen, being a paſſion which blinds the judgement, he thought that no way was better to be revenged upon Delphire, then to divert the affection of Thomantes from her. And as ſome do hope to accompliſh all they deſire, and imagine all things ſeaſible will come to paſs, ſo he had a conceipt, that he could perſwade him to withdraw. In order to this deſign he went unto him; and after he had taken him aſide, Brother, (ſaid he unto him, for ſo Eleaman would have them call each other, though they were only Coſens) I come to entreat a favour from you, you ought not to deny me, becauſe I ask it out of the abundance of my affection, and becauſe it is as much to your advantage as mine. Brother, anſwered Thomantes, you may well think that any thing which will give you contentment, I will certainly do with as good a will as you can deſire it. Then promiſe me, ſaid Filintes, that you will do it; for unleſs you be obliged by your promiſe, you will at the firſt ſtart back, and make ſome difficulty. I will not promiſe any thing, replied Thomantes, till I know what it is; and you need not fear that any difficulties [Page] can make me ſtart from doing all I can to give you contentment. A long diſpute being betwixt them hereupon; at laſt, Filintes, ſeeing he could not oblige him by his promiſe, he reſolved to tell him what the buſineſſe was; Brother, ſaid he unto him, I deſire you, as the greateſt obligation you can put upon me, that you would quit Delphire, or at leaſt ſeem as if you did for a time; pride has huffed her into ſo much inſolence, as if ſhe continue a little longer, ſhe will render her ſelf inſupportable; ſhe thinks all men in the world were made only for her: does ſhe not pretend that all thoſe reſpects and devoirs, which you and I out of our free wills do render unto her, are due by obligation? And does ſhe not demand them as a tribute, to draw all thoſe ſhe ſees, after our example, into her poſſeſſion? She tryumps, and is become all ſcorn, both towards you and towards me: yet would I gladly know upon what ground ſhe does it. But Brother, aſſure your ſelf, the more ſhe ſees we withdraw from her, the neerer ſhe will draw to us; it is good to love, but not to be ſlaves: I have heard ſay, that women do alwayes make much of men, till they be aſſured they love them; but then they treat them no better then ſlaves: come, come, Brother, oblige me ſo far as to retire, as I am reſolved to do; and you ſhall ſee her with all her ſcorn, and indifferency, brought a loop lower. Thomantes in a ſmiling manner, Brother, ſaid he unto him, I am ſorry you ſhould ask me a thing which is impoſſible. For I do deſire as much as I do my own life, to give you all full contentment; but aſſure your ſelf Filintes, that let Delphire treat me which way ſhe pleaſeth, I can do no other but endure it without murmur: I have no power to withdraw my ſelf from that ſervitude in which ſhe holds me: and for my part, I do think, all that ſee her, are in reaſon obliged to ſerve and adore her: for judging others by my ſelf, I think it to be a great deffect in judgment, not to end their dayes in ſuch a ſweet ſervitude. Fie, fie, Thomantes, ſaid Filintes, are you not aſhamed of ſuch an unworthy reſolution? Good Brother; anſwered Thomantes, the ſtone is already thrown, there is no recalling it, I am ſo reſolved upon it, that if I ſhould find in my ſelf the leaſt will to the contrary, I ſhould die with ſhame: but Filintes, ſaid he, pray tell me, what is your deſign? To live, ſaid he, like a man of ſpirit and courage, and not a ſlave: I can endure any thing but ſcorn; but that, I muſt confeſs, is intollerable unto me. Perhaps, ſaid Thomantes, when I am more wiſe, I ſhall take up the ſame reſolution; but as I am, there is no hopes of it.

Thus ended the diſcours betwixt theſe two Shepherds; but the event will make you laugh: Filintes, ſeeing he could not divert Thomantes from his reſolution, as if he had quite forgot all that he had ſaid unto him, or unto Delphire, he ran as faſt as ever he could unto her, and beſeeched her with all manner of prayers and ſupplications to forget and forgive all that he had ſaid; and then he addreſſed himſelf unto his Siſter to intercide for him and make his peace: Delphire could not chuſe but ſmile; well, ſaid ſhe, Filintes I am contented; upon condition that you will not believe, you have obliged me more by your return, then by your going away.

Delphire had no ſooner ſaid ſo, but Thomantes entred, who ſeeing this reconcilement, and hearing what Filintes ſaid, was ſo amazed that he asked Delphire and Filintes, whether what he ſaw was not a dream: no, no, ſaid Filintes, it is real; but imagine that I do as ſlaves uſe, who endeavour to break their chains but cannot. But when Thomantes did relate unto Delphire in private, the requeſt which Filintes made unto him, you may imagine whether that Shepherdeſſe was not raviſhed at two ſuch ſuddain, and ſuch different motions.

During the time that theſe two Shepherds lived thus, I returned from the banks of Argent, a little Rivolet, which runs into the great River of Loire: and at the ſame time Aſphales, (the Shepherd whom you ſee with Filintes, and his younger Brother) took up an humour of courting me, rather I believe, becauſe it ſhould not be ſaid, that he was the only one in all our Town who did not love, then for any other end. Now Aſphales being almoſt alwayes in the company of his Brother Filintes, as his friend, or perhaps as well wiſher unto Delphire; we were almoſt alwayes together. I obſerved that Aſphales was long before he could bring himſelf to any certainty, and knew not upon which of my Companions he ſhould beſtow himſelf, imitating a Bee which flyes upon ſeveral flowers before ſhe fixes upon any: for [Page] ſomtimes he would be for Delphire, another time upon Filiſe, one while upon Eritrea, and another upon me: But at laſt, after he had turned and returned, ſomtimes to one, and ſomtimes to another, he fixed upon me, or at leaſt ſeemed ſo.

I muſt confeſs, that if I had been in a mind to entertain any, Aſphales had not been diſagreeable to me; for though he be preſent, yet I muſt needs ſay, that it was hard to meet with a Shepherd of more taking qualities then he was owner of; agile in all manner of exerciſes, handſome in his habit, quick and nimble in his diſcourſe, kind towards Shepherdeſſes, civil towards Shepherds, affable with his familiars, and ſo complaiſant towards all, as it was impoſſible to be weary of his company: and withal (interrupted he) one that of all the company Doriſſea loves leaſt. Doriſſea (anſwered ſhe and ſmiled) is not reſolved to love all that are amiable. Then continuing her diſcourſe; Now this Shepherd (ſaid ſhe) though I told him freely my mind, and that he ought not to ſpend his time about a buſineſs from which he could expect no contentment, yet he ſtill continued obſtinate, and hoped, that time perhaps which overcomes all things, might in the end melt my reſolution, and alter my Will; He neglected no opportunities of teſtifying his extream affection unto me: and becauſe I was at all hours in Ericanthes houſe, out of my amity to Delphire, he was at all hours alſo talking to me: for being Nephew unto the ſage Paſtor Eleaman, he never ſtirred out of the houſe, but was continually there, in as much freedom as in his own; ſo as I had been deaf, if I had not heard him ſay an hundred times in a day that he loved me; and that he deſired no greater happineſs in the world, then that I would love him: his conſtant continuance of this, made me think that indeed he did love me: And this opinion obtained ſo much from him againſt my reſolution, to permit his continuance; but ſtill after ſuch a reſerved manner, as he could not be contented with it: He ſaid, that this permitting him to love me, did as good as ſignifie nothing, and would never oblige me to love him again: I told him, that this was all I could permit; only that he ſhould keep his affection to me ſo ſecret, and eſpecially this permiſſion which I gave him, that if any came to know it, I would hold it for revoked: That he ſhould never deſire any thing from me, which might in the leaſt manner offend my honour; and above all, that I ſhould not be troubled with any letters from him; and many other ſuch like articles, unto which he conſented, knowing, (as I think) that the refuſal of them would rather prejudice then advantage him. But of all theſe, none went ſo much againſt the grain as the laſt, which exempted me from receiving any letters; for (ſaid he) if it ſhould be my misfortune to be at a diſtance from you, how ſhould I know how to let you know how I do, or you me? Very well, anſwered I; for ſuppoſe I ſhould receive your letters, can you hope or think that would ſend you mine? So that as to that point, the Letters which I receive will not avail you any thing, and as for hearing from you, truly I am ſo little inquiſitive, that the labour would be but loſt in ſending them to me.

But replied he, do you not value the contentment that I ſhould receive in holding correſpondency with you in this manner? and in rendring you an accompt of my life? I ſhall know all this, ſaid I, at your return. But in the mean time, ſaid he; in the mean time, anſwered I, I will be contented to know you love me ſtill, as you have promiſed: for have you not told me that your life ſhould be alwayes ſuch as I pleaſed? What then, replied he, muſt I never hope that you will write unto me? No, ſaid I, and more then that, never hope that I will receive any Letters from you. This ſeverity, replied he, is too great, and I proteſt, ſaid he, half angry, that do what you can, I will ſend you ſome Letters: and I proteſt, ſaid I, that I will never look in them.

The reaſon why he was ſo earneſt in this, was becauſe he knew that ere long he was to be abſent from me: for his Father was to ſend him upon ſome important buſineſs into the Province of the Romans. And indeed within a few dayes after, he came unto me the ſaddeſt foul that ever was ſeen, and looked like a priſoner going to be hanged. Doriſſea, (ſaid he unto me, as ſoon as he could ſpeak unheard by any) ah Doriſſea! this is the laſt day I have to live, unleſſe you have ſome pity upon Aſphales: I ſeeing his face ſo changed, and his colour quite gone, I muſt confeſſe, I had ſome apprehenſions of ſome harm he would do himſelf, and was ſo kind as to reſent his ſadneſs: but when I asked him, why he ſpoke ſo? and underſtood that it was only [Page] the journey which he was to take, I could not chuſe but ſmile. Do you laugh, ſaid he, at that which my heart weeps? Oh moſt cruel woman! if Heaven do not revenge me upon you, I ſhall not think it juſt. I do not laugh at your journey, ſaid I unto him, for ſince it diſpleaſeth you, it ſhall not be pleaſing unto me; but I laugh at the diſpute which we had ſome few dayes ſince, becauſe it ſeems you foreſaw your departure: could I hope, anſwered he, that you would never be pleaſed at any thing which diſpleaſeth me, I ſhould depart the moſt happy man, that ever was conſtrained to be abſent from her whom he adores. If you underſtand my words aright (ſaid I) you may go with aſſurance that what diſpleaſeth you, ſhall not be pleaſing unto me; and how, ſaid he, would you have me underſtand them? My meaning is, replied I, that whatſoever diſpleaſeth you, ſo I have no intereſt in it, but only for the love of you, ſhall never pleaſe me. Then, continued he, becauſe you have no intereſt in my departure, and becauſe it diſpleaſeth me, you are alſo ſorry for it: would you Aſphales, ſaid I unto him, and ſmiled, that I ſhould conclude as you do? I cannot tell what I would have, anſwered he dejectedly, unleſs it be death, ſince you will not ſuffer me to write unto you in my abſence.

At the leaſt I am ſure, replied I, that I will not receive any of your Letters. Are you ſtill in that obſtinate humour? (ſaid he half angry) and making a ſign unto him by nodding my head, that it was ſo. Then I ſwear, ſaid he, by the affection which I bear unto you, that you ſhall receive them in ſpite of your teeth; and becauſe I aſſured him, no, we laid a wager of it, which he ſaid he was ſure to win.

Our diſcourſe had continued long upon this ſubject, and had continued longer, if his Father, who intended he ſhould depart the next morning betimes, had not ſent two or three times for him: he went then to his Father, from whom he received all inſtructions neceſſary for his voyage: and when he was ready to depart, he called to him an old Shepherd, who had ſerved him from his infancy: the Shepherds name was Alindre, a diſcreet and ſubtle man, and one who loved Aſphales exceedingly: Aſphales took him into his chamber, and the door being ſhut, he acquainted him with his affection unto me, with his ſorrows to depart from me, and the extream contentment it would be to write unto me; and becauſe it was a buſineſs which he deſired ſhould be kept ſecret, he had made choiſe of him amongſt all the reſt of his friends, to do him the office of delivering his Letters. Alindre who deſired nothing more then to pleaſe Aſphale in all things, did tell him that in this and all other his commands, neither his affection nor fidelity ſhould fail: Aſphale upon this embracing him; dear friend, ſaid he unto him, I ever had that belief in you; and therefore, as the thing, which of all the world is moſt dear unto me; I put this into your hands, conjuring you to find a way as ſoon as I am gone, that ſhe may ſee this letter: and be ſure, you uſe all your ingenuity and care in the delivery of it. The difficulty (anſwered Alindre) will not be great; for being ſo familiar with Eleaman as I am, I can watch my time when ſhe goes to ſee Delphire, whom they ſay ſhe loves extreamly, and ten to one but once in a day I ſhall find a fit opportunity to give it unto her: Oh friend (ſaid Aſphales) do you think ſhe will receive it ſo? No, no, friend, I would have her take it and read it, before ſhe knows that it comes from me, otherwiſe ſhe is of ſo croſſe a humour, that ſhe will not take it; for ſhe has proteſted and ſworn that ſhe would not: and becauſe I do infinitely deſire to ſhew her that my affection has more induſtry and ingenuity to arrive at my deſires, then ſhe has cruelty to hinder me; I do conjure you, my dear friend Alindres, to uſe all the wit and ingenuity you have in this buſineſs; I know you have wit enough, and I know you love me, ſo as if you will but make it your ſtudied buſineſſe, ſhe is not able to defend her ſelf againſt your ſtratagems.

To be brief, fair Shepherdeſs, Alindres took upon him the charge of two Letters, and promiſed that ſince it was a buſineſs which he deſired with ſo much paſſion, aſſuredly either one or both of them ſhould be read by that cruel hearted woman.

Aſphales departed with this aſſurance; and Alindres in the interim more deſirous to keep his promiſe then perhaps Aſphales was; after he had long conſulted with himſelf upon the matter, he reſolved upon this ſlight.

Eritrea, who was a very wiſe and diſcreet Shepherdeſs, and in ſome ſort my kinſwoman, did make it her particular profeſſion to love me above all others in the [Page] Town; Alindres who knew very well what good wil this woman bore unto me, and that though ſhe had a very good wit, yet ſhe never imployed it in ſuch trifles as are commonly uſed upon ſuch occaſions, he caſt his eye upon her, and deſigned to make her give me the firſt Letter; and the rather, becauſe he had a great familiarity with her long before. He went to ſee her therefore, ſeveral times, and talked with her upon every thing, but only that ſubject which chiefly brought him to her houſe: at laſt, he turned and winded his anſwers and queſtions ſo, that he made her ſelf to enquire and ask of Aſphales: Ah me (ſaid he, and ſeemed as if he had forgot to tell her ſomthing) my memory it ſeems is admirable good, for I came hither purpoſely upon a buſineſſe which I had quite forgotten, if you had not put me into remembrance of it by naming Aſphales. Then ſhe preſſing him to tel her what it was, he began to whiſper as if it were a buſineſſe of confidence and truſt, and ſaid thus unto her; you know Eritrea that I am a ſervant unto Aſphales, and ſhould be very ſorry either to do or ſay any thing that might diſpleaſe him: but in this which I would have you to know, I think I do not any thing againſt his ſervice; nay on the contrary, I am confident that when his Spirit is free from that paſſion which now poſſeſſes him, he will thank me as for the beſt piece of ſervice I could do him: and therefore I beſeech you, and conjure you to keep it extreamly ſecret, until he be grown wiſer then now he is. And Eritrea having promiſed, and ſworn that ſhe would, I believe (continued the ſubtle Alindres) you are not ignorant of the extream affection which he bears unto Doriſea, for it is ſo apparent, that any who have eyes may ſee it. Eritrea upon this ſhrugged her ſhoulders, and ſeemed to be very ſorry for it; and then he, continued, God only knows what Lectures I have read unto him about it, and how often I have hinted unto him the inconveniences and ſorrows that would enſue upon it, as wel in relation to Doriſſea, whom if he love as he ſayes he does, he ought to have ſome care of her honour and reputation; as alſo in relation to the offence it would be unto Doriſſeas kindred, in which Aſphales own Father wil have a ſhare in reſpect of the ancient amity that has been betwixt their two Families: but all theſe arguments and remonſtrances were light, and ſerved to no uſe but to make him more cloſe and retired from me ever ſince, then from any other: and I to content him ſeem to take no notice of it, but keeps my ſelf out of his way as much as poſſibly I can. Now at his departure, he was not contented to ſpeak his mind unto Doriſſea, for I know he was with her two hours together, before he went; but alſo hath writ Letters unto her, and left them in the hands of a Shepherd whom I know very wel, who promiſed to give them unto her; but this careleſs and ill adviſed Shepherd, in lieu of performing his promiſe. I mean giving them unto Doriſſea, or burning them, or at the leaſt keeping them ſecret, he left them looſly lying upon his table; and yeſterday as I went to ſee him, upon buſineſs which I had with him, I ſaw them lying upon the back of his chimney, where trivial Letters uſe to be thrown, and God knows who ſaw them as well as I: Now knowing what affection you had unto Doriſſea, what relation of kindred there was betwixt you, I thought good to acquaint you, to the end you might uſe ſome means to get them out of his hands and burn them: for I am confident the diſcretion wherewith they were writ was no more then that wherewith they were kept: and I believe that if they could be ſeen, there would be ſomething found which concerns the reputation of this wiſe woman who is in no fault.

Eritrea who hearkned very attentively unto this Shepherd, who was more ſubtle then her ſelf: Oh Alindres, (ſaid ſhe and ſhoak him by the hand) I am exceedingly obliged unto you for your care of Doriſſea: ſhe is indeed the beſt friend I have, and I dare ſwear ſhe is innocent in this buſineſs: but all this is nothing unleſs you tell me more, and help me to get theſe Letters out of that Shepherds hands; The Shepherd, ſaid he, you know very well, his name is Atis, he who has the whole management of Aſphales affairs; but I dare not venture to take them: for if ever this lover ſhould come to know it, he would never pardon the theft. Then pauſing a while, he continued: yet I have a Son who has wit enough, and may do it if he will; for being but a boy, leſs notice will be taken of him then of me; and though he ſhould be ſeen when he takes them, they would not ſuſpect it out of any deſign: and if you will, I will ſet him a work: Eritrea who longed extreamly to have it done, [Page] Oh good Alindres, ſaid ſhe, let it be done withal expepedition, leſt ſome ſhould be before you; and I aſſure you Doriſſea and I will not be ungrateful: How, ſaid the crafty Alindres, I beſeech you Eritrea, let not me be ſo much as named in the buſineſs; for if Aſphales ſhould ever come to know it, he would never look upon me again with a good eye: Wel, replied ſhe, I wil not tel her, but wil ſatisfie the debt my ſelf. Alindres who had already inſtructed his Son in the buſineſs, who though young, yet was his Fathers own Son in ſubtilty; he ſent for him immediately, and in the preſence of Eritrea asked him, whether he had ſo much courage as to take the Letters which lay in the chimney of Atis, ſo ſlily as none ſhould perceive him. Yes, ſaid he, or any thing you command me: go then, ſaid the Father, and if you be taken in the fact, be ſure you do not ſay that I commanded you. Upon this the boy offered to go, but Eritrea called him back, to promiſe him ſomething in caſe he brought them, purpoſely to encourage him the more; but he anſwered, no Eritrea, I had rather die then play the theft upon any conſideration then the command of my Father: then he ſeemed to go about his buſineſſe; but his Father having given him one of the Letters before; it was not long before he returned, but yet meaſured his time juſt according to the diſtance of places: Father (ſaid he, and gave him the Letter) if there had been a dozen more I could have brought them al, but I found only this: and what is become of the other? ſaid the Father, I know not, anſwered the boy, perhaps ſome took it away: tel me truly, ſaid the Father, did you not want courage to take it? If you wil pardon me, ſaid the boy, I wil tel you truly; and when the promiſe was made, when I came firſt into the chamber, ſaid he, I found none in it, but as ſoon as I had taken one Letter, I put it in my hat, and was reaching at the other, one came into the room, took it from me, and threw it into the fire. Eritrea then▪ to excuſe him, It is no matter my little friend, ſaid ſhe, ſince it is burned, I am as well contented as if you had brought it. Oh Shepherd, ſaid ſhe, I am infinitely joyed the buſineſs has thriven thus well, and that none has ſeen theſe Letters. And becauſe Alindres ſaw ſhe was impatient til ſhe was alone, he bad her adieu, gave her the Letter, and conjured ſilence.

Alindres was no ſooner out of her houſe, but ſhe came to mine; as fortune was, the houſe was ful of ſtrangers, who came to ſee my Father, and therefore ſhe knew not how to give me this Letter, nor acquaint me with the good office which ſhe had done for me; but I obſerved that ſomthing did diſquiet her mind, though could not imagine what it was: at laſt, I went to her, and took my opportunity to ask her if ſhe had any news to tell me? I am infinitely deſirous, ſaid ſhe, to talk with you, and it concerns you, that it be as ſoon as conveniently you can. You may well think (ſage Shepherdeſſe) that this was enough to ſwell me with curioſity. I rid my ſelf therefore as ſoon as I could conveniently from all the Company, and carried her into a cloſet; and I had no ſooner ſhut the door, but ſhe ſaid unto me, ah my dear Coſen, how careful have I been to recover this paper, out of a place where it could not be any advantage to you; upon this, ſhe gave me the Letter, and ſaid unto me, here dear Coſen, read it, and when you have done, I will tell you the whole ſtory. I who had never ſeen the hand of Aſphales, could not know the character, nor ever had the leaſt thought of the wager which I had laid with him; and to tell you truly, I never believed that this young Spirit would ever have thought upon it: I opened it therefore, not imagining what it was, and found in it theſe words.

ASPHALES Letter unto DORISSEA.

IT is Love which made me find out this way, to continue unto you the aſsurances of my fidelity: you ſee it is in vain to ſtrive againſt him, ſince there is nothing ſo difficult, but he can ſurmount it. Be contented then, Fair Doriſſea, that as by his means I have won our Wager, ſo by my extream affection, I may change that courage, which makes you inſenſible of my paſſions.

[Page] I am not able to expreſſe (oh Fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſſe) my amazement at the reading of this Letter, which by mentioning the Wager, made me know from whence it came. Believe it, my aſtoniſhment was extream, and I believe Eritreas was no leſſe, when imbracing her I cryed out, oh my Coſen! what have you done? He who gave this Letter unto you was too ſubtle and crafty for us: How? How? (ſaid ſhe and went back a pace) what ſubtilty and craft do you mean? for I proteſt Coſen, I never took more care nor pains in my life, then in getting them out of the hands of thoſe who had them; and then not giving me leiſure to ſpeak: nay, nay, ſaid ſhe, I am in very good earneſt; aſſure your ſelf there was need of craft and ſubtilty to get it out of the place where it was; and continuing her Diſcourſe, ſhe told all the whole ſtory of what ſhe had done, ſo freely and innocently, that I could not chuſe but laugh heartily: at which ſhe began to be half angry, thinking I did her abundance of wrong in not believing her; and becauſe I knew that it was out of her good will unto me, Coſen (ſaid I unto her) I am much obliged unto you for the pains which you have taken: but aſſure your ſelf, that if I have offended you, Aſphales ought to make you ſatisfaction: for you have helped him to win a Wager which he had laid with me; and then I told her the whole paſſage, and conſequently made her underſtand the ſubtilty of Alindres; at which ſhe was ſo ſurpriſed, that the poor woman could not ſufficiently admire the treachery.

I have told you theſe things, Fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſſe, to let you underſtand how Aſphales, Thomantes, and Filintes, behaved themſelves towards Delphire and me; and upon what grounds we might pretend that they ought not to engage themſelves any where elſe, and yet, be pleaſed to hear what hapned afterwards.

Thomantes, had ingratiated himſelf ſo far into my Companions favour, that his rival had good reaſon to think him better looked then upon himſelf Yet Delphire, who could not any way approve of theſe ſplenatique paſſions in Filintes, ſhe would ſomtimes be jeſting and laughing with him. During which time, the ſixth day of the month came on; a day as you know, dedicated to the gathering of the Miſleto: and by fortune thoſe that went to ſeek it in our Sacred Groves, did find it in that part which was neareſt our Town: this was the reaſon, that not only we, but all our neighbours came to rejoyce with us, and to congratulate our good fortune: for into what place ſoever Heaven ſent this Sacred Miſleto, it brought with it alwayes abundance of proſperity.

Every one therefore prepared themſelves, according to the cuſtom, to honour the day; and to perform thoſe exerciſes which were intended; as running, wreſtling, throwing the bar, and ſhooting: the young Shepherds ſpruced up themſelves in all their gaiety and gallantry: Filintes deſiring to be very fine, he begged a favour of Delphire, which ſhe denied with the beſt excuſes ſhe could find: but he, who was bold enough, and thought that the greateſt pleaſure in love was, as in hunting, to take what one purſues by force, he put his hand about the Shepherdeſſes neck, and took out of her head a flower made of ſilk, which the Siſter of that Shepherd had pinned there. Delphire, who thought it better to let him take it thus before all the company, then in private, after two or three times asking: well, ſaid ſhe, what the ſiſter gave me, the Brother takes from me, but Filintes went away unto his Siſter to get it faſtned to his hat; it chanced that Thomantes was there; who knowing the flower, and thinking that Delphire had beſtowed it upon him with her free conſent, he fell into ſuch a jealouſie, that a fever ſeiſed upon him, and that in ſo violent a degree, that it conſtrained him to keep his bed.

This ſudden ſickneſſe ſet the ſage Shepherdeſſe Ericanthe off the humour of any rejoycing, ſo as the bravery of Filintes was ſpoiled for this time: for Eleaman having the whole authority of the Town, deferred the ſolemnity: and becauſe Ericanthe was deſirous that we ſhould go and viſit Thomantes, eſpecially Delphire, ſhe deſired me to go with her: and when we came to his chamber door, we heard him talking very loud: ſo as being told that he was all alone by himſelf, we went as ſoftly as we could to hear what he ſaid; and being very near, we heard him make extream complaints, as if he had received ſome ſtrange injury, offered unto the fidelity of his Love; and perhaps he had continued longer in his lamentations, if Delphire had [...] (purpoſely as I think) made a noiſe; being unwilling I ſhould hear any more: [Page] but ſhe kept a great buſtle at the door, and as if it had been againſt her will, oh what a noiſe do I make (ſaid ſhe) It is no matter, ſaid I, ſeeming to take no notice of it; upon this, opening the door, we entred into the chamber, We found him indeed, in a very bad condition: for beſides the violence of his fever, which much perplexed him, we ſaw his face all tears, which his jealous fancy had fetched from his heart. This ſight, though he wiped his eyes as well as he could, might very well move my companion: for I proteſt it moved me to much pity, not knowing what the matter was, yet doubting that it was againſt her that he complained; ſo as looking upon her, my very eyes invited her to give the Shepherd ſome comfort. And ſhe with abundance of modeſty and diſcretion, went to his bed-ſide: Alas Thomantes! (ſaid ſhe unto him) how long muſt our ſorrows laſt, in grieving at your ſickneſs? The Shepherd then raiſing himſelf up, as deſirous to thank us for the favour which we did him in the viſit. I am but too well in being ſick, anſwered he, ſince ſuch fair Shepherdeſſes daign to have a care of me. But Thomantes (ſaid I unto him) if your ſickneſs continue, you will cauſe ſmall joy for the Sacred Miſleto. Such an unfortunate Shepherd as Thomantes, anſwered he, can never hinder the joyes of ſo many fair Shepherdeſſes, eſpecially ſuch as are ſo free, in their favours, as they care not if all the the world do ſee them. Delphire till now never thought that the complaints and ſickneſſe of this Shepherd proceeded from the flower which Filintes took from her, and was very glad that ſhe had found it out, to the end ſhe might undeceive him: but not being willing that I ſhould underſtand any thing of this difference, ſhe ſeemed as if ſhe did not apprehend it, but turned her Diſcourſe into expreſſions of Ericanthes ſorrows for his ſickneſs, and how much all the houſe was troubled at it: and afterwards told him, how every one were preparing themſelves for the exerciſes and paſtimes of the day, and wanted aſſiſtants: briefly ſhe told him all that ſhe could to cheer him up, and to undeceive him in the opinion which he was in that ſhe favoured Filintes more then him; yet ſo cautiouſly, that I could not judge that ſhe had any intereſt in thoſe favours ſhe ſpoke of. And becauſe I was not ignorant that this Shepherd did love her, and knew how Lovers loved privacy, I walked up and, down the chamber, looking upon every thing in it, and ſeemed very buſie in my own thoughts, and all purpoſely to give them the better opportunities of private talk. Delphire, who was very deſirous to undeceive him, and to loſe no time, leſt any ſhould come in to interrupt, ſhe bowed her ſelf nearer him: Is it poſſible Thomantes (ſaid ſhe unto him in a low voice, and with a ſmiling eye) that you ſhould be jealous? Is it poſſible Delphire (anſwered he) that you ſhould be ſo kind unto Filintes as you are? and that I loving you as I do, ſhould not be as much in your favour as he? Upon this, the Shepherdeſs could not hold from laughing: Oh Heavens Shepherdeſſe, ſaid he, do you laugh at my miſery? What hopes can I have ever to be happy? Truly (ſaid ſhe) I do laugh at a thing which you your ſelf would laugh at with me, if you knew the truth: How? replied he, do you think I can laugh to ſee one whom I would have to love me, love another? and that I ſhould ſee Filintes with my own eyes trimm'd up in your favours, and not die with deſpair? Oh Delphire, if you think ſo of me, you do more offend me by that thought then by the favour which you have given him: for in your favouring of him more then me, you do only intimate that I ſhould yeild unto him in happineſs; but by this thought you do as good as tell me that you have an ill opinion of my love, which is an offence ſo unjuſt, as is not to be endured, Thomantes, Thomantes, ſaid ſhe unto him, never let it trouble you, but ſet your heart at reſt, and be aſſured that in this I have not offended either againſt you, or your love unto me: that which you call a Favour, was a theft, a violent robbery, againſt which I could not defend my ſelf; ſo many ſeveral witneſſes are of it, that I need not inſiſt upon any farther clearing of my ſelf; for my chamber was full of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes; from whom, if you will not believe me, you may know the truth.

Now ſince it is thus, as moſt truly it is, have I not good reaſon to laugh: No, no, Thomantes, as long as you behave your ſelf towards me as you do, I ſhall have more regard of your ſatisfaction then you imagine: and if this were a place fit to chide in, I ſhould chide you for having ſo bad an opinion of that good will which I bore unto you: but ſince I believe your diſpleaſure proceeded only from your affection, [Page] I will take it as an argument of that amity which you have promiſed unto me. Oh Heavens (ſaid the Shepherd and kiſſed her hand) how near are extream contentments in love, and extream diſcontents, unto one another? This Declaration reſtores that life, which my opinion would have raviſhed from me. But deareſt Delphire, may I without offence beg one favour from you, whith would compleat my happineſſe? Tell me what it is, anſwered the Shepherdeſs, and if it be a thing which depends upon me, you ſhall ſee how much I deſire your ſatisfaction. I moſt heartily beſeech you, ſaid he, nay I conjure you, even by your ſelf, which is the deareſt thing in the world unto me, that you would get back this flower, for I am not able to ſee it in the hands of this raviſher, without a moſt ſtrange alteration, I promiſe you Thomantes, anſwered ſhe, that as well for your ſatisfaction as my own, I will do all I can, and you ſhall know it.

She left him with this aſſurance, for many Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes came in and hindred them from farther Diſcourſe. This viſit had a better operation upon this Lover, then all the Phyſick which ſhould have been given unto him: for the next morning, he left his ſickneſs in his bed, and found himſelf in perfect health.

But Delphire not forgetting the Shepherds requeſt, ſhe no ſooner ſaw Filintes, but ſhe uſed her beſt rethorique to procure the flower, pretending that ſhe would keep it for her ſake who gave it: Filintes, who did not repent of the robbery which he had committed, Do you think Delphire (ſaid he) that I value this which I have got by lawful war, no more, then to part from it without a ranſom; what ranſom ſaid ſhe, do you require? Some of thoſe knots, anſwered he, or thoſe ribands which you wear. I have none to give you, anſwered ſhe; nor I any to reſtore, anſwered he, but am very ſorry that I rob'd you of no more: what more, ſaid ſhe, would you have taken? Your heart, anſwered he: as for that piece of thievery, anſwered ſhe, I ſhould never have required reſtitution; but the flower which you have is much better, and I wonder you ſhould have any ſatisfaction in retaining any thing againſt ones will. What? (ſaid Filintes) is it againſt your will that I wear it? Me thinks, anſwered ſhe, my deſires of having it again ſhould intimate as much; Then he deſired me to lend him a pair of Siſſers; which I did, not knowing what he would do with them; and then he took off his hat, and cut the flower in a hundred pieces, and threw them into the fire: then (ſaid he unto me) Here take your Siſſers, and I thank you, for they have helped to revenge me againſt the diſpleaſure which was conceived againſt me: then he roſe up in an angry mood, and it was a long time before he would ſpeak unto her; but it was excellent ſport to ſee them together: for he could not forbear from being where ſhe was, and often twit her in a ſplenatique way, ſtill addreſſing his ſpeech to a third perſon; and Delphire paid him back again in the ſame coyn, with ſo much delight to all that heard them; that whenſoever they two were together, every one flocked unto them to hear the quirks which they put upon each other.

This divorce laſted until the day when the Miſleto was to be gathered: and that day he came unto her very early, Delphire (ſaid he unto her) is the heat of your choler now paſt? My choler, anſwered ſhe, never began againſt you, but perhaps you mean your own. It may be ſo, replied he and ſmiled, for ſince I have nothing but what is yours, my anger is yours. If you mean it ſo, ſaid Delphire, I fear you do miſ-reckon your ſelf, for I know not who can make any thing mine, unleſſe I will. Delphire, replied he, there are ſome things which we have by force: Is it not commonly ſaid, ſuch a one has a fever; ſuch a one has the hatred of every one; and ſuch a one has abundance of miſery, and yet I am confident they would not have them: would you have me, replied Delphire, to have your anger in that way? Not only my anger, ſaid he, but alſo my ſoul, my heart, my affection, and my all: but Filintes, anſwered Delphire, take heed you do not draw a concluſion from hence, which will put you into your ſplenatique mood again. What can you alledge, ſaid he, which can give me any ſuch occaſion? God defend me, replied the Shepherdeſſe from the thought of it; but if you will give me leave, I will tell you, that ſuch things as are forced upon one, do alſo make one ſtrive with all their power to be rid of them; ſo as if that which I have of yours be of this quality, conſider with your ſelf what concluſion may be drawn from thence. Oh moſt cruel and diſdainful [Page] Shepherdeſs, ſaid he, can you vent nothing but arguments of your ſcorn and ill affection of me? I was in hopes this morning to have obtained a favour from you, that I might have flouriſhed in it under the notion of your Shepherd, but now I find my hopes are all blaſted, and that you ſcorn and ſlight me more then ever. You are miſtaken Shepherd, ſaid Delphire, I never ſcorned any thing that had relation unto you; no, I do honour both you and your family: but I was forced to anſwer unto your aſſertions which you uſed unto me. I ſhall quickly know, replied he, whether you ſpeak truth; for if you do not ſcorn, I ſhould be known this day as your Shepherd; pray give me that knot which is upon your head, in teſtimony of your good will. I am afraid, ſaid ſhe, leſt you ſhould cut it in pieces, as you did the flower which you took from me. Perhaps it might run the ſame fortune (ſaid he) if you would take it away from me. You need not doubt, replied ſhe, but if you ſhould raviſh it from me, as you did the flower, I ſhould do the ſame. What would you think, replied Filintes, if I ſhould not let you reſt all this day, until I have that knot? Upon this, he put forth his hand to take it; but the Shepherdeſs being aware of him, recoyled, and went unto Ericanthe; but ſtill he followed her, and importun'd her for this knot. No, no, Filintes, (ſaid Delphire) you ſhall not have it, unleſs Ericanthe command me. I will not receive it, replied he, upon Ericanthes command: no, no, ungrateful Delphire, deceive not your ſelf, I deſire no favours from you, but ſuch as proceed from your free and good will: I would have them to be gifts of Love, and not tributes of obedience; upon this, he went away in a fretting fume. And fortune was ſo averſe unto him all that day, as he received no contentment from any thing he took in hand.

On the contrary, Thomantes, continuing his courtſhip of this Shepherdeſs, without the leaſt complaint or murmure; every action about this proud Beauty, made Filintes jealous, who ſeeing him ſo patient, and judging of things according to his own humour, he could not imagine any one ſhould endure the cruelties of her whom he loved with ſo much ſilence, unleſs he was tyed unto it by ſome great obligation; ſo as he concluded very advantagiouſly for his rival. This opinion did torment him ſo extreamly, that one day when he was almoſt out of his wits, he went unto the Shepherdeſs; and though it was long ſince he had ſpoke unto her, yet at the very firſt ſight he accoſted her with this language: reſolve with your ſelf to ſee one of theſe three things come preſently to paſſe. For either I muſt change, or you muſt change, or I muſt die. The Shepherdeſs returned him this faint anſwer: for me to change, is a thing impoſſible; that you ſhould die, would grieve me; and for you to change, is of leſs importance unto me, and depends wholly upon your own will. Oh Heavens (cryed he out) is all this cruelty to be endured? and yet I muſt love this inſenſible woman. Upon this, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and went away, more tranſported with choller then ever he was: But as his Spirit was quickly hot, ſo it was quickly cool for when he was in his greateſt fury, if Delphire did but ſpeak one word unto him, he was appeaſed, and ſeemed as if he had no memory of thoſe offences and wrongs at which he was angry.

All things thus far went well with Thomantes, ſo as he might well think himſelf one of the happieſt Shepherds about Lignon; and I believe Aſphales might have ſaid as much, had he not been abſent, for he could not have ſeen any Shepherd ſo much in my favour as himſelf: but ſince that jealouſies, and by conſequence inquietudes have ſo ravelled their ſouls, as I believe they enjoy but a little reſt, and we but a little more: Thus, Wiſe Shepherdeſs, this is the cauſe which has brought us hither before you, according to the anſwer of the Oracle.

Aſphales, as I told you, before was abſent; and Thomantes was conſtrained almoſt by the ſame deſtiny to be abſent from Delphire, and alſo to go into the ſame Province of the Romans, where Aſphales was already. Perhaps I ſhould be too tedious in relating all the Diſcourſe of this Shepherd, and all his laments a little before his departure: but ſo it was, that he gave unto this Shepherdeſs of poſſible aſſurances of a conſtant, and laſting affection; his expreſſions came from him with ſuch an emphaſis, as if his heart had been in his tongue, and thoſe that would not believe them, had been as incredulous, as that falſe Shepherd who uttered them was perfidious, and who afterwards was quite wafted away with inconſtancy.

[Page] He departed with the prayers and ſorrows of all that he left behind him. And becauſe Eleaman the Wiſe Paſtor would needs out of his affection ſee him take horſe, and was not ignorant of the good will which his Son bore unto this Shepherdeſſe, when he ſaw him a little gone, he turned towards her, and in a jeſting manner ſaid, he is gone, and none of theſe fair Maids lament him: and becauſe as he ſpoke thoſe words, he had his eyes upon Delphire, ſhe ſmiled; which was obſerved by many, and afterwards when Filintes returned, for he accompanied Thomantes a little way, and was told of this: Oh moſt cruel, hard-harted, and inſenſible woman, ſaid he, can Heaven ſuffer ſo much injuſtice? Does all the ſervices which Thomantes has rendred unto you, merit no more then to laugh at him when he goes away, and when he goes away with ſo much ſorrow to part from you? But the beſt conceipt was, he was really offended at the injury which he thought ſhe had done unto his rival. And to ſee the humour of this young Shepherd: as long as Thomantes was abſent, there was not a day wherein he did not put Delphire in memory of him. And at any time when he did her any trivial ſervice; I wiſh, ſaid he, that this were put upon the ſcore of Thomantes. But that which is hardly credible, is, when Thomantes was preſent, Filintes vexed himſelf, and fainted at every ſillable which Delphire uttered: but when he was abſent, he took all well, and was as patient, as if nothing could move him.

Thomantes who was abſent, and longed to hear how Delphire did, was preſently acquainted how Filintes was changed in his humour. This news began to gripe him a little at the heart: and as fortune would have it, he and Aſphales meeting in a ſtrange Country, they contracted (as it is uſual) a more intimate familiarity then ever they had before: ſo as always one of them was receiving news how ſquares went at home. As ill luck was, thoſe who writ unto Aſphales did ſend him ſomtimes ſuch news concerning Delphire, as they fancied: and thoſe who gave intelligence unto Thomantes, did write of me according to their opinions, not knowing what great familiarity there was betwixt them. They who took all for truths, and did believe what was written. Unto Aſphales was written, that Filintes had ſo gained the heart of Delphire, as now there was no room for Thomantes. And unto Thomantes they ſent word, that ſince his departure, Androgenes was ſo in love with me, as that I had no eyes but to look upon him; ſo as theſe two poor Shepherds, when perhaps they had moſt cauſe to be contented, they thought they had moſt cauſe to complain againſt us. They counſelled and conſulted together; and I am ſure not without ſomtimes talking of our changing humours. In concluſion, both of them having haſted, or rather hudled up their buſineſs, that they might the ſooner look homeward, we heard of their return: Ericanthe expected her Son with ſuch impatiency, that ſhe went as far as the Town of Boen to meet him: Delphire that day was not well, and therefore intended not to ſtir out of her chamber. Filintes not being able to endure that Thomantes ſhould receive ſuch a diſpleaſure, he came to pray and beſeech her by all means, that ſhe would keep Ericanthe company upon this occaſion, which he aſſured her would be very well taken, and that for his part he would take it for a very particular obligation; and was ſo very importunate in his deſires, and ſupplications, as at laſt, he obtained that which none elſe could: But when Thomantes heard from Delphire her ſelf, that the favour which he received was by the interceſſion of Filintes, he grew extreamly jealous at it: and upon this reaſon, he ſet himſelf ever ſince to obſerve and watch the actions of Filintes and Delphire more narrowly. And ſo much the rather, becauſe his rival was grown very familiar with all the Shepherdeſſes, which ſtung Thomantes to the heart; for he could not imagine that this familiarity could proceed from any thing but Love, and not out of habitude: yet at the firſt he ſeemed to take no notice, but diſſembled his paſſion as diſcreetly as poſſibly he could.

Aſphales alſo, whoſe head was full of that news which was written unto Thomantes, concerning the affection between Androgenes and me, he alſo made a fair ſhew, and ſet himſelf to be a ſpy over our actions, out of which he drew no conſequences to my advantage. I know not how it came to paſs: but I being at that time in Ericanthes chamber, where there was a great number of Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, Androgenes deſired to talk with me, as it is uſual at ſuch aſſemblies, for every one to [Page] addreſs themſelves unto ſuch as they have familiarity withall, rather then unto ſtrangers: but becauſe I took notice that Aſphales obſerved us, being unwilling to give him any occaſion of diſcontent, I turned another way, and would not ſpeak unto him; and ſee how one is ſomtimes deceived in their deſign: this action being obſerved by Aſphales, it made him ſuſpect all that he ſaw not, and think that all was true which had been written concerning Androgenes and me: and the worſt was; Androgenes obſerving how I declined ſpeaking unto him in conſideration of Aſphales, he never ſought for any opportunity of ſpeaking unto me during all that Aſſembly; but there being a great Looking-glaſſe upon the table, which was fixed to the wall, this diſcreet Shepherd did caſt his eyes into it; and as fortune was, I looked into it at the ſame time: Androgenes ſhrugged his ſhoulders, as if he complained of my behaviour to him, and I not utterly to diſoblige him, did wink upon him with one eye, which perhaps was ſome contentment to him: but I proteſt, it was only out of deſire to hide the odd humour of Aſphales: but as ill ſuck would have it; he took notice of all theſe ſigns, and ſuppoſing thereby that there was ſome cloſe correſpondency betwixt us, he was ſo netled, that he went out of the houſe, and was not ſeen all night.

Perhaps you will think it ſtrange, diſcreet Shepherdeſs, that Thomantes and Aſphales, who at their departures had ſuch ſmall ſhares in our good will, ſhould at their returns pretend ſo abſolutely unto them: but you muſt know, that they obtained our affections during their abſence, more then whilſt they were continually with us; for when they were amongſt us, and ſerved us, we ſuppoſed they did it becauſe they ſaw no greater beauties then our ſelves: but when we heard that after they had ſeen the world, and in it many beauties ſuperior unto ours, and yet kept themſelves conſtant unto us, we eſteemed their affections at a higher rate, ſo as by our Letters to them, they knew that their abſence obtained that which their preſence had denied them.

This was the reaſon that the leaſt favour which we ſhewed unto others, ſeeming unto them a taking away their dues, they could not endure we ſhould ſo much as look upon any but them. If we chanced to caſt the leaſt glance of an eye upon any one, then theſe Shepherds; or rather theſe Tyrants, were ready to flye in our faces, and would oblige us to ſuch a conſtraint as was intollerable: but becauſe Delphire and I did not like to be baniſhed from all the world, we continued our converſation, not only with Filintes and Androgenes, but alſo with any others that addreſſed themſelves unto us; the number of which was not ſmall; and behaved our ſelves towards them as was fitting, leſt we ſhould give occaſion unto any of ſpeaking ill of us; which they did take ſo ill, that after they had called a counſel amongſt them two, as if they were to govern and direct us, they reſolved to put a face of coldneſs, and afterwards to ſeem as if they loved ſome others. But not knowing whom to chuſe for ſuch a buſineſs, they would only ſeem to ſtand as Neuters and be indifferent; and for a concluſion, they came at laſt unto down right incivility, for ſo may their behaviours unto us be termed, ſince they did not only leave off addreſſes and courting us as they were wont; but when they met us at any time in Ericanthes chamber, or any where elſe, they would not ſo much as look upon us. If at any time we found them in a place where it was impoſſible for them to turn away their eyes from us, it was with ſo much ſcorn, and they rendred their ſalutes in ſuch a diſdainful manner, as was not civil.

This ſtrange way of behaviour and proceeding, cauſed every one to take notice of it, and almoſt all that heard of it, did tax them with inconſtancy and levity: but they on the contrary, maintained that they were the ſame they were always wont to be, that they had not changed, but loved us and honoured us, as much as ever they did; that it was buſineſs which they were conſtrained to follow, concerning the eſtate which belonged to their family, which did divert them, and hinder them from imploying all their time in thoſe trivial ſervices which they were wont to render. Delphire and I muſt confeſs, oh ſage Diana, that after we had ſeveral times talked together, (for our fortunes were the ſame, and required the ſame remedies) we reſolved, to take all manner of excuſes from theſe two wavering minds, by retiring our ſelves from all thoſe who might give them the leaſt umbrage; and to do it the more handſomly, we took this occaſion.

[Page] Eleaman and Ericanthe took great delight in ſeeing Comedies acted by thoſe in their own houſe: and Delphire, as ſhe that had the beſt wit, had commonly one of the beſt parts: It hapned that Delphire in the play was to tell a Shepherd that he was never to hope for any thing in her affection: by chance ſhe ſpied Filintes very near the Theater harkning and admiring her action; and conceiving him to be the greateſt cauſe of jealouſie in Thomantes, when ſhe was to ſpeak unto the Shepherd in the Comedy, ſhe turned her ſelf directly to Filintes, and as if he had hore a part in the play, and ſaid thus unto him; I do ſwear unto thee Shepherd, that I can and will ſooner die a hundred deaths, then love thee: ceaſe all thy hopes, trouble me no more with thy love, for Shepherd I do hate thee.

The face of Delphire being turned towards Filintes, and her eyes and geſtures addreſſed unto him, was a cauſe, that not only the poor Shepherd knew her meaning, but alſo Thomantes, and almoſt all the Spectators, which cauſed all eyes to be caſt upon him, who durſt not before all that company let his anger appear.

A few dayes after, when we were upon the banks of the Chriſtal River of Lignon, and as we were paſſing away the time upon the Sands by the River ſide; Aſphales, Androgenes, and many other Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, were all about me: and I writ upon the Sand, I LOVE: Androgenes looking over my ſhoulder, and ſeeing what I had writ upon the Sand, is it I (ſaid he, and ſmiled) for whom you writ that word? Yes, anſwered I, and I obſerved that Aſphales blushed when I ſpoke that word: but do you underſtand, continued I, what it ſignifies? I do underſtand the word, anſwered he, perhaps not the meaning of the writer, anſwered I, for I mean that the Love which I bear unto you, is like the writing which you ſee, (and trod upon it with my foot) and which you ſhall never ſee again. Aſphales, and all that heard me, fell into ſuch extream laughter, which perhaps ſurpriſed Androgenes, as much as what I ſaid unto him.

One would think, ſage Shepherdeſſes, that theſe two actions of Delphire and me, ſhould have contented theſe two ſtubborn Lovers, if at the leaſt, this term Lovers, be not too good for them; but on the contrary, they ſtill continued their high humours, and whenſoever they came into company, they preſently began to ſing their invective ſongs againſt us, upbraiding us with inconſtancy.

Now, ſage Shepherdeſs, we both of us reſolved to have no more to do with them, but become as very ſtrangers, as if we had never ſeen them; & to the end none ſhould think we caſt them off by reaſon of any new affections, we retired our ſelves at the ſame time from all manner of converſation, not upon a ſudden, leſt it ſhould be thought ſtrange: but ſee, fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſs, how thoſe who upbraided us with inconſtancy, are inconſtant themſelves; we had not lived above two months in this cold reſtraint, but as if our Ice, by a contrary operation had re-kindled fire in their ſouls, they come and caſt themſelves at our feet with all manner of ſubmiſſion and prayers; but I know not whether I ſhould ſay, with the ſame importunities they uſed before. Filintes, and Androgenes, were the firſt who oppoſed them at their return; ſaying, that their inconſtancy was too great and groſs, ever to be entertained or endured; and that if ſuch Weather-cock minds were not puniſhed by ſome eminent corrections, there would be no faith or loyalty amongſt Shepherds. We whoſe humours were well enough diſpoſed never to entertain them again, did eaſily conſent unto the opinion of Filintes, and Androgenes. And in this reſolution, as oft as Aſphales and Thomantes came to us, we laid their inconſtancy before them; and they on the contrary, to ſhew that no cauſe is ſo bad but will find ſome maintainers, they uſed all the arguments and reaſons they could, to juſtifie themſelves, affirming that they were not inconſtant, and asked what inconſtancy was, and within what terms and limits it was confined, when it was made a rule, or rather a Law, and then maintained that they did never break that Law. This diſpute went ſo far, that in the end, being wearied with their importunate prayers, we all reſolved together to addreſſe our ſelf unto the Oracle for a deciſion of the controverſie; by whoſe anſwer we were ſent unto you, fair and Wiſe Shepherdeſs; from whom we wait for a juſt judgment, to deliver us all from burthens, that are too heavy to be endured.

Doriſſea thus ended her Diſcourſe, and after an humble reverence, ſhe returned unto her place, to vvait for vvhat the Shepherdeſs Diana vvould ordain; vvho after [Page] ſhe had asked the opinion of Alexis, Aſtrea, Phillis, Sylvander, and ſome others, ſhe ordained, that Thomantes and Aſphales ſhould deliver their reaſons, by vvhich they vvould maintain, that they vvere not inconſtant, and Thomantes ſpoke thus, in behalf of them both.

The Speech of THOMANTES.

WE do ſee, and know very vvell, oh moſt juſt Judge! that it vvas upon great reaſon you ordained Aſphales and me to deliver unto you thoſe reaſons by which we may clear our innocency, and wipe off thoſe aſperſions, which the malice of our accuſers had caſt upon us; for otherwiſe it is impoſſible any humane underſtanding ſhould come to the knowledge of the truth, which is now put into doubt: the artifice of thoſe who have done the wrong is great, and they have ſo gilded over rotten reaſons with flouriſhing arguments of eloquence, as it is a very hard matter to ſee the ſimple and pure face of truth, but by the oppoſitions and anſwers of thoſe that are oppreſſed.

We do ſee, and know alſo very well, that we who have hitherto made it our whole buſineſs, profeſſion, and ſtudy, to love well, and not to ſpeak well, are by the rigour of thoſe whom we have ſerved, driven to defend our ſelves by words. It is a very hard matter for us to ſpeak well, that which we have ſo perfectly and ſo religiouſly obſerved; in as much as none ought to meddle in that miſtery and trade which they have not learned, and of which they have not made profeſſion: and, oh our juſt Judge, is it not very hard, that we who have made it our whole profeſſion to love well, and not to ſpeak well, ſhould now be driven to that which is not our profeſſion, and to uſe words to verifie our actions, to which we referred all our eloquence and rethorique. This conſideration makes us extreamly doubt the iſſue of this enterpriſe, knowing very well, that we have to do with perſons, who quite contrary unto us, have more ſtudied to ſpeak well without loving, then love well without ſpeaking: now all the arms which we are to uſe, are only words, which being their own, and in which they are exerciſed and skilful, moſt certainly they know better how to uſe them then we; and therefore have a very great advantage of us, unleſs our juſt Judge by her prudence, and ſoundneſs of judgment, do balance the ſincerity of our naked reaſons, againſt the gilded gloſſes, and well ſpeaking of our adverſaries: and upon this confidence, we take the boldneſs to preſent our reaſons plainly unto you, and as briefly as poſſibly we can.

But when all is well conſidered, what kind of accuſations, (oh my friend Aſphales) are thoſe which they charge upon us? Had they blamed us for loving too much; had they accuſed us of being tranſported with too much violent affection: had they ſaid that, we go beyond the limits of Love; had they complained that the exceſſe of our paſſion makes us troubleſome, or inſupportable in our continual addreſſes, theſe accuſations, might perhaps have had ſome ſhadow of likelyhood; and we ſhould have found a hard task to diſcharge our ſelves of ſuch objections. But that they ſhould accuſe us that we ſhould not Love thoſe whom none can look upon, without adoration! Is not this, to mock us, and thoſe (if I may ſay ſo) that hear them? Can they ſay Aſphales does not love, whoſe affection ſurmounted ſo long an abſence? If abſence be called the Death of Love, what ſhould one ſay of that Love which is not dead after ſo long an abſence, but that certainly it is immortal? Immortal then is the love of Aſphales unto Doriſſea; Immortal is that of Thomantes unto the fair Delphire, who have not only reſiſted abſence, but alſo the rigours of that fair one, which perhaps had been inſupportable unto any other: length of time, which they ſay ruins and rots the moſt laſting thing, never ſhook his conſtancy; no nor any monſters of difficulties which he met with, nay even impoſſibilities, were not able to ſtop him in his deſigned courſe: Oh Gods! who does not know that Thomantes hath loved the fair Delphire even in her Cradle? at an age when ſhe was not capable (if I may ſay ſo) of knowing either to love, or cauſe love? And can it be imagined that Thomantes ſhould now fall off, and not love her, when her eyes enflames all that they daign to look upon, and caſt their rayes on? Who can have ſeen [Page] this Thomantes overcome all the rigours and ſcorns of Delphire; abide the length of time; ſurmount all difficulties, and believe that the ſame Thomantes ſhould not love her, when this fair Monſter of Beauty ſeemed pliable to his will and deſires? Truly theſe accuſations are as far from any common ſence, as they are from reaſon and truth; and there is no other anſwer to be given unto them, but this, that there is no diſputing againſt thoſe that will deny principles: and no more ought I againſt thoſe perſons who make theſe oppoſitions, who yet do fill Heaven and Earth with their complaints againſt us, and will by force have us confeſs that we do not love them.

They will needs take upon them to know what we do, better then we our ſelves: Love is an act of the will; and is there any ſo clear ſighted, as can ſee my will better then my ſelf? But as humane nature is more apt to believe the bad then the good, ſo ſhould we but once tell Delphire and Doriſſea, that we do not love them, oh how preſently would they believe us? But if we ſhould tell them, and tell them again, a thouſand and a thouſand times that we do infinitely love them, they would preſently ſay it was not true. Why ſhould you not believe us in the one as well as in the other? But we (and it is no ſmall argument of that love which you deny to be in us) if you once tell us that you do love us, we preſently believe it, and never make the leaſt doubt of the truth; and from whence proceeds this eaſie faith and belief? Even from love; from love I ſay, which makes us believe, that truth as well as all other virtues is in the perſon loved, ſo conſequently in you. But theſe fair ones would never confeſs that we loved them, but alwayes denied it, and now they tax us with inconſtancy. This laſt injury (my dear Aſphales) is an argument for us, for from their own opinion muſt be concluded, that we do love them now; for they confeſs that we did not love them heretofore, and by ſaying that we are inconſtant, they ſay, that we do love now: in this ſence, fair Shepherdeſſes, we ſhould agree with you, were it not that Love (who forced this truth from your own mouths againſt your wills) will not let us confeſs, that we did not love you before: but on the contrary, we do ſay, and maintain, that we did love you, and do love you, and ever ſhall love you: and that never was affection more perfect then the affection of Aſphales and Thomantes.

Now the main argument they have againſt our affection, is, that our actions have not given ſufficient teſtimonies, that we love them: Conſider, (oh moſt juſt Judge) conſider I beſeech you, upon what a ſandy foundation this charge is built, and how quickly it will fall to the ground: when our actions and behaviours to them were all fire, and full of impatiencies, then they charged us that we did not love them; when we ſaw this way would not prevail, nor perſwade them to believe the truth of our affections, we had recourſe unto the contrary: we put on a garb of coldneſs, and became all patience; but they forgetting the judgment they had before given, do now accuſe us of want of love more ſharply then before. What ſhould we do, if to our miſ-fortune two contraries do work the ſame effect upon their unjuſt ſouls: if neither heat nor cold will teſtifie our Love, what can we do? Yet theſe conſiderations, or rather contradictions, do put us unto abundance of pains: not that they who do ſee and weigh every thing with a ſound judgment, can ever enter into any doubt of us: but ſince there are more of thoſe who are inclined to judge ill of others, then of thoſe who hold an even ſcale of judgment, it muſt enſue, that the greater part of men will blame us: and which is worſt of all, or which is indeed inſupportable, theſe fair ones may nouriſh a ſtiniſter opinion of us in their ſouls, although we never courted any thing with more deſires, then to perſwade them of the contrary: and therefore though we know very well that we ought in all other things to yeild unto them; yet in this, we are conſtrained to contradict them, and bring the matter unto the judgment of another; which we would not have to be taken as any defect of love or reſpect, but rather for exceſs, and height of affection, which tranſports us beyond all rules of duty. In this exceſſe, we have ſeveral times deſired, that ſince they do charge us with inconſtancy, they would firſt agree that heretofore we did love them, and afterwards that they would preſcribe unto us thoſe limits in which a Lover ought to keep himſelf within compaſs of this conſtancy, to the end one may judge, as by a ſtraight rule, whether the line be right, and come no neerer one ſide then another; and ſo, oh our juſt Judge, it may appear whether we be inconſtant or no. The Gods [Page] are they who have ſent us unto you; and the Gods are they will inſpire you with a ſpirit of right judgment. But in the mean time we do require and conjure the God of Love, to take away all incredulity out of the ſouls of theſe fair ones, which makes them condemn our actions, which truly if they were different from what they were wont to be, it was not out of any alteration of will, but urgent affairs which was the cauſe, and which hindred us from paying the tribute of thoſe trivial ſervices we were wont to render, and in which we could not imploy our time without much prejudice unto our eſtates. Has not all ſeaſons their proper actions; does not nature teach us, that flowers are proper for the ſpring, and fruits for ſummer; if trees ſhould bloom all the year, they would bloom in vain; and why ſhould not the ſame be ſaid of us? If we ſhould be alwayes bearing thoſe little flowers, which are proper and natural at the beginning of Love, we ſhould not produce ſo much fruit in the ſummer of Love, but ſhould in a manner derogate from the Law of Nature. But perhaps, that which induceth them to this opinion, is the more familiar converſation which we have with others, then we were wont to have; and that this converſation proceeds from ſome Love we bear unto thoſe we are familiar with all: truly if a Lover ought to be a ſalvage perſon, and without communication, I muſt confeſs, they have reaſon; but ſince the name of Lover does not ſignifie any Wilde Man, or Wolf, or Tyger, or Barbarian, we ſee no reaſon or ground they have for their opinions.

All theſe doubts, and all theſe judgements which they have conceived of our affections, muſt receive a deciſion from you, ſage Shepherdeſs; we mean thoſe doubts and judgments which they have in diſ-advantage of our affection: for of all other things whereof they blame and accuſe us, as we are Aſphales and Thomantes, we dare not ſo much as whiſper the leaſt complaint againſt them; but will with all reverence and reſpect ſuffer what they pleaſe: but when they accuſe us as we are Lovers, then we are forced to open our mouths, not to accuſe or complain againſt them, but to ſigh, as thoſe do whom exceſſive pain torments above their ſtrength: otherwiſe we could ſay; that when they charge us with inconſtancy, they themſelves are the cauſe of our change, and ſhould ſeek out for ſome reaſons to excuſe it: and ſhould urge that ſo many ſervices paid and received, did not deſerve, that Filintes, during the abſence of Thomantes, ſhould be entertained in his place; nor Androgenes in the room of Aſphales: that the favours which both thoſe received during our abſence, would afford us ample matter and cauſe to accuſe them: that the news which was writ unto us from all ſides, was enough to make us believe it. And becauſe they ſay that a woman neither can nor ought to hinder any from loving them; ſo it be with all requiſite diſcretion, reſpect and honour: we ask your judgment, oh our moſt juſt Judge, upon theſe four queſtions; firſt, whether ſhe who permits many to love and ſerve her, do keep her ſelf within compaſs of the Laws of Conſtancy? Secondly, if this plurality of Lovers be allowed unto women, whether may it not be as well allowed unto men? Thirdly, whether the Laws of Conſtancy do ordain that a Lover ſhould flye the ſight of all other Shepherdeſſes? And laſtly, what are the terms and limits of this Conſtancy, ſo much talked of by all, and ſo little known unto any: and all this, to the end that theſe fair Shepherdeſſes may know whether or no we be true and faithful Lovers, and not be offended, if our affections cannot endure ſuch injuries ſhould be offered unto them. In all theſe things, oh moſt juſt Judge, we deſire and expect your judgement.

Thus ended Thomantes; and after he had made an humble reverence, Diana appointed Delphire to anſwer unto what Thomantes had ſaid, if ſhe had any exceptions againſt it; then Delphire began thus.

The anſwer of Delphire unto Thomantes.

WE think it not ſtrange (fair and diſcreet Shepherdeſs) to hear ſuch abundance of windy words, from the mouth of Thomantes, as vvell in his own behalf, as in that of Aſphales: for he that does love truly, cannot ſpeak vvhat he reſents; and it ſeems by the rule of contraries, that he vvho loves [Page] but a little, will never be weary of talking: doe but obſerve with what a torrent of words he argues, not with reaſons, but with diſ-reaſons, if I may coyn the word. And though upon the ſame conſideration (I mean, becauſe Doriſſea, and I, do not love) I could with the ſame fluency of tongue make a long oppoſition of their arguments, yet I will not, as well becauſe that were to abuſe the patience of our Judg, and all that hear me; as becauſe all their arguments are grounded upon ſuch ſimple foundations, and gloſſed over with ſuch thin covers, as the falſity of them are eaſily ſeen: and truly ſeen ſo clearly, that I ſhould not think them worth an anſwer, were it not in obedience unto the command of our juſt Judge.

To begin then, What do you mean Thomantes, by all this talk of your affection? You who ſayes you are accuſtomed to Love without ſpeaking, as we are to ſpeaking without love? What do you mean, I ſay, ſince you do confeſs that if Doriſſea and I do but ſay once that we love you, you will believe us for ever? Ah Shepherd, ſince we have been ſo accuſtomed to ſpeaking, what do you complain of? Why are you not both ſatisfied? To what purpoſe did you make addreſſes to the Oracle, and trouble this Aſſembly with ſo many words, ſince we have been ſo accuſtomed to ſpeaking it? But, oh juſt Judge, I perceive the ſtrength and ſubtilty of his argument; he dares not directly ſay, that we are accuſtomed to ſpeaking it; but only, that we are accuſtomed, as much to ſay that we love, and yet do not love, as they are to love, and yet not ſpeaking it; and becauſe that they have not been accuſtomed to love, it conſequently follows that neither have we been accuſtomed to ſpeaking it: and in this ſence they are in the right; for it is very hard to ſpeak of a thing which they do not know, witneſs all the diſcourſe of Thomantes, in which there are not more words then contradictions. But to give them ſome ſatisfaction, let us confeſſe that they cannot ſpeak well upon this ſubject, becauſe if they loved heretofore, as they ſay they did, they loved without ſpeaking it, and that now they do not love, they are yet conſtrained to ſpeak: well, we will allow this; and now Thomantes and Aſphales, are you contented? You may be, at leaſt ſince you are allowed what you ask; but what's all this to our difference? Nothing at all; nor is it any proof that they do love us: for it might perhaps be available, if men, I mean men of their age, did guide themſelves by reaſon, then one might infer from hence ſomthing of what they ſay: but for them, who do all things at hazard, out of humours, and nothing according to the right rules of reaſon, what can one infer from hence, but that then their humour was ſuch and now is quite different? But, ſay they, why ſhould they then take ſo much paines? To which we anſwer, who can find the reaſon of that which has no reaſon? I ſay, it was either out of obſtinacy, or to deceive, or out of ambition of the name of a Lover without any effects, or out of ſome worſe, or more pernitious deſigne. What reaſon can be expected from perſons that are unreaſonable? But (ſay they) we do know, that we do love: is there any that knows our own wills and minds better then our ſelves? Oh moſt, juſt Judge, there is no queſtion but others may know them better; can any judge aright whoſe Spirits are prepoſſeſſed with paſſion? What likelyhood is there that theſe Shepherds can give any ſound judgement upon a thing that concerns themſelves. But we who are without paſſion, and are unconcerned in any thing which concerns them, we judge ſoundly. As for example; cannot thoſe that ſee Adraſtes, better judge of his madneſs then himſelf? And to ſhew that they [...] know what they would have, nor what they do; do they not wiſh and unw [...] the very ſame things, in one minute? O Gods! (cry they out) that humane nature ſhould be apter to believe the bad ſooner then the good: certainly they mean, the natures of men, and particularly of Thomantes and Aſphales: as for our parts, we neither believe nor unbelieve, but what is fit ſo to be; and to ſhew that it is ſo, we do confeſſe unto you, that if you tell us you do not love us, we do believe it; for commonly every one believes what they deſire. Moreover we do know by experience, that you cannot love: when you tell us that you do love us, we do not believe it, becauſe we know all men are lyers, which is a miſtery in Love which we are ignorant in, and cannot do it. But all your actions do belie your words. And when you tell us any thing to your own advantage, we give no credit thereunto, for we know that you uſe to flatter your ſelves: when it is to your diſadvantage, we do believe it, knowing very well that then it is true: and therefore you may ſee that [Page] our belief is grounded upon reaſon, and that which you ſay of u [...] is untrue.

But, oh juſt Judge, here is a fine piece of oſtentation: the Love, ſay they, which is in us, does make us believe, that you ſpeak true: and Thomantes, if you believe ſo, why are you not aſſured that I do not love Filintes, nor Doriſſea, Androgenes, ſince we have ſo often told you ſo? But to relate all their contradictions would be too tedious; I will briefly anſwer unto thoſe objections which have weight in them; it muſt needs be (ſaid they) that if we did not love you heretofore, and now you call us inconſtant, you do as much as ſay, that we do love you: Shepherds, without ſetting our thoughts, either of love or hatred, we called you inconſtants; as much to ſay that you had changed your lives; and in that your inconſtancy is indubitable: and that which we do charge you withal, you do not deny before all this Aſſembly, ſo as we are not obliged to prove a thing which is not put in doubt; and you never needed to excuſe the change with that ſhallow argument which you alledged, that having uſed all actions of fire, and finding we did not believe them to be ſparks of Love, you had recourſe unto actions of Ice; for beſides that this argument is moſt ridiculous, there is no neceſſity of alledging it, ſince you do know very well in your own ſouls, that all theſe flames and fires whereof you ſpeak, are meerly imaginary, and only to gloſs over your Diſcourſe. And it is no wonder at all that we ſhould not believe them, ſince they are but only flouriſhes, and ſeeming▪ as if you did love us. And is there any doubt of it, ſince for all your Ice and cold fits, you have made addreſſes, and courted others before our faces. Is not the voice of the people, the voice of God? Would you have us give our own eyes, and our own ears, the lye, and not believe when every one ſayes it, and when we ſee it by your actions? We never courted any (ſay they) but only out of a deſire to perſwade them: ah Shepherd, you have confeſſed the truth without a rack; it is very true Shepherd, you did never court any, but to perſwade us that you did love us; but it was to perſwade only, and not to love us: Alas we knew this ambition in you long ſince, and if we did not, yet now we do; and it is better to be late wiſe then never.

But what a moſt delicate excuſe they have to cover their changing? If our actions and behaviours (ſay they) were different from what they were wont to be, it was becauſe multitude of buſineſs and urgent occaſions did divert us: Then Thomantes, if you any time came unto me, it ſeems it was only becauſe you had nothing elſe to do, and know not how to trifle away your time any where elſe: oh how much am I beholding to you? Am I not infinitely indebted, and can never come off without ſome great recompence? But, moſt juſt Judge, I beſeech you look upon theſe Fathers of great families, who have the whole charge of all the eſtate and houſe upon their ſhoulders? How? their houſe? Nay of all the communaltie, or rather of the whole Republique of the Gaules: oh Heavens! how great are their imployments? And what a ſin it were againſt the publique good to diſturb them, or make them loſe one minute of time? Indeed, you Fathers of families without children, and Senators without any buſineſs, we do agree with you, that you could not imploy the time which you ſpent in thoſe trivial courtſhips, as you call them ſince thoſe munits were ſo pretious, and uſeful to the publique, better then you did; but did you not imploy that time with us which you ſpent in the particular converſations, and familiarities which you had with other Shepherdeſſes? Why did you come to us when you had nothing elſe to do? Why ſhould we receive you when all other company excluded you? For had it not been ſo, we ſhould never have ſeen you. If you be ſo full of buſineſs, let Love alone: for Love is a Deity ſo great, that it is an injury unto him to offer that time unto him which remains after the ſervice of the other Gods: he requires the firſt offerings and the beſt of things, and if any remain, then offer unto the other Dieties: do you think he will be contented with the refuſe and dregs of devotion? And out of this Diſcourſe you may gather Thomantes, that it is true, as to others, every ſeaſon has its proper actions, but not to Love; for in Loves Garden, Trees do Bloom and bear fruit all at once. Do you not ſee, that Love makes the young, as wiſe as the old; and old ones as very fools as the young? You may ſee that there is no diſtinction of ages with him, but all of an age; did you never obſerve that the moſt tender Flowers of Love, are moſt ſweet fruits? For what are hopes but flowers, and hopes excel all other contentments, which one can have out of Loves [Page] Garden. Oh Thomantes! ignorant in Love Thomantes; know that the Fruits of Love are Flowers, and his Flowers, Fruits: for there is alwayes contentment in hopes, and hopes are renewed by contentments; and therefore it is that the Orange-tree is given for an Embleme of Love, becauſe it bears his fruit and his flower together.

You ſee moſt juſt Judge, how little theſe prtended Lovers do know what Love is; and they have good reaſon to deſire you would let them underſtand what conſtancy is; for being ſo ignorant in Love, it is no wonder they ſhould be alſo ignorant in it; andyet, as ignorant as they are, they will maintain that they forſooth, have obſerved all the Laws of Conſtancy to a tittle, though if they be conſtant, it is by chance and hazard, not out of any reſolution or deſign. But if they were convented before the ſevere Throne of Love, and were asked who gave them permiſſion to call themſelves Lovers, and aſſume unto themſelves a title ſo honourable, not knowing the leaſt duties of a right Lover, what could they expect but a moſt ſevere puniſhment for uſurping a name ſo much above their merit?

Now as it is ordinary for thoſe that are guilty of any vice, to deſire that all others may be of the ſame die, to the end they themſelves may not be upbraided, they propound four doubts, ayming by the firſt, to tax us; by the ſecond to excuſe themſelves; and by the two laſt, to be inſtructed in what they are very ignorant. We ſhould return them ſuch an anſwer, as they deſerve, were it not unto you, our Judg, that they addreſs their queries, and in which we beſeech you, to inform them; not out of any hopes to amend them for the future, but to let every one ſee, how far they are out of the right way. And in as much as a great blunder is made about ſome letters which were written unto them, we beſeech you, oh our Judge, to command that thoſe Letters may be produced; for by their own confeſſion they were written only upon common fame, and not as known truths: what then? muſt every thing, that is taken up in the ſtreets be believed as true? Oh Thomantes! if ſuch reports may paſs for truths, I could tell you ſtrange tales of your new affections, unto ſeveral other Shepherdeſſes; but being only common fame, I let them paſs without belief; and was not this example ſufficient for you to do the like. And whereas you ſay that one ought to think nothing but virtue to be in the perſon loved; can I think that you do love me, ſince you do thus upbraid me with levity and inconſtancy?

Thus moſt juſt Judge, you have heard the Requeſts which theſe two Shepherds have made unto you: and to the end it may not be ſaid, that there was ever upon the banks of Lignon any Shepherds ſo ignorant in Love as theſe; we do add our Requeſt alſo, that they may be forbidden to uſurp unto themſelves the honourable name of Lover, of which they are ſo much unworthy; and for a puniſhment of their crimes which they have committed againſt us, that they may b [...] forbidden ever to have the names of Doriſſea or Delphire in their memories: and that contenting themſelves with having ſo long abuſed us, they may hereafter make their addreſſes ſome other way, and practice upon others thoſe ſapient inſtructions, which you in your wiſedom ſhall give unto them.

Thus Delphire ended, and after a low congie to the Judge, ſhe ſeated her ſelf in her place, in expectation of Dianas judgment. An univerſal humming was heard amongſt all that heard her: ſome approved, and others diſ-approved of her reaſons; but all in generall admired the excellency of her wit, and the modeſty wherewith ſhe ſpoke: and becauſe Diana thought that none had any thing elſe to ſay, ſhe began to ask the opinion of the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes in private, when Filintes and Androgenes ſtood up, beſeeching that before judgment they might be heard, becauſe they were as much intereſted in the buſineſs as any. Diana then ſitting down again in her place, commanded Filintes to ſpeak for them both; and when the murmure was ceaſed, he began thus.

[Page]

The Speech of FILINTES.

JF the greater Lovers be the worſt ſpeakers, as that fair Shepherdeſs aſſures us they are, then think it not ſtrange, moſt Wiſe Judge, if according to that maxime, Filintes ſay but little of his love unto Delphire, nor of Androgentes unto Doriſſea; let not defect of language redound unto our diſadvantage, ſince from the parties themſelves you hear, that we have loved Delphire and Doriſſea with ſo much affection and fidelity, as that they never found any failer in us, nor any remarkable fault. For my part, I began to love Delphire before Thomantes had any eyes to look upon her: and Androgenes ſerved Doriſſea, when Aſphales by his inconſtancy ſhewed himſelf weary of that glorious ſervice. This firſt affection like to the eldeſt ſon, deſerves the greateſt portion: and this laſt of Androgenes, as a ſurvivor and a worthy ſucceſſor deſerves the eſtate; and though one of us was the firſt, and the other the laſt, yet both of us have ever ſince we began lived in ſuch great obſervance and reſpect, that we have patiently born all thoſe favours, which before our eyes were done unto theſe two inconſtant weather-cocks. I muſt needs confeſs that ſpleen has ſomtimes made me conceive ſome impreſſions of anger, and made me murmure againſt thoſe hard rigours, which that fair one made me ſuffer: but let her ſelf ſay if ſhe can, whether in my greateſt fury, I expreſſed any action which was not all love? As ſoon as ever ſhe caſt her eye upon me, I returned immediately unto my duty; and what can this ſignifie, but that my affection was ſtronger then her rigour? And Androgenes ſeeing Doriſſea prefer Aſphales before him, he continued ſtill with ſo much diſcretion and fidelity, as is a moſt ſtrong argument that nothing could divert him from this love and faithful ſervice. They ſay that the dropping of water by continuance of time will wear the hardeſt marble, and will not a moſt conſtantly continued ſervice have as great an influence upon the marble of an inſenſible heart? Muſt we be they who muſt continually ſerve without any recompence? Muſt we ſow the ground, and reap no Corn? Will love be ungrateful only unto us? And can they be niggardly unto us alone who have ſerved with moſt fidelity? Judge, what reaſon or what Juſtice is in this? Androgenes and I have oftentimes comforted our ſelves with thought, when without reaſon we ſaw theſe two Weather-cocks obtain recompences in lieu of thoſe puniſhments which they deſerved, that we muſt think to fight and ſtrive before we muſt look to overcome, and groan a long time under pain and travel before we tryumph: but now we muſt confeſs that two things do extreamly aſtoniſh us; the one is to ſee theſe two inconſtants, tryumph before they travelled: and the other is, that we cannot overcome the rigour of theſe cruel ones, after ſo much travail, and ſo long a combate: and nothing does ſtrike us into ſo much admiration, as the pretenſions (not to ſay preſumptions) that Thomantes and Aſphales have to hope, nay ask as their dues, to be loved by theſe two fair ones; for if ever love had any cauſe to revenge the wrongs which are done unto him, it is againſt them they ought to let drive all the arrows of his juſtice, and make them exemplary unto all ſuch as abuſe the name of Lovers. I am aſtoniſhed Thomantes, that after you had ſo many favours from Delphire, the leaſt of which was enough to fix the heart of Mercury; that yet, as if they had never been done unto you, you ſhould be full of miſtruſts, full of reproches, and never ſatisfied: I cannot chuſe but admire Aſphales, that when you went away, you went and was not loved; and that when you returned, you ſhould be in full poſſeſſion of Doriſſeas favour: was it not ſtrange, that meeting her eyes, and Androgenes in a glaſs, you ſhould forget ſo many favours received, which could not be merited by you, nor any perſon in the world? But the greateſt wonder of all is, that after you both had committed ſuch high crimes, crimes which in Love are impardonable, you ſhould ſtill dare to ask and pretend unto the ſame favours, and the ſame graces which you had ſo ungratefully diſdained. I am even raviſhed with admiration to ſee you diſpute with them, and queſtion who is in the wrong; but the wonder of all wonders is, that you durſt be ſo impudently bold as to enquire of the Oracle, and to ſee with what confidence you preſent your ſelves [Page] before a Judge to demand juſtice. For if juſtice be done unto you, what leſſe can you expect, then to be baniſhed from all places within the Dominions of Love; or rather condemned unto all puniſhments that ungrateful wretches do deſerve. Theſe, oh juſt Judge, are the faithful Lovers, who after they were even loadned with favours and graces, did not only ungratefully fall off from thoſe ſervices, in which they ought to have continued until death; but have even ſcorned thoſe whom they ought to have adored; nay more, they came unto that height of ingratitude as to ſcandal them, and contrive infamous Libels and Songs againſt them: can you ever think that theſe fair ones will ever endure to look upon you again without bluſhes! O ye good Gods, in what an age do we live? Muſt thoſe that ſin and wrong innocents not only eſcape puniſhments, but pretend unto recompences, and rewards? Fie, fie, unfaithful Lovers; leave it unto Androgenes and Filintes, to ask for recompences and rewards, for it is only we, that by the Laws of Love deſerve them: and we do proteſt here before all this Company, that if Thomantes and Aſphales be not puniſhed for their ingratitudes and infidelities; and if on the contrary Filintes and Androgenes do not receive recompence and wages for their affection and fidelity, then there is no hope that within the Dominions of Love, any wrong or crime will ever be puniſhed, or any benefit or virtue rewarded, ſince theſe higheſt degrees of ſinners do paſſe unpuniſhed: and we without recompence or reward.

When Filintes had done, and ſet down, Aſphales and Doriſſea would have anſwered for themſelves; but Diana anſwered, That ſufficient information had been given already on all ſides: and therefore, ſhe took Alexis, Astrea, Phillis, and Sylvander a part, and asked their opinions concerning the difference betwixt theſe Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes: at laſt, ſhe returned again to her place, and pronounced this judgment.

The Judgement of DIANA.

LOve, as all things in the univerſe are, is preſerved and perfected by motion and contrariety: and in as much as this motion cannot work upon things that are in themſelves ſolide and ſtable without ſome exterior Agent, the motion and agitation which can preſerve and perfect Love, which is of it ſelf firm and ſtable, and requires another mover, and it is often times moved by jealouſie; the daughter indeed of Love: but a baſtard, not legitimate, and yet almoſt inſeperable. We do ſee alſo that it is from jealouſie all theſe trivial quarrels and petty diſſentions do ariſe; which by the ſages are called Renewings of Love: but yet it is to be underſtood, it ought to be the Mother, but no long the Nurſe: for if ſhe ſuffer them to ſuck of her milk too long in lieu of trivial quarrels, and petty diſſentions, they will be changed into great divorces, and dangerous hatreds, which in the end will moſt undoubtedly ſmother Love.

Now this difference before us, betwixt Delphire and Doriſſea on the one part; Thomantes and Aſphales on another; and Filintes and Androgenes on another part, does demonſtrate theſe ſeveral ſorts of diſſentions and divorces. For betwixt Filintes and Delphire, appears only thoſe petty and indeed amorous diſſentions, from which Loves takes a pleaſing and acceptable ſtrength and increaſe. Betwixt Thomantes and Aſphales, towards Delphire and Doriſſea, appears nothing but theſe diſunions and diſſentions, too long nouriſhed by the milk of an obſtinate jealouſie, by which, if Love be not quite ſmothered, yet it is in the agonies of death, and gaſpes for breath: On the contrary, one may ſee in Androgenes a patient ſufferance, which may be ſuſpected of a little Love, without his perſeverance, and continuing to love her.

Theſe things being long debated, and ſeriouſly conſidered by us, unto whom the charge is committed by the voice of the Oracle, We do declare that Thomantes and Aſphales have tranſgreſſed againſt the Laws of Love, and againſt that duty which they owed unto the name of Lovers, in nouriſhing ſo long theſe diſſentions by their inconſiderate jealouſies. That Filintes and Androgenes on the contrary, have in all [Page] their actions ſhewed a moſt exact obſervance of all thoſe duties requiſite in real Lovers. And in as much as impunity of crimes, and good actions unrewarded, are cauſes of ruine in all Eſtates and Republiques; We do ordain, by virtue of the power which is given unto us, that all thoſe ſervices which unto this day Thomantes and Aſphales have rendred under the notion of Lovers and Servants, unto Delphire and Doriſſea, and that all the pains and inquietudes, which they have ſuffered in loving them, be taken as nul, and as if they had never been; not pretending unto any recompence or gratification for the future. And on the contrary, we do ordain, that the ſervices which Filintis and Androgenes have rendred unto Delphire and Doriſſea, and all the pains, patience, and inquietudes, which they have ſuffered in loving and courting them, ſhall remain in force and validity, and ſerve them for the future, as of right they ought. Yet notwithſtanding, ſince repentance does almoſt by force exact a pardon, We do ordain, that if Thomantes and Aſphales, do really repent of their crimes, and would love and ſerve Delphire and Doriſſea a new, they ſhall be obliged to receive and entertain them as new Servants and Lovers, who from this day forward do begin to ſerve them, and to ſhew their merits. And as to the four queries, which were put by Thomantes and Aſphales, we do ſay by way of anſwer unto the firſt, That a Shepherdeſs may without any offence unto conſtancy, ſuffer and permit, but not ſeek nor deſire, to be ſerved and courted by many. Unto the ſecond. That this plurality of ſervants not ſought to nor deſired, but ſuffered only, does not allow a Lover to have many Miſtriſſes, unleſs (which is not likely) they be ſuch as are only ſuffered, and not deſired nor courted. Unto the third, That both the he and the ſhe Lover, ought to live amongſt all, but unto one only; imitating in this fair fruit upon a tree, which is looked upon and admired by many, but taſted only by one mouth. As to the laſt, that he does go beyond the limits of conſtancy, that does any thing which may offend the perſon loved.

And to the end that for the future, ſuch an ignominious ignorance amongſt Shepherds, may not be upon the banks of the River Lignon. We do will and ordain, that the aforeſaid queſtions and reſolutions be written by Sylvander, under the Table of the Laws of Love, to the end they may be ſeen in the Temple of the Goddeſſe Aſtrea.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

Astrea. Part 2. a romance / written in French by Messire Honoré D'Urfe ; and translated by a person of quality.Astrée. English

Urfé, Honoré d', 1567-1625.

Edition statement

1658

Publication

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Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2006-02 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A71189

ID [STC]

Wing U132_pt2

ID [STC]

ESTC R23560

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12072949

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12072949

ID [VID]

53527

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A71189)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 53527)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 584:7 and 584:8 or 584:9)

Source

— Astrea. Part 2. a romance / written in French by Messire Honoré D'Urfe ; and translated by a person of quality., Astrée. English, Urfé, Honoré d', 1567-1625., Davies, John, 1625-1693..

Extent

3 v. ([4], 427; [4], 208, 215; [4], 460 p.)

Printed by W.W. for H. Moseley, T. Dring, and H. Herringman ...,. London :: 1657-58.. (Translation of Astrée.) (Volume 3 has special t.p. The third and last volume of Astrea a romance ... London: Printed for Hum. Mosely, Tho. Dring and H. Herringman, 1658.) (To the reader signed: J.D. [i.e. John Davies] Cf. BM.) (Reproduction of original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library.)

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