The History of Oleandro.

I, said Oleandro, in despight of Fate, that could deprive me of a Kingdome, but not of the Character of a Prince; am King of Morocco: My Father, in one yeares space, lamented the death of his Queen, the Rape of his Daugh­ter, the losse of his Kingdome, and the ruine of his House: Seeing that Fortune had torne her saile, and bound up her haire, not to transport elsewhere, the effects of her inconstancie, and the bitternesse of her griefes, he abandon'd the wretched remnants, which the insatiate co­vetousnesse of his enemies had not plundered from him. But before his departure, he recom­mended to Felido Count of Olano, a Prince of the blood, of an experimented virtue, the pro­tection of me and my life. He was not de­ceiv'd in his Election: In his private fortune he had his Education from the Prince. There was not any thing which could awaken, or molest my designe, which I did not attaine to. Vertue was my employment, exercise on horse­back my profession, and hunting my pastime. He, when he perceiv'd the noblenesse of my Genius, seeing me also sixteen yeares of Age, he perswaded me to the recovery of my Fathers Kingdome: That sloth was the worst of evils; and that these yeares should not be slighted which so speedily passe away. That old mens courages very hardly provoke the commonaltie [Page 17]to an innovation of Government: As much as he delaies his Claime, so much he loses of his Cause; with three Maximes likewise he tied the affections of the chiefe that were obliged to the memory of my Father, the news of his death after his departure, being every where verified. He findes them most ready who hate the Ty­rants, compassionate my misfortunes; they see in my Person, the Spirits of my Progenitors flo­rish, and cannot away with that new Modell of Government, which being unjust, cannot be but cruell. They prepare Arms and Souldiers, and excite those affectionated to the Crown, and per­swade the neighbour Princes with all possible se­crecy; when the enemies advertiz'd, either from jealousie, the protectour of Estates, or feare, the discoverer of dangers, or from the reports of Fame, which cannot even conceale the Dreams of Princes, glutted themselves with all bar­barisme with the lives of those that maintain'd my Title. The Count seeing in the night time, the principallest of his Forts betraied by the infi­delity of his, not by the Valour of the Enemie; regarding more my safety then his own, let me out at a private Gate, disguis'd in poor cloths, while he put on mine, and made himselfe ta­ken by a deceit, that my escape being known, I should not be pursued.

Death will be the least of his evils; for besides the envy of his Emulatours, he had the hate of the Tyrants, who infinitely often at any price had requested my life of him; my disguise car­ried [Page 18]me safe from every danger, nor mist I any thing that offended me: I departed from Mo­rocco, deploring my misfortune, that would not permit me an occasion to exercise the un­dauntednesse of my heart, or the strength of my sword. I embark'd for Numidia, to tug, if Fortune would change by the alteration of Climes. The injuries of Tempests, of Hea­ven, of Lightnings, accompanied me in my Voyage. When one is once made the scope of the miseries of fate, he only knows what 'tis to be unhappy.

I came ashore in Dana, a Region of Nu­midia, because destiny there had provided for me greater miseries. Afoot I walked toward Tesset, the Metropolis of the Kingdome, ac­companied by the sorrow of those thoughts which had almost made me beyond my selfe; the Heaven served for my Canopy, and my griefe for a Centinell, which admitted me not to have the multiplicity of wild Beasts, which Africke breeds: I was foure miles short of Tesset, when I felt my eares struck with schreekes and lamentations of a faire woman. Shee fled from Death, which the trechery of four privy Murtherers menaced her with. Her cloths were extreamely rich, which shewed her to be a Lady of no ordinary descent. Her embroide­ries, pearle, and gold, were out-vide by the come­linesse of her Face, and the beauty of her haire, which stirr'd up and downe by the wind and raining; it seems they were moved towards [Page 19]Heaven, to contend for splendour with that of Ariadne, her beautie not at all diminished by feare, made me admire how it did not stirre up aide in the cruelty of those hearts. Shee scarce saw me, but both with her love and by signes, shee implor'd my aide. Her entreaties were delivered with such an inbred statelinesse, that they seem'd rather commands then prayers. I sodainly laid hand on my sword, and justice favoring me in despight of my ill fortune, they all there lost their lives. Shee ranne to ren­der me thanks, having seen vengeance taken of her enemies, without hurt to my selfe. After some few short complements, she told me the danger her Father was in; shewing me the way to him, I went to him with all speed, and saved his life, who was incompass'd with most eminent dangers. Their kind embraces, and the honours they did me, amaz'd me. These were the King of Numidia, and his daughter, that tracing a Stag, had lost themselves, and were assaulted by those Arabians, who with their Nurses milk, sucke in hatred to that Crown. I rendred thanks to the gods, and Fortune, who now grew weary to afflict me with an infelicity of successes. I accounted my selfe blest, onely for preserving from Death so great a King, and so faire a Prin­cesse. No body can be thought happy or mi­serable, who hath not tride all accidents: The fairenesse of a day is not despair'd of for the Cloudes, which are seen before Sunne-ri­sing. Our wounds were hardly bound up, but [Page 20]the Courtiers came upon us, who with abun­dance of care, pour'd forth their vowes for their Princes safety. They conducted us into Tesset, where we were encountred with those applauses, wherewith Subjects manifest their affections. At the foot of the Palace staires was the Queen accompanied with a daugh­ter, attended by a multitude of Ladies. They rain'd from their eyes, two most lively showers of teares, which issue not alwaies from the fountaine of sorrow; whom they had lamen­ted for dead, with his daughter, they cannot yet be satisfied to see alive and embrace. Thank, (said the King) this Knight pointing to me, from whose Valour next to the gods, I acknowledge my safety and life; I profess my selfe in so high a manner beholding to him, that should I give him my Crown, I should not in part have paid what I owe him; for it is his, and I receiv'd it from him, both through his good fortune and courtesy. The modest conceit I had of my selfe forced me with blushes to answer his good opinion of me. I was made his companion in the Palace, and a while after, one of his Royall Councell; and by many that flattered their own hopes in my greatness, I was almost reverenc'd, as the Heire and successour of the Kingdome. My mind exalted by the beginning of these felicities lost within a few dayes, the remembrance of its misfortunes. The thoughts of regaining my Fathers Kingdome, and to ease my subjects of [Page 21]their miseries, the love that I took to the In­fanta Ariama, at that time I freed her from the ravenousnesse of the Arabians, drove out of my mind. The benignity of her favours, the com­liness of her countenance, the continuation of see­ing her, would have subdued the obduratenesse of any heart, not onely mine, easy to receive any impression through the weakness of youth and in experience. Dissemblings some few daies con­ceal'd my fire, which presently after becomming insupportable, made me subject to a most dange­rous sicknesse. The King, carefull for my re­covery, assisted at my bed, comforted me in my undiscovered sorrows, and bemoan'd me as if it were his own disease. The Physitians despairing to find out the cause, refus'd to vi­sit me, having no hope at all left them of my life.

I did receive no other comfort, but from the Presence of my faire Infanta. Not only my re­covery, but life depended on the sight of her. One day the Queen and the Princesse, atten­tive at the consultation of the Physitians, or because shee saw in the sadnesse of my coun­tenance, the bitternesse of my sorrowes, or because she read in my eyes, the indeleble Characters of my affection, with much adoe refraining from teares, shee said to me. Then (O Knight) shall your obstinacie deprive us of your Person! Is it possible, that dissimulation is more prevalent over your will, then my entreaties! If you deny this, not to receive [Page 22]redresse for your Maladie, confesse it to com­fort me. I love you Sir, for the debt of gra­titude I owe you, and by the election of my will; without you I cannot, neither will I live. Discouer then your griefs, either that they may meet with remedy, or to comfort them with the companie of my teares. I that was troubled with no other griefe, but with doubtfull thoughts of her affection, and the poornesse of my Fortune, although borne a Prince, and whom feare of repulse had made rather choose death then her disdaine; at the sound of these words, felt my spirits reco­ver'd, and believ'd my selfe well. Not con­taining my selfe for joy, I thus answered; Faire Infanta, my griefes have had originall from your beauty, I have conceal'd in the cinders of dissimulation those fires that turne my heart into ashes: My poor merit com­par'd to your reall greatness, rendred the desires of my affection impossible. I rather preferr'd to encounter death, then occasion your dis­pleasure. Now that the excesses of your benig­nity have embolden'd me with these words, I will lay open before you my most inward wounds, and I attend from the favours of your munificence that helpe which the knowledge of my condition denies me. If the care of your maladie (replied the Infanta) depend upon my will, rise, for you are well. The ho­nesty of your desires shall have their end, and correspondencie in my affection. Doe not de­ceive [Page 23]me to flatter my hopes, for you know what love can doe in the breast of a woman, that will and knowes to love.

The arrivall of the Mother and the Prin­cess, with Physitians, broke off the continuance of this discourse, who found in me extraor­dinary signes of an unexpected health. They were amaz'd at so sodaine an alteration, and blam'd the imperfection of their Art, that (foun­ding the reasons of it upon an experience alter'd by the diversity of complexions) astonish'd them at my amendment, as if they were altoge­ther ignorant of my disease; Yet there was among them, some that made a doubt of my life. They were fixd upon a rule, though common, fallacious; that in a body extenuated by fa­stings, griev'd by infirmitie, and streitned of remedies, Nature would not be wanting of a so­daine to receive extraordinary helpes; And these they said were the last strengths of it. Experience contradicted their reasons: They soone saw my amendment, being durable, had reall foundations. The strength of my body they increased with most pretious meats, but with regard to the quantitie, which at first they denied me, lest the digestion interrup­ted or suffocated, should bring me into a more dangerous sickness afterwards. Plenty of Phy­sick, and the visits of the Physitians, and the affe­ction of the most beautifull Infanta, recover'd me. Those few daies I kept my bed in. I endeavoured to contrive how we might enjoy [Page 24]the pleasures of our desire, as a sign of her af­fection, shee had bestowed kindly a kiss on me, I having formerly told her my birth, and gi­ven her my faith. Shee obliged her selfe, when I was healed to bring me into her lodgings, my desire made me well before my time, nei­ther did shee deceive me in her promise. She trusted her thoughts and affections to the Dutchess of Corona, beseeching her assistance. Shee to disswade her, made use of all reasons and entreaties, but in vaine: Love hath not reason, nor receives perswasion contrary to the will of them that love. Feare represen­ted to her prodigies of my ruine: Where­upon shee doubted whether shee had best re­veal it to the King. But the good will shee bore the Princess, and high opinion shee had of me, witheld her. She aided us to the fruition of our, loves impossible, but by her means.

The severeness of this happiness, continu­ed but for a very little while: In the which I had consulted with the Infanta, of reque­sting of her Father, Armes and Mony, for the regaining of my Kingdome; when Fortune, that till now had made truce with my griefs, u­nited all the forces of her strength to ruine me. This short calme serv'd to no other pur­pose but to make me trust to her, intending to make me drinke of a Sea of miserie. The Princess Arelida became enamour'd of me, who with divers and extraordinary favours forced her selfe to discover her affections. At [Page 25]Dancings shee would alwaies dance with me; at Huntings, be even with me, and at Tor­neaments, give me constantly her Favour to weare: whence shee would have me take notice, that excessive honours proceeded not from an ordinary affection; I counterfeited with such cunning to take no notice of it, that shee found her selfe prevented and hope­less. But because the power of Love receives no hinderance from modesty; one day fai­ning her selfe indispos'd, shee made me be call'd to her, and after some courteous Complements past, she thus spoke to me.

Is it possible (Oleandro) that I should be so little skill'd in the practiques of Love, and you so knowing of his Favours! Some few daies agoe, I know not what provoked me to dis­cover my flame. Your modesty, or my ill luck blinded you. I am desirous to restore your sight, finding my heart too narrow for so overflowing excesses of Love. Deare friend Oleandro, I love you; if you believe not my tongue, the interpreter of my mind, and faith­full revealer of my intentions, give credit to these teares, true signes of an extraordinary affection, and blood of my heart. The No­bleness of your conditions, the honestie of your actions, the sublimity of your mind, and the comeliness of your countenance, tyrannize o­ver the freeness of my will, the greatness of my Birth, the modestie of my conditions, and the blushes of my face. I should have fear'd [Page 26]rather to have gain'd by this boldnesse your in­dignation, then affection, if I knew not your worth so great, that it would excuse even the errours of Princesses. She offends not, that be­stowes her affection on a deserving object. The gods rejoice to be beloved by all. The Lawes of Cupid punish the ingratefull that love not, not those that doe: Nor is there any such thing, that honestie is contrary to affection; For I love you with a desire to live with you as a wife, not to enjoy you as a servant, my birth is not capable of so base thoughts; my desires have no meaning that may blemish the candidnesse of their ends. If you be a Prince, as I shall not believe you if you denie it, you have no reason to refuse my Nuptials; I ho­ping both by the Law of Nature, and right of succession, to be a Queen: If you be not of so high a condition, you ought then to em­brace this occasion that invites you to the pos­session of me, and thereby of the Kingdome. If you discerne any want in any of these Mo­tives, my affection ought to have power over the hardnesse of your thoughts, to win you to afford me your consent. The World hath not treasure enough to recompense the affe­ction of a Princesse: Correspondence alone is the onely reward of love. Love me then, and with an obstinate resolution disdaine not the benignity of Fortune, which proffers you the possession of a beauty, esteemed singular by ma­ny that have desired it, and the soveraignty o­ver [Page 27]so great a people, that would even weary the ambition of an Alexander!

With these words the Princesse set a peri­od to her speech, attending with great altera­tions of mind (giving signes thereof, with va­rious colours in her face, and with submisse entreaties of her eyes) my answer. A while I stood silent; after I reflected, that to make a Princesse hopelesse of her love, would prove a Precipice to my affections: That women are not accustomed to receive denials in those things, which for the most part are proffered them before hand. That blush that inflames the countenance of a Princess to gaine the Love of her beloved, if refus'd, is converted into scorne, to take from her eyes the memo­ry of her rejection. Therefore after some Complements, thanking her noble disposition, that (without any regard of my condition) had enriched me with the graces of her affe­ction, I beseeched her to remember the great­ness of her Birth, the pooreness of my state, and the frownes of his Majestie, the indigna­tion of his subjects; and lasty, that her love ha­ving no foundation of Merit, was likely in short time to decay, and leave me in danger of my life; and that her selfe (with it con­verted into dislike) to glorifie her desires, and conceale her blushes, would procure mee harme with such like reasons; some dayes I entertain'd the enamour'd Princess, who deceiv'd by an appearance, of these excuses, did not con­ceive [Page 28]me so far from consenting to her de­sires. Lastly; one day while I was walking in a Garden, shee came and tooke me by the hand, and led me under an Arbour, where any bodies curiosities could not discover us, and earnestly beseech'd me, either to consent to her desires, or to disclose mine. That my excuses were apparent; That the satis­faction of a Princesse ought not to be offen­ded, though the doubts of misfortune were neer. Whereupon, not enduring any longer the importunity of her Prayers, seing the mis­chiefe brought to such a passe, that Lenitives were no longer necessary, I tooke upon me a resolution to undeceive her; for I had a­greed to doe so with my Infanta, who, forth of jealousie, had had a falling out with me. She had told me, that wantonizings were the baits of Love, and that my body loved not any, who had not confidence to be beloved; because coy hearts never take the mindes of wo­men.

I replyed therefore; Princesse, it would be a greater impiety to conceale my affecti­ons from you, then strive to give you a re­compence. That would be a crime of my will, this is a fault of destiny, the more excusable, because it is not in my power. A thousand praises, a thousand gratious signes testify your love, with confusion to my selfe, I acknow­ledg it, being in a condition unable to re­quite you. I have had no other desert in me [Page 29]for so many favours, but the Noblenesse of your affection: To which though I am de­nied correspondencie, I am so much the wor­thier of pardon, that seeing I have commit­ted so manifest an errour, it yet ought to be imputed to the violence of the Starres, and not to any defect in my will. The feeling that my soule receives in not being able to serve your commands, should in part free you from the passions of your heart. Release your selfe from loving me, with the consideration that I am unworthy to be beloved by you, because I cannot returne affection, Princesse, I cannot, neither will I love you. My thoughts are fix'd, my promise made, my heart engag'd. A Princesse of so much merit, to whom, even the affections of the Gods are due, ought not to procure the leavings of that heart, that knowes not which way, and cannot love her.

Her eares had hardly received these last words, but with a generous disdaine, throw­ing away my hands which were between hers, and rising up in a fury, shee parted thence without answering me. I feared lest that mind, provoked by the stings of revenge, should contrive some plot against my life. All things are easie to the disdaine of a La­dy in Love. The authority of a Princesse, pro­voked by affection and fury, findes no im­possibility that can appoint it limits: But she freed me from suspition, by seeing her not a jot altered by these successes; with the same [Page 30]gentleness as formerly, she continued with all freedome her favours to me. Yet, although I was delivered from my feares, I resolved to remove that object that might offend her memory by her eyes. I resolved to intreate aide of his Majesty for the reconquering of my Kingdome; the Infanta consenting to it, rather not to offend my deliberations, then for any hope shee yet had of good success by it: One evening, when I had not been brought to her Chamber by the Dutchess of Corana, being abed, and thinking of the con­quests of a new Kingdome, untill after mid­night, I heard I knew not who, making a little noise with a low voice pronounce my name. I hastily roused up my selfe, laying hand on my sword, when I saw one that I knew not, who with a little Candle came to me, de­livering me a note. Having received it, he sodainly departed, none of my servants per­ceiving him, or hearing of him. With a great alteration which I found in my selfe, I opened it, and knew the Character, for it was the hand of the Infanta: It said thus;

Friend, we are discovered, I am a Prisoner, and you will be betrai'd if you fly not. You shall find at the Golden Gate, the signet Roy­all, Armes, Mony, and a guide; delay not, for the danger is great; Preserve your life, and follow your guide. I was of a sodaine assaul­ted with variety of thoughts: It appeared to me an act of baseness, to confess my selfe by [Page 31]my flight guilty of a greater fault, then per­haps I was. To leave the Infanta a prey to the fury of the King, seemed unsupportable. But con­sidering that delay could not be but dangerous, and that also the Reasons of my own Innocency, with less perill would be treated on, being farre from the Judge, and with more reputation: That my stay would be unprofitable to the Prin­cess, who with teares would prosecute the mer­cie of a Father so affectionate; and that lastly, the hopes of the Kingdome of Morocco should not be shut up in a Prison, I made no stay, having put up some Jewels, and the Picture of the In­fanta, without speaking a word to any of mine, I went to the Gate, I found there what was pro­mised me. The Guide was a Knight richly ap­parelled, with two Squires who waited for me with Armes. I being armed, the Knight sen [...] away the Squires, and we travail'd toward the Dukedome of Riano, making all haste, without speaking a word. We came into the midd'st of a thick wood: I cautious of the truth of the bu­siness, between anxieties of a thousand Passions, beseeched the Knight to make the tediousness of the way cheerefull with Discourse, and with his Relations to withdraw my minde from appre­hension of evill; that to fix ones Intellect upon Adversity, was more hurtfull then Misfor­tunes themselves. He staying a while in suspence, after some interrupted sighes began thus to speak to me:

Oleandro, our owne common obstinacy hath [Page 32]brought us hither to lose Reputation, and life. Behold the Princess Arelida despis'd and scorn'd, brought into this Habit by a violent affe­ction. When you reveal'd your thoughts to me, I knew of your favour with the Infanta: I dissem­bled a while, the better to break them off. Final­ly, imitating her hand, I have deceived you for deceiving me. I rejoyce that I shall punish with Honour and with bloud, your ingratitude, and my folly. The unquietness of your minde will give rest to my soule: I shall carry to my Tombe this satisfaction, that my Rivall shall be deprived of your Embraces, you my Enemy defamed in Reputation, an Exile from your owne content; and that I a Tyrant to my own Felicity, shall re­ceive that reward which my Dissoluteness me­rited. Doe not beleeve that I am covetous of the leaving of your love, I abhorre the memory of it, as much as I have desired the obtaining of it: And to lose all remembrance of it, I care not to have my life. So saying, whilst I was studying Reasons to disswade her, and a resoluti­on how to carrie my selfe, she mortally woun­ded her selfe with a Dagger between the joynts of her Armour, I having no time to prevent her. I remained so confus'd at these Accidents, that I doubted I dreamed, or that my eyes deceiv'd me. But recovering my sense, I forced my selfe to content her. I told her what an unworthiness it was to be so cruell against her selfe. I re­membred her of her birth, and of the reproa­ches of infamy; and that to be murthered by her [Page 33]selfe was no other but an act of weaknesse, un­beseeming to have harbour in those breasts which by Heaven are selected to command. Having taken off her Armes, I would have bound up her wound, (although she with all her strength deny'd that that body should receive a Salve whose minde was incurable) when I found my selfe set on by a Troop of Arabians, such as murthered by the high-way. I had scarce time to leap on horse-back, when they fell upon me to have slaine me. I defended my selfe with so good Fortune, that I kill'd the most of them; the rest giving themselves over to feare, thought their safety lay in their flight. I that was hot up­on Revenge, and desperate in my miseries, suf­fered my selfe to be transported to the Mountains, where killing three of them, I lost my horse, be­ing wounded by one of them in the Breast. Af­terwards in vain I sought a path to find the Prin­cess by; but the Trees were very thick, the Rocks inaccessible, the Descent difficult, and the way (through my haste) not observed. Whereup­on, having compass'd and recompass'd much ground to no purpose, untill the dawning of the day, being overcome by passion and weariness, I laid me downe to rest me. I fell into an interrupted sleep, acompanyed with illusions so horrible, that they extreamly disturb'd my Repose. Me thoughts I saw the Infanta (be­ing slaine by her Father) to reprove me of weaknesse that I should leave her to be so vilely murthered, without affording her any help. [Page 34]Sometimes me thoughts the Princesse Ghost with so lively fears laid her hand on my heart, that in the vanity of a Dreame, I felt my selfe to dye in earnest.

Awaking a little after Sunne-rising, hopelesse of finding the Princesse againe, I took that path which I thought led to the Sea shore. My ima­gination deceiv'd me not: There was a Galley of Pirats brought thither by necessity, to take in pro­vision of water: They willingly received me, I offering my selfe a Companion in their Labours, and to be ready upon all occasions. They had Experience of me in the taking a Galley. They cruelly wounded, and retired to be dress'd, I a­lone sustained the violence of weapons, and be­hav'd my selfe so, that in a manner they all peri­shed, save some Ladies, with the greatest part of the Riches they brought with them. It was of little defence, and came rather to boast the Pomp of it then to fight. After having given necessary Orders for the Cure of the wounded, I comfor­ted those Ladies, who with stormes of teares de­plored their misfortunes. They all fell at my feet: The chiefe of them distinguished, and known by the reverence that the others shew'd her, not ha­ving in the losse of her liberty, nor in the fear of Death, lost a whit of that beauty which made her singular from the rest; with a respect­full but generous earnestnesse she intreated me to spare her honour and life. I giving her my word promised her also her Liberty, when it was not in my power to preserve it: I felt my selfe [Page 35]then in a manner so struck to the heart, that my words stuck in my mouth: I perceived within me an alteration, proceeding from an unknowne cause, that I was astonished at my selfe. Those Teares froze up my spirit: Those Words mov'd my soule: Those Sobs tormented my sen­ses, so that becomming without motion, by a strange stupidity, I found my selfe alienated from my selfe. At length adding force to my weak­nesse, I asked her her birth, her name, and the cause of their voiage. My name, she replyed, is Arnalta; my Countrey the world: Being but two yeares of Age I was stole from my Parents, I was presented to the King of Fracia, who ha­ving no issue, adopted me for his Daughter, living in a great desire to know my Origen, I Im­barked with the Kings consent for the Fortunate Islands, where Fame reported, an Oracle gave Answer unto all Questions.

While with these words, (delivered with so much sweetnesse that she ravished my heart through my eares) she satisfied my request, I observ'd a Medall of Gold that hung about her neck, that had an Hydra slaine by a Hercules, the Impress of our House engraven upon it. I broke off her Discourse, beseeching her how she came by it. She answered, that with it she was stolne, and given to the King. I that from my Father had understood the secret of this Medall; that it was a stone that stopt bleeding, that preserv'd and freed from poison, though never so mortall, when I read inserted in it my Mothers name, I [Page 36]was even readie to run mad for joy. I took her by the hand (observing not to be seen) and brief­ly related to her all my miseries, and discovered my selfe to be her Brother: I desired her to dis­semble what had past, and to comfort her selfe in her Misfortunes, which had given her notice of her Birth. Then I went to visit the wounded Pirats, to whom giving all the rich prize, I one­ly requested, and obtained Arnalta for my share of it.

We sailed some daies through those Seas with­out any Adventure of Moment. One evening as I was going to bed, a souldier came in to ad­vertize me, that the Pirats were at Consultation about my death. I drew neare to a chink of their Chamber, and heard one of them, who was nam'd Magorre, say to Ferrardo his brother; that to kil me arm'd would be a violent Remedy. The greatest part of the souldiers were afraid of my valour, that all the slaves were obliged to my kindnesse: And that those Medicines which heale without offending are the most to be desi­red. Poison might easily, and with their securitie deprive me of life. The more successefull their intention would prove, because I did not so much as suspect any shadow of treason. I presently com­municated this unto some Souldiers, of whom I had received extraordinarie signes of affection. These readily interesting themselves in my dan­gers, set some slaves at liberty: Having armed them with a promise also of Freedome, they placed them in divers parts of the Galley, to [Page 37]be more ready upon all occasions. I resolute with my sword drawn my in hand, violently rushed into the Roome where they were plotting my de­struction. Magorre in a rage rose to strike me, when I, ere he was well up, with two wounds deprived him both of defence and life. Ferrardo in this while lanched out, and crying he was be­trayed, and upbraiding the souldiers of Cowar­dise, that without defending him would suffer him to perish, he fortified himselfe with a good part of the Souldiers in the Castle of Prora, which either for necessity or love undertook his defence. With their Bows they shot at those that durst approach any whit neare, and the death of foure rendred the rest more fearefull and cau­tious of their Lives. There was not any meanes which I did not assay. I went notwithstanding with a kind of reservation, not willing to make use of fire, lest it might offend Arnalta, and the Damzels that stood in a Tent under the Castle.

They were a Fortification to themselves; and not knowing the cause of the Tumult, and being certaine of nothing but feare, with their lamen­tations and schreekes they implored my aide; not knowing what to resolve, griefe almost made me mad. Scarce there was a thought entred into my mind, but refuting it I suddenly fell into new de­signs, which not perfected I also rejected.

It was about day-break when the schreeks of Arnalta distinctly came to my eares, who invo­ked all the Deities of Heaven. A little while afterwards I plainely found she was thrown in­to [Page 38]the water; Although anger and sorrow took away my senses, I endeavoured nevertheless, with the power of prayers, and promise of rich gifts, to procure her life. Three without delay leapt into the sea; many got into the Cock-boat; others cast in Beames of wood, and Tables. All was in vaine; the skies were cloudy, the waves big, so that with difficulty we recovered them that had gone out. If a desire of revenge had not something counterpoised my fury I had flung my selfe into the sea. But finally I resolved to try my last endeavour: I made an Engine of boards stuffed with some packs of wooll, to secure us from their flings and Cross-bows; And so some of mine that hoped for their liberty, and that found an opportunity to pull down some of their Rampiers, made an approach, and shot at the Pyrates, who soone finding themselves in an ill condition, aimed at nothing but to defend them­selves. Ferrardo, while he was rayling at, and upbraiding my men, was shot with an Arrow, which wounding him in the mouth, tooke from him I know not first whether his tongue or life. His men now grown heartless, threw down their Armes, craving mercy, which had not been gi­ven them if the returne of those Ladies had not pacified my wrath. For seeing Arnalta, whom I imagined drowned, I ran to embrace her a­fresh, as if I had only known her now. I un­derstood that Ferrardo, having forced the Tent, and requiring Arnalta by name (who for feare, and at the horrible sight of that Pyrate) was [Page 39]falne in a swoone upon a Bed, one of her Dam­sels answered him. He being deceived by a voice he knew not, thinking to throw Arnalta into the sea, flung in another, who either for feare or affection assumed her name.

I made them cast the dead into the water, and then thought of repairing my Galley, which being brought into an ill plight made me resolve to put in at the next Port. Coming thither, and dividing our booty among my Companions, counterfeiting my name and birth, with that beard which you saw me in first, I procured from the King Vassileo a retiring Place, and se­curity, and obtained my desire. He being about to sell this Palace, (falne to him by Confiscation, belonging formerly to the Duke of Mesimoran, either through envy or desert proclaimed Tray­tour, and who upon an infamous Theater had terminated the Glories of his Life and Fame) I at any price got my selfe into the possession of it.

Then Celardo with a great curiosity desired to know some more particulars of the Life of that Duke.

Oleandro replied: That the Actions of a Prince so great could not be penetrated into but with a thousand uncertainties, agreeing to the opinion of him that should deliver them. That some dis­course (though we be not concerned in it) is dangerous. That great men would have the re­membrance of those things buried that might render them over, either to the pitty or scorne [Page 40]of others. That they suffer not themselves to be talked of, either not to be liable to the censure of common discoursers, or that a reverence is due to him whose power is unlimited. To talke of Princes is not without danger: because or­dinarily truth is hatefull in great mens eares. I that live remote from State Affairs can but guess at uncertainties, which have no other foundati­on but the opinion of the Vulgar, who oft argue of that they understand the least. That judge­ment cannot be right given but by the effects. The wisdome and the justice of so great a King pretends to no other end but the safetie of his own Life, the defence of his State, and the pre­servation of his Honour. Curiositie the more in­creased upon Celardo, by reason he heard these things so farre from his knowledge; but be­ing satisfied by Oleandro's promise, that at his better leisure he should participate of all he knew in it; he hearkned to the end of the for­mer Relation. He therefore proceeded.

Here I lived enjoying the deliciousness of the scituation, the fertilitie of the fields, the whol­somness of the Aire, and accounted at a great shelter to my misfortunes after so many yeares of miseries once againe to enjoy my selfe in despite of Destiny. The ambitions for my Kingdome, spent in the course of so many infelicities, had lost their appetite in tormenting me. Accomo­dating my mind to my present Fortune, far from me I cast all those imaginations that might mo­lest me. A Kingdome, although so desired by all, [Page 41]renders Princes as unhappy, as servitude is often unsupportable to Subjects. The fruition of Liber­tie depends not in ruling over others, but in com­manding our selves. The regulating our own af­fections is that which can only make a man hap­py. My Sister Arnalta had been able to have al­tered my deliberations, if, wearie with the affli­ctions of the world, she had not accommodated her heart to my resolutions. I now thought my selfe truly hid from the eyes of Fate, far from the negotiations of Court, and from those ambitions that are accustomed to provoke furies. Decei­ving my selfe with this shadow of Felicity, I was certified that some had laid snares to entrap my life. If the duty I owed to my birth, and the generousness of my heart had been capable of Cowardize, I sweare to you Celardo by the Ob­ligements I owe you, I had by my own death sacrificed my selfe to their hatred who desired it. I cannot imagine to my understanding a greater misfortune than to live in a continuall feare of enemies and not know them.

One day I discovere their Plots, and knew the Traitours; They were sent by the usurpers of my Kingdome, with promises of great reward if they could make me away. They did not think their Reign sure while I lived; and feared me, although they understood that I had not an intention to offend them. I remained astonished that these impious men had not satiated their barbarous Natures in the usurpation of my King­dome, but that they also desired with my bloud [Page 42]to secure their tyrannie. Being grown therefore jealous of my selfe, I was alwaies afraid of being betrayed, whereupon I could not enjoy that quiet my heart desired. To mock sometimes, either my own feare, or their treasons, I make use of that counterfeit haire, which conceales me even from those that daily see me. I do not this because I feare to die, but that my enemies should not triumph in my death. I hold him un­worthy to live who knows not how to value and defend his life. He had not here made an end of his Discourse, but that he was advertized the Count of Salinera had Commission to speake with him by his Majesties appointment; with some alteration he arose from his seat, and said to Celardo, That this was another wheele of For­tune, and that his heart foretold him some evill. That he was not used to receive such visits, the rather because the Count was one of the chiefe of his Majesties Privie Councell. Having there­fore took his leave, he went to meet him, leaving Celardo troubled with his ordinary Passions.

The sleep of the Princess was short, because her mind, oppressed and disquieted by so many miseries, would not allow her body to make any truce with repose. As she opened her eyes she spied an extreame handsome Ladie, that stood in an amaze, either at her habite, her beauty, or her unexpected arrivall there, and that could not be satisfied with thinking of her. The Princess, supposing her to bee some Goddess, would have cast her selfe at her feet, beseeching her [Page 43]pardon for entring into that Temple. She said, there was no Law that prescribed rules to feare, and that necessity excuses any boldness. The Courtesies of that Lady, which strove in her Rock to equalize her beauty, consented not that she should touch the ground with her knee, nei­ther to proceed in Apologies, but said, I was, faire Lady, about preventing your Adoration with mine, because I could not imagine such beauties were in Goddesses, neither to any but the Gods the entrance of this Cave known. I am a wo­man, and so much the more ascertained of it, because I am daily subjected to those passions which have no jurisdiction but in humane breasts. The comeliness of your face, the strangenesse of your habit, and to see you in a place where the light comes not but by stealth, make me more curious than I ought. I beseech you therefore informe me what Fortune hath made me wor­thy of so great a Guest, and what tearmes I am to use (your merit being known) to serve you. I (re­plied the Princess) implore from your gentleness nothing but some meane shelter to my miseries. The which at present to relate to you would but encrease your trouble, because they cannot be represented but with horrour, being so tragicall. And although your benignitie should vouchsafe me attention, weariness and hunger so much op­press me, that I cannot thinke my selfe fit to dis­course. The Lady suffered her not to go on, but retiring aside gave some orders, and returned speedily to the Princess; from whom (not lon­ger [Page 44]able to containe those passions that tormen­ted her heart) she desired to know of whom she had learned the Entrance into the Grott. She scarce understood she had light upon it by chance, and had after shut it up againe very fast with the bolt, but as a presage of some ill towards her, losing her colour, at the same instant, both her voice and spirits failed her. At last enforcing her selfe, and willing to suppress that griefe which oppressed her mind, she said to the Princesse, That our first motions are within us without our understand­ing; that not a little to yield to the violences of Passion, is the effect either of stupiditie, or folly. And that our humane nature is too fraile.

On the other side, the Princesse, ignorant al­together of the cause of that alteration, run over all her thoughts, and could not imagine what to resolve, when by an earnest courtesie she was led into one of those Chambers which make a Crowne to the Court. It was adorned with most rich Furniture, beseeming their Greatnesse that frequented the place. There was Gold so seene as not wasted profusely, but contemned. The Roofe was all chequered with the costliest jew­els, which to the life represented the stories of fabulous Antiquity. The Pavement was also of the same work, composed of some stones, that like Looking-Glasses reflected the Image of whosoever looked on it. The Princesse was full of wonder at two things: That this habitation be­ing under ground was so lightsome, and that moi­sture and time had not decaied those Pictures, nor [Page 45]perished those Arches, which seemed all as fresh as if the Artificer had newly finished them.

Here being invited both by Necessity and En­treaties, she was constrained to strengthen her selfe with most delicate meates, and most preci­ous Wines, that in a Moment were prepared by a venerable Matron: She afterwards laid her downe on a very costly bed, which for beautie and price yeelded nothing to the other Won­ders, that there were seen to be infinite. In bid­ding farewell to that woman, she said to the Prin­cesse, To morrow will be a fitter time to trouble you, I being very desirous to know your conditi­on, and to meet with any occasion to serve you. Some talke will be necessarie to deliberate about your satisfaction. Here you cannot stay long but with an incommoditie to your self, and dan­ger to me: I this night will lie with you in stead of the Dutchesse of Belprato, if you will pro­mise I may doe it without any perill to my selfe, or making him jealous who is my servant. The Princesse answered her with as much Courtesie, adding: That not for any thing in the world she would occasion her trouble, much less her dan­ger, and that as a Law she will alwayes receive her Commands. Having leave in this manner, and being alone with the Dutchesse, after some complements of Excuse and affection, she entrea­ted her, that until their eyes call'd them to repose, (to withdraw her minde from her miserable ap­prehensions, that were ready not only to deprive [Page 46]her of sleep, but take away her life) to de­clare to her, whither Fortune had guided her, and who she was that knew to oblige her be­fore she knew her, with all other particulars that might satisfie her Curiositie. The Dutchess was now laid down in another bed, neare that of the Princess, where after a little suspence, she thus answered:

If I had not seen you Ladie in this Cave, where the Sunne communicating his light, yet dares not shine upon you, and if I did not know the heart of the Princess my Mistriss, that stea­ling her affections, she durst commit her safetie into your hands, your Curiositie and Entreaties, which I should reverence in other matters as Commands, should not prevaile with mee to speak a word: Who cannot tell how to hold their peace, is unfit to serve Princes. The prin­cipall duty of Faith, is to conceale those Actions which Kings breathing forth, scarce trust them­selves with: I, though a Woman, have ever­more observed this Axiome, the Dutie I owe others, and the regard I have to my owne safetie inciting me. Great secrets are not reveal'd but with great danger; and ordinarily, who ever be­traies is betrai'd: You may please to take notice, that this Island is the amorous Kingdome of Cy­prus. Fame gives out, that this Cave was made by the command of Venus to conceale her A­mours in; or by the first Kings, here to secure themselves from Treacheries: It hath seven Mouthes, that all reach to the Sea; so farre di­stant [Page 47]one from another as a man can see. I sup­pose that under a pretence of Religion, Tillage is prohibited in this part of the Isle, to take away occasion from the Inhabitants of discovering these retiring places, or observing of any that should come into them. All the Continent is sa­cred, and to kill a wilde beast, or cut downe a Tree, a Capitall offence. After a long Circuit, the Entrance growing narrow, determines in a place call'd the secret Palace: The common peo­ple beleeve that it took name from a Fountaine, which one drinking of, it represents in a dreame to their imaginations things to come; or, as I perswade my selfe, by these private withdrawing places under ground, knowne onely to his Maje­stie and his Daughter, who for the most part here keeps his Court, by reason it is the most strong and delicious part of this Island. In the remotest Chamber his Highnes Treasure is kept, but in a place the least observ'd, the Entrance being stopt with some boards, in such wise doth close, that they deceive both the eye and feeling. The easinesse of removing them can be onely dis­cover'd by those who see them taken away. But I will not with tedious Circumstances rob you of the Houres of your Repose:

I will abbreviate my Discourse, and onely de­clare those things which are most worthy of your curiosity. I beseech you added the Princess (I being newly arrived in these parts, and knowing a full Relation will come the welcommest to me, [Page 48]and my desires, my sorrowes not permitting me over-much sleep) doe not so.

The History of Dianea, Diaspe, &c.

THe Dutchesse went on. The handsomest here are chosen Kings, and they have pow­er to continue the Kingdome in their Line, whe­ther Males or Females. Of the which if there be a faile, the chiefe of the Island meet about a new Election, which alwaies lights on him whom Venus is prodigall of her favours to. In King Vassileo, who now reignes, in whom the vertue of his mind contends with the comliness of his person, all our hopes are accomplished. The Acclamations and the Joyes of the people were not any whit defrauded by the proofs of his me­rit, and the goodnesse of his Government, being of a complying disposition to all, but inexora­ble to wicked men, with a Majestick Pleasant­ness, he hath gain'd himselfe the good will of his enemies, and not onely the hearts of his Subjects. He was fear'd by his neighbour Prin­ces, belov'd by the Remote, and in briefe ador'd by all. The Devotions of the people were una­nimous in supplications to the mercie of the Gods, to eternize a stock so every way wor­thy.

By two wives he had no issue but one daugh­ter, the Princesse Dianea my Mistris, so call'd after her mothers name, who died in Child-bed [Page 49]of her. The more she increased in yeares, the handsomer she grew. This Sun, although but rising, ravished the desires of all eyes, and awa­ked in the most frozen mindes, and in the cruel­lest bosomes a tender affection: An eye cannot behold her without parting with an heart. I should say more, if so noble conditions could be exposed, and if you when you had seen her should not believe her one of the most beautifull Ladies of the world. A thousand have aim'd at her affection, and infinite is the number of them who have falne in love with her. This Paradise of perfection hath been desired and beseeched for of all worthy men. What cannot a beautie more then great, accompanyed with a vast King­dome, for her Dowrie doe? They that knew not how to love any thing but themselves, and their proper Interests, expressed themselves most ambitious of her. Those insensible ones, that could not be conquered by her Beauty, were inthral'd by the power of their owne Ambition. The wisedome of his Majestie, which would get him a Sonne-in-law, and not an enemy, neither entertain'd, nor refused their offers. He inclin'd not to Kings, because he would not dismember Cyprus: And with his Subjects he disdain'd, as a diminution of the Royall greatness: His neigh­bour Princes were not to his satisfaction; be­cause being blemished with a thousand vices, he would not at the same time endanger his King­dome, his Daughter, and himselfe. And of Re­mote matches he abhorred the thought, as they [Page 50]that would carrie the Princesse with them, which would be a separating of his Soule from his Body.

Finally, his Majesties mind fix'd on the Duke of Araone, the youngest Sonne of the King of Armenia, a Knight, (but for the deformity of his face) the most worthy of his times. His abode was then in the Court, and with the proofes of his valour he had to won upon the Kings affecti­ons, that him he chose to ally so neare to him as to make him his Sonne. There was no doubt that he should dismember the Crowne, or re­move the Princesse into a Remote Countrey, be­ing the last of a numerous Issue, and having the disposing of nothing in his hands but his Horse and Armes. The King acquainted the Princesse with his Resolution, who was ready to die of sor­row when she heard it. The reverence sheow'd her Father, and the modesty of her Sex, were not sufficient to cloath her with so much wisedome as to conceale the passions of her minde. To oppose her selfe to the desires of her Father, was not the custome of her will or heart: And how should she contradict him, who commanded as a Father, and would be obeyed as a King! But recovering her selfe, she beseeched his Majestie to give her some time, that she might be able to dispose of her selfe according to his Commands: She said, that great Resolutions should not bee prosecuted without premeditation; that seeing she was to oblige her selfe to so unequall a ma­trimonie, it was but reason that she first should [Page 51]perswade her minde to it: That marriages com­pell'd, either by the Authority of those that treat of them, or by their power that make them, are for the most part unhappy. She added other Reasons; whereupon her Father allowed her six moneths time, not onely for her deliberation, but the consummation of the Nuptials. How then the Princesse remain'd confus'd, they may imagine, whose Destinie it was ever to be con­strain'd to love.

The Prince of Creet, under a feign'd name, at this time was entertain'd at the Court; in whom it appeared that Nature and Fortune had Epito­miz'd all the wonders of the World. In Arms he was invincible, singular for handsomnesse, and in vertue without equals. It seemed that Jove, Mars, and Love in that face had finished their Greatnesses. Whoever once beheld him, could never after forget him, he fixing indelibly such rarities in his minde that observed him. He was Honoured and beloved by the King, and his prin­cipall Lords, who in him alone admired at those perfections, which are to be wished for in all o­thers. The Princesse in particular Conquered by so many wonders, affecting him above any o­ther, preferred him above her selfe. She had not runne precipitally in these Resolutions: for twice Diaspe (for so he gave out his name) had saved her life: Once in the Lake Chiti, whither shee was carried by the unrulinesse of her Hor­ses: Another time at a coursing with Gray­hounds; for a Tigre rushing out of some Wood, [Page 52]that terrified and over-threw all the rest a (with an admirable undauntednesse) was slaine by him. To these Obligations the Affection he pro­fessed he bore her was adjoyned. For one day (after he had a thousand times discovered his heart to me) he had the fortune to meet the Princesse alone in a Garden, where he had op­portunity to tell her his Passions, to reveale his Bosome, and discover his Birth. He found her so disposed, that the greatest difficulty was to invent a meanes whereby to obtaine the Ends of their Amours.

He would have stoln her away, but the Prin­cesse consented not to it, doubting she might of­fend her Father, the Kingdome, and her selfe. Such Examples were for her Restraint, the free opinion of the world having condemn'd them: and those marriages to be unhappy which begin with the dishonour of the people, and the griefe of ones Parents. To obtaine her by request for his wife, was impossible, because of the invete­rate hatred between the two Crownes. A Fa­ther so repleat with tendernesse, ought not to deliver his onely one daughter into the hands of one of his greatest Enemies. To subject the Crowne to a Prince, who should not make his abode in Cyprus, was to reduce that Kingdome into a Province, an insupportable thing to this People. Notwithstanding to continue them­selves intangled in these feares, became a great molestation to them both: because with Lovers those things cannot be long endured, that retard [Page 53]the Atchievement of their desires. Diaspe grew almost wild at the Kings Resolutions. He would destroy Armenia, and kill this new Pretender. Sometimes he reproved the Princesse of her little love, because she had submitted her selfe to a simple command of her Fathers. That there was nothing more unconquerable than love, who knows not to deny, knows not how to affect. A Fa­ther ought to be obeyed in all things, saving those that directly were opposite to ones owne heart.

Sometimes he accused himselfe of negligence, that with a powerfull Army should have preven­ted the designes and hopes of all. Princes would not be regulated but by a present feare. And in their Consultations any Resolution would be o­vercome that was besieged by a multitude of Souldiers. Sometimes he complained of the King, that with an obstinate Command would make desperate his Daughters affections, so much the more because. she was his only one, and heire of such a Kingdome. They proceed with little discretion that by their odde humours enforce maids to desperation; Princesses (saith he) ought then in their Marriages to preferre their Fathers before their own satisfa­ction! That which is not denied to the basest woman of the world shall not be permitted them who are borne to rule! If your Father to please himselfe cares not to displease you, why will you encounter death rather than contradict the Commands of your Father? Is there per­chance an Equality between Greece and Arme­nia! [Page 54]Between the power of a King and that of a private person: who takes you, not so much to enjoy you as a wife, but because he sees you a Queene. The Princesse answered not but with teares, and reposed all her defences, and all her reasons in lamentations. Finallie they conclu­ded, that in great Evils violent Remedies are the safest; That too much zeale, and too much mo­destie were as prejudiciall as an excesse of feare, or a rash resolution. That he therefore should send into Creete to his Father to raise speedily a very strong Armie, that he might be enabled to defend his pretentions by the Sword. That sup­posing the will of heaven was interposed to these Negotiations, that the Princesse should escape thorough this Cave to the sea side, where before her flight was discovered they might be farre cuough from the jurisdiction of Cyprus. Diaspe the better to have prosecuted this business would have returned thither in person, but the Princesse would not suffer him, foreseeing as it were in her selfe some mischiefe. I being present, the Faith of Matrimony they plighted betweene them, invoking all the Imprecations of the Gods upon the Failers, vowing to meet death a thou­sand times before they would bestow their affe­ctions upon others. Many daies before then the Promise of Marriage had passed between them, but now only authenticated by my being by, and solemnized by the testimony of the Gods.

In the meane while all the City was a prepa­ring to entertaine the new Prince, who was [Page 55]gone into Armenia to his Father, to desire Em­bassadours and Attendants that should assist with state at his Nuptials. Arches were erected, Co­lossuses raised, representing the Glories of Cy­prus and Armenia. All were a preparing Armes and Horses to flatter the Genius of the Princes, and not to shew themselves inferiour to others. The Count of Cittera, a young man of a very great valour, and an extraordinary expectation, was Admirall of the Sea. He had in him an in­finite number of faults, but he so well knew how to disguise them, that if they were not ac­knowledged for vertues, they were not believed as vices. The King had raised him to this de­gree of honour for his Fathers deserts, who was the chiefe of his Councell of State. He managed it well enough, because, aspiring to high things, he would not shew himselfe unworthy. Percei­ving the favour of the People, the affection of the Souldiers, and the Kingdome without a suc­cession of Males, he imagined by marrying with the Princesse to advance himselfe to the Royall Throne, he durst not open his mouth of it to his Father; for knowing him of an incontaminated goodnesse, he would not have prevented him with chastisement, at least have hindred him in his waies. He assayed the mind of the Princess with signes of an affection not ordinary; but per­ceiving himselfe despised, he turned his thoughts upon new designes. He endeavoured to procure to himselfe the good wils of the Great Ones with feasts and banquets; He obliged the Mili­tia [Page 56]with liberty and gifts. The Vulgar were cap­tivated with a plenty of all things that he provi­ded them, and with nourishing them in their vi­ces. In briefe, he did not neglect any of those Arts which might facilitate his tyranny. The Nuptials of the Princess with the Armenian interposed the course of his pretentions, whereupon he ap­plied his mind to a wickednesse more execrable. In conclusion, when a perfidious mind is disposed to mischiefe, all the stops in the world are not availeable sufficiently to stay it.

The Count had been twice in Thracia, the first time with his Father about State Affaires. The other time alone, to congratulate the com­ings of the new King to the Crown of his An­cestors. Amuritte (for so the King was called) had many times been in Cyprus when his Fathers Palace was infested by the malice of his Do­mesticks. He appeared to the Count as an excel­lent instrument to perfectionate his hopes. He advertized the Thracian, by a Messenger dispa­ched on purpose, That the Kingdome of Cyprus at the least beck of his Majesty was ready to fall into his hands; That the People were ill con­tented with King Vassileo's Government, the Commonalty grown Cowards, the Forts with­out defence, the Souldiers under him, the Arms in his Command, the Seas and Ports in his Cu­stody. That he was not provoked to this by any other end, but that he would not obey a King who was a stranger, deformed in mind and in body. That seeing the Kingdom must be altered, [Page 57]he did rather choose to make gift of it to his Ma­jesty, a Prince of whose greatnesse he had made experiment, as also of his vertues, then to give obedience to a Man who came to the Throne before he had learnt the Rules to governe by. That if his Majestie was pleased with the offer, and this resolution of his heart, he would request nothing for his service but the Princesse to wife, with the Kingdome in dowry; and that he and his Successours would hold it of the Thracians, and pay them homage with a very great tribute. He added, that to raise a great Army, would, without any benefit to himselfe, beget suspicion in his confining Princes. That in the suddenness of this consisted the accomplishment of the en­terprise, he now needing but to steale it, and not to fight for it. That only two Gallies would be more than enow, they being certaine to find no resistance. That he might disguise the cause of his Arrivall, with a pretence either of friendship, or of chance. He omitted not other particulars, and other instructions, which might render him the more easie to consent to him. Ill men never want meanes to give effect to their wicked­nesse.

One Morning with two Gallies, becoming the merit of his Greatnesse, the King of the Thracians appeared in the Port of Arsinoe. The King Vassileo, with some amazement received newes of the Arrivall of this Prince, although the designe never fell within his thoughts. Order was given to the Admirall (as one best known [Page 58]to the Thracian) to receive him. Their meet­ings (though on a sudden) was most magnifi­cent, the Horse innumerable, and the Traine in­finite. The King came to Land with but fifty of the most Noble, and the most couragious youths of Thace; with a great deale of affection he welcomed those that came to him by the ap­pointment of his Majesty, to whom he retur­ned thanks for the honours he received of them. His Entertainment was at the Charges of the Republick. But after three daies he would not permit it, saying, he had given way to that as a signe of his liberty, which was prepared for his Honour. The day after he was waited on to the King Vassileo, who received him at the foot of the Staires. There he used such words, and ex­pressed such things as would have beguiled Pro­vidence it selfe. Among other things he said, He was come to adore that Sun, that not scorning his misfortunes (by a benigne influence of it) had blessed him with prosperity; That he rejoyced at the Matrimony of the Princesse with the Prince of Armenia; adding, that he could not containe himselfe for joy in seeing the Age of so worthy a King extended (by it) to eternity; but (said he) it was never subject to yeares, he (for his wisdome) being never young. That he was above Fortune, who in despite of it knew to choose himselfe so deserving a Son. That the principall cause of his comming was to serve his Majesty in those Feasts, which Fame (and not without good reason) had spread through the [Page 59]greatest part of the world. And that he came not as a King, but as an Adventurer; the merits of the two Princes being such as would compell any body to any disguise to do them service. He omitted not other particulars, expressed with so much Affection, that Adulation, and Dissembling won him Affection, and an high welcome. After some returne of thanks, King Vassileo answered him, That he the rather desired to be eternized in those Nuptials of his Daughter, because they would report to his Posterity the Obligations which he owed to the Love of so great a King. That he received the honour of this visit, as an Act proper to the King of the Thracians: For he knew nothing in himselfe worthy to deserve such Graces but the ardent affection he bore him.

These Complements being past, they went both of them to the Princess. And it was observed, that the Thracian stood in amaze at her beauty, not believed such by him before, having seen her only when she was a Child. There after some expressi­ons how welcome he was, he told her his com­ing was to wait on her at her Wedding, and then jested with her at the stay of the Armenian, of­fering himselfe to be her Knight untill his re­turne. The Princesse replied to all with so much expression of kindnesse and gentlenesse, that her words (conquering his resistance) betraied his heart. Finally, after they were parted, the Thra­cian remained no lesse satisfied at the Kings en­tertainment, than he was astonished at the Beau­ties [Page 60]of his Daughter. From day to day they con­tinued to oblige themselves with so high expres­sions, that their Subjects flatterers of their Prin­ces disposition feasted them perpetually now in the City now upon the Galleys, nor neglected any thing that might be a signe of their friend­ship and good will.

The Admirall in the meane while prosecuted his plot with such circumspection, that there was not any body that suspected him. One day (while the Thracian understanding the Armcuian Prin­ces arrivall with foure Galleys was neare;) fea­ring some stop should fall betweene him and his hopes, he gave the last assay unto his wicked­nesse. He invited King Vassileo, the Princess, and some of the Court to a Fishing, which he ap­pointed to be made according to the Custome of his Countrey. He had been other times on the Sea with his Majesty, whereupon there was not any that doubted of his Faith; And the ra­ther, because he had disposed for this businesse but one only Galley, leaving his other in the Port, and having with a specious Apparance divided his men into small Barkes, brought from our Ar­senall. His Majesty accepted of the invitation, and one morning betimes went aboord the Gal­ley, accompanied with some few of his Councel, and the Princess Dianea, that came against her will (her feigning her selfe indisposed prevailing not) with sixe Damsels, and he who never a­bandoned her. There would also have come many Knights belonging to the Court, but the [Page 61] Thracian dissembling, and saying all places were fill'd, would not suffer any to enter but a few, and they all either Friends, or of the Counts Con­spiracie.

We were gone ten miles into the Sea, when he began the Fishing. It was truely a Pastime of much wonder, and worthy to be observed. Some Barques went from us about a mile, the which after a long Compass, returned with such whoo­pings, that it seemed they would deafen the Seas. They made that all the Fish was drawne together to the Poop of the Galley, where it was often taken by Nets ordered for that pur­pose. Without doubt the sight was singular, the Fishes being infinite for number, and of an ex­traordinarie bigness. There were some seene, that to escape the Nets, leap'd up so high, as if they had wings. Other by crooked windings endeavoured to have loos'd themselves out of the Nets: Many bold of their owne greatness try'd to break the snares that imprison'd them: many leapt into the Barks, and finally all, either fearing to be took, or death, scudding about after a thou­sand manner of wayes, very much pleas'd the eyes of the Beholders. Dianea onely, and I, could take no pleasure in these pastimes, either for griefe of these Nuptials, or that our hearts presaged to us the ill that was at hand. The Thra­cian bestowed a most sumptuous Banquet on us, because returning to Dinner should not break off the Fishing.

Two houres before night, the other Galley [Page 62]came in sight, rowing softly upon the Sea. It was scarce perceived, where the Thracian sen­ding away the Barks, departed from us, as if he would give order it should returne. In the meane while many armed Knights enter upon the upper Deck of ours, and before any body could lay hand to his sword, we were all made Prisoners. King Vassileo finding they were be­trai'd, more grieved at his Daughters Captivity then his owne Misfortune, was ready to dye for sorrow: Covering notwithstanding his griefe with that wisedome which rendred him singu­lar among Princes, he neither spoke, nor did things unbecomming his greatness. He told those Knights, that it displeased him that the Glories of Thracia should be contaminated with Rob­beries and Treasons; and that a Prison could not bring him so much trouble as to see in so great a King a minde so vile, and basenesse so exe­crable. He comforted the Princesse, who was oppressed with so violent a passion, that she seemed stupifyed with sorrow. I and the other Ladies fill'd heaven without cries, and with so many Imprecations against the Thracians, that I wonder how they had the patience to despise them. By this time Amuritto came to visit us, and shewing that hee tooke great dis­pleasure at our sadnesse, he said to his Ma­jesty:

King Vassileo, it pierces my soul to have done any thing that might occasion your Sorrow: I had not condescended to this for any thing, but [Page 63]for the Affection I beare to the Reputation of your person, and to the good of your Kingdom. This that hath an appearance of ill, shall not determine but in well, if your Majestie will have a regard to the End and not the Beginning. Do not believe that the Thracians would rob from their Victories, nor that Amuritte intends to blemish his glories with Treason, which in a little while I hope to see you undeceived; and though yet the Remedie hath appeared sharp to you, for all that, many times it is necessary to make use of fire, and from mortall Instruments to recover our health. I beseech your Majesty to suspend your Answer and Complaints untill after Supper; And so taking him by the hand, he enforced him with a courteous violence to come to the Tables, which were now made ready. He did the same to the Princesse, comforting her with words full of courtesie and affection. We Ladies follow­ed them, with all those that belonged to the King; Being soon come upon the Deck, we saw our Admirall, the Count of Cithera. Not knowing his Treason we remained full of admiration, especially the King, who knew he had left him in the Arsenell, with Commission to have a Gal­ley in readines, more for State Policie then suspi­cion of any Treason.

The Purification, according to the Custome of the Thracians, being a preparing, places were appointed for all: With a most soft Scarfe they hood-wink'd the eyes of all; and after covered the heads of all that were invited with very fine [Page 64]cloth of gold, while one of their Priests mutter'd some prayers, there was brought every body a a Bason to purifie their hands in. This being past, the Feast began. Their eyes were all scarce un­bound, when they saw the Count of Cithera strangled, and laid at length on the floore. The Father of the Count who sate neare his Majesty, could not bridle in the violences of Love and Anger, which tormented his heart: Whilst the rest astonished knew not what to doe, but gaze on one another, he (arising from his seat, not be­ing able to refraine from teares, which whether he would or not, agreed with his tongue to ease his griefe) said to Amuritte:

Truely so execrable Suppers where bloud is mix'd, Wine can belong to none but the Thraci­ans. If cruell man thou didst only desire my sons Death, why dost thou kill the Father with so mortall an Object, who hath no other fault in thy hatred, but thy owne Furie? I implore the be­nignity of the Gods, that they let not passe un­punished, Hospitality violated, Virgins stolne, so cursed an Ingratitude, and so unjust Murthers. The excesses of his Passion had not stopt here, if the violence of his griefe had not buried his words in his mouth. Good old man, replyed A­muritte, for the respect I beare to the Majesty of King Vassileo, and to the Affection of a Father, I pardon the Errours of your tongue. If your Senses tyrannized not over your Reason, I would make you learne what it is to offend the Justice of Kings. So having said, he produced the Counts [Page 65]Letters, (and the Messenger hee had sent him comming in, whom in Cyprus hee had entertained) he made the Treason appear plain­ly to them all. Afterwards turning to King Vas­sileo, he added: For two things I may be blamed; The first, that I have made the punishment pre­cede the Discoverie of the fault; The other, that I took on me to doe that Justice that pro­perly belonged to you: yet I have done them both with a great Foundation of Reason. First, to terrifie Traitors from attempting upon the person of their owne Princes; and secondly, to free you from the hatred of the dead mans kind­red, more especially his Father, who being in­nocent, with much difficulty believed his Sonne guilty. But old friend be satisfied, that I could not offer up to the gods a greater Sacrifice then the punishment of this wicked man, who for his Ambition of Rule, hath in his Treason to others betrai'd himselfe. The other Accessaries, which are of some number, I remit them to your Ju­stice. Give me leave onely to put your in minde, that forgivenesse is a noble property of Kings: And that the taking away the heads of a Con­spiracy ought to be attributed to the gods as a great Favour, and accounted to a Kingdome as a great Felicity. For what remaines, when the winde will permit, I will conduct your Majesty into Arsinoe, where I will pretend to no other reward then the love and thanks of so great a King.

Here he staied, fixing his eyes upon his Ma­jestie, [Page 96]who after a little Recollection said thus: King Amuritte, Those things which Fortune to day hath presented unto me, have in a man­ner so amazed me, that I know not whether I live or dreame. The zeale of your affection, (with which preventing my Interests, hath made you condiscend to so great Deliberations) shall be alwayes reverenced by me, according to the multitude of my obligations. I will acknow­ledge from the candour of your friendship, the generousness of your Spirit, the worthinesse of your Minde, and the noblenesse of your Birth; The Conservation of my Kingdome, the Honour of my Daughter, and preservation of my Selfe. His Majesty had not stopped here, if the Father of the Admirall had not interrupted him with saying: Pardon me (O King) that if for the griefe I feele I cannot containe my selfe within the Duties I owe to the Eminencies of your Me­rit, and the humblenesse of my condition. The Faults of the Count of Cithera, (whom I will not call Sonne, to encrease my sorrow) if they are such as they are reported, deserve your anger even to all his kindred. If the gods had permit­ted, that they had been the slanders of his Ene­mies, to precipitate him from the favours of your Majesty, I should have become a Supplicant to you for Justice, although I should not have ob­tained it. It will be an Adjunct to your glories, (Magnanimous King) to exercise your pietie upon the Ashes of the dead, and that your huma­nity be moved with Carkasses in their Sepul­chers. [Page 67]In these Doubts of my Sons loyalty, and my Princes favour I cannot live. I will not al­low Fortune so much power over me: If ever (Sir) the candidness of my thoughts, the good­ness of my actions, the ingenuity of my fashion, and the freedome of my Consults have aim'd at any thing then the Reputation of your Majesty, the Preservation of your Posterity, the honour of your Crowne, and the welfare of your King­dome, I invoke all the Gods, that the stormes of their indignation may fall upon my head, and that they never grant Repose to my soule in the Elizian happy fields.

These last words were scarce understood, when stabbing himselfe twice in the breast, hee dyed before he could be succoured. The Thracian suddenly commanded the dead bodies should be removed, which was done with so great a resent­ment to all, that the least expression was Tears. It was impossible that any body should eate, wherfore the Tables being took away, he accom­panied us into the Keel; for now a Tempest so suddenly came on us, that it gave us not time to know our danger. It was repleat with darkness so, that it seemed the Gods had deprived us of the Beames of the Celestiall Luminaries, that the waters might swallow us. It sceemed that hea­ven would smother the sea, and that it would make warre against the Starres. The Windes concurring with the Waves, raised mountaines and Precipices, Thunder, and Lightning, dazling our sight, and taking away our hearing, took [Page 68]away all Command and Obedience. The cries of the Mariners and Pilots to keep the Rowers to their Duty, they heard so imperfectly, that in­stead of remedying the Danger, they produced more Confusion, and augmented fear. The Oars being too weake to contend with the violence of the Waves, were shivered into a thousand pieces; so also were their Cords and Tacklings. The Thracians Diligences, who with a brave un­dauntedness now exhorted, now promised, now threatned, shewing at one time both the Office of a Mariner, and a King, delay'd our being cast away, which every moment we ex­pected.

By one of his Priests he was advertized, that the Sea-gods were offended, when dead bodies are carried aboard; the Genius of the Waters not enduring it: That this Piety might be exerci­sed upon the shore, collecting their Ghosts into one place by devout Funeralls. The Thracian durst not oppose this superstition or Religion of the Mariners: Therefore the bodies of the Ad­mirall and his Father, being throwne among the Waves, the furie of the Tempest was suddenly appeas'd, we being driven far from Cyprus, up­on the shores of Africk. He gave command to his, that the Dammages of their past Fortune should be repair'd with all diligence; that with their more security they might make their return to Cyprus.

Afterwards hee came to King Vassileo, and (some talke of the past danger being ended) he [Page 69]said. There is not any thing Father, and Friend that more alters our deliberations than the Acci­dents of Fortune. All our proposals, designs, and all our promises, are lost, vanished, and retracted, when the reasons that first occasioned them are removed or altered; you promised the Princesse Dianea to the youngest Son of the King of Ar­menia when others were not Sutors for her, and when your own Interests in your State were not so as they are at present. Now when I have de­livered you from an enemy, the more formida­ble, because hard to be discovered, and that all things of your Kingdome are altered, why may you not with honour release your selfe from your promise? I will not insist upon (to perswade you) the greatnesse of my States, the strength of my Armies, the valour of my People, because King Vassileo's mind cannot be tempted by hopes. So having spoke he did not manifest by any signe that he had him in his power, to demonstrate that with all candidnesse he treated of this Match, or else with a cunningness, seeming to slight it, to raise a greater opinion of him in the King.

His Majesty, having a regard to his present condition, made use of such words as were con­venient, expressing that he had a great desire to please him. He added afterwards, you propound to me friend a match to be wished for, when it was in my power to effect it, who would not (though with much trouble) procure an alliance with Amuritte, and Thracia? Who would not endeavour to renew himselfe, in a young man so [Page 70]valiant, and in a King so great? Yet know that to retract my word given to a King with the Consent of my Councell, and to the satisfaction of my Subjects is not in my power. I propose not here the case of my reputation, and the honour of my promises. All that is lawfull which plea­seth Amuritte; I reflect only upon the impossi­bility of a remedy, and upon the dangers that may succeed it. The King of Armenia, who is so neare to my Dominions, would without doubt perceive himselfe injured by this offence. How will my Subjects suffer my excuses, when they find themselves wronged by them? But if I could do it, neither my people, Councell, nor the King of Armenia against it, my Daughters consent is to be got, whom I have ever left to her owne choise in these Affaires of Matrimony. Minds are not born Subjects, nor should they be joyned by violence. If this is observed among private persons, how much rather ought it with Kings, and those that are to succeed in Kingdomes?

He proceeded, when Amuritte was adverti­zed that foure Galleys drew neare them, carried thither by the late Tempest. And that, by as much as could be discerned at such a distance, the Co­lours belonged to the Armenians. The Thracian rejoyced at this encounter, wherein he should have occasion to kill his enemy; and presently gave command to all his to arme with all dili­gence, making provision of burning lime, pitch, and other artificiall fires to dammage his enemies with. The Galleys approaching, while the Ar­menians, [Page 71]who were more in number, demanded the obedience accustomary to the Sea; the Thracian took hold of this occasion, and charged them before they thought they could be assaulted. In this first encounter it was easie for him to sur­prize and rout two Galleys, yet torne and shaken by the Sea, and not suspecting such a matter. But he found greater resistance in the other two, the Infante being there with the most part of the Nobility of Armenia, coming to waite on the Prince, allured by the Applauses of these Nupti­als. They grapled together, and began one of the fiercest fights that to the memory of man was ever seene on those Seas. The slaine were ma­ny, the drowned infinite, and the wounded without number. The Archers shot not an Ar­row in vaine, and many times slew their friends when they aimed at their enemies. The Thra­cian, who now grew doubtfull of the victory, ha­ving selected a brave company of his valiantest men, by plaine force entered the Armenians Ad­mirals Galley. There, although he was wounded by a thousand strokes, and lost bloud from as ma­ny wounds, he singled out the Infante, who with a great courage defended himselfe. They collected all their strength in this fight, their men also becomming obstinate in the defence of their Princes. The Thracian, though he closed with the Armenian, the other for a while equal­ly withstood him. At last they both fell; The Thracian had the better Fortune in the fall, for being uppermost he had time to strike the Arme­nian [Page 72]in the Groine with a Dagger, and in the Face with two mortall wounds. Afterwards, all besmeared with bloud, in despite of his enemies, well defended by his own, more ready in fight, and better prepared for it, to the astonishment of all that saw him, he leapt into his own Gal­ley. Then he made many fire-bals to be thrown among them, so speedily, that the Armenians losing all courage with the Infante's death, and terrified with their own danger, suffered them to burne. This in a moment increased so fast, fo­mented by the wind, that if the Thracians had been slow in getting far enough off, they had pro­ved what they intended only for others, and had easily been destroyed by their own fires.

The Armenian Galleys were consumed in a moment, notwithstanding any command or dili­gence the chiefe Knights could use to prevent it. Those that blessed their good fortune, for having leapt into the Sea without their Armes were seen miserably to perish either by smoake, or to be drown'd in the water. The groans of those that languished between their wounds, the waves, and the fire, provoked no pity in the cru­elty of the Thracian, who feeling the smart of his own hurts was assisting to the utter destructi­on of the Armenians. Of whom there was not any that escaped from the fire or sea to carry the report of so great a loss. Many that by swiming came close to our Galley were most barbarously shot, at one time dying (unhappy as they were) two deaths.

The Thracian joyfull of this victory, belee­ving now there could not be any thing to hinder his marriage with the Princess, or should pre­vent him of the Crown of Cyprus, felt not the paine of his wounds, although very considerable. Being requested by his to be dressed, he retired, making us partakers of his success. King Vassi­leo, though he received much sorrow at it, dis­sembled, enquiring of his health, expressing himselfe sollicitous for it. Attestations of great men are ordinarily disguised according to their proper interests. The Princess and I had by it a mortified consolation, both their lives being e­qually hatefull to us. Dianea then complained of Fortune, that ever and anon prepared dangers for her. But our sorrow continued not long, for we were told that a Galley pursued us, rowed at full speed. Amuritte understanding that it was only one Galley, seemed to slight it. On the sud­den we imagined any thing but the truth; be­cause being but one it delayed us sometimes in doubt. But because the mind easily thinks what it desires, we were of opinion they were more in number, and that this, either to discover the Sea, or to get some advantage, had separated from the others.

Diaspe the Prince of Creete was in it, who having been invited to the Fishing, feigned him­selfe sick, either because his mind presaged some evill, or that he would not mixe in an action with the greatest enemy he had. This day he had not stirred abroad, but that the houre being [Page 74]come that they should necessarily returne, he went to the Port to meet them. There not fin­ding the Admirall nor any of his servants, and understanding that the Thracians that were di­vided into little Vessels were all also gone, he suddenly apprehended that there was some Trea­chery Enquiring of many his opinion was great­ly confirmed, when he was ascertained that the Admirall went thence with the Thracians. He stood not long resolving, but tooke into the Admirall Galley the ablest Rowers out of the o­thers, and five hundred of the valiantest, and the most trusty Souldiers, publishing the Trea­son, and with the chiefe of the Courtiers then put to Sea. He likewise left order that the other Galleys should follow him with more Forces, and with all speed that was possible.

He was scarce got out of the Channell of Gavata, and left Cyprus on this side, when he was assaulted by a Tempest. But he received little harmeby it, His Galley being an extreame good one, well furnished with Slaves and Mar­tiners, so that despite of the waves and the winds they followed their Voyage. In coasting the Promontorie of Acerauno he was adverti­sed they discovered two Galleys, which if they lay not at Anchor they made then no haste. Glad of this, he gave command, the Ghinge, and Souldiers should eate, putting them­selves into Armes. He came upon the Thracians who had not time to prepare themselves for fight, slighting it, because it was but one, or [Page 75]not suspecting it for an enemy.

Their Admirall was presently charged, for their other would make no defence, being hard­ly able to swim, much lesse to fight. The Thra­cians making weake resistance, Diaspe entred the Galley, making that slanghter which their per­fidiousnesse deserved. Amuritte, being certified his Galley was taken, ran to the succour of his, despite of the Physitians, who protested against his life. He encouraged the Thracians, and for a while heartned them to fight. But they being unable to resist so great a multitude, fell down all either dead, or to render themselves Prisoners. He only obstinate in fight, after having shewne many signes of an extraordinary valour, fell breathing out his soule from a mighty wound Diaspe had given him in the Breast. Such was the end of Amuritte the King of the Thracians, worthy truly for his many vertues of a more ho­nourable death, if his dishonesty and ambition had not transported him upon such a Precipice.

Diaspe came to kisse King Vassileo's hand, who received him with such a welcome as they de­serve who save the lives of Kings. Dianea ap­parelling her affection in the habit of Gratitude, could not satisfie her selfe in honouring him. We returned to Cyprus, where the Consolations and Applauses of the Court were infinite: For upon such occasions also those that hate are obliged to demonstrate a joyfulness, lest they shew their per­fidiousness. All the Kindred of the Count of Ci­thera absented themselves, that his Majesty [Page 76]should take no other revenge of them, and to remove any suspition of intending mischiefe. The Thracian Galleys with the body of Amurit­te were sent to Nicepolis with a true relation of what had passed. But I know not for all that, whether his mother & brother gave credit to the truth; who believes he is offended, cares not for the cause. Diaspe would not aske the Princess in marriage untill the arrivall of his, whom he shortly expected. He knew the ill inclination of the Court, who envying and hating his va­lour could not but with mortification behold the King and Princess to honour him. They suppo­sed that stolne from themselves which his Maje­sty conferred upon others, either for thankfulness or munificence.

The Dutchess would have proceeded in a dis­course of those, who either by power, or riches had rendred themselves formidable, even to King Vassileo himselfe; who (because he durst not pu­nish them) dissembled their faults; but percei­ving that the Princess gave signes of weariness, and that she difficultly kept her eyes open that combated with sleep, she broke off her Rclation, both of them betaking themselves to a most sweet repose.

The Historie of the Princesse Florides, and Prodito.

THE Island of Negropont, for the greatness, and the noblenesse of it, is Queen of the Archipelagus. It is separated from Paeotia by a long Channell, which joynes it with the firme Land. There I was borne King Dinanderto's Daughter, that then to the comfort of his Sub­jects, and admiration of his Neighbours, go­vern'd the Scepter. Among his many conditi­ons that rendred him to Adoration, his Goodness was one, through which many times he did not onely forget injuries received, but with an un­believed courtesie, loved those that hated him.

In the first yeares of his Reigne, he enlarged the Confines of his Empire so prosperously, that it seemed Fortune in a Dreame had subjugated Provinces to him. All that confin'd to him, hee had made his Tributaries, and had borne so suc­cessefull Armes, that his Conquests crowded one another, where also many times his owne souldiers found Sepulchers of glorie. He after fixed his minde upon higher Attempts, designing perhaps the recovery of that, which either by Fortune of warre, or other alienation had been usurp'd from the Crowne of Negropont. But on the suddaine he was constrained to call back his Forces, to the defence of his owne State, invaded by most powerfull Armies of Lodaso, King of Vesati, the most warlike that ever was borne of that Nation, the fiercest, and most for­midable in the world.

The Reasons that moved this man to invade us were supposed many: But the principall wa [...]; Some of my Fathers Subjects, who aspired un­der new Princes to mend their Fortunes, or who by their valour rendred necessary to the State, should be recompenced by his Majesty with be­stowing me on them to wife. The War being denounced, and we overcome, we began to feele all those discommodities and miseries which they receive who are seene unjustly dispoyled, and robb'd of what they have, without any meanes to prevent it. Our principall Cities, ei­ther through feare, or treachery, set open their Gates to the Enemie, so that the greatest part [Page 81]of his Dominions being lost, we had nothing remaining but what this Island contained in it.

My Father, who in many Battailes had found Fortune contrary to him, having gathered toge­ther the last Forces he was able to raise, Com­manded the Duke of Lovastine, who from a pri­vate Knight, by the Kings favour, with the envy of all, was advanced to this degree to Adven­ture his uttermost hopes on a set Field. The Duke readily obeyed the Commands of his Ma­jestie, and under Zenilp offered the Enemy bat­taile, who more then willingly encountred him. This was one of the most obstinate and bloudy fights they had: Even my memorie I confess hath lost the remembrance of so cruel assaults. It began two hours after Sun-rise, and continued till Noon, without the least advantage to be perceived on either side. Lodato, that for valour would yield to none, ran through every thing, leaving it hard to be distinguished, whether he was Generall, or a private Souldier. At last Victorie inclining to his side, and evident signes of having the better appearing; the Duke of Lovastine, all hope of overcomming being lost, with a select party of his best men charged that part where Lodato's Prowetle performed wonders. He alone aimed at him, and having unhorsed him, they wounded him mortally. His men, who obeyed him as a King, and adored him as a God, seeing him fall to the ground, ranne thither, making such a slaughter of our men, that there almost all our [Page 82]Officers of note were slaine, the Duke of Lova­stine being sorely wounded. The Vesats had the victorie, though losing their King: it was belee­ved they had the worst. He being brought off to his Pavillion, with so much undauntednesse exhorted his to prosecute the war, as if he had commanded over death. He recommended the Government of the Army to the Duke of Vima­na, entreating his to continue without faction; because they could not bee over-come, if they were not disunited. And desired his friends to dry their eyes; for hee could not have received a greater benefit from the Gods than to dye at the top of his glories, with his Armes in his hands; He had lived long enough he said, who had the Fortune to point them out the way of li­berty. With these words he ended his life, with so great a sorrow to his that many would not survive him. His Exequies were not yet ac­complished, but the Bier many dayes carryed about the Army, with such a sadnesse of the souldiers, that they (esteeming Tears too or­dinary a way to expesse their Passion and Affe­ction) bathed it daily with bloud.

Newes of this being brought to the Court, it was entertained according to severall affections. The friends to the Crowne rejoyced at it, as if this onely blow had occasioned our security and the safety of the State. But those that expected to build their hopes upon our Precipices, recei­ved it with an extraordinary sorrow, and ex­press'd it with attempting to bring the Duke of [Page 83]into disgrace with my Father, who being of an incredible goodnesse, did not believe himselfe deceived, nor that others would deceive him. His Majesty for all this continued to reward him according to the merit of his valour, enriching him daily with Lordships, money, and privi­ledges, so that he had not in the Kingdome nei­ther a Superiour nor Equall. He being adverti­zed of the Treacheries his Enemies intended him, writ to my Father: That having serv'd him so many yeares, carelesse of his life, hee desi­red now some repose, not to absent himselfe from dangers, or to withdraw himselfe from his service, but to cure himselfe of some Evils which rendred him an old and an unable man before his time. That the charge of an Army was over­great a Burthen for the shoulders of an old man, that had spent more bloud in the Service of the Crowne, then he had left for the preservation of himselfe. That the Interests of his Majesty re­quired, that others should bee employed in the Wars, to supply his weaknesses. Other Resolute, but very Respectfull things he urged, which compelled Dinanderto to send to him expressely that he should continue his command, adding o­ther particulars of honour, the more to oblige him to him.

The Duke for some time, to his very great ap­plause, prosecuted his charge; but understanding that his Enemies proceeded in multiplying crimes upon him, which never entred into his minde, that they treated about Articles of peace, [Page 84]without once mentioning him in them, and that the King of the Gauls sent the Duke of Riat with a Command equall to his owne, having but an ill opinion of the Princes of Catanosa, who were voluntiers in the Army; he began to thinke of some security for his owne safety. He set some Prisoners at liberty, without taking any thing from them, but a simple Testimony of honour. He negotiated effects of friendship with the Mo­narch of the Belgi, of the Aquitans, and the Celta; and lastly, so ordered the businesse, that the greater part of the Heads, the Colonels, and the Captaines of the Army subscribed to a wri­ting, in the which they obliged themselves to serve him in all encounters, and never to abandon him while they lived.

My Father had Notice speedily given him of all this; but not crediting these Relations, al­though proceeding from reasons well affected and uninterested, he would understand the truth with more certainty; he made the Duke of Lassi­mano, Nephew to Lovastine, to be brought into his presence, unto whom he made a Discourse of the Merits, of the Virtue, and of the Victories of the Generall, and that hee had resolved to send him to him, to comfort him, and assure him, that sinister informations could not alienate his heart from that man, whom he loved equall to himselfe. That hee knew the wickednesse of Courts, where the most worthy are the soonest exposed to the injuries of malignity and envy. Upon this occasion, he made one of his Coun­cellors [Page 85]of State to accompany him, giving him private Commission to spy into the actions of the Duke of Lovastine, forcing himselfe to penetrate even into his thoughts, his operations, and his ends. The Councellour being come to the Ar­my was informed of the Rebellion of the Ge­nerall, of his Treaties with the Enemies, and of a thousand other particulars, which rendred him guilty. He gave his Majesty notice of this, while some of the chiefe who had subscribed to the Paper, came and signified it in his pre­sence.

My Father remained astonished at an attempt so execrable. Considering that the summe of the businesses consisted in the speedy dispatch of them, he declared the Duke of Lovastines Com­mission for Generall to be void, that he was a Rebell to the Crowne, and an enemy to his Prince, commanding all the Provinces that they should not obey him, and promised high rewards to such as should deliver him into his hands. He committed the charge of his crimes to Colateral Picomeni, and to the Count of Lagasso, Subjects of an experimented worth. Thus he comman­ded that he should entertaine the enemy, and that he charged to take the Duke before he should have time to defend or save himselfe.

Lovastine was in a walled Towne in the Con­fines of Baeotia when he understood the delibe­rations of his Majesty. Here, although he could have defended himself [...], having Souldiers and Ammunition enough, perceiving the Colours of [Page 86]the Count of Lagasso, that intended to surprize him under the appearance of a friend, he fled thence with two Troopes of Horse, and foure Colonells joyned to him by friendship and kin­dred. He retired into a Castle, the strongest of Baeetia, with hope there to defend himselfe from all the Forces of the world. The scituation ren­dred it inexpugnable by Nature and Art. The Souldiers were of a try'd fidelity, and the Go­vernour his Creature, by him elected to that Command, a stranger by birth, for the most part valerous, the most worthy, and the most faith­full. The Advises of Lagasso were brought thi­ther before the arrivall of the Duke; whereup­on the Governour (after he had received him in­to the Castle, and had saluted him with wel­come belonging to a Subject, and a Subject ob­liged with benefits) he resolved to secure him. He shut the Duke up in a Chamber, molested with thoughts, or indispositions of health, and without taking any meat, gave order he should be left to his repose. The rest, being invited by the Governour, went with him to supper, where almost all that were acquainted with his purpose came among them, and a certaine signe being given, they were slaine with little or no resi­stance. Being surprised, they had scarce time to lay hold on their Swords, two of them being killed before they could rise from their seats. From thence, presently after, they went to the Chamber where the Duke was, and breaking down the doore they rushed violently in. He [Page 87]starting up, ran to a window, either to leap forth, or to call out for help. Perceiving the height mortall, to escape impossible, and his Guard out of the way, he leapt upon a souldier to take his Halbert from him. They with so much cunning prosecuted their businesse, that the Duke unwittingly wounded himselfe mortally upon it. He after spoke many words, protesting his innocency. That he fled from the anger of his Majesty without any other meaning but to se­cure himselfe; That if he had had any intention upon the Kings life, or on the Kingdom, he could not have wanted waies more secure and execra­ble; That he appealed to his Majesty when he would cast aside the ill impression he had recei­ved from his ill-willers, and desired him with all severity to weigh his Actions. He aggrava­ted the misery of those who are necessitated to serve the Grandees of the world, that can do what they will.

The standers by suffered him to speake till he breathed out his soule, either for the reverence they bore him, who many times had commanded even the King himselfe, or else because, percei­ving him a dying, they esteemed it an impiety to be cruell to a Carkasse. My Father at the report of these things could not refraine from teares; he commanded sacrifices should be offered to the Gods for the good of his soule. Although many had a hand in this Conspiracy, he contented him­selfe only with the imprisonment of two. Ac­counting it an high revenge if he made others [Page 88]see, that if he had a mind he had power to punish offenders.

These extreames of his goodnesse gave leave to some wicked men to aggravate the Innocency of the Duke of Lovastine in so free discourses, that my Father was in a very great feare of him­selfe. They said, the services he had done to the Crown merited not a death so much the more miserable, because it was infamous. That that should not be denied to the greatest man of the world, which is not refused to the least. That Dinanderto learnt ingratitude of other Princes, which was a blameable fault in all, but a cursed one in his Majesty, that would have his owne goodnesse and piety believed greater than the deserts of the other. That the Kingdome had felt the dammage of such a losse. And that the Enemy had never had a compleater victory than now by the death of so great a Commander.

Only the Duke of Lassimano, Lovastines Ne­phew, aggravating the Crimes of his Uncle, ac­cused my Father of too much gentlenesse in be­ing contented, that the life of only one should be sacrificed for his safetie and feares; That had he been guilty of no other faults but his intelligence with the Enemies of the Crown, that was suf­ficient to render him worthy of any Punishment. These aggravations in a manner so won upon the goodnesse of my Father, who (not considering that injuries are never forgot, and that being writ indelebly in the heart, they dye not but with the heart it selfe) conferred all possible honours [Page 89]upon him; and lastly recommended to him the defence of himselfe. His Majesty remained con­fident of the affection of this man, he perfor­ming one deed that made him imagined very faithfull. My Father, being gone an hunting with almost all the Court, was surprised with a sudden showre, accompanied with haile, thun­ders, and wind, that it seemed it would devoure the world. He got into a Cave to shelter him­selfe from the fury of Heaven. Scarce was he entred within it, but broken, I know not whe­ther by time or destiny, with an unexpected ruine it began to tumble down. All overcome with amazement preferred their owne safety be­fore the Kings, flying thence whither their feare carried them. The Duke, either out of bravery contemning death, or to authenticate his infide­lity, supporting with his back what was ready to fall, with no small danger to himselfe, gave leisure to my Father to escape forth, who after­wards sent others in to bring him off, who had remained there in great danger to have sunke under the weight.

His Majesty beleeving that these deeds could not be counterfeit, and that it was not possible that one should hazard life for him he loved not, kept him alwaies neare him, and according to his liking were all Counsels determined, and all deliberations regulated. The perfidious man, growing proud of the prosperity of his Fortune, feigued himselfe enamoured of me, with so much cunning, that it seemed he was willing to [Page 90]dye for love. I that could not endure to look on him, not so much because he was Nephew to a Traytour, but because formerly I had obliged my heart to the Duke of Filena, one of the most worthy and consciousest Princes that belonged to the service of the Crown. My Father did not oppose my desires, and if the Interesses of the War had not diverted, that thought had effectu­ated them. It was easie for Prodirto (for so was the Duke of Lassimano called) perceiving him­selfe excluded, and flighted by me, to penetrate into my ends. Our practices were apparent to all; for I supposing my selfe, as it were, as good as married to him, there was not any thing that I omitted to make him beleeve me so. Prodirto studied to free himselfe of a Rivall, and did it under the species of honour, according to his usuall cunning.

Instead of the Prince my brother, a Generall of the Army was to be chosen, who not being yet sixteen yeares of Age could not undergo the troubles of War. He served himselfe with this occasion to send the Duke of Filena far off. He proposed this to the Councell of State, applau­ding the greatnesse of his mind, and the merits of his person, with so much eloquence, that he prevailed for his departure, and notwithstan­ding a thousand oppositions, and infinite preten­ces, he was there chosen by the greater part of the Votes. The Duke of Filena being gone to his Charge, Prodirto applied his mind to the ac­complishment of his wickednesses.

My Father was given to love much more then was befitting a Prince; There was no other ble­mish upon his honours, but this of naturall in­clination, reputed blameable in the opinion of all men: for although it be common to all, yet it is not so convenient for all. The Age of my Fa­ther, which was now declining, and two Chil­dren, which made him seeme older than he was, could not stop him in the pursuit of his pleasures. He had received, presented to him, a Greek of so singular beauties, that they would have overcome the continency of a thousand Xenocrates's. The beauty of Venus, being subjected to comparison, would have found in the face of her, at least emu­lation, if not envy. To this my Father engaged all his affections; All the houres that he could steale from publick businesse he spent in the frui­tion, or adoration of that Object, of which many times he had confessed himselfe unworthy. He had kept her in his own Lodgings, if mine and my brothers yeares had not perswaded him to the contrary. At the farther end of the Garden there were some Lodgings, with Pictures em­bellished, and Sculptures of the chiefe of their profession. Pornia here was laid, for so was the name of that Greeke, with so much care of my Father, who not only would conceale her from the eyes of heaven, but many times became jea­lous even of his own selfe. Prodirto prevailing upon this occasion, feigned some businesse of ve­ry great consequence with my Father. He told him, that Pornia weary of the cold embraces [Page 92]of an old man, with a scorne to his Majesty, almost every night enjoyed a young man belon­ging to the Court of a very low condition. It was no difficult thing that this lye should sudden­ly find credit with my Father: For some Lo­vers beleeve impossible things true. He shewed so lively feelings of griefe, that it appeared his heart, presaging his evill, did not without rea­son oblige him to sorrow. After various Consul­tations, he resolved (being so perswaded by Pro­dirto) to go with him alone in the darkest time of the night to punish that Prometheus, who durst presume to steale his fire.

The Duke being gone, joyfull at this Resoluti­on, went to find the Prince my brother: with whom it was no hard thing to worke a greater Art than that which he had used with his Maje­sty. He represented to him (after a feigned relati­on of the deed) that injuries done to the Father directly wounded the reputation of the Son, who ought the more to resent them, because he had the more strength to revenge them. That his Majesty could not receive a greater comfort than to see his Son so ardent in chastening injuries committed against his Father. That to publish it was scanda­lous, dangerous, and unhandsome. That though, peradventure, it should be false when it should chance to be reported to his Majesty, he would re­ceive it with an high opinion of him, and if that it were true, there could not be an easier and worthier revenge imagined than by his own hands. That it was an high great priviledge to [Page 93]Princes to have power to punish injuries with­out danger to their friends. He also added the easiness of the taske, not to have to doe with more then one man without Armes, and who be­ing set on on the suddaine, may be imagin'd soon kill'd. To be briefe, he did not omit any Mo­tive that he thought might perswade him. All Considerations were superfluous, for the Prince was resolved upon the knowledge of the Deed. He loved Pornia with no ordinarie affection, and conceited this Offence done against himselfe. If he could, he would have got her before she fell into the hands of his Father: afterwards, either for duty or feare he seemed not to care for her; although his desires encreased, by reason, he con­cealed them.

The night came so furnished with darknesse, (even palpable) that it could not be more obscure. The unfortunate Father and Son believed Hea­ven was propitious to their Designes, being able amid'st these Honours to observe, without be­ing observed, which it meant to cover, or pre­vent so cruell an action. The Stars also vanished all out of sight, peradventure not to be call'd guilty of that Tragedy, the malignity of their Influencea, ordinarily being accus'd for that which depends absolutely on our Wills. Or else they hid their heads to make their deaths appear more miserable, in that they could not implore and see the Celestiall Luminaries.

My Father giving himselfe over to be direct­ed in all the businesse, by the will of Prodirto [Page 94]descended into the Garden, that very moment the Prince came thither. They encounter neare Pornia's Lodgings; each of them did imagine at whom they expected, and began to wound one another. They struck but two blowes a piece, and none in vaine: The Prince received an hurt in his head, which broke his skull, and was runne in his breast through his body. My Father also had a wound which came out at his shoulder, but being in a fleshy place, though it was dangerous, it was not mortall. The other, although no very great one, was in his throat, which hindred his breathing, and voice. Hea­ring the Prince fall, he said he was alive, and called Prodirto, that he should aide him. The Traytor suspecting these words, might awaken the Souldiers, or the Court, although hardly heard by himselfe, came against him, murthering him with many stabs of a Dagger, which he carried to that purpose.

Floridea here staied, her teares interrup­ted her words. You cannot deny (said she) un­to the unhappy Memory of my Father those Rights of Amuritte, which being knowne in all, are more though then naturall in women. Sup­pressing notwithstanding her griefe with a ge­nerous suflerance, she proceeded.

Prodirto being gone out of the Garden, through a private doore, called together the greatest part of his Kindred, who being certi­fied of the deed, without any resistance tooke possession of the City, They that were more [Page 95]honest, being astonished at this chance, percei­ving to declare for my Right, were to precipi­tate themselves into danger of their lives, gave way to Fortune, rather then Tyranny.

Whilst these strange Changes were in act­ing, I enjoyed a most sweet Retirement. I mock­ed at Destiny, which being evermore ready to vex me, now decived me with (as it were) a brave pleasant sleep. I was then for my Recrea­tion in a Castle upon the Sea shore, and to obey the will of my Father, who much against his minde look'd upon those that could reprove him of his Amours, although with silence. I was awakened out of it by the Guard, and Pornia was presented to me, who more by her teares then by her words assured me of my evill. The griefe I received at it was so great, that becom­ming an alter'd woman, I deceived the opinion of others, not being able to deceive my owne sorrow. They thought to have seen me run mad, overcome with Passion, which being growne to the height, suffered not any externall actions to disburthen my heart. That griefe is ordi­nary which is raised by weeping, and that can evaporate it selfe by shreeks and lamentation. Those Diseases are mortall which take away the life before they shew their Malignitie. Truely, I know not whether I was so estranged from my selfe by the greatnesse of my sorrow, or for feare of my selfe, which (from my Imagina­tion) represented to me a great deale more then the losse of my Father and brother.

I was about doubling the Guards, and to for­tifie the Castle just as the Traytor sent to sur­prize it. When he understood his Attempt was frustrated, for anger hee made him to be be­headed, to whom he had given the Command. Many times Traytors exercise Justice, not be­cause they are just, but because Heaven will be served by their impieties to punish wicked men. He besieged me in the Castle, having be­fore made use of all affectionate words to gaine me without violence. Although I could have resisted all the Armies of the Kingdome, I could not, notwithstanding fight against Necessity, there being Ammunition but for a Moneth. Their fidelity that preferr'd my safety above their owne could not bee cemented against Famine, which without combating can Conquer Ar­mies.

Whereupon I resolved to send two of my trusty servants to the Duke of Filena to implore his succour. I gave him an account of the vic­lence of Prodirto, and the dangers of my Virgi­nity and life. Although Lovers have no need of Spurs, I used all those means that had power to perswade even the minde of an Enemy. I re­membered him that the Kingdom of Negrepont, expected from his Valour, a release from Ty­ranny, that comming to my aide, hee brought a Defence for his owne Affaires. I added that I would have sent him my heart, if a thing so deare that bore his Image on it would have been separated by the Treacheries of Enemies, or the [Page 97]faith of a servant. I gave him notice also, that if he could not come with his Armie, he should with one Galley, the Sea being free then, the Foe having no vessels of consideration, so that all o­ther Remedies failing, I might flie thence with him to preserve alive my Title to the King­dome, and to escape from the hands of a Tray­tor.

In ten dayes an Answer returned, but not the messenger, being deceived by a counterfeit Cha­racter, I attended the Duke of Filena's com­ming, with that Anxiety a Lover can wish for, as it was promised me by the Letter, darker then usuall, by the obscurenesse of the Treason they prepared. The appointed night being come, be­leeving I opened to the Duke of Filena, I found me between the Armes of Prodirto, who having secured my messengers by counterfeiting the Dukes hand, deceived me, he having neither in­genuity nor vertue to imitate the other in but onely his Characters. He had much adoe to hold my hand, which would preserve my liberty in despight of the treacheries of Enemies. But protesting all respect to mee, and promising me I should receive no harme, hee pacified me.

Although dayly he frequented my Company, he yet never forgot he was my Subject. His words were so courteous, his expressions so af­fectionate, his Promises so great, that they very much lessen'd my hatred, though it was impos­sible for me to love him. Every day hee had the [Page 98]Souldiers in a readinesse. The Commonalty hee obliged with Gifts, kept his friends together, entreated his kindred, and neglected no meanes that might assure the Crowne to him. All the principall Cities had sworne obedience to him; some being overcome by a desire of Novelty, o­thers by force, and all by cunning. He had an Army more numerous than strong: the poor he banished; and the Male content followed the Standards of that impious man, who ought not to have been followed but by as wicked as hee. When he saw himselfe freed from his feares, ei­ther by the flatteries of those that know not how to speak to Princes, but of Felicity: or by a mighty quantity of Halberdiers that waited on him, he began to lay aside that courtesie he had formerly used to me. Comming one day to talke with me, he said:

Princesse, If with my bloud I could re­store the life of your Father and Brother, I would do it with that eagernesse which beseems a Subject, who loves his Princesse equall to him­selfe. After their Decease I am put to the stern of this Ship, beat upon by the furie of Fortune, not to steale it from your greatnesse and merits, but not to suffer it to be endangered among the Rocks of Ambition, and not to abandon it to the Incursions of the most Barbarous, and most per­fidious. Notwithstanding this zeale of mine would shew little respect to the Acts of your Progenitors, and to the Establishment of your Happinesse, if I should not procure to protect [Page 99]your youth from the intentions of many, with joyning you in marriage to a person who is able to defend your Kingdome for you. Having re­flected upon Princes, that parallel you in Do­minions, I have found more oppositions then e­qualities: Many either deform'd in minde, or countenance: Others incapable, or insupporta­ble in the Kingdome. Lastly, all either so full of those Tenents, or of those vices detested by others, but insupportable to the people of Ne­gropont. After many considerations I have re­solved, that you cannot finde out a more secure stay, nor more to be authorized then my selfe. I am perswaded no body will disdaine to serve him who hath the Queen to his wife, and hath many times commanded the King himselfe. I do not believe I am unworthy of you, not so much because I exceedingly love you, but by reason I demand that, which by the right of Warre ought to be mine. You ought not to resuse me, if you have regard to the Danger your person is in, the security of your State, and to the quiet of your Subjects.

He omitted not other Particulars, and other Maximes, accompanyed with so much craft, that they would have deceived those that had not knowne him. I thought it not best to con­tradict him, whose hands were no lesse wic­ked then his heart. I believed that nothing else could save me, but making use of his Appaten­ces to deceive Art by Art. I answered him: That this was not the first expression of his Affe­ction, [Page 100]nor these the first Obligations that the Crowne of Negropont owed him: That if the Gods vonchsafed me to reigne, he should find no ingrateful effects in it; that he should have no occasion to envy the felicity of any, nor to de­sire an higher greatnesse. That I would establish him in such a condition, that he should find his troubles abundantly rewarded, and his zeale re­quited. That concerning marriage, I neither re­fused, nor received him. That when peace and quietnesse had secured the Crowne, and confir­med the Scepter to me, I would follow the ad­vice of the Councell of State, the will of my friends, and of him in particular. That I con­ceived it very necessary to have the opinion of the Duke of Filena, as one who at present was the Patron of the Armies neare the Kingdome: and that it was expedient to demand his advice, to expresse I espected him, although I should displease him.

To these words he replyed, that he commen­ded my Discourse, as having its foundation upon safety, and reason: But that I ought to take notice, that weighty businesses, if they were not prosecuted with speed, encountred with a thou­sand hindrances which retarded them, and ma­ny times confounds them. That it was an effect of weaknesse to depend upon the desires and the wills of others that aime for the most part at their owne proper Interests, not to the Greatness or Reputation of Princes. That Kings sometimes admitted of Councell to heare the applauses and [Page 101]approbations of their own opinions, not to be brought to theirs. What should Princes be if they must depend on the Consults, and be regulated by the odde humours of others. That at the be­ginning of her Reigne she should not prejudi­cate her own authority. Subjects too often en­trench upon Jurisdiction, and endeavour to pre­scribe Law to their King. Especially, that choo­sing a Prince for her Husband, not unworthy of her selfe, she was not obliged to depend upon the will, no not of her Father himselfe.

I contradicting these opinions with many rea­sons, and he enforcing himselfe to confute the same, after many replies grew angry with me in his talke, and being cruell by nature, began to lay hands on me, saying; That he had power to perswade me even without speaking. I endea­voured to have killed my selfe, but it availed not. For he, fearing my resolutions, gave me not lei­sure to lay hold on any thing. I gave way to my teares to try, if with the most lively bloud of my soule, I might purchse my honesty. This thought of mine took not effect, for there is no bloud that can mollifie an heart that is harder than Di­amond. The perfidious man attempted to ac­complish his designes now. My defences served me to no other end, but to weaken my selfe, and exasperate him the more. I that much rather desi­red death than the losse of mine honour, although I should see my body but not my mind forc't, troubled him with repulses, with bitings, with my nailes, not omitting schreekes and teares, [Page 102]that I know not how the stones escaped to be moved to Rescue. Pornia, full of an incredible boldnesse, ran in at this noise, tooke a dagger, which by chance lay there, and seeing the vio­lence he offered me, gave him such a blow, that had it hit full, he had never more made use of force. Perceiving himselfe strook, he came against Por­nia, who but weakly defending her selfe, ready to dye with many wounds, fell down. I ran into another Chamber, wherein there was nothing; but I imployed to secure the doore. He made not any use of his strength against it: whereupon I being assured by those that waited on me of Pro­dirto's departure, came forth not to defraud Por­nias Funerall of my teares.

There was in the Castle a little Temple con­secrated to Pallas. Hardly was I arrived there to make ready the Hearse, when Prodirto entred, so changed in his countenance, that I beleeved him certainly come to murder me. He com­manded some of his by maine force to seize on me, making me to be carried into a Galley, which he had in readinesse neare the Castle. Then he made them fall to their Oars exhor­ting them by his own voice, and hasting them by the whip. It was necessary for him to be gone, because the Duke of Filena, with all his Army was come to take him Prisoner. The Souldiery had suddenly revolted, and all the Cities had set their Gates open to him, and offered him their Keyes, the which in my name he received from all. We were not forty Leagues from the Island [Page 103]but the Gods made Prodirto know how much they hated Traitours. At an instant the Sun was seen to be obscured, the Aire darkened, and the Sea grown rough. Thunders and Lightnings strove together to deprive the Marriners of their sight and hearing. Many times it seemed, when we were mounted up by the Waves, that the Heavens opened to receive us, to strike us with Lightning neare hand, as if the Thunder-bolts could not reach us further off. The Sterne was broken, the Mast split, the Tacklings unfit for use, the Anchors lost, the Sailes torne, the Marriners amazed,, and the Slaves weary, when, defended only by the goodnesse of our Vessell, with a most prosperous presage we came to shore in your Kingdome, in that port of the Island, which out of a respect to religion continues inha­bitable.

She would have related how, being led aside by the Duke to ease himselfe after the weariness of the sea, she had the opportunity to escape from him, if she had not been prevented by the Dutchesse of Bell Prato, who put a letter into Dianeas hands; Knowing the hand, she received it with such a feeling as falls into that mind which feares, and hopes. Before she read it she said to Floridea; Friend, and Sister, for by these names I will ever call you, it is fit that I discover to your gentle disposition all the seerets of my heart. This Letter comes from Diaspe the Prince of Creete; the Character doth not deceive me; But whether as from an enemy or friend I know [Page 104]not; because your Arrivall here had disturbed our appointments, and prevented our designes. Just when I first saw you, the Prince attended; you having barred up the Entrance, and I not in time giving him notice of it hath made him de­part hence towards Creete. All my diligence hi­therto to find him hath proved fruitlesse. Now he writes to me. I cannot but imagine he is angry. Heaven grant it be not implacable: Though I know that such fits in Lovers are fomentations to affection. This said, she read the Letter; The Contents of which were these.

She had scarce read these last words, but her hands would make amends for the Offences gi­ven her eyes, tearing that Letter into a thousand peeces, which designed her to a continuall la­mentation. Her tongue also ran for the succour of her heart, uttering those things which might vent out her griefe and lessen her passion. Faith­lesse man, said shee, didst thou want other meanes lesse impious to satiate thy barbarismes? Couldst thou with waies more cruell disdaine my Affections? With wickeder stratagems couldst thou triumph over my simplicity? Couldst thou with more disguised Fictions betray my In­nocency? Is this thy faith! these thy promises! these thy oaths! O Dianea, only unhappy be­cause thou hast loved. Gods, why preserved you me from the hands of the Thracian, who could only have deprived me of my life, to leave me a prey to a wicked one, who at once takes from me [Page 106]my Kingdomee, Life, and Honour? Wherefore preserved you me safe from the furies of the sea, to let me be swallowed up in an Occan of Infa­my? Cruell one, are they Arguments that I can love others, because I have loved thee? Thou shouldst not therefore have doubted of it, being I cannot love my selfe. If I had, I should not have disposed my honour and fortune into the hands of a man, to whom inconstancy is as proper as motion to the Heavens. Thou hast rea­son to suppose mee unfaithfull, because I have betrayed my selfe. But where are those testimo­nies that make my Innocency seeme guilty? How canst thou convince my heart of disloyalty, that out of an abundance of affection to thee grew jealous of it selfe? Ought I then to be convicted for a simple suspition? Doubts then must serve for proofes against her, who to be be thine hath been willing to endanger her life, displease her Subjects, and deceive her Father. Wicked man, I know thy perfidiousnesse. Because thou canst not love, thou feignest things for true which cannot fall under Imagination, much lesse sense. Suspitions are not nourished but in unfaithfull bosomes: as Thunder-bolts are not made but in the coldest Regions of the Aire.

Dianea no sooner had finished these Com­plaints, but Floridea would have tried all means to have comforted her, if she had not been assu­red by the Dutchesse, that her Father who came to visite her was not far off. At notice of this she stopped the Torrent of those teares, which [Page 107]ran with her tongue to exaggerate her sorrows. She forced her selfe to disguise her passions, and to conceale those signs that might make the wa­rinesse of a King jealous, whom Age had not de­prived of his judgement. Having taken leave of Floridea, she went to meet her Father, who was already entred into the Pallace. She pre­sently gave signe, by the palenesse of her face, and by the gastlinesse of her eyes, of the moti­ons of her mind, and the alteration of her heart. Yet for the most part she satisfied the feares of her Father, suspitious at it; she told him the cause, laying the blame on the night past, where­in she had neither slept, nor taken any repose; you had need therefore (replied Vassileo) choose you such a Companion that should provoke you to rest, and taking her by the hand retired into the Garden, and said to her:

Daughter, since the unfortunate successe of the Infante of Armenia, I have had no greater thought than about your Marriage. You cannot remaine as you are, without danger to your selfe, and me. They that envy the happinesse of my State, and aspire to the Possession of the King­dome, under the pretence of wedding you, co­ver either their infidelity, or ambition. The ex­ample of the Count of Cithera should teach Princes not to promote, with hopes, the wicked affections of their Subjects, and strangers. There is not any who will not acknowledge himselfe enamoured on your person, and your Kingdome. But should other Motives be wanting, that of po­sterity [Page 108]makes me desirous; I wish to see my selfe re­newed in my Grand-Children, which I would not leave in their Nonage in a Kingdome so great and powerfull, but yet not without enemies. Pro­vinces and Kingdomes, the richer they are the more are they envied. Many make but slight e­steeme of that victory, which enricheth not the Conquerour, and great dangers stay not some from great pretensions; your Nuptials will allay these suspitions which deprive me of all conso­lation. To these therefore I desire your assent, which I beleeve cannot be contrary to my de­sires and my entreaties.

Dianea dissembling those afflictions that op­pressed her soule, after a little pause to recover her spirits, answered; Becks from your Majesty ought by all to be received as Commands, not only by your Daughter, who hath learnt no o­ther thing but obedience, and can serve you in nothing but obeying you. The King replied, an­other answer he could not looke for from her dis­cretion and affection: The Duke of Filena shall be your Husband, a young man to whom no­thing is wanting to render him superiour to all, but a Kingdome, which you shall bring him in dowry. In peace he hath not his Equall, and in war none above him. The Kingdome of Negro­pont, which hath been the Theatre, whereon he hath acted the wonders of his valour, bewailes his absence. He hath quieted the seditious, ex­tinguished the Rebels, returned liberty to the people, and not being else able to resist the en­treaties [Page 109]of those who would have had him their King, he is hither retired into our Kingdome. Prepare you then, for I will remove all stops that may delay this Marriage. This said, he parted from her, because perceiving Dianea in a great perplexity of mind he would not trouble her farther, retiring joyfull to the Court, in that he had opened the businesse, on which he concei­ved all his happinesse depended.

Dianea, after her Fathers departure, finding her heart a narrow Vessell for an Excesse of an over-flowing Love, exhaled her Passion in words, sighes, and teares. Now she called Heaven to be witnesse of her Innocencie. Now blamed Cupid, that ingenerated in the hearts of Lo­vers suspitions so farre from Truth. Now she accused Diaspe of injustice, who had concluded her guilty without hearing her defences. Now she complained of Fortune, who (between her perpetuall motions of inconstancy) was a conti­nuall affliction to her. Now she reproved her selfe of her errours, for so easily yielding to the Affections of that man which determine in the fruition of the Object. But when she fixed up­on the consideration of having promised her Fa­ther to entertaine the marriage with the Duke of Filena, and to be deprived even of the hope of having Diaspe, forgetting altogether the re­servednesse becomming a Princesse; it appeared by her, that she would not, or could not live a­ny longer. She beat the earth with her feet, because she having been believed a Heaven of [Page 110]Beauty, peradventure perswaded her selfe that the Vapours of her Passions could have no o­riginall, but from the Earth. She struck her face with her hands, as if she meant to punish the beauty there, as Author of her Infelicity. Shee knocked her Breast, and it seemed she would chase thence that Image which against her will tyrannized in her heart. Lastly, she tore her haire, making them guilty of Diaspe's far away absence, because they had not the power to stay and entangle him. The sense of her sorrow cea­sed not to torment her: And these Rages which came as Natures under-Assistants for the consola­tion of her minde, augmented the oppressions of it. Finally, overcome and cast downe by the Assault of of many passions, she was constrai­ned, by a violent Fever, to betake her selfe to her Bed, whilst her griefes presaged nothing but her Death.

The Dutchess used all meanes to comfort her, representing to her infinite expectations; very well knowing, that hope, although remote, is the true nourishment of Love, and the onely Consolation of Lovers. When shee perceived her tired, with a Conquering sorrow, and that it seemed that her eyes which were even drai­ned with weeping, desired Repose, despight of griefe, which wished to see her engaged to a perpetuall Lamentation, she went from her to Floridea in the Cave. To whom she recounted the ill-fortune of the Princess, and the Resolu­tion she had taken to disoblige her heart from [Page 111] Diaspe, obeying her Father, and marrying the Duke of Filena. The Dutchess had understood from Dianea, King Vassileo's Intention, but knew nothing of the Love that had passed be­tween Floridea, and the Duke of Filena.

When Floridea heard the Duke named, with a great alteration, she beseeched, who was that Duke of Filena, who was accounted worthy of such a Princess. The Dutchess answered her, he was the most celebrated King at that time Fame reported, and that enoblized the Glories of his bloud, by the wonders of his Vertue, by which hee had conquered envy it selfe. That King Vassileo, even when he was a great way hence, had elected him for his sonne, and that not many dayes since he arrived here to solem­nize these Nuptialls, which most sumptuously are a preparing. Floridea had scarce heard the sense of these last words, but being surprized with a trembling of the heart, she beseeched the Dutchess to leave her, untill she had passed over that fit, which she conceived of little moment, being accustomed formerly to have greater. Be­ing alone, she gave liberty to her tongue, that accompanying her eyes, they might celebrate the Funerall of her hopes.

Unfortunate (cry'd she) are they that found their Desires upon the inconstancies of Fortune. I grew proud in holding her by the haire, and perswaded my self, I might with all security res [...] me in the midd'st of her wheele, having been sheltered from the Barbarismes of Traytors, [Page 112]preserved from the Furies of the Sea, and to have found so large a share in the affections of so great a Princess; and now I see my selfe a new reduced to that condition, that Death would be the least of my miseries. How uncertaine are our Thoughts! How vaine our Designes! How beguiled our Hopes! and how betray'd our opi­nions! I imagined that this Grot, that had hid me from the cruelty of mine enemies, would have also preserved me from the cruellest blowes of Destiny. I believed it had not been able to pe­netrate into this Cave which the Sun dares not disclose. Ah me unhappy! what Remedy shall I look for? I have found the ill, and Death hath mocked me with an appearance of Recoverie. I am like those Flies, which burne themselves in that fire, which they believed would have che­rished them. But to whom profits it me to com­plaine, since 'tis in the power of this hand to release me from all the molestations of the world? That woman is too much miserable that hath no other meanes to ease her of her miserie, but her teares. But I have a Courage to dye when I will, and that envies not the constancie of those breasts, that being of a less fraile Sex, are judged therefore the more generous. But whither doth my griefe transport my tongue, and my reason make me wander? For the present, I ought not, nor can I dye: For being the Duke of Filena's, I should not relinquish his Com­mands. I ought to depend upon his will, and to heare my selfe his Resolutions. Others reports [Page 113]for the most part, are either interested or care­less. In the affaires of Love, the circumstances give, and take away life: When thou shalt say, (O Duke of Filena) thou wilt not be mine; When thou shalt refuse that Sacrifice thou hast of my heart, then I can dispose of my selfe ac­cording to my pleasure. At the present my thought could not be innocent, if it should vio­late thy right. If thou wilt have Dianea, I will not oppose thee. For I should love thee but a little, if for my proper Interest I should deprive thee of so gratefull a thing. Nevertheless, I know, that I offend thee, making that faith du­bious, which I have always served with so much loyalty.

Thus complayning without attending the Re­turne of the Dutchesse, as if shee hated those Roomes, fearing no longer Prodirto, nor the Encounters of Fortune, she went forth of the Cave, with the greatest anxiety that could be, taking that path which to her judgement might lead her whither her heart designed her. By the way she devised how she should appeare to the Duke of Filena. She prepared words premedi­tated, conceits which were by her selfe now accused as too humble, and now rejected as over-rigorous. Shee contriv'd, if shee found her selfe despised, how she should amplifie her sorrowes. And meditated if accepted of, by what wayes she should conceale her joy.

Whilst she agitated by these Passions, ren­dred the Incommodities of her travaile more [Page 114]supportable, Diaspe, who had resolved to aban­don the world, and to live amidst solitudes with­out the disturbance of those thoughts which make us abhorre life, condemning his opinion for base, had hired a great Barke to transport him to Creet. He thought with himselfe; The Af­fections to ones Countrie and Father to exceed all others. All sorrowes are comforted under that Heaven where all Influences are Prospe­ritie. He was scarce descry'd a good way from the Port, but that he told the Mariners they should presently receive him. Constancy may have residency in all things but the minds of Lo­vers. He feigned some businesse that he had, and commanded them to passe away the time till his returne. He walked towards the Grott, carried, I believe, more by his heart than his feet. Arri­ved there, finding the entrance open, he boldly entered, imagining, peradventure, to find Dianea in some errour.

Being come into the Court, he saw that Knight whom he had left for dead resting him­selfe upon a stone. He resolved no more to be deceived by the infidelity of her that introduced others into those Chambers, into the which he had perswaded himselfe that he only was admit­ted. But having left him on the earth breathless, and seeing him at the present in a very good state of health, he imagined them phantasmes of sleep, or delusions of Enchantments. He unde­ceived himselfe with his sword, assailing him, who, after the manner of Anteus, arose more [Page 115]vigorous by his falls. Offences and defences were at the same time. Blows were given and returned equally; victory was independent, nei­ther did the Palme bow towards either of them. The fight continued about an houre, maintained more by their anger than strengths. Each of them blamed the edge of his sword, and the weakness of his Arme that strooke not down and van­quished his enemy. They were both of them all soyled with bloud, and it seemed death would have the Triumph of the fight, and of their lives. They could not any longer keep them on their feet, when after a long wrestling they fell down both together, leaving life in his hands who should dye the last. Their wounds truly were not mortall, but those also being a­gain opened which they had received before, they were so weakened by the much bloud they lost, that there appeared no signe that might make them thought alive.

At this very instant Dianea, who had taken truce from her sorrow, descended into the Cave to make Floridea acquainted with their both con­cerning miseries. At first sight she grew asto­nished, seeing two Carkasses to be the Object of her eyes. She presently received it as a Rein­counter of that wretchednesse which Fortune prepared for her. Suspitious, and doubtfull, wil­ling to be satisfied who they were that were come to solemnize (by dying) their Funerals in those retiring places; she saw Diaspe's face, that all over-spread with palenesse, it seemed they be­sought [Page 116]her aide, his tongue being unable to im­plore it; she schreeked not out, because her heart oppressed by a violent passion, hindred her voice, so that she could not speake; she ranne to embrace him, as if she would bury him in her selfe, beleeving that she could not give a Se­pulchre more worthy to a Carkasle so much be­loved. As soone as she perceived there was yet some hope of life, with impatiency she tore what came next to her hands to bind up his wounds, having yet before with a Jasper stone, which she had in a Ring, stanched his bloud.

Whiles Dianea held him in her armes, he be­ing a little returned to himselfe, breathing out a languishing sigh, opened his eyes, which met with those of hers, whom he loved and hated at the same instant. He presently closed them a­gaine, supposing his heart attempted to deceive his sight with those phantasmes; and that the strength of imagination made unpresent Objects seeme visible. Whereupon with a weeping voice he said: Hast not thou (O Fortune) yet per­chance satiated the cruelty of thy desires, that thou representest to me that Image that is more tormentfull to me than that death which I know approacheth. Thou believest (may be) these wounds are not sufficient to kill me, without striking me with an Object so dismall; or rather, I having no part of my body but mine eyes which can be offended, thou hast tormented them with a Ghost, with a Phantasme so noyous, so de­testfull.

Dianea could returne no answer to these words, but with her teares, which abundantly gushing from her eyes, made Diaspe understand he was in the armes of her, I know not whe­ther more beloved than hated. Many times he endeavoured to have risen, but being with-held by force, he added; What pity (perfidious one) is thine, who, having murthered me alive, now wouldst lament me dead? Complaine the Testimonies of thy disloyalty. O Lovers, give you credit to the doubleness of that heart that can bemoane whom it hath betrayed! Reserve these teares, Dianea, to contrive treasons a­gainst the simplicitie of some body that knows thee not.

Dianea, being unable to endure these words, which cast a shadow on her loyalty, interrupting him, answered: Deare Diaspe, if you had loved me you could not have doubted of the certainty of my faith. Suspitions are not begot but where there is little love. I neither will, nor can affect others besides you. I have but one heart which can entertaine the impression of but one alone Object. Would to heaven, replied Diaspe, that I could beguile my heart to beleeve thee innocent. I would dye a thousand times rather than see you miserable. And I answered, Dianea would en­counter death so many times more not to be such. If you afford beliefe to my teares and oaths, cre­dit these hands, which offer to subscribe my in­nocency with my bloud. So having said, she tooke Diaspe's Dagger to strike her selfe. He [Page 118]adding strength to his weaknesse, with held her, and said to her: And who is this Knight? What motives hath provoked him? Or by whom is he perswaded to betray my life, and spy out these retiring places? I see him new enlivened to re­new my miseries. I left him dead at the en­trance of the Grott, and to day Destiny hath made me find him more stout than ever. I know not how, replied Dianea presently to give you a greater account of these Accidents than that which you may conceive of your selfe. These Adventures are as strange to me as your disdaine came unimagined. I beseech heaven this Knight may live, that I may recover health from that hand which wounded me.

But these Discourses bring with them no salve for your hurts. Dianea is yours, and cannot be anothers. You much trouble her when you sus­pect her such. But rather you injure your selfe, manifesting demerits, which vexe and toyle the Affections of a Princesse. Hereupon rising she would have led him into one of those Chambers, but he would not consent till he had seen if the Duke were in a condition likely to live. They found he was very far spent with the losse of much bloud; a signe that gave them little hope of life. There were two beds, by the assistance of the Dutchesse, presently prepared, where they wounded were laid. Dianea attended to their Cure, being very well instructed in Chirurgery; not in that the Princesses of those times were skilfull in all the Sciences, and in this in particu­lar, [Page 119]as most necessary in the Pallaces of Princes, who will not trust their healths to the infidelity of others hands, but because from her child­hood her Genius had inclined her to it.

Oleandro in this while, with an impetuous beating of the heart, met with the Count of Si­linera, to whom he had given knowledge of his Arrivall. Divers Complements passed, which alwaies abound in the mouths of Great men. Sitting down in a Chamber of the Pallace, and dismissing his Attendants, who for the most part use to spy into the Actions of their Patrons, the Count of Salinera spoke thus: Prince Ole­andro, it transfixes my soule, that the first day in which I have had the fortune to reverence you should be funeralized with things most molest­full to him who is to execute them, and with sorrow to him that commands them. But I ha­ving to talke with a Prince, who counterpoiseth all actions with reason, and treating of the rea­son of State, which is the soule that quickens the body publike, you will receive those Offices in good part, which though they appeare unplea­sant are neverthelesse necessary. I will not re­member you of the miseries of this Kingdome, which at the present enjoyes no other quiet, nor other felicity than that which an ideall, and an imaginary hope can promise us. It is known to all, and I suppose to you in particular, that be­ing borne to command, you are obliged to ob­serve the Customes of people, and the misfor­tunes of Princes more than any other. Laws are [Page 120]here either neglected, or abused. Justice set to sale hath rendred interessed Rewards and Pu­nishments. The Nobility are become Tyrants over the Commonalty. The people fomenta­ted by the Chances of Fortune, have forgot their Obedience. Honours are dispenced at ran­dome. Desert and Vertue are suppressed by fa­vour and riches. The power of King Vassileo in a manner is restrained, so that he is scarce the Mastor of himselfe. Some that have gained the chiefe Offices, keep his eares as it were so besieged, that he suspects not ill though he prove it. And yet he hath beene advised by many, who have not feared to ruine themselves to save the Prince. This Advertisement hath been, if not too late, at least untimely; so that to apply a Remedy was to encrease, not to remove the Evill. The successes in the Kingdome have con­strained his Majestie to suffer the wicked, be­cause they should not grow worse. He that for Wisedome knowes neither a Superiour nor e­quall, hath been unwilling to stirre those hu­mours, which before they can be dissolved will destroy the Body. The Death of the Count of Cithera, a young man, that by his Liberalities had won the Affections of all, have so aliena­ted them from the King, that the most seditious now attend but for a new occasion to disguise the Impiety of their Designes.

To our Domestick miseries, externall are joyned. The King of Thacia and Armenia unite their Armies to invade us; the one to [Page 121]revenge the death of his Brother, and the other that of a son, as if King Vassileo himselfe had been the Author of them. The Chance (although it was of pure Fortune) is (without reason) ascribed to his Majestie: but to those that have an intention to wage warre, all Appearances be­come Causes. Kings, that have innumerable men and money, make that lawfull which they will, and under a mantle of Justice conceale their Ambition and Cruelty. In summe, this Com­motion hath put his Majesty into grave delibe­rations; for he shall at once be combated with e­nemies he knowes not; and have occasion to feare his owne as much as he doth the Armenians and Thracians.

To withdraw himselfe from so imminent dangers, he hath procur'd to make friendship with Princes his Neighbours, and those farther off. Some of them he hath awakened with this universall Maxime: That the greatnesse of the Armenians and Thracians cannot be but with perill to them. To give way that the for­ces of others should exceed their owne, endan­gers their Liberty to the discretion of an insolent; for such are Conquerours. Many he hath per­swaded by the ties of bloud, and others he hath put in minde of injuries received from these two Kingdomes: Some also he hath remem­bred of the Services hee done them. In briefe, hee hath not omitted any occasion nor notice to gaine him the hearts of those, who though they cannot aide him, at least shall doe him no harme.

In Africk he hath sounded the Affections of all, and hath there found such a forwardnesse, that the King of Egypt, with his Cousin the new King of Morocco, have offered them­selves to fall upon the Kingdome of Thracia to divert him, or take from him the occasion to invade us; knowing their State-Tenents not to maintaine two warres at one time. This fell out gratefull to his Majestie, because the onely forces of Armenia could not daunt ours, to whom for a long continuance of yeares they have alwayes yielded obedience so much the more, being under the command of a King who never had combated with other but wilde Beasts.

But this joy of King Vassileo's was mortified by notice given him that the King of Morocco dispatched Embasladours to have your Person delivered him; imagining himselfe whilst you lived, neither secure nor King. His injustices are so detestable to his Subjects, that they day­ly pray Heaven for your Returne. If the pre­sent state of things did not necessitate my ma­ster to any agreement, though unjust (for the Lawes of necessity are without Law; and it is allowable to doe every thing rather then fall) you should have no cause to feare any, and hee with as much Resolution would undertake your defence, as now it grieves him to desire your Departure. He hath committed to my charge to informe you of the state of things, and that he himselfe not being safe, can much lesse se­cure [Page 123]others. He knowes that daily there are Treacheries woven against you, and knowes that not long since you were dangerously woun­ded: He heard it with as much sorrow as can be imagined in a just Prince, constrained to sup­port injustices.

He entreats you therefore with the greatest privacy possible, to goe hence, that he be not compell'd to doe wrong either to you or him­selfe. He for feare of having it discovered, conceiving it dangerous to appoint you Vessells for your Transportation, as a Present hath sent you these Jewels, inferiour to your merit, but perhaps needfull in the Encounters of your new fortune. Though you were resolved to have continued here, his Majestie desires you to goe, and assures you, you shall doe it with safety: and will maintain that faith which he promised you, when first he knew his condition and birth. He is confident your wisedome will apprehend this Counsell, as the securest for the safety and reputation of you both. Cyprus is not worthy to possess such a Prince. You may with securi­ty promise to your selfe, that these feares of Warre being ceas'd, this Kingdome shall serve you as a Sanctuarie, and that King Vassileo a­bove all others will interest himselfe to favour you in the regaining you your Crowne. He loves Justice more then others, and cannot endure that the wicked should triumph over innocency. The rather by reason the cause is common to all, Kings oughting not to suffer Usurpation of [Page 124]States in others, lest they finde the experience of it in their owne.

Here the Count of Salinera held his peace. Whereupon Oleandro replyed: I ascribe it (my Lord) to my great fortune, that the Majesty of King Vassileo so much interests himselfe in my Calamities. I shall not alwayes remaine un­happy, being protected by such a Prince. I will be gone because he desires it, and goe willingly: Because Misfortunes ever attend me, I would not disquiet the safetie of his Kingdom. I will take along with me these Jewels, which he hath pleased to honour me with, not that I have need of them, but to have daily before mine eyes Testimonies of his Magnanimity, Greatnesse, and my obligations. I should thank him for what he hath done, and for what hee hath promised to doe for me, if these Duties were not common in all tongues. So great En­gagements claim a reverent Acknowledgement, which is ordinarily more expressed by silence then the tongue. The reasons you have alledged were uselesse to perswade me. It sufficeth that I see the Interests of the King or Kingdome to move me.

This Discourse being finished, the Count of Salinera bad him farewell, with a resentment more lively and true then those that are practi­sed in Courts. Oleandro complaining on the infinitenesse of his miseries, prepared himselfe with Arnalta for their Departure. Their Ha­bits were poore, his face he disfigured with a [Page 125]thousand blemishes. So Fortune knowes how to jest even with Princes. They that knew how to disguise themselves so, knew not how they should have knowne themselves. Celardo used all meanes to have borne them Company, But being over-come by reasons and prayers, was enforced to move it no farther, remaining in the possession of the Pallace.

These two Princes departed before the Ap­pearance of the Sunne could discover their de­parture. When they came to the Sea side, they were so weary they could hardly stand. Necessi­tie may trouble, but never can discourage wor­thy minds. Finding a Vessell, they went aboard it, which set saile that very night. The most noble Island of Cyprus was out of sight when they were (rowsed on a suddaine by the swel­lings of the Sea) assaulted by the winds, the Ma­riners were constrained to fall to land on a Rock, where by the help of swimming and Planks, they escaped from the water. The Coun­trey being unknowne, they put themselves to walk afoot at adventure, whilst the other wea­ried themselves to recover the ship-wrackt goods, which it seemed were spewed up by the Sea with a great fury upon those shores. Af­ter one houre and more of travailing they came to some Shepheards Cabbins, from whom they received meat and lodging the next night. These People, although they could not understand them, nor were understood, with a thousand signes of courtesie could not weary themselves [Page 126]with doing them honour. In minds base by birth many times are found gentlenesse, which great Ones either know not how to use, or will not. Morning being come, they departed by break of day, to find out some City where they might at leisure deliberate of what they should do.

They walked till that time of the day that the body requires the naturall tribute of meats. They rested them neare a Fountaine, and after their Repast gave themselves over to sleep, willing with a most pleasing repose to slight that fortune which only aimed to disquiet them. Whilest they lay in this fashion a Knight came upon them, for so he appeared by his Armes, and his Apparell. He cast his eyes upon Arnalta, and praising much that beauty, he fixed his look upon Oleandro. He presently knew him, though so unlike to himselfe. There is not any thing that can be concealed from the eyes of a Lover, His Travels, Misfortunes, Calamities had not so transformed him, that he could not be known for Oleandro by her that loved him.

Being assured that he was the very same, she trembled, swet, grew cold, became unmoveable. She was doubtfull whether she ought first to as­sault him with injuries or kisses. Before she would have been content that he had been ano­thers, so that she might have seen him: Now she rather wisheth him dead, than by the effects to discover certainly his perfidiousness, imagi­ning with her selfe that he weary and satiated with the Amours of her Sister, this with him [Page 127]was a new Mistris. Finally, recollecting the reasons of her displeasure, unsheathing his dag­ger, she said: Oleandro, now is the time thou shalt pay for injuries committed against my faith and the honour of my Family. It is unreasona­ble that I should endure that hatefull look which so many times I have found guilty. I ought not to let that man live, who with his only look can reprove me of my follies, and provoke blushes in that face he hath been able to slight. Thou (O wicked man) shalt prove what disdaine in the breast of a loving woman can do. Oh God! how foolish I am. How I yet love this impious man, that with this dagger, and death, know not but that I may make him happy. Would not he be fortunate if he might be freed from my in­dignation, and enter into a place where my ha­tred could not arrive. Impious and sacrilegious persons, whose hearts are replenished with all barbarismes, cannot for all that abide to looke upon the Testimonies of their wickednesses. Thou shalt receive more vexation with seeing me, and hearing me aggravate thy perfidiousness, than if I killed thee a thousand times. These Armes are too worthy for the breast of a Trai­tour. I will not honour nor immortallize thy death with these hands, which would even raze thy name out of the booke of Oblivion it selfe. But I know very well how to torment thee. I will kill her here, whom I doubt not but if thou lovest, thou wilt receive that punishment I wish thee.

So saying, she drew neare to Arnalta, and fu­riously lifting up the Dagger held it in the aire, saying to her selfe: In what hath this unfortu­nate one offended me, that I should thus misera­bly deprive her of life? I should not be angry with her for loving him, for I also have been in the same errour. Minds cannot be so compelled, that they should not desire the fruition of what seems good. And if she deserves any chastisement, what greater punishment can I give her than the company of so faithless a man, that promising her all felicity will make her miserable. He de­serves punishment, and to him I should give it; whereupon turning towards Oleandro to strike him, she was againe withheld with an amaze­ment at her selfe. Is not this the man, she consi­dered with her selfe, that hath had the love­raignty over my heart? Do not I love him, per­chance, more than my soule? 'Tis true, he is un­worthy to be beloved; 'tis true, he loves not me, and 'tis true, he is a Traitour: But how can my affection be assuredlier fixed than in his alienati­ons? To love being beloved is an Obligation. I ought to affect Oleandro through Gratitude, and to comply with my heart. The affections of one beloved should be won by obsequiousnesse, and not steele. Cruelty is altogether an adversa­ry to Love. If I kill him, I can never hope to en­joy him, who living may become sensible of his errour, and re-affect me. And more, if I love him, I should accommodate my selfe to his de­sires. I should only love my own satisfaction if I [Page 129]should not affect him, but because he loved me a­gaine. The Obligation of any that loves in ear­nest is to be transformed into the Genius of the beloved. It is neverthelesse good reason that I take from my eyes what may alienate him from my love, and molest me. She is a foole that can have the patience to endure a Rivall.

Having made these considerations, she came againe to Arnalta, and againe stayed her hand that was ready to strike her. If I desire (said she) the affection of Oleandro, why offend I him with killing one who is his Companion? If he truly affect her, and intends to preferre her be­fore me, seeing her murthered by my hands, he will much more hate me. If I would enjoy the Affection of Oleandro, it is necessary that I procure it by parelling this, whom I suppose his Mistris. When in her presence he shall professe he loves me, I shall not be deceived. What plea­sure would it be to me if he should love me out necessity, not having where to divert his affe­ctions? How can one rejoyce in that love which cannot be cimented by a Paragon. Ah foole, that I am! presume I yet in the love of this wicked one, in this sacrilegious, in this unfaithfull man. He hath deceived one sister, and the other is betraied, or slaine: And ought I to have hope on the instability of that heart that is inconstant in inconstancy it selfe. No, no, to retard ven­geance is to render him worse. Their Errours are to be pardoned who are in a state to do bet­ter; not them to whom forgivenesse serves as a [Page 130]fomentation to worse. This impious man there­fore I sacrifice to the justice of my disdaine.

Hereupon resolved to kill him, she moved her arme and directed the dagger towards his heart, as if she meant to punish that part first, by which first she supposed her selfe injured. The arrivall of a Knight, who having observed some­thing of these Discourses, hindered this resolu­tion, who just came in time to hold her hand. Blush you not (he said) to defile your selfe in the bloud of these, who by their habits cannot but be imagined base? Art thou of so meane a spirit, that thou wilt make war against persons that are overcome by sleep: Or throw away those armes, or truly performe things that may be worthy of those Armes? If thou knew'st, answered the o­ther, the Causes of my Anger thou wouldst ap­plaud my resolution, and be thy selfe the Author of their deaths. To take these wicked ones out of the world is to do a benefit to the publike. Per­sons so wicked may also be wickedly punished. Against those that are unarmed, replied the other, and those that are asleep, there is no reason that prevailes. It is not lawfull to do amisse to cha­stise an errour. Besides, from so meane persons an injury is not received. They are not so present­ly onward the first as the rusticity of their Ga­ments figures them to you. He is a Prince, yet unworthy of such a name, and goes peradven­ture in these counterfeit habits to deceive some other as he hath done me. So saying, she pulled off her Helme, adding: I am not a man, as per­haps [Page 131]you thought me. To give a masse to my Infelicity, which must alwaies accompany me, Nature made me a woman. I gave to this wic­ked one my love, my honour. Being growne weary of me, with the very same Arts which he had woven snares with, to beguile my simpli­city, he betrayed the heart of a sister of mine, who, forsaking the Kingdome, and her Father, would follow him. Satiated also with this he hath either abandoned, or slaine her, for I see him with another woman, and not her, whom he took with him.

Have not I then reason to be cruell against the softness of my sex in the iniquity of this impious man. No, Infanta Ariama, said Oleandro, who be­ing wakened at their talke, had in some part ob­served her Complaints, and knew her; The absent should never be condemned. Though I appeare guilty, I am not for all that such. If the benig­nity of that Infanta, who could give me her heart, would please to listen to my words, she should see that I am not to be blamed, as the world may believe I am; you should not fixe your selfe in the appearance of things. Even Jove sends forth his Lightnings when the Hea­ven is serene, and the Sun makes a glorious shew of himselfe sometimes when a shower falls.

Wicked man, answered the Infanta, how skilfull thou art to mascherate thy excuses! Thy perfidiousnesse might move me, if I had not proved the dammages of thy disloyalty. Tell me, tell me, perfidious man, how thou canst [Page 132]colour thy flight? What canst thou say for the be­traying of my sister? What moved thee to leave me with a pledge in my belly of thy unfaithful­nesse? Why didst thou not take me with thee instead of my sister? Faire Infanta replied Ole­andro: One cannot perswade one that will not be perswaded. If I have ever deceived you, if this heart hath ever produced desires which are not proper to my faith, and my obligations, if my mind be estranged from you, even in the va­nity of very dreames, I beseech Jove that he come against me with all his Lightnings; that Pluto make me subject to all the torments of his Kingdome; that the Earth may bring forth no other for me but wild beasts, brambles, and pey­sons; that the sea reserve for my sufferings all his Abysses, and finally, that the aire, uniting all the worst influences of it, instead of affording me breath, may stifle me.

Beleeve Oaths, presently replied the Infanta! He that hath an heart so impious that it can be­tray an Innocent, will also have that confidence to deny his treason. Wicked man, thy deceits are too sensible, which thou hast contrived to deceive me anew. But I will confound thee. I will that thy temerity shall be lost amidst thy own Answers. What hast thou done with my Sister? Why wentst thou with her? Why hast thou cousened her? Infanta (answered Olean­dro) I know not what thing Deceit is. The Princess your Sister, betraying her selfe, hath deceived me, and that very same day just that [Page 133]she made me part from Tesset, I by an accident parted from her.

Here he related point by point the counterfeit Letter, his departure, the company of an un­known Knight, how he came to know her, the words that passed, the wound the Princesse gave her selfe, and divers other particulars: Which being heard with a disdainefull laughter of the Infanta, she said to him: Oleandro, dreames and fables find no belefe in the mind of a Lover, who hardly can credit her eyes. Are you not sa­tisfied to have tormented my innocency with your workes, that anew you would with words entice my soule from me? See how perfidious, and how cruell thou art. Thou proposest things to me so far distant from being and possibility, that I can never enforce my heart to beleeve them. How? Thou receive a Letter and not distinguish the Characters! A Messenger wakened you and you observed him not. A Knight accompanied you, and you knew him not. The wounds, the thieves and thy other imaginations raise in me that effect which the fragours of the waves of Nylus make, which deafen. Thou art ingratefull, thou art a Traitour, thou art a wicked man, and therefore no wonder thou shouldst be a Lyer. Be­sides, who is this that goes along with you a Par­taker of your misfortunes? What confidence, what engagement, what meanes rendred thee a Companion so interessed, that she hath a bold­nesse, as it were, to repose her selfe in thy bosome, and now, assured of thy protection, hath given [Page 134]her selfe over a prey to sleepe?

This, replied Oleandro, is my Sister, and I would that you should understand it from her very mouth. So speaking, he awakened Arnalta, saying to her: Come Sister and reverence this Lady, whom my heart hath elected for its Queen. Is perhaps this, replied Arnalta, the Infanta of Numidia? Understanding it was the same, she ran to kisse her hands. The Infanta drew them back to her, saying, Excuse me, if Love and Jea­lousie take from me those actions of Courtesie, which are owing to your merit. To day I should rejoyce to be deceived, because I might beguile my feare. I have businesse of some con­sequence with this, whom you affirme to be your brother. I can neither answer, nor live if I see not the end of this. Turning her selfe then to Oleandro, she said to him: I cannot deny but that thy Lies carry a face of truth: But this time they shall not find credit; I will yeeld to your assertion, that this is your Sister; But how will you prove that performed which you have fabled of me? Innocency, readily replied Ole­andro, hath not need of many proofes. Behold the Letter which the Princess Arelida, your Si­ster, made use of to deceive me. Take notice of your own Characters so well imitated, that I believe you your selfe would remaine in doubt that your hand had fashioned them unknown to your eyes and heart. Then said the Infanta, Is Oleandro faithfull? Then is he mine. O Gods, what thankes can I ever render you, having re­stored [Page 135]me my Lover on better conditions then I could desire or imagine?

She ranne after to embrace him: neither the presence of Arnalta, nor that of the other Knight could containe her in those tendernesses which are practis'd onely among Lovers. Their kisses were centuplicated. Their Arms which as it were strove with their hearts in expressing Affection, were not wearie with Embracing, as much as might be they endeavoured to unite their bodies.

The heart not being able for joy to contain it self in the breast, issued out of it in words kis­ses and teares. In summe, there was not a sense in them which rejoyced not. These first vio­lences of Affection being over-passed, they ex­cused themselves, he with the Knight, and she with Arnalta; they resolved presently to de­part thence, not to be over-taken by the night. The Knight told them, that not farre off there was an house where they need not desire wel­come. They took their way towards it. Olsan­dro entreated the Infanta to make the tediousness and troubles of their journey, pleasant with some Relation, he being desirous of the newes that fell out in the Court after his departure with the Princesse. The Infanta with an eager­ness encountring this occasion, thus began her Storie.

The History of the Infanta Ariama.

IT was two houres day when the Damsels of the Princess my Sister perceived, that shee was missing. More by their teares then words they acquainted my father with it. At the no­tice of it, he became speechlesse. He after­wards sent without delay to the Ports, to learne whither she took her voiage, dispatching every way souldiers on Horseback to stay her. Hee imagined she was gone with you, the Guards of the Golden gate reporting your Departure with one Companion, who by the Description they made could not but be my sister. When I knew it, I was willing to die for griefe, I said and did things which would have provoked sense of Pity, even in things insensible. My Father hearing no tidings of her could not be comfor­ted, and removed some Moneths without suffer­ring himselfe to be seen in publick.

In that time the Prince his Brother returned from warre, maintained alwayes at great char­ges abroad, because being cruell of nature, and a Lover of innovation, my Father very wil­lingly saw him not in the Kingdome. Hee was scarce come, but he desired leave to depart for Cyprus, by Fame enflamed with love to the Princess Dianea, who for Beauty was estee­med a new Venus. My Father whom these A­mours pleased not for Reasons of State, would not consent to him: for many times their Of-spring [Page 137]engage Parents to great Matters, and 'tis small security to a Prince that many may pretend to the Government. My Uncle shew'd himselfe not to care for this denyall, especially because a few dayes before the Nuptials of Dia­nea with the King of Armenia's youngest Sonne were there published, He fixed his minde and thought on new objects. He esteemed the Dutchess of Corana worthy his affections. There he applyed himselfe with such a Passion, that he made all the Court admire him, seeing a Prince a Rivall to Mars, become suddenly a Tributary to Cupid. Many times an alteration in­to the Extreames is Easie. My Father neither allow'd of, nor withstood these Amours, feig­ning himselfe blinde in things perspicuous to all. The Dutchess, (although Ambition, and a desire to be beloved be connaturals to women) seemed strange altogether and coy at it.

She had formerly engaged her heart to Doar­te the Count of Nasace, a Knight, who by the gentleness of his behaviour, and the valour of his sword, had gained himselfe the Affections of all. Shee truely had never applyed her minde thither, if my interest had not induced her. The seeing me so neare to render account to Na­ture of the pleasures I had stole from my mar­riage, made her fall into a Resolution far from her opinion and genius. We two onely could not conceale, nor mature the birth with safety. There was need of many shadowes to darken so many eyes. The Count was made acquain­ted [Page 138]with my secrets; the Dutchess veiling the Necessity under an apparance of trust. He that was repleat with good Nature and kindnesse, of­fered himselfe to serve me in all that which was knowne to be able to exercise his devotion, and make triall of his heart.

These Motives enforced the Dutchess to slight the Affections of the Prince. He that took more fire out of these strangenesses, left not any means unattempted to winne her: Entreaties, Messengers, Letters and Presents came daily from him. She neither with refusing, nor accepting all, endeavoured to conquer obstination with ob­stination. He continually besieged our lodgings, and the Dutchess was many times constrained to talk to him with affection in despight of her will, to keep him at distance from us. He often times having required my assistance, I evermore with greater earnestnesse disswaded him from it. I made him see how much he deceived himselfe, that pretended love from her that lo­ved not, or from her that would not love. That there was no force that had power to bow our affections: The divinity of our minde not to be lyable to violence; The heart of a Woman to be moved like the Primum Mobile, onely by it selfe, with a Motion contrary to others. The Merit of that man to be undervalued which de­serving to be beloved without love, loves with­out being beloved. That Prayers and Submis­sions beget not love, but foment Ambition in Women, who disdaine the poorenesse of that [Page 139]spirit which cannot despise, being despised. They account him unworthy of affection, that cannot resent injuries.

These notwithstanding were considerations which made him despaire, but eas'd him not of his love. Constant in his Resolutions he try'd all wayes. To this end he employed all the Dam­sels of the Court, which he dayly by entreaties and gifts won him. They were all engaged to serve him, gain'd by so many kindnesses, that they durst not contradict him. The hope of the Princesse Favour prevailes much more in them, (and the greater part of servants are so) then the duty of their place and faith. In particular, he had obtained the good will of Therasia, of bloud lesse then ordinary, a Damsell belonging to the Dutchess: but one that had gained by the Merits of a singular beauty, and with an assidu­ous applying her selfe to her Ladies service that place. This in such a wise possessed the minde of the Dutchesse, that she held her worthy to know my secrets, neglecting all others that waited on me. She would first have believed the heavens corruptible, then this heart, to which without doubt she had given more trust then she did to her owne.

To this the Prince applyed his minde; fore­seeing that to tempt her those wayes, whereby he prevailed upon others, would be in vaine, hee won her with a new stratagem. With so much cunning he feigned himselfe in love with her, that shee so easily believed him in it, that he [Page 140]needed not enforce himselfe farther to make her understand it. The Title of faire, that was at­tributed by all, made her grow proud, and pre­sage she should cast her Lady out of the Princes affection, more especially because she knew she was engaged in another love, and would not, nor could not please him. The Prince one day espying her in the Garden, when she was alone, took hold of the oceasion, and thus be­gan to speak to her.

Faire Lady, I should not deserve your affecti­on by shewing my selfe inconstant. But I should be neither a Man, nor Prince, if I knew not how to slight, where I am despis'd. Your Beau­ty were ordinary if it had not the power to subject to you the glories of others. I have loved the Dutchess, I confesse it, nor can I deny it, you may have reason to suspect me false in my second loves, when you have found me incon­stant in my first. Now I so excessively affect you, that I believe I should lose my selfe, ima­gining me to be without you. Argue then what the ardour of that heart must be which knew how to love even one that did not deserve love. He that can burne in Frost, what will he do in fire? You have not reason to refuse me. I am a Prince, and brother to the King. Although these hands sway not the Scepter, they deserve it: and 'tis the glory of vertue to be underva­lued by Fortune. You cannot aspire to an higher greatnesse: nor your beautie receive a larger Adoration, then that of an heart that knowes [Page 141]it selfe superiour to all things. The Dutchesses Refusals ought not to provoke yours. The Sun is not in fault, though some blaspheme and despise it, much less doth it lose the splendor of its Beames, because Batts and Howlets abhorre the light of it. The Gods peradventure will punish some Crime of hers, by rendring her a Con­temner of the favours of Destinie. They corrupt the judgements of those, for whom they pre­pare punishment. I should say more, if the Di­vinitie of your Beauties could receive a Com­motion from words. It sufficeth, that you know I love you. A soule as faire as your face knows as well to correspond to affection, as it to make it selfe beloved. I adde no more, because I desire you may love my Affection, not my Voice; Who intreats either demerits or Distrusts. But your gentleness secures me both from the one and the other.

Here the Prince my Uncle stopp'd, fixing his eyes on her, who had loved him before then, if she had not accused so ambitious an Affection of rashness, or if he before had discovered to her the least signe of his. Therasia, imitating the usuall Customes of women, to cloath their Desires with Dissimulation, altering her coun­tenance with a feigned blush, conterfeiting a mixture of joy and sorrow, after a short silence, thus answered:

Prince, I cannot deny but that I beleeve you love me: For notwithstanding that there are not in me conditions to deserve your Affe­ction, [Page 142]I have for all that an ambition to wish it. Impossibility hath not a difficulty for those that earnestly covet it. I can much lesse say I love you not, since in my countenance you may read the Affections of my heart. It is our duty to love our Princes; and it is a stupidity not to corre­spond to those that love us. But for all that, that I infinitely love you, I cannot but put you in minde of those things in the which the affection I beare you, obligeth me, although they may prejudice me. You are Prince, and if the Laws of desert were not regulated by those of Fortune should be King. To submit then to Nuptialls so inferiour to your birth, I know not what it may be thought on by the world, or how endured by your selfe. As I have Moderation to content my selfe with my owne Fortune, I should not so have patience for the Precipices of your forsa­king me. If you love me Prince, doe not with exalting me expose me more to the Lightnings. It serves for a glory to deserve Entreaties from him, who should not know how to beseech me­riting by the slightest signes from him to be o­beyed. Now I will believe the adulations of Lovers true, since my beauties, though something lesse then ordinary, have been priviledged by your election and commendation. But may it please your Highness to know, I have no will, that shall not be subordinate to your Commands. And that I feare not infelicity, so it may be ac­companyed by your desires, and by your appoint­ments. [Page 143] Therasia seal'd up her answer with a deep court­sey. The Prince receiving heat from these repulses that invited him, after some Reply he promised her marriage, and express'd a great earnestness to get out of her the causes which had occasi­oned the Dutchess refusals. Therasia, willing to gaine her selfe an higher place in the Princes af­fection, made use of infidelity to authenticate her faith; She recounted to him the Amours of the Dutchess with the Count of Nasaos, with all those particulars that might render true her designe; Yet she made no mention of me, per­swaded, I know not, whether by feare or by affe­ction. The Prince, joyfull to have accompli­shed his ends, with divers gifts (among others a Jewell of pearle, in the which all the Gods were wrought) dismist her. My Uncle perswa­ded himselfe he could not easier beguile the heart of Therasia than by enterposing the duties to her. He thought she could take no suspition of trea­chery whilest she had the Gods witnesses.

She returned in that time to our Lodgings, when I was halfe dead, oppressed by the paines of Child-birth. When I had remained about an houre in the hands of death, I was delivered of a daughter, which encreased my afflictions. It was so like you, that to deny it yours were to strive against the judgement of all eyes. I had scarce time to looke on it but it was taken from me, the Dutchesse fearing the crying of it would discover my errours. I had no power to oppose my selfe, for being overcome by weaknesse, I [Page 144]had no force left me but in lamentation. It was took away by a Gentleman of the Court, belee­ving it a child of one of my Damsels. The Count not being willing, in a businesse of such consequence, to trust to the faith of any other. My Father and the Physitians were deceived in the knowledge of my disease, whereupon there were not any that suspected. In a few daies I mended, filling the Court with comfort that sighed for my recovery.

In the meane while the Prince my Uncle vi­siting daily the retirings of Therasia, though he yet counterfeited with the Dutchesse, put me in­to some feare. But on the other side he had the praises which Therasia bestowed upon the me­rits of the Prince, though she had formerly been wont to blame his insolency. The signes of her mind to perceive her cold in her service to her Lady, and full of disdaine and pride to other La­dies of the Court confirmed me. All motives that enforced me to observe her when she was alone in her Chamber. One day I perceived that she talked to a Picture all beset with Jewels; Her words were all of affection, although they arrived not all distinctly to my eare, and the Ef­figies of the Picture was suddenly known by me to be the Princes my Uncles.

Upon that, with a violence forcing the doores, I came upon her before she had time to lay by the Picture. Injuries accompanied the hastines­ses of my disdaine, so much the more furious by how much the more reasonable. I snatched it out [Page 145]of her hand with speeches as severe as could pro­ceed from a mouth which invenomed the words to render them more offensive. Her excuses were abundant, attended on by so many teares, that in my doubts they made me more consused. For she insisted alwaies with invocating all the Dei­ties of heaven, that she had not told any thing of me. She said, she had done amisse not to do amisse. That she could not help her Lady with­out injuring her selfe. Being elected by the Prince for his Spouse, she could notbut obey him. Divers things she said, and if I would have per­mitted her had spoke of more. I found not a greater alteration in my life. To be silent with hope that others will be so, is difficult and dange­rous. Therasia offended by my rebukes, and al­waies under the shadow of my anger, was not to be contained within her duty. I could not re­pose trust in her whom I had injured, and in whose heart the favours of the Dutchesse could find no fidelity. What chastisement ought not I to feare from the King my Father, since (though mine were concealed) I had given assistance and assent to the Amours of the Dutchess.

My Father would not that the Riches of the Dutchess should foment the spirits of any to aspire to the disturbance of the Kingdome. He had many times expressed himselfe to me, he would feigne penetrate into the thought of the Dutchess, to know whither her heart aimed. He knew her of a Family that had ever made the Kings jealous. Her Father for this purpose, un­der [Page 146]the species of honour, was maintained out of the Kingdome, and mine accounted not him­selfe safe till he had heard news of his death. These considerations in such wise possessed my mind, that a great part of the night was spent before I came out of Therasia's Chamber. In this while the Dutchess came in, and with a great deale of alteration related to me, that the Prince, meeting with the Count, that came to visit her, intending to assault him, was slaine by him, with many wounds in his breast, not gi­ving him leave to use any imaginable defence, for feare others should stir in his assistance.

The Prince informed by Therasia of the Counts walkes, had waited many times to mur­ther him. I having been weake retarded this de­sire in him: for keeping my bed, the Dutchess with other Ladies, were necessitated to attend me. But I being recovered he resolved to effect it, and it had succeeded if he had made use of his hands before his tongue. The Count had hardly suffered the Prince to call him Traitour, but knowing him by his voice he stuck his Iron in his breast. My Uncle would have said I am slaine, but the effects preceded his words, for he said nothing but I am. The Count came presently to acquaint the Dutchesse with this, and perswaded her to make ready to be gone, whilest he would expect her untill day at the shore in one of the strongest Vessels, not having any thing to be his hinderance, the Ports and the Guards of the Sea being committed to his custody.

This new Accident I perfected in my thoughts to make me maddish I gave my selfe over to the aggravation of my miseries with so much senss, that I imagined I felt all my past evills. Then (said I) shall I evermore be tyrannized over by Fortune? Then to satiate the appetites of my sense, shall I every day be unhappy? Then those many favours that I have received from chance, in being a Princesse of such a Kingdome, have done nothing but molest me! Dutchess, I will dye; with great reason it was said, that our felicity remaines in our hands, since by killing our selves we may make our selves happy. And what hope can longer entertain me in life? A Lover, to whom I have given the liberty of my heart, abandons me. A Sister, whom I loved equall to my selfe, hath betrayed me. A Father, in the tendernesse of whose affections I can have no desire but it will obtaine its end, hath been wronged by me in his reputation and honour; and shall I live! Who counsels me to it loves me not; who de­serves to be tormented then may live. All things are determined with life; and who lives not cannot at all languish.

The Dutchess, although in a worse condition than I, did not leave to comfort me. She told me despaire was the last of evills, and that to do so was undecent in all, but most blameable in them that should have greater hearts than mis­fortunes; who will triumph over Fortune (she said) must let it run how it please. Those waies are too base for a Princess that are even practised [Page 148]by Slaves. The greatness of your spirit should not submit to such ordinary Paragons, which consists in sustaining ill encounters, not in flying them; shew the bravery of your mind in living in despite of Chance, A Lover hath forsaken you, because he was unworthy of you; You will find a thousand others of them that will sigh for the favour of your looks; you ought to comfort your selfe, thanking the Gods that an immodest sister hath got from you an unfaithfull Lover. She could not do you a greater service than to re­move far from you those dangers which accom­pany a heart that deceives. Besides, you could not have wished her a greater punishment than the fellowship of so perfidious a servant. If you have trangressed against the satisfactions of your Father, the fault is Loves, which easily renders all errours excusable. Will you then after you have offended him in opinion (for Reputation, Honour, and Fame are for all things) offend him also in sense, deprive him of a great part of him­self, by being your own murtherer? You lament that you have offended him in an imaginary thing, & will you redouble the injury, making him mad by killing your selfe? To go for some time far from hence will be the best, now too when we have an honourable invitation; We may retire our selves to your Aunt in Egypt, where with greater security we may make our defences. To trust to an angred Prince, though he be a Father, is not a safe determination.

She added so many other reasons, and so many [Page 149]entreaties, that I, rather overcome than perswa­ded, made ready for a departure. Therasia hea­ring of the Princes death, and my resolution, seeing that to despaire was the only remedy for her miseries, stuck her selfe two or three times into the breast with a Stiletto, without any bo­dy being able to prevent her. The Dutchess, that knew not the cause, had become distracted, but that I, briefly informing her, of what was past, made her cast aside that pitty, which truly so un­happy a chance deserved. Opening Therasias Chamber doore, I retired into my Lodgings, where taking those Jewels which were of least weight and greatest price, arming me to coun­terfeit my Sexe, and the Dutchess being appa­relled like a Page, we went to the Sea-side; For there was nothing that hindred us.

There finding the Count, that stay'd for us, we went aboard the best Galley of the Kingdome, and doubling the Slaves we put the Oars to the water: whiles it seemed that the sea with an un-before-seene tranquility emulated the hea­ven. We directed our voyage in the Atlanticks towards Egypt to the Queen my Aunt. Our de­sire failed us, for being willing to shun a fleet of two hundred saile, we went far into the sea, so that being surprised by a Tempest, it was not pos­sible for us to reach Land. Being tost a fortnight by the waves and winds, we were alwaies in danger to be cast away. But the goodnesse of the Vessell, and the strength of the Rowers brought us at last to shore in an Island unknown, [Page 150]even to the Marriners themselves. We were in that state we could not have continued longer, not only all things necessary for life, but also for a voyage being spent. Our hast to depart allowed us not time to make that provision, which the Navigation of a sea inexorable to all things re­quired.

Being disbarqued in the Island, whilest the Rowers made provision of Wood and Water, we walked a little forward to seeke out lodging. The incommodities of our voyage made us desire to find an house to repose us in without trouble and feare. In ascending a little hill we discove­red some buildings, which, made in forme of a Pallace, served also for a Fortresse. We presently went thitherward, where we were received with very great kindnesse. Two Ladies of a ve­nerable Age came to meet us, and with so ma­ny welcomes offered us Lodging, that we wan­ted words to express so great Obligations. They were waited on by many Damzels, one of the which supposing me a man, began to look on me with so much affection, that I took no ordinary pleasure at it, telling the Count and Dutchess of it that they might hold their tongues; I ap­plyed my selfe to her with so much love, that I perswaded my selfe she would grow mad. But afterwards I repented me of it, remembring me that I was not in the condition to cure her ma­lady. Though we endeavoured to understand the quality and the name of the Island, we could get no answer to purpose.

Supper time being come, my Favourite the Damsell found opportunity to say to me: Faire Knight, these wicked women lay snares for your lives. Within a few houres you will either be slaine, or made a Prisoner. I that take compassi­on on the beauty of your face, and the tender­nesse of your yeares, have thought it expedient with danger to my self to release you from yours. They intend to set before you meats mingled with Opium to seize on you with the more se­curity. But being retired to your appointed Lodgings, make use of this Preservative, which shall preserve you from their treacheries. So say­ing, she gave me a little pot full of a certaine An­tidote against sleepy poysons; Afterwards added, Since I adventure my life to do you this favour, I desire no other reward but your love, which I would enjoy flying with you hence from places so impious. I then grown extreamely fearefull promised her more than I could performe; pro­testing an Obligation to her, not to be circum­scribed by Ages. The meat came up, of which I tasted so sparingly, that I even did nothing but talke. The Tables being removed our Quarters were assigned us. We feigning our selves weary presently bad good-night to those that waited on us, and I revealed to the Count and Dutchesse the Damzels secret; we tooke the Preservative with so much feare of being surprized, that eve­ry little noise made us believe it was Souldiers that should assault us. All the soporiferous poy­sons of the world would not then have had the [Page 152]power to have made us sleep in that feare.

Halfe the night being past the Damzell came to call us, we followed her with all possible se­cresie, who through a private gate led us forth of the Pallace. There mounting upon foure horses which were provided by the Damzell for that purpose, we began our journey, riding apace: We would have taken the way to the sea, but our Guide permitted us not, saying, that were to en­counter dangers instead of flying them: For all those shores were prey'd upon by the owners of that house, so impious and so cruell, that they rejoyced not in their Booties unless they were defiled with bloud. The remnant of that night, and almost all the day after, we prosecuted our journey, perpetually molested by that Damzell with so much earnestness as if she had perceived Enemies following us at hand.

I being no longer able to endure the weari­ness of riding, the night approaching, would stay in a Village; the rather because the people there told us the way was dangerous in the night time, especially being frequented by wild beasts and thieves. Having rested me there a little, I entreated the Damzell with much vehemency to recount to us the cruelty of that house, which (her gentleness assisting) we had avoided. She after such a blush (as if her modesty came forth with it, or rather as if with the purple of her face she meant to cover the blackness of her heart) thus answered:

Sirs, If to excuse errours under the Pretext of [Page 153]love was not usuall to all, especially women; I should call that tongue rash, which should as­sume the boldnesse to to mascherate the Dotages of the minde. But acknowledging my selfe a Lover, I deserve all pardon. Love is pictur'd blinde, because he makes blinde: And the falls of a blinde body are to be borne withall, and compassionated. I hardly fastned mine eyes on your Countenance (faire Knight) but they felt the Chastisement for their rashnesse; it being not lawfull, without prejudice to the heart to penetrate into the Paradice of your Beautie. Becomming a Lover, and knowing the unequal­ness of my Descent, I despaired of the end. I betook me to Deceit, which triumphs many times over all things. To perswade your depar­ture, I feign'd those things I said, the which con­taine no other truth but that of my flames.

If you have ever had experience of the vio­lences of affection, I hope you may well beare with me. But if you have never felt the dam­mages of it, believe me, untill your owne expe­rience shall bring you a certainty of it, I am per­swaded that this in your good disposition, will not be imputed as a fault to me; because every thing is lawfull to those that love. Besides, if there be any due, it is your beautie that deser­veth punishment, which hath been able to com­pell the simplicity of my heart to deceit.

I was moved at one time by these words to Compassion and Anger. It vexed me to have de­parted upon so uncivill tearmes from that house, [Page 154]where there was nothing but Honours prepared for me. But this Damsels so very extream affecti­on, that it merited pardon, pacified me: where­upon I thus answered her:

Lady, Whosoever hath been a Lover can doe no other but compassionate you. I that have been in love, know how to excuse you: For the first thing that pardons Lovers, is the intellect, and reason. It much afflicts me, that to beguile us you have deceived your selfe, in bestowing your Affections on a Person who can exchange nothing with you but affection. I would to hea­ven I were in as good a Condition to correspond with you, as I am willing to pitty you. I am a Woman as you are, but more unhappy then you, because I have not loved so as you. If I had encli­ned my thought to love a woman, I had escaped the Assaults of Fortune. Comfort your selfe; for you may receive profit, if not delight from your affection.

The Damsell recover'd not at these words; for sorrow having deprived her of her senses, rendred her insensible even to sorrow it selfe. After a while comming to her selfe, she faigned she was well satisfied: whereupon I left her in bed, whilst wanting rest, I desired with a little Repose to ease me after these passed troubles. At our awaking in the Morning, we found that the Damsell was gone. Being hopelesse at the impossibilitie of her Affections, she will have re­course to some new Resolution, of whom hi­therto I have had no tidings. We blaming the [Page 155]Deceits of so foolish a Wench went towards the Sea, to finde out our Galley. After much Tra­vailes we were aflaulted by foure Theeves. One of them suddainly seized on the Dutchesse, car­rying her so swiftly up some certaine Crages of the Mountaines, that it was impossible for me to accompany her with my sight. The others came and assaulted us, not thinking to finde much resistance in us, they being more in num­ber. The Count unable to endure that his eyes should assist to the losse of his heart, with three blowes slew two of them, and wounded the third, in such manner, that he could no longer defend himselfe. Without delay, he went in search of his soule, stolne away by that thiefe from him. I gave the wounded one his life, on condition he would guide me to the Dutchess. He promised me; but being mounted on Horse­back, I having no time to hinder him, precipi­tously betook himselfe to flight.

Remaining alone in some Passion, because the Night already had covered the Heaven with ex­treame Darknesse, I tired my voice in reitera­ting the names of the Dutchesse and Count. The Caves moved to pitty at my Callings, to case me of labour, replyed in many places, or rather the Aire so many times struck wearied with hearing me, to make me hold my peace, iterated often times what I said. I had the chance to meet with some Shepheards, who with courtesies not fre­quently practized by great ones, made me envy their Genius, if not their Fortune. Four dayes [Page 156]I continued among them with hope to heare Newes of the Count and Dutchesse. One mor­ning I departed from those Cottages, with an intent to goe to the Sea, and so to be transported into Egypt. I easily missed the way taught me by the Shepheards, and have therefore wan­dred many dayes up and downe these Fields in danger of my life. Fortunate Errors, happy dangers, since they have guided me to you, who are the End, whither my Troubles and my Tra­vailes doe aspire.

Thus said, the Infanta Ariama, when they dis­covered the Pallace where they meant to sty. It was situated in a Plaine, and ravished the eyes of Passengers, no lesse by the Majesty then the beauty of it. The Architecture was Dorick, and the out-sides of fine Marble. It was encom­passed round by an infinite number of Cypresse­trees, set in so good order, and so proportionately distant one from another, that looked upon either directly or traversely, they could not beiscern­ed in the least irregular. They of the Pallace scarce perceived they were come, but two Dam­sels in mourning habit, brought them a welcome from the Lady of the House. They easily dispo­sed themselves to receive it, when necessity could not afford them other lodging, neither more neare, nor more commodious. With a large expression they thanked the Gallantry of that Lady, who was willing to oblige them be­fore she knew them, and followed the Damsels unto the gates of the Court.

In their Entrance, at the first sight they were terrified: In the midst of it was placed a Statue of Revenge. Yet was it not believed a Statue but by those that could offend it without being offended. It was figured in the likenesse of an armed Woman, with a flame of fire upon her Helmet. In her right hand she held a Dagger, and at her feet a Lion. It spoke not, with-held peradventure by Scorne that kept her words in; or rather bindred by biting a finger of her left hand. On the sides of the Hall all the most infe­licious Loves of the world were delineated. There was seen Pyramus and Thisbe, pierced with the same sword, breathe out their souls; and the feigned bloud which they shed, had the vertue to beget true teares. Leander and Hero, the one destroyed by the waters of the Sea, and the other by those of her eyes, in such wise de­ceived Oleandro and his Companions, as if only then by chance they had been destinated to death. There was also Medea, through Jasons incon­stancie, growne so cruell to kill her Children, having first, enforced by love, slain her brother. The poore Ariadne complained on a Rock, tea­ring her haire, and beating her breast. Her La­mentations arrived not to the eares of the behol­ders, carried farre away by the windes, or dis­persed by the Waves: or rather by long ex­claiming become hoarse, she had not the strength left to make her selfe heard.

In briefe, a thousand were the Objects which entertained in suspence the strangers, when en­treated [Page 158]by the Damsels, they ascended the stairs. At the top of which, they were met by a Lady, who for being all attired in black, could not be imagined any thing but night, with a blacke veile she held her eyes covered, for being de­sirous to be thought night, she would not permit those two Suns to be seene, which she carried in her eyes. After she had received and answe­red their salutation, she said: I am sorry, O Sirs, you are come to funerallize your selves in the miseries of this House. The Necessity that constraines you to stay here, pleads it selfe my Excuse. I wish only I knew your first Fortunes, that I might serve you conformably to the Merit of your presence.

Here taking Ariama and Arnalta by the hand, she led them into other Chambers, requesting from them the Information of the State of those Knights of their condition, and of their births. Although the Infanta Ariama concealed her self she was well knowne by the Lady of the House, who leaving her to rest her selfe, went from her to command preparations for Supper. The time being come, they were call'd to it. The enter­tainment was handsome, but not stately. The strangers eate little, or wearie of travailing, or sadded by the continuall lamentation of that La­die, who seasoned the meats with her tears.

When Supper was ended, at a signe she gave, the Damsels brought forth some glasse Bottles, with a certaine Drinke in them, which she said. would enlighten the heart. All of them tasted [Page 159]of them. Oleandro in particular dranke more of it then the others, adding; That those sad­nesses had much need of Preservatives. After­wards turning to the Lady of the house, he said, Madam, the Gods have made contraries to be to all things. There are Antidotes, and the poy­sons: Bees have stings, and honey; whereupon there is not any thing in the world, but by the reason of Contraries hath a Remedy. Such I hope your Evill may be. If the Affection of an heart, and the strength of a sword can prevaile with you, to lay aside this sorrow; be merry, for I offer my selfe to serve you. That Countenance which is a Heaven of Beauty, deserveth not a perpetuall night. Teares should not be permitted to those eyes, which can make happy with their looks. Here Oleandro was silet, and the Lady thus answered:

Knight, I would to Heaven I had never spoke. From the tongue and heart, my infelicities have had Originall. But now there is no longer need to conceale them Infanta Ariama, and you Prince Oleandro, you are dead, having drunk poison in the last Bottle. I grieve I was not able to sacrifice you with a swod to Revenge. I rejoyce, not­withstanding that Fortune hath deliver'd you together into my hands. I can no longer suppose my selfe unhappy, since I have had this part of felicity, to see I am revenged before I dye. You shall not depart triumphant from the miseries of the Princesse Arelida. I am the very same, who lived till now, onely to kill you. Oleandro, al­though [Page 160]he began to feele the effects of the drink, provoked by the out-ragies, which are begot in a breast, offended more for the harmes of others, then his owne Danger, said to her:

Guilty woman, Then because I would not condiscend to the dishonest of your Desires, hast thou condemned me to death? Then wilt thou take away my life, because I have preser­ved thy Reputation and Honour. From so ma­ligne a minde could not proceed but execrable Effects. Who is impudent is cruell: and who betraies their honesty to please their sense, will much lesse pardon the innocencie of those that will not be blemished with uncleanenesses. Did it not satisfie thee (perfidious one) to have with thy deceits, contrived Miseries against my happinesse, that also thou hast intended to heap thy Barbarismes on this body, a miserable Re­maines of the Inconstancies of Fortune. Per­fidious, wicked, Sacrilegious, what Reward, what Hope, what Madnesse, makes thee cove­tous of my bloud; the more undeserving the Furies of thy wickednesse, by reason it hath no faults which can convince it of realty? But if this life ought to be sacrificed to the satisfactions of thy Scorne, why do you not pardon those who in the very Fantasmes of night have not thought to offend you. In what hath your Sister tres­passed, and mine, with this poore Knight, who is design'd to die, onely because he is my Com­panion. Poore Oleandro! so surrounded with [Page 161]unhappinesses, that even the guiltless suffer with me. My Miseries are contagious, since they trench on those that keep mee company. The Gods be praised, that hereafter my life cannot infelicitate any. People of Morocco here your hopes determine: your Prince is compelled to dye; and so much the more discontented, by rea­son he falls by the hand of a woman, and she im­modest.

The Knight, that untill now was unknowne, at these words cryed out; Oh Gods! What allow you me to see in the last day of my life! I should say I dyed happily, dying in the presence of my Prince, if he then might have continued living. What Marvailes, what Portents doth Destinie represent me? 'Tis true, the sight of a Prince so much beloved, deserved not to be gain'd without the losse of my life. But where­fore fortune hast thou been willing to funerallize to me these sweetnesses, I seeing him dye be­fore I can sufficiently embrace him. So saying, he made himselfe knowne to Oleandro to be Fe­lide, the Count of Olano his Subject; he that with imminent hazard to his owne life, had deli­vered him from the Treacheries of those who had usurped his Crown.

This interview redoubled their afflictions, so that in despight of the bravery of their hearts, the teares ranne from their eyes: which would not defraud Death of sorrows ow'd to so worthy Personages. Oleandro's vertue remaining hither­to invincible against all Accidents, had not suf­ferance [Page 62]against the force of Destiny, which to render death more noisome to him, multiply'd those Objects that were able to disquiet him. There was nothing heard but sighes, weepings & sobs. Not an Object to be looked on, but presen­ted sorrow. All was horror, and every body car­ried fear and death in their Countenances. There was not a face but it was spread with a paleness, so mortall, that it augmented Affliction in the eyes of all. Oleandro at length in despight of griefe, said to the Count;

Friend, it pierces my soule, that it was For­tunes Will to communicate to you my miseries, becaused see you too much interessed in them through your Affection to me. The Gods reward you for it. I am so unhappy that I cannot as much as suffer for you. The Hor­rors of Death increase upon me, seeing I must die, without being able to recompence the attestations of your Faith. If the Lawes of Friendship and Obligation preserve their authority even among Spirits, I hope you shall not have occasion to repent your selfe for having loved me.

Hee would have added more, but percei­ving the Infanta began to shew signes of the venomnesse of the poyson, he ran to embrace her, enstrengthening himselfe to receive that soule which by the right of Love he suppo­sed belonged to him. He was scarce come to her, when he saw, she had lost her senses, become cold and immoveable as a stone, by [Page 163]the violence of the poison. No longer retai­ning patience to resist the sense of such a losse, hee began to cry out in such a man­ner, as if his soule remained onely in his Voice. Peradventure by those Exclamations he perswaded himselfe he should the easilies move the Fates to pitty: or rather requiring a present Remedy to the Malignity of the ill that could not permit of delay, it was imagi­ned he exalted his voice the looner to make the Gods know the Necessity of their suc­cour. Perceiving that Vowes, Prayers, and Lamentations, brought nothing but an aug­mentation to his sorrow, and that the last gaspe of his life was afflicted by the Death of her, without whom he should be unwil­ling to live, in some part to disburt [...]en his passion, he said: Most unhappy Oleandro! who hast undergone Death a thousand times before thou couldst die. Ariama, I fol­low thee; I follow thee Ariama. It is not just that thou shouldst goe alone among the Ghosts, without thy beloved Oleandro for thy gaide. I will take order that the sword shall prevent the malignity of the Poison: but it is not fitting that those Armes which were prepared for thy Defence should offend me. But I should not at least deprive thy Exe­quies of my Teares. Thou wouldst be too un­happy, dying without being mourned for by him that loves thee.

His Tongue could no longer obey his Heart, when the Drinke exercising its force, prevailed upon all his senses. Yet with his Eyes he celebrated his last Duties to her, who found Death in nothing so painefull, as by seeing him neare to overtake her. Hee con­tinually held his eyes open, as if he would not permit that her Funerals should be solem­nized without Lights. Lastly, they both shewed Signes that they were arrived to that poynt, which by Nature is made common to all.

This Spectacle had hardly given notice to the Damsells of this Tragedie, but they were heard to strike the Aire with an infinitie of shreeks. With sighes and Lamentations they contended to pay Tribut to the Death of their Lady. They knew not how to Honour so un­expected Exequies, but with suddaine Com­motions of the heart. It seemed that with an affectionate Emulation they agreed by turnes to showre forth Teares. Many fearing they might by others be exceeded in weeping, tore their Haires. Others, accusing their hearts of an over-hardnesse at so miserable a chance, struck their Breasts, as if they meant to break them; peradventure, belie­ving their Hands had more power then their Eyes. They had given no intermission to these so pittifull, and so unprofitable duties to the Dead, if the presence of some Knights, [Page 165](who at these so sorrowfull outcries ran in) had not interrupted their Lamentations. These having received Information of what was be­falne, drew neare to exercise that Piety to the Carkasses, that was not allowed them to practice with the living.

The History of Diaspe and his Brother.

I (replyed Diaspe) am Prince of Creet, though in this Kingdome not known but for a Knight belonging to King Vassileo. Three yeares since I returned from Forreigne Wars to the Court to comfort the age of my Father, who bemoaned my absence. Thither three Palestine Merchants chanced to come with three Pictures of the most beautifull Princesses of this Age. They were the Princess of Nigrepont, her of Fea [...]ia, & she of Cy­prus. Come to Court, they presented them (in gift) to my mother, who caused them to be exposed [Page 179]to the sight of all. They were loaden with the commendations of the beholders, and the envy of all the women. Particularly Dianea could not be beheld but with a prejudice to the Fairest. All hearts at that sight rebelled from the Vassalage to any other beauty. It provoked flames even in the most cold breasts, in whom Age had consu­med heat.

My Brother and I at the first sight gave up our Soules to her. We stood unremoved, contem­plating it with that anxiety as Northern Nations gaze upon the Sun after a most long night. We continued divers daies to sacrifice to it our eyes, and sighs; as if that Picture had been the Idoll of our Pleasures. We remained alwaies fixed looking upon it; but when we were interrupted by others, who came to feed their eyes upon those marvelous Beauties, which though but counterfeit had the power to torment minds. I regan to look upon my brother with some dis­daine, not being able to endure Rivalls in a Picture. He who had a Genius not to be subje­cted to feare, finding an opportunity took down the Picture of Dianea to carry it to his Lodgings. I came accidentally just upon the time as he deli­vered it to one of his. I grew suddenly chan­ged, and (inflamed by Love) injured him in so high a manner that he was enforced to lay hand on his sword. I that perceived so much boldness in a younger brother, my anger preventing all discourse, try'd my utmost force to have slaine him. He defended himselfe with so great [Page 180]courage, that I was sometimes in danger to be killed.

The noise and confusion carried the voices to the King and Queene, who both running forth at this uproare, made us cast away our Armes, and embrace, although neither of us laid aside his anger. The occasion of this contention be­ing understood, the King reprehended me with so severe a fashion, that I had not the confidence to looke him on the face. Dianea's Picture re­mained in my mothers hands, who professed she would never part with it to any body.

I passed away some daies with so much impa­tiency, that I thought my selfe unable to live them. I should have flowne to have seen the Originall of that Picture which afflicted my memory, if the feare of my Father, the season contrarie, and the enmity between the Crowns had not been interposed to my desires. The same anxietie tortured the heart of my brother, who as the younger could much less withstand amo­rous assaults which worke with the greater vio­lence where they find more heat. I avoided the occasion of meeting him, because my eyes could not endure him. Brethrens enmities are ever mortall. He, fomented by the Adulation of those that served him, flung forth some words of slighting, which agmented my disdaine. My Fathers Age, which enclined to the Grave, ne­vertheless permitted me not that I should preci­pitate my hopes. And although I percived my mother ready to provoke him, either for seeing [Page 181]me disobedient, or that it is a property of that Sex to love the worse, I cared not for it. Finally, women are women; as prone to hatreds as they are to Love.

My brothers servants were frustrated of hopes, looking on me as Successour to the Crowne. There is none that dares thunder against heaven which can retort thunder. They certified me from time to time of all his actions, whereupon he could hardly find secresie in his own thoughts. By these I was one morning advertized that he with Dianea's Picture was departed from Creete. I followed him with an evill intent, conceiting that my mother had given it him, or that he had stolne it. Two miles out of the City I overtooke him. He having eyes impatient of not behol­ding that Object which felicitated his heart, made a Favourite of his to carry the Picture. I presently accused him of sawciness, whilest in despite of one whom he should reverence as Heire to the Kingdome he bore from him that Jewell. I added other words of slighting him and disdaine; calling him many times unworthy to fixe a look on that Picture, which ought not to be viewed by a rash man, by one disobedient to his Father, his Prince, and his Brother.

I stay'd for no answer, but stretched forth my hand to lay hold on the Picture. He who carried it, who was the Count of Sfour, intending by that act to merit superlativelie the affection of my Brother, would not let me take it. I drew my sword, and with two blows made him see that [Page 182]I knew how to make my selfe obeyed more by my hands than my tongue. My brother, who saw the Count wounded, and the Picture lost, said to me: Prince, If you would that I should reverence you, tyrannize not so over me. To offend him so without cause who serves me, and to de­prive me of that which I justly possessed, are things that would take away patience even from Marbles. He that aimes to deprive me of that Pi­cture must first take my life. Having spoke this, he drew his sword and strooke at me, whilest I did the same. Our blowes were so thick, and ac­companied with so much anger, that those that followed us had not the courage to interpose themselves. At last, perceiving us both woun­ded, and that my intention was that my brothers life should satisfie for the bloud I shed, they drew their Swords, and threw themselves be­tween us, with danger to some of them, who were recompenced with some wounds.

My brother being retired, whilest I would not be pacified, I saw him fall down in a swoone, I know not whether for the paine of his wounds, or the loss of the Picture. I supposing him dead had not the heart to undergoe the justice of my Father, severe to all, but inexorable against those of his house; I withdrew my selfe into a Castle nigh to the Sea, where, being cured of my hurts, I spent all my houres in Contemplation of that Object, which I used to call the Compen­dium of my Felicities. All my ends, all my de­sires, all my hopes determined in those [Page 183]lines, and those colours. One day by craft being tempted forth of the Castle, the Picture was stolne from my eyes, not heart. Not being able to appease my mind for griefe at such a loss, I unknown imbarqued me for Cyprus. The time of the yeare was contrary, but gaining the Ow­ner of one with a good sum of Gold, I promi­sed my selfe a secure voyage, confident in the goodness of the Vessell.

I landed in Cyprus: And would have no o­ther company but that of my thoughts. After much Travell I staied at a Fountaine, which they call the amorous Fountaine: And there being surprized by night, I took up my rest. My thoughts had scarce given place to sleep, but I was seized upon by divers phantasmes. Me thought I saw Dianea assaulted by two most fierce Dragons, and that the one strove with the other which should drinke her bloud. I heard her reprove me of cowardize in this danger, that I did not aide her, whom I affected more than my selfe. She her selfe implored with redoubled entreaties my assistance. She said: Prince of Creete, why are you come to visit me if you will not succour me? Doth not then my presence merit the protecti­on of your sword? Have you passed the sea only to see me dye? A shadow of my beauties have had the power to bow your heart, and shall not Dianea her selfe perswade you to defend her? Friend, I am yours, afford me your help. The Gods have made you arrive in this Kingdome for my defence, it being but reason that you [Page 184]should come to guard her who expects it from you, At this I awakened, oppressed with so much sorrow, that I know not whether the veritie of the success could have been able to have tormented me more.

I afterwards fell asleep againe for awhile, but being againe awakened by the same Illusions, I began to complaine of my Fortune, which disquieted me even in the Reposes of Night. I imagined my selfe the worst of all Creatures; for Beasts at least by night have a Truce from the Miseries of day. Amidst these thoughts I heard some voices, which arrived at my eares, no otherwise then a Whisper. I approached nearer, and heard the name of Dianea redoub­led, being unable to understand the rest, I re­solved to chastise those that durst profane that name. A curiosity to understand the end, stai'd my hand. I presently then heard that Dianea was to come suddainly to the Fountaine; for so it was appointed: with other words which gave me not leave to conceive the End, be­cause I had not understood the beginning.

I felt the greatest alteration in the world, in hearing that within a while I should see her, who had made me abandon our Kingdome, and Countrey. I received it as a most auspicious Omen, that she whom I adored should come to meet me at my arrivall in Cyprus. I counted the Moments, and many times blamed the Sunne, that not hastning his course, retarded my joyes.

Aurora now was come forth, and the Birds deafned the Aire with their Songs, when Dia­nea made a Scene of her beauties to my eyes. I pardoned the slownesse of the Sunnes Ap­proach, for it was reason he should give place to her. I blamed the boldnesse of Art that durst endeavour with pencils to emulate so faire a Worke, that surpassed all Ideas. The Image of the Picture was like the true, as a shadow the Light. I had time to behold her at my pleasure. And it was perchance to blesse my eyes which could never be wearied with looking on her. Two Moores followed her, I know not whether to make more shine forth the splendour of her Beauty, or that they had assumed that Colour to approach the nearer to her eyes. As soon as she came, she put her hands into those waters, which ran with a strife to kisse them. And it seemed, that growne Ambitious they swell'd more then usuall to touch her face, as if they desired to be changed into that lively colour, which impurpled the Cheeks of Dianea.

In this while foure Assassins appear, which ran suddenly to Dianea; I that was unable to see her injured, whom I accounted part of my self, came against them with so much Courage, that with two blowes three lost their lives. At the presence of an Object which I esteemed Divine, I could not but shew a valour miraculous. The fourth attempted his safety by flight, but in vaine, for I quickly overtaking him, immediately killed him, although Dianea cryed out, that I should let him [Page 186]live; She would know the originall of these trea­sons, who had plotted them, who had any hand in them, that they might receive punishment accordingly: Of all which hitherto she had not received the least knowledge. I would needs kisse her hand, beseeching her to pardon me, if the desire to see her avenged had not allowed me to grant life to that Murtherer; for which there was much reason, for I being come to do Sacrifice to her Beauties, I could not but at the least offer up the lives of those so unmannerly people; she thanked me with a Garb so repleat with gentlenesse, that every word seemed a Dart which transfixed my soule.

She solicitously enquired my name, in which I did not satisfie her, adding; That I was not to be knowne, untill I had some merit to render me worthy to be knowne. That I had pass'd the Sea to no other end, but to serve her, enamou­red by Fame, which I had found infinitely in­feriour to truth. With such Discourses I wai­ted on her to the Pallace, which is even that which stands adjoyning to the Cave. There I received most signall Honours; and this suc­cesse being published in the Court, King Vassi­leo used me with a demonstration of so much affection, that I envyed not the highest.

He would have added, how being transpor­ted with the favours of the Princess, he assumed the confidence to reveale his affection, and how meeting there with a correspondency, he attemp­ted to attaine her for his wife; But he broke off [Page 187]his Relation, being interrupted with the Ac­clamations of the Souldierie that attended the King of the Thracians. He was met in a splen­did pompe by the Duke of Filena. The Soul­diers were placed in a decent posture, Squadrons of Horse and Foot so interwoven in so delight­full an order, that the Thracian could not satis­fie himself in beholding them. He was accom­panied but only by an hundred of his Thracian youth of the noblest birth. Their Apparrel was wondrous rich. The Chaines and Jewels they wore exceeded Estimation. Yet the strangeness of their Habit was more admirable then the cost­liness of it.

He upon a Courser all covered with Velvet, made an excellent shew of his dexterity. Hee took pleasure to make that Horse curvet, as if he were also ambitious to make himselfe obeyed even by Beasts. Hee submitted to the Bridle with so much readinesse, that it well appeared his Genius instructed him, that he was not to be handled by Grandees, but with his Obedience. Though Horses know not Adulation, this seemed that with his motion, and neighings, hee in­tended no other but to flatter him. The Thra­cian had the Duke of Eilena on his left hand, with whom he discoursed of Military Armies. Each other of his Court was attended on by a great Field-Officer. And in this state they ap­proached Arsinoe. At the Gates he was waited for by all the Councell; And come to the Pallace, King Vassileo met him without the Gates of [Page 188]the great Hall. The Welcomes and Comple­ments were redoubled on both sides, with so high an expression of affection, as if nature had obliged them to love one another. They both sate them downe under a cloth of State, which covered two most rich Chaires. Vassileo took the right hand, though he feigned himselfe willing to have resigned it to Dorcone.

Here those keeping silence, that were come to be present at this first Audience, The Thracian in his own Language said: That he was come in person to confirme that peace which had ever been preserved inviolate by his Predecessors: That Accidents never had the power to alter that disposition which had alwaies rendred his heart obliged to love King Vassileo as a Father. That the Reports that he had raised men against the Kingdome of Cyprus had extreamly afflicted him; so that his Affection could not suffer him, that the security of that Kingdome should grow jealous at his preparations for warre: That he had built a Fleet to make shew of his power, not to usurpe upon the States of others, or disturbe his friends. He spoke long upon this matter, and with so much eagernesse, that it was im­possible to conceive whether those Words were the Daughters of Truth, or of Dissimu­lation.

King Vassileo answered, that he ascribed to his greatest Fortune, in seeing himself honou­red by the visit of such a King, that it grieved him he was not young, that he might have pre­vented [Page 189]him: but yet that this was an Adjunct of Glorie to the Thracian, that he would yield to one who was inferiour to him in merit, and that he would oblige without a hope of corre­spondency. That he thanked him for the trouble hee had took, and the peace confirm'd, he ha­ving not greater desire in his so declining yeares then to enjoy quietnesse. He plied him with so many expressions of Affection, that he enfor­ced the Thracian to an humiliation.

Rising, they were led to the Princesse Lodg­ings, who hearing of it, came to receive them. The Thracian stood still, fixing his eyes upon the Face of Dianea, with such an Alteration, that it was easily observed by all. Dorcone first bowing to her, said; Fair Princess, it is a grea­ter felicity to be borne slaves in Cyprus, to enjoy the sight of such a Beautie, then a King in Thra­cia. I that have brought peace to this King­dome, cannot vouchsafe it to my heart, which will ever be assaulted by so divine Rarities. I beseech you disdaine not that I should love you; that I might expresse my ambition to serve a Princess, who to enrich the world it was neces­sarie she should receive Trophies from all the Beauties of Heaven.

Dianea, that with a discontented mind heard of the Arrivall of the Thracian, not onely for being ravished from the Embracements of Diaspe, but also for the hatred she bore that Nation, could not but with a disdaine afford her eare to these words: Neverthelesse, with that dissimulation [Page 190]which is borne in the mouthes of great Perso­nages, She answered: She besought him to moderate those commendations, that he might not put himselfe into a danger to undertake the Defence of an unjust Thing, that in her there was no desers that might move the Affecti­on of a King, in whom Nature and Fortune were met to render him superiour to the grea­test.

Amidst such Complements Dorcone parted from Dianea, leaving neverthelesse his soule in pawne for the usurie of the Delight of his eyes.

King Vassileo would wait on him downe staires, although the Thracian by all meanes possible refused it. They were on the last steps ready to part, when they were both stai'd by a noise of Armes, which made them both suspicious of Treason. Dorcone saying to King Vassileo: Friend, are we secure of our Lives? King Vassileo made no reply; but with a great deale of danger to his owne person, hee quie­ted the Tumult, and passing through the croud, went where it received originall.

Diaspe, who had met the Thracian, was re­solved to follow, accompanying him to the Court. In this while Celardo incited by re­port of the comming of so great a Prince, was also arrived there to see those meetings, which seldome happen, and also to satisfie the curiosity of a Knight, who some dayes before was be­come his Guest. He was presently taken no­tice of by Diaspe, who remembring his ancient [Page 191]Contempts, and imagining him come into that place, (in a Rivalship) for the love he bore Dianea; unable to containe himselfe, he said: Rash man! Hast thou yet the Confidence to approach him whom thou hast so often offended? If the Majestie of King Vassileo deserved not all Reverence, you should soone finde, I know well how to chastise the fond folly of those that depart from their Duty. Celardo not accusto­med to receive Injuries, answered him, with advancing his hand to strike him on the face, without delay unsheathing his sword. Diaspe avoiding the box on the Eare, drew likewise his forth. They that were neare them, were not slow to take Armes, crying out they should cease that Tumult. The Souldiers that were far off, supposing themselves betray'd by the Thraci­ans, began to deale blowes with so great an in­solency, that though King Vassileo was a great way off, it was an inconvenience of consequence for him to goe thither.

His Majestie all this while holding Dorcone by the hand, made every one draw backe, and received a distinct Relation of the occasion of this businesse. Understanding Diaspe was the Author, he drew neare to him, and with a countenance enflamed with anger, said: Diaspe, That honour that was done you in my Pallace, merited not that I should receive so ill a recom­pence. If I bore not in my minde how much you have done for the Crowne, your head should pay for the displeasure you have done me. But [Page 192]now content your selfe to depart hence without delay, that I may not have occasion to punish your disobedience, having in an high manner pardoned your Rashnesse.

Diaspe replied not, for King Vassileo turning to Dorcone, who was going away, afforded him not leisure to answer. He retired to his Lodgings, which was a Pallace sutable to his birth and the liberality of the King whom he served. Many of the Barons, and the principall of the Court came to condole with him his ill fortune, who having performed so many services to the King, his Daughter, and Kingdome, received the re­ward of Banishment for his paines. But that yet he ought something to dispense with the Kings Anger, who knew not otherwise how to secure the diffidences of the Thracian, but with a seve­ritie that exceeded his nature. That these first motions-being over, he would without doubt be restored to his former respect.

Diaspe answered, he had formerly learnt the Customes of Courts and Princes: That he com­plained not of King Vassileo, who followed but the example of others, that they recompenced great benefits with as great ingratitudes, and that therefore one day he hoped he should reprove him of a resolution so precipitate. That he would be no more seene in Cyprus, but greater, or an equall to King Vassileo. Afterwards, being licen­sed by them, he wrote to the King, and Dutchess of Belprato. Leaving these Letters with full di­rections, with two Squires only he departed to [Page 193]embarque himselfe. Finding a Vessell in the Harbour he went aboord, promising great mat­ters to the Rowers if within a few daies they arrived at Creet.

Whilest the Vessell driven forward by the Waves, & the Rowers flew upon the sea, he fix'd in the constancy of his thoughts, knew not what to do but bemoane his misery. He repented his departure without leave from his Lady the Prin­cess, having left her in a time of so much dan­ger without attending for her Commands; whereon he thus reasoned with himselfe.

How is it possible that this heart should be moved with any affections but those of love? Can then the Command of King Vassileo pre­vaile more than my Dutie to my Obligations? Shall Feare then win upon this mind which ne­ver yet knew what it was? Unhappy that I am! since all things conspire to my wretchedness. Dianea, what imaginations wilt thou have of thy Astidamo, who parted without bidding thee farewell? What Arguments wilt thou find to consolate thy passion? Amidst these thoughts he betook himselfe to rest, designing to himselfe a speedy returne, with such an Army that King Vassileo should repent himselfe for having offen­ded him, and whereby he should securelie ac­complish his marriage with Dianea.

In the interim the Letters were presented by a Squire to King Vassileo. He read them with a great alteration, whereof these were the Con­tents.

These Letters in the Councell of State occasi­oned a great Commotion, whereupon Embassa­dours were made choice of, that they might car­ry King Vassileo's Reasons into Creete. That he was not engaged to know those that would not be known. That the Majesty of a King ought to be reverenced by all, and much rather in the pre­sence of another King. The danger into which all were run in that Tumult, that they scarce took notice of, or spared the life of their naturall Prince. Those were attended on by a diffe­rent effect, which the Squire privately presen­ted to the Dutchesse of Belprato. Diaspe would not (changed to Astidamo) write to the Prin­cess, foreseeing the inconveniences that might [Page 195]arise thence, if they should happen to be disco­vered. He writ to the Dutchess.

In this while Celardo having withdrawn himselfe (perswaded so to do by the other Knight) out of danger, he returned to his house so confused, and so offended at his own unhappi­ness, that it was in vaine to comfort him. He would suddenly leave Cyprus not accounting him­self secure from the hatred of his Brother. He was accompanied by that Knight: And so they imbar­qued in a Vessel of war which intended a voyage to Egypt. While their sailes filled with a favoura­ble south-wind carried the Ship so swiftly that it beguiled sight, that Knight entreated Celardo to relate the Originall of the Conflict he had at [Page 196]the Court with that Knight whom he heard him call Diaspe.

The History of Celardo.

CElardo answered, I know not who Diaspe is. I know only that the Knight you spoke of, is my brother by bloud, though my Enemy by his Actions. We are both of us Sons to the King of Creete, though he for being the eldest hath attained the name of Prince, and next successi­on to the Crowne. But of this I care not to com­plaine of Fortune, because she workes blindly, and knows not how to favour desert. Becom­ming both enamoured of the Picture of Dianea we fell to blowes; Anger easily reigning be­tweene brothers unequall. To withdraw me from his fury, and not to adde afflictions to the declining age of my Father, I resolved for some time on a departure from Creete. My Mother, that had not patience to looke on my departure, accompanied me with so many teares, that from them I took an unhappy presage. She bestowed upon me the Picture of Dianea which she had kept by her by my Fathers command. My brother being certified of this by those who by betraying me hoped to merit his favour, and pursuing me with many Attendants, by force bereaved me of the Picture, and had done so of my life also, if I, not basely defending my selfe, had not given oc­casion to many to interpose themselves to their own danger.

My Brother, although wounded, would not returne to the Court, but retired himselfe un­known into a house neare the sea in the Confines of the Kingdome, fearing (by as much as I can imagine) the displeasure of my Father. I did al­so the same, but with a designe not to live with­out that Picture, which although impressed on my heart, I desired to have before my eies. All passions that proceed from humane affections are supportable, except those of Love. I tried all meanes to recover the Picture, but all my dili­gence was in vaine, for he kept it alwaies by him, nor did he trust it to any but himselfe. Per­ceiving that force was not the way to get it from him, I applied my mind to deceit, which is e­ver without blame when it is used to overcome, and when violence is needlesse. I appointed a day when he, (his being absent) as he was ac­customed, remained alone to vent forth with sighs and lamentations the passions of his soule without the untrusty testimonie of any Atten­dant.

I made a young maid appeare at his feet, who tearing her haire, and beating her breast, would have awakened the sense of pitty in cruelty it self. After she had with her counterfeit tears won credit for her Tale, which Cretan women are very prone to; she said to him, That being walked with her sister to the shore to take the aire, they were followed by one who pretended himselfe a servant to my sister; will not this wicked man, said the Girle, make use of violence, since he [Page 198]may find our voices cannot awaken pity in the seas. And that the drinesse of these sands are not capable to commiserate our teares. He presentlie gave us notice of his ill meaning, making use of force to deprive her of her honour. She percei­ving that her schreekes were lost, and although the winds, moved to pittie, carried them far off, and that the sea replied unto them, there being none that could heare them, betook her selfe to the ordinarie weapons of women, which are teeth and nailes. She will certainlie be overcome in this unequal contention, without succour from your valour and goodnesse.

The Prince attended not that she should pro­ceed, but laying hold on his sword, said, That she should teach him the way that he might give punishment to that unmannerlie man. She feigning she was unable to stir afoot, shewed him whereabouts he should find her sister. The Prince leaving her ran hastilie to the shore. The Maid in the meane while tooke the Picture of Dianea, of which there was no doubt but that it would have been known even by those that have not seen the Sun. I having received it, without delay imbarqued with an intention for Cyprus, to see if the pencill had flattered or copied those beau­ties. I withall was not without hope of attain­ing Dianea for wife. In Creete there was no hope for my life, much lesse for the Kingdome.

Whilest transported with these thoughts I e­rected me a Fortune fastned to my desires, she that used to laugh at the vanity of my designes [Page 199]made me see with how little wisdome he works that raises hopes upon the instability of humane accidents. The sea grew so disturbed, that I had neither eies nor heart that could slight that dan­ger; The remembrance of it yet is horrible. It seemed all the Elements had conspired our ship­wrack. Heaven refused us the light of it, to de­prive us of the sight of it. The aire assaulted with winds deafned the ears of the Marriners, so that they could not obey the directions of the Pilots. The Seas foaming whirlepooles of waves from time to time threatned to swallow us. The Land made us afraid in the waters, we expe­cting no other but some Rock to split us. The Cock-boat, which is usually the sacred Anchor of those that are shipwracked, was forced from us by the winds, after our Sailes were rent, our Masts broke, and tacklings all torne.

Amidst these miseries, I preferred my vows and prayers to that Image, which if it had had sense would have been moved to laughter at my follies: I was so bold as to reprehend the winds, and blame the waves, as if they had had some knowledge of that beauty; or, as if the Picture of Dianea had been one of Jove. When I per­ceived that the water (our Vessell being shatte­red in many places) flowed in to drown us, ta­king hold of Dianeas Picture, by the assistance of which I promised my selfe safety, with a plank I threw my selfe into the sea, suffering my selfe to be carried by chance, while the dark­nesse of the night permitted me not to discerne [Page 200]Rocks, or the shore. I broke the waves for a­bout an houre, keeping my selfe aloft with my hands and feet to breake them: But the Tem­pest not ceasing, weary of my paines and trou­bles, I altogether abandoned my selfe; And I believe I lost my senses, although my hands, assi­sted by nature, never forsook their hold of the Planke.

I cannot tell how long I continued in this dan­ger, nor who tooke me out of the water, but that opening my eyes, although languishing, ima­gining I had past into the other Life for a certain, an old man presented himselfe before me, whom I supposing to be Charon by the Descriptions I had heard from Poets; I said to him, Pardon me (good old man) that I have not brought along with me your reward, for the sea hath devou­red all that I had. But lest you should refuse to ferry me over to the other shore without pay­ment, I have a Picture with me, for which you may receive any money, if that beauty be valued in the Abysses; I know it will provoke envy in Proserpina, and peradventure incite Pluto to steale her from above to felicitate these shades.

The old man laughed at these words, and rea­ching me his hand, assured me I was alive, and that the Gods had taken pity of my youth. He brought me into a Cabbin more commodious than rich: And there omitted nothing that might do me good. Having made me go to bed to dry my self, and that those moist and malignant vapours which I got in the water might be forced out of [Page 201]me; he said: Sonne, here I live secure from the Tempests of the Sea, and the Lightnings of Heaven, I live to my owne satisfaction in a quietude and happinesse; Ambition and Envy not entring under the Humilities of this roofe. The Bow and Angling-rod from day to day pro­cure me food; and perhaps the greatest Mo­narchs of the world, amidst their Feasts and Purples, enjoy not neare so much of felicity. These Books are my companions, which beside the Delight they afford, enrich the minde with most worthy Knowledges. This said, he com­forted me with some precious Wines, adding; And these are also brought me by the Sea, with­out my diligence: Being recovered, he left me to my rest, going forth to provide something for Supper.

My sleep was but for a moment; for being perpetually interrupted by Dreames, I could take no Repose in my bed. I arose and display­ed Dianea's Picture, and found the water had done it no harme. I conceived the Sea had done reverence to it, believing it one of Venus: As if (I know not how) every extraordinarie beauty should receive an augmentation from the Waters. I began a Discourse to it with so eager an earnestnesse, as if it had had not onely a pow­er to listen to me, but also to afford me an An­swer. My implorations were attended on by an infinitie of sighes and teares, ever upbraiding my selfe with my owne unhappinesse. I had season enough to account my selfe miserable, [Page 202]supplicating mercy from a Picture. I was sur­prized by the old man, before I could sound a Re­treat to my thoughts, my minde was so diverted from all other things. He snatched the Picture from me, with such a fury as if he meant to have torne it: And I think he would have done so, if my Entreaties had not over-ruled him. I beseeched him to pardon that which had remai­ned uninjured by the Furie of the Sea: That if he meant to destroy it, lest he should become enamoured of it, those eyes ought to be bani­shed which were presumptuous to behold it: Not the Picture which was immoveable, and being insensible, tempted no body to love. He taking more disgust at these words, answered me:

Sonne! Is it possible that Sense so tyran­nizes over your reason! Is it possible, that a piece of Art, so much the more vile, by how much the more common, should torment the Af­fections of an heart that is greater then Art or Nature. I blame not the Picture, which is a Sci­ence, derived to us from the Gods, which hath power to eternize those which would not live else but by the Memorie of our eyes. I finde fault with the intemperance of our pleasures, the madnesse of our thoughts, the blindnesse of our understanding, which receives an alteration from imaginary Phantasmes, feigned Appariti­ons, or Likenesses, imitated or flatter'd. What would you say, if this Picture should not be a Copy of Life, but the conceited invention of a [Page 203]Pencill, which without looker on, had imitated the Ideas of Beauty? Is it handsome then for a man to languish for the Extravagancies of a hand, which more frequently imitates fancy then sense? Is it fit then to submit the soveraignty of our mindes to a thing insensible, which too often we deny to the Powers of heaven it self? Sonne, to be in love, is a continuall unhappiness, because Love covets, subjects, and renders vile; And because it compares a man to a Carkasle lo­sing the soule, which flies to establish it selfe in the object belov'd. To dote on a Picture is the worst of Mischiefs: There is no correspondencie: The delight is fixt onely in the Eyes, and if we be affected, it is either with that which is not; or if there be any such, it may be so adulterated, that it would rather occasion Repentance then Love. But to be enamoured of Pictures, though it be a misery to one, to you in particular it is portentous. This which you so highly esteeme, hath exposed you twice into danger of your life, and will occasion you to lose it, if you resolve not to relinquish it. Dianea must not be yours, for so the supream Will hath decreed, which smiles at the ignorance of our Desires. The Characters which I perceive in your fore-head, of the like whereof I have had a long experi­ence by my knowledge in the Science, agreeing with the course of the Heavens, deny you the Possession of her. It will be a wisedome sute­able to your birth, which I know to be great, if you would abandon this humour which is dis­pleasing [Page 204]to the Gods. Your perill at Sea hath proved your happinesse. The Divine Will knowes how to select Antidotes out of poi­sons: So, forth of your owne Dangers doe you take notice of the power of the Stars.

The Venerable old man spoke these and other things with so great a gravity, and so much E­loquence, that he was able even to have perswa­ded Rocks. I, who had not the heart to heare him proceed, beseeched him to conclude, ac­knowledging my selfe convicted; and gave him the Picture of Dianea, not to beare about me the Incendiary of my Evill. Within my selfe I remained astonished at the vanity of hu­mane Affections, alterable in all things; but in Loves lighter then fire, and more inconstant then Motion. That Portraiture of Dianea which I had defended against the force of a world, and the Powers of a God, for which I had incensed my Brother, forsaken my Father, and undertaken a voluntary Exile from my Countrey, I left in the hands of an old man, even vvith him who had had a resolution to have torn it.

I abode with him some few dayes, which I onely esteem of as my life, being spent without any molestation. He was a Prince of great des­cent, who unwilling to suffer the miseries of hu­mane kinde, or the times, was retired into those woods to enjoy himself. If he would have accepted of my Company, and had not perswaded me to the contrary, demonstrating to me the injuries I should commit against my [Page 205]hopes, and those who stood in need of my assi­stance; Doubtlesse I should have continued there, to have enjoyed the contentments of that place, wherein a man in spight of Fortune and Envy might have been Patron of his Ge­nius.

I departed thence with as much griefe as could proceed from an heart obliged. I imbar­qued in a Vessell bound for Negrepont, when Armies and Souldiers made a Pompe of death, slaughter, and cruelty. The griefe of my depar­ture was allayed by the desire I had to be an Actor in those Warres, accounted the greatest of the world. I came to the Court, where getting leave to serve as an Adventurer, I fell under the Command of the Duke of Lovastine, who was Generall of King Dinarderto's Forces, against the warlike King of the Vesati. Having there behaved my selfe not unworthy of my bloud, and particularly in the Battaile of Zenilp, and returning afterward to Court, I was Ele­cted by Prodirto for his Companion, who after the Death of his Uncle altogether possessed the heart of his Majesty; insomuch, that hee solely had the Command of all things. There I became enamoured of the Princesse Floridea, whom although I knew not to be superiour to Dianea in perfections, is neverthelesse owner of so much beautie, that I was compelled to preferre her to all, Dedicating my soule to her, which I offered up daily to her in beholding her.

Truely, I had never any more opportunity of disclosing my affection to the Princesse then by my eyes; she being instructed by Nature (as I imagine) returned me a correspondency in such manner, that I (who had but been accustomed to love Pictures) conceited my selfe to be called to the possession of all the favours of love. My felicity had the quality of the Day-flies: For the Death of King Dinanderto ensuing, and those Revolutions in the Kingdom (which can­not but be knowne to you) I could not enjoy my Loves, no not in an hope. When Prodirto attempted the stealing away of the Princesse, I became an Agent in that businesse, assenting to it, having neither forces nor meanes to divert him.

He would have related how they arrived in Cyprus, and how he having got her, lost her, but was interrupted by the Pilot, who came to in­forme them, that they were pursued by a Pi­rats Ship, and that if it belonged to Marisca­pi, it was the lesser evill to die then to be took; That he suspected it the day before; for preten­ding to steere another way, that Vessell did like­wise the same; That while the winde continu­ed, he made no words of it, by reason that secu­red them from danger: but perceiving it to cease, within a few houres they should be over­tooke. Celardo, and the other Knight, endea­voured to allay the Pilots teares, with saying, That the strength of their Ship, so well provided for a fight, had no reason to be in feare of the [Page 207]power of one onely vessell. But he in more ter­rour then before, because the winde fell still, answered:

Sirs, if you were skilfull in Navigation, you would not certainly have have so great a confi­dence. That without doubt which followes us, is Mariscapi's the most brave one that was e­ver beheld on these Seas; not so much for the goodnesse of it, and the strength, as for the valour of the men that are within it. Simple people imagine it was built by Enchantment: For with­in the compasse of a few Moneths, this most cruell man hath atchieved by force such great matters, that his name is become a terrour to all that use these Seas. Celardo, and the other Knight, grew curious to know who this Maris­capi was. The Pilot after he had given dire­ctions fitting for their Defence, with those pre­parations, which are used in time of Fight, said;

Sirs, Between Sicilia and the Coast of Bar­barie, lies the Island of Melito. Some Com­mand there (under an obligation) to destroy the Pirats of these Seas, more infested then others, by reason they are of an easier passage, and richer then other, by reason of a continuall Navigation. One of these is Mariscapi, so named as I believe, that whoever would be secure from his Treache­ries, should avoid the Sea: He being covetous of Riches, and not content in that Degree where Fortune had placed him, and of Birth lesse then ordinary, followes such a course of life, as he [Page 208]himselfe will not permit to Pirats. He is much worse then they, for they remaine satisfied with Prizes; whilst he also puts to death, for feare of being discovered. When he knowes he can­not conquer, he counterfeits himselfe a friend, and afterwards observing his Times and Occasi­ons, equally betraies all. Many times he hath been taken Prisoner, but hath ever had preten­ces to defend and enlarge himselfe, and returned after with greater pride, and an higher boldnesse to ransack these Islands.

Whilst he reported this, they saw the Vessell of Mariscapi come so nigh them, that the Shouts (carried by the winde) arrived to their eares, though confused. It was but of an ordinary bignesse, but so well built and furnished, that a whole Fleet would have found it a difficulty to have taken it. With so strange a speed it plowed the Sea, that it could not be discerned, whether it moved the Windes, or was moved by them. It came to assault the ship, but with little hurt: although it made a Breach. The fight was unequall: for the ship in height sur­passed the Vessell: But yet the valour and cun­ning of Mariscapi and his Souldiers was so great, that without the assistance of Celardo and that other Knight the ship had doubtless beene lost. They fought smartly, having for their Object, the one their safety, and the others the booty. The Sea became red, and seemed as it were that it blushed at the shamefulnesses of those men that came so wickedly to throw a­way [Page 209]way their lives. Mariscapi's Men made many Thundrings from their Balista's upon the ship, which by reason it was the higher, there was not a blow which did not great harme. On the other side, those in the Vessel with their Arrows, and their wild-fires, made a slaughter of their ene­mies.

The fight had not been determined without the death of all, if the Winde, that til now had been quiet at this spectacle, had not fini­shed the Contention. The Waves swell'd, and the Clouds gathered: they began to blow so violently, that those that fought were compel­led by maine force to retire. The ship that was the lesse able to resist the violences of Heavens Anger, perswaded the Pilot to come ashore in a Rock, which was the beginning of an Island. Celardo, and that other knight, unwilling to adventure themselves more to the inconstancy of the Sea, resolved to travaile by Land, untill some Accident should prescribe them what to doe. Whilst they passed onward into the Island, with­out meeting any body who could acquaint them with what they desired; Celardo beseeched the Knight to make him partaker of his Adventures, hee having not refused to doe the same to him.

The Historie of Ossirdo.

I Refuse not (Sir Prince) the Knight reply­ed to serve you, and so much the rather, be­cause my infelicities have received originall from the Princesse Dianea, who hath been also the occasion of yours. Island is my Countrey, an Island situated under the Artick Pole, betweene Auster and Boreas, neare the frozen Sea: in for­mer times (for the remotenesse of it) having been called the lost Island. Aspane, who there governes the Scepter, is my Father. My name is Offirdo, his onely sonne, beloved of the King, and reverenced by the Kingdome, as successour to the Crowne. Having attained to that age, wherein Idlenesse is wont to beget Repentance, I resolved to forsake the Easinesses of my Coun­trey, to acquire some applause from the voices of Fame. Island, for the remoteness of it is ig­norant of the Ambition of those Monarchs, who out of a Desire to enlarge their Dominions, have a Courage to raise Warre against the starres.

My Designe being laid, without further delay I put it in Execution, making a Voiage to Nor­way, where unknown I came ashore, although that King was neare to my Father, both by bloud and affection. Continuing there some certaine dayes in Court, I fixed my thoughts upon the Princess Doricia, an owner of so singular Beau­ties, that (save onely in whiteness) she yielded [Page 211]not to Dianea, Nature peradventure was wil­ling to declare, that shee can exercise her won­ders in all colours: And that in many Objects shadowes are not at all inferiour to Lights. Do­ricia being assured of my Affection, was prodi­gall to me of all those favours which belong to a Princess. It was an envy to those of the Court to see themselves out-stripped by one, who the last of all became her servant.

The Duke of Gotlandia not enduring to see himselfe excluded, or to suffer me his Rivall, at­tempted any Treacherie to deprive me of my life. But I knew with so good fortune to defend my selfe, that almost alwayes he was in petill to lose his owne. One day, with all the Court, we were returned from Hunting. I before any others, al­though the Duke endeavoured it, took hold of Doricia's Bridle. The Duke could not refraine saying to me; Knight, yours is a great rashness, who come to ravish those places of honour, to which those durst hardly aspire, who would scorne to be served by you. Duke, (I answe­red him) I pardon you this boldness, for the re­verence I bear to the Princess my Lady. At ano­ther time this sword shall shew you the dise­quality that is between your merit and mine. The Duke advanced his hand to have strucken me, but I escaping it, by stepping a foot back­ward, at the first blow ranne him across into the Bosome. This Encounter displeased the King, who upon it was necessitated to forbid me the Court; from which also I got speedily farre [Page 212]away, untill Ambassadours should be come from my Father, who arrived presently af­ter.

His Majesty lamented that I had not revealed my selfe sooner; and granting the Princess to me for wife, preparations for those showes were begun, which they designed to have most sump­tuous. All Artificers were employed, neither was there any Knight, though but of a meane condition, who prepared not himself against the Glories of those Feasts. Irons and Marbles sweat to exalt to eternity joyes of such greatness. In this while, the Fame of Dianea's Beauties were divulged. In Court they were discoursed of at large, with an infinity of Encomiums. Some­times I replyed unto them with no other con­ceits but such as the universall Report did admi­nister. One day when I was in my lodgings, a Letter was presented to me, and importunity expressed for an Answer. I read it with some al­teration, perceiving Dianea subscribed. These were the Contents of it.

Having read the Letter, Ire. sined so over­come with amazement, and so deprived of sense, that I know not whether the shield of Medusa had so much vertue. Presently divers thoughts began to assault my heart. To displease Dianea with a flight Answer was unbeseeming a Knight of honour: To entertaine her with generall re [...]mes of small satisfaction, was an unhand­some proceeding; It being an injustice to de­ceive a Princess with hopes. To plead Excuses very indecent; A Letter so repleat with affe­ction, not deserving Exenses. An impossiblility to promise her, I being engaged to Doricia, and our Nuptials so neare that I could not retract them, but with dishonour, and perill. Thereup­on I considered the inconstancy of our Loves, and the miseries of a minde, evermore unhappy in new Appetites. My Marriage with Dianea, which was the Centre where all my thoughts deter­min'd, of which I had got a compleat allow­ance, was now become even a trouble to me, not permmitting me the enjoyment of Dianea's af­fections; I spoke with the servant that delivered me the Letter, and found him as ignorant as I was irresolute. My minde confirmed, I took Pen, and answered thus:

Recommending my Letter to the Messenger, I retired into my Lodgings full, I know not whe­ther of confusion or repentance. I thought it a foule unworthiness to betray under my hand the affections of Dianea. And I could not but con­ceive it an ingratitude to refuse her a correspon­cy, at least by Letters. But when my thoughts were fixed upon my engagements to the beauties of Doricia, I tormented my selfe with resent­ments, so lively, that sighs and teares were the least signes of my affection. I accused Love, who to disquiet the reposes of my felicity had enfor­ced the mind of Dianea to affect me. I cursed Fortune, who to disturbe my desires had presen­ted Treasures to me which I might not obtaine. Finally, I blamed the vanity of my thoughts, the inconstancy of my affections, which could not fixe upon that object which by the oblige­ment of correspondency, the rules of fidelity, the merit of beauty ought to be preferred to any other.

To ease me of my griefe I entered into Do­ricias Lodgings; A heart receiving no greater refreshment than from the survey of an excellent Countenance. I found her in bed, as it were dy­ing, encompassed round by her Ladies, who la­mented over her as dead. Her face was over­cast [Page 217]with a mortall colour, by it to demonstrate the sadnesse of her heart. Her eyes were shut, neither did she open them but to vent forth her teares. Her tongue could not deliver a plaine word, prevented, I beleeve, by her sighs which buried them in her mouth. Her lips, having lost their scarlet and purple, appeared as if they were over-spread with ashes by those most ardent ex­halations which proceeded from her heart. Her hands rebelling against the rest of her body con­tinually attempted to teare her hair & do injuries against her face: or rather they strooke her breast, as to breake it open, that evaporating the fire she might be molested with a lesser torment. At so funebrous a spectacle I could not refraine from griefe, which then is not counterfeit when it is provoled by pity and affection. Taking her by the hand I beseeched of her the occasion of her malady. Fixing her eyes on my countenance, after breathing forth some sighs, as harbingers of her passion, she said:

Perfidious man, dost thou also endeavour by a dissembling pity to deceive me? Dost thou shew a resentment of that evill which thou only hast procured? Wherein hath the unfortunate Dori­cia demerited thy affections? What errour have I committed worthy of a punishment so tor­mentfull? What motive perswaded thee to come and disturbe the quiet of my heart, whilest thou intendest to betray me? Lament despised beau­ties the funerall of your ambition, since you have been desired, and courted, not to be enjoyed but [Page 218]slighted; unhappy Dorieia! to whom hast thou engaged thy mind? Even to one who knows not how to love himselfe, and was borne under that heaven where the seas are frozen. Her teares stopt her words; whereupon I protesting my affection, by an Imprecation of all the Gods, and my loyalty: I beseeched het not so much to wrong her selfe by declaring me guilty before the cause was known: That the examples of the seas are not to be compared with those of the heart, much rather because the mountaines of Island, although covered with a perpetuall snow, give nourishment also to a continuall fire within. Lastly, I added it was a property of those to be­tray who were too fearefull to be deceived, and who are free from love cannot be perswaded of the affections of others.

At these words she being no longer able to containe her selfe, calling me many times by the name of perfidious and traitour, shewed me the Letter I had writ to Dianea; adding, With what excuses (O wicked man) canst thou dis­guise thy Treachery? Wouldst thou have other testimonies to convince thee then those from thy own hand, & from thy own very Characters? I then perceiving my fault to reprove me, which afflicted my conscience, wished my selfe rather confronted by a thousand Souldiers with any pe­rill to my life. I endeavoured to appease her with entreaties, with promises, and with invo­king the testimony of the Gods, That in the dictating of that Letter I had had no other fee­ling [Page 219]but that of my hand. All my attestations proved fruitlesse; whereupon despairing, seeing her so estranged, I laid hold of my Poynard to have slaine my selfe. I would have done it, so great was the repentance I received from her Reprovings, and her teares, She her selfe with­held me; saying:

I will that you should know the superiority that I have above you in loving; That although these be feigned expressions I will beleeve them, and prevent them as if true. But yet I deserved not so great a mortification loving you to an ex­cesse. Having survayed your praises of Dianea with such a partiality sung from your mouth, I have had an experience of your infidelity, but with so grand a passion, that I had rather have dy­ed than endured it. The Letter that came to you under Dianea's name was dictated by me to make tryall of your Loyalty. The Gods for my happinesse put this in my thoughts, that I might not undergo a Tyrannie in the inconstancy of your affections.

I suffered her not to proceed in these com­plaints, but said, That to tempt the fidelity of a man approved faithfull was an offence to the Gods, That my Letter was a token of my grati­tude, not a witnesse of my affection. That she her selfe would not have writ otherwise to any great Prince, that towards her had used termes so courteous. To these, and many other reasons, I added such signes of humility, that in a great measure I calmed her disdaine: And there is not [Page 220]truly any thing more powerfull over the heart of a woman. Time that affords remedies to the most desperate evils exalted me into my former condition, although in some kind she forbore not to taxe me. A jealous Lady is a torment so much the more, if she hath reasons sufficient to con­vince by.

Our Nuptials were celebrated with that sumptuousnesse as is fully proper to the Greatness of a King. The Justs, the Turnaments, and the Feasts were infinite; honoured by the presence and assistance of such Knights and Princes, that all acknowledged there were never seen richer in the Kingdome of Norway. Two daies only remaining dedicated to the solemnitie of my Espousals, when Fortune (troubled with an envy at my contentment) brought a Knight to the Court, who entreated publike audience: And being brought in, he so spoke in the presence of the King.

I am Hydraspe Prince of Hibernia, an Island of the Ocean Sea. Whilest I remained enjoy­ing the quietnesse of my Countrey, and the fe­licitie of command, Love came to disturbe me. He made use of a Portraiture of Dianea, which happening into Ireland obtained more hearts, which gave up their Liberties to it, than it met with eyes that unconquerably could behold it. It was accompanied with two other Pictures, which peradventure might have been accoun­ted more than handsome, if I had not looked up­on a Paragon so exceeding them. Dianea then [Page 221]being made the Idoll of my pleasures, in such manner possessed my mind, that the reposes of the night, and all the houres of the day were bestow­ed in my Adoration of that beauty. My mother fuller of pity than discretion, hoping to take that from my heart which disturbed my sight, made it be stolne from me at such a time as I could not prevent her. Being offended at my mother, and and angry at my self, I departed with an intention to go to Cyprus and get her for my wife; The death of the Infanta of Armenia being also di­vulged with us. But being to appeare before the Idea of beauty, I resolved to apparell my selfe un­der habiliments of desert, by bearing to Dianea some testimonies of my valour. In all Courts wheresoever I have yet arrived, I have defended against all Knights that affirme the contrary, That Dianea is the Queene of beautie, and that to mention her an equall was to maintaine the wrong, and defraud from justice. Our weapons shall be according to the pleasure of the Knights; The conquered shall leave their names with those of the Ladies whom they serve.

Thus spoke the Prince of Hibernia with an amazement to all the Court, which laught at the folly of a man, who ran his life into hazard to de­fend a thing, which not only was not in his power, but whom to attaine he could scarcelie reach at by hope. He was suddenlie welcomed by his Majestie, who appointed him a very rich Pavillion in the most conspicuous place of the Grand Piazza. He raising up there a little Co­lumne [Page 222]affixed upon it this Inscription.

Dianea the Princess of Cyprus is Queene of beauty. She surpasses in favour all other Ladies, as Venus is the most comely among all the Goddesses. She would contend for priority with the Sun it selfe, if he by a perpetuall motion did not avoid the Comparison. Whoever to their own misfortune will not credit this, he shall find it made good by the Armes of a Knight, the Prince of Hibernia. Glo­ry shall be the reward of the Conquerours; and the punishment of the overcome shall be to leave his own name, and that of his Mistrisse.

All that day there was not any body that ap­peared to Just, every one attending to put them­selves into order to chastise an enterprize, imagi­ned the most rash that could be undertaken by a Knight. The Sun had hardly participated of his light to our Hemisphere, but many appeared to combate the Knight: I will omit the particulars of the Turnament, not to trouble you with a re­lation so superfluous. Not so, replied Celardo, I have a very great curiosity for it, and the rather because our travell is sweetned by such discour­ses. With your History we have advanced a great way without any tediousness: And truly, being ravished with the pleasure of your discourse, and the varietie of your Chances, I have not felt any imaginable weariness. Behold I am ready, an­swered Ossirdo, to satisfie you: And I do it so much the willinger, because those things are so imprinted in my memory that I figure them as present.

The first that enter'd into the Lists was the Duke of Scandia, a young man, who, if he had had as much valour as he had wealth, would have been invincible. He bore an Icarus in his Shield, which he imitated by falling at the first encoun­ter, and grieved that he could not do it in all things by reason he found the earth too hard, and would much rather have been buried in the sea, than have received so great a disgrace in the pre­sence of so many Princes. He left the name of Arcea the Dutchess of Cimbria.

The Count of Lupponia presently supplied his place, who ever hitherto from all Giosts came off with honour. The Emprefle of his shield was one disguised with this Motto, Fain'd, I faine. At the first encounter with their Launces he in a manner equalled the Prince; at the second they both hit upon the breast, although with some dis­advantage to the Count who was a little disorde­red. Taking new Speares they came to the third, angry at themselves that they had not been able to overcome, The Prince was a little wounded in his arme, because the Lance glancing from his shield unbroken stuck in his vantbrace. The Count was cast forth of his saddle with so great a fall, that all thought him dead. He was constrai­ned to leave the name of Cresia, a Damzell of the Queenes, who received more sorrow to see her Knight so handled, than she did for the loss of the quarrell for her beauty.

That day the Prince would fight no more, both by reason it was late, and also because the [Page 224]wound on his arme pained him. The morning following he appeared armed whilest many ex­pected and requested the battell. In little more than two houres he unhorsed fix at the first en­counter, with so much facility, that he astonished all the Court, because they were Knights of e­stimation. The Dukes of Filtra and of Nidrosia: The Counts of Finmarca, and of Berge: And the Barons of Nagardia, and of Hanima; they left the names of Gelasia, Andrena, Filarta, Eu­sina, Polimena, Floralta, even all Damzels belong­ing unto the Queene.

After dinner there appeared a Knight in the Lists in black Armour with studs of Gold, who was unknown to all. He bore for his signe a Sun Dyall: which shewed it is life and motion. The Prince taking his Lance ran to meet him with so violent a force, that he made him bow strange­ly whilest he lost one of his stirrups. Being both enflamed with indignation they tooke second Lances, running as swift as their Horses could. The unknown Knight with so much courage strooke the Prince, that he was compelled (to a­void falling) to embrace his horses neck, whilest the Prince with such a fury hit him on the Helmet, that he strook it from his head. All stood amazed at this encounter, and the rather because that Knight was Known to be a Sarmatian Lady, who a long time had waited on her Majesty. She cloa­thed her countenance with a fierce beauty, and manifested that strength might reigne in that Sex (which upon a false presupposition) was suppo­sed [Page 225]the more weake. She, not acknowledging her self overcome, laid hand to her sword, adding; Knight, although I have lost my Armes, I have not also my understanding, which obliges me to defend the beauties of the Ladies of this Court. The advantage you have over me will more per­spicuously demonstrate the injustice of your Cause. The Prince, blushing to have found so much strength in a woman, answered: Faire La­dy, I ought not to combate with you, for my quarrell extends no farther than against man: And besides, if I ought, I would not fight, you having the advantage by having your face unco­vered, which hath a power to conquer me equall to your hands.

Upon this there entred into the place the Ba­ron of Macina, the proudest Knight that I had ever seene. His originall was from the Vulgar, although he daily vaunted of Nobility. He scor­ned all, and both in Letters and Armes concei­ted himselfe without an equall. He ran to his service, whosoever sought to him, and for any vile hopes slighted the Laws of honour and ob­ligation. He rode upon a horse all black save his forehead, which was marked with foure stars, which even compelled all eyes to suppose them silver. His Armes were most rich, but gained by deceit and rapine. For his Impresse he bore a Leopard, which said, If I overcome not, I do not follow. The two first Encounters were equall, no advantage appearing. In the third, as the Prince passed on without receiving the least [Page 226]dammage, the Baron fell, his horse falling down dead under him. He suddenly drew his sword, and said, I ought not to receive blame for the faults of my horse; with my sword I will main­taine the Prerogatives of the beauty that I adore Alight therefore if you would not that I should commit a crime not usuall between Knights. The Prince lighted, answering him, Although there is no reason that should compell me to combate with you having unhorsed you: yet I will remove from you any pretence that you may not excuse the injustice you maintaine. So saying, he strooke such a blow upon his helme, that if it had not been of a finer temper than or­dinary, that had determined the Quarrell. He for all that, not losing a jot of his vigour, gave the Prince such a thrust, that his Armour being broke with it, he wounded him in the Flanke, conceived considerable for the bloud that ran from it. The Prince, after many blows given and received, foreseeing that the victory consi­sted in the celerity, feigning to strike him on the head, whilest he held advanced his Shield and Sword, ran him through the body. The Baron dying fell downe, so that the Prince had not time to receive the name of the beauty that he de­fended. His death was only distastefull to the Ladies, for they were in hope he might have been the Victor. There were none else in the Court that felt any resentment at his death, for his pride had rendred him hatefull, even to those who had made him great.

The Prince went out of the field to dresse his wounds, which for fifteene daies enforced him to keep his bed. Being recovered, there was not any body that would adventure themselves; the example of the Baron having admonished the most undaunted not to endanger themselves in a matter where the reward did not paralell the perill. Two daies he had remained idle, when on the third a Knight appeared who demanded to Just, imagined of great Nobility by the atten­dance of his Servants, and the richnesse of his Armes. He wore an upper-garment all studded with gold and pearle. The Impresse in his Shield was a death which held an Olive in his hands. They took the field, and ran the Course at the full speed of their horses. The Knight smote the Prince on the Helmet with so impetuous a vio­lence, that bowing himselfe first on the right side, then on the left, he was enforced to fall: On the other side he was strooke by the Prince on the Shield, which being of the purest steele, making the Speare to glide to his breast, and that (with a Coat of Maile, not having sufficient resistance against the assault of an hand rendred by Destiny more cruell than ordinary) was pierced from one side to the other, exhaling his soule with his blood. The sorrow of all was very great, but more especially when they knew him to be Lord of the Island of Tarpasia. He was ta­ken forth of the field by his, who by their la­mentations would have moved pity in the Aire, and with their teares have violated even breasts of brasse.

Two daies after, the Prince perceiving that none answered to his challenge, appointed his departure. He made his resolution to be publi­shed by sound of Trumpet, with a grand resent­ment to the Ladies of the Court, who accounted as stolne from their merit as much of glory as was added to Dianea's name. One Evening fin­ding Doricia even drowned in a grievous sor­row, I enquired what might be the cause of her sadnesse. Before she would answer me, she made that her sighs and teares should captivate the be­nevolence of my heart, the more easily to per­swade it. Afterwards (I know not whether speaking or weeping) she said to me:

I bemoane not these despised beauties as too poore to have Champions: For that deserveth not teares which is not worthy of defence. But I lament at my little fortune that hath rendred me subject to one who hath an heart to look up­on me as slighted. How (I beseech you) can you love me, if with a silent allowance you suffer injuries which are directly aimed at me? Sligh­tings are solely admitted against those things which should be slighted. And how should I af­fect you that endure me to be neglected before my eyes? He deserves not love who demon­strates not his affection by the Effects. Let your memory present to it selfe, when with adulterate leasings of above humane Titles you attempted to beguile the simplicity of my Genius. Then the power of a world would have been too weake against the strength of your arme. At the [Page 229]present, now possession hath cooled or cloy'd your desire, one only man is sufficient to beget feares in that mind which could not have been terrified. I condemne your Judgement that have not the boldnesse to defend her, to whom you have en­gaged your soule to love her. Whilest you cour­ted me for a Wife you would have moved a rock, and now to maintaine my honour you languish in Idlenesse. 'Tis true, that the beauties of Dianea (augmented perchance by an Hyperbolicall Fame) exceed the comparison of mine, tormen­ted by a slighting: but you not withstanding are obliged to defend them against a Venus. Having elected them, wherefore refuse you to protect them; you scare peradventure to combate a­gainst what is just, you deceive your selfe. Beau­tie hath no other reason but that of the eyes: nor can he be accused of injustice who defends that he loves. I will not taxe you of Cowardice, as fea­ring a Knight who hath been almost vanquished by a woman, although to me your actions declare you such, not to do a wrong to my choice. I on­ly supplicate you, that you permit not one sole man to depart hence vaineglorious by a reputati­on from the Ladies of this Court. But you per­haps affecting Dianea, would for her merit that our Disgraces should adde glories to her Tri­umphs. The more I reflect on your thought, so much the more it confirmes me. He knows not how to love me who knows not how to guard me from injuries. If this be true, wherefore would you betray me? Aime not to carry me [Page 230]into Island, for I cannot be secure of my life with him who would not deliver me from scornes.

She would have spoke more, if teares and sighs accompanying her words to vent her passion, had not destroyed them as soone as they were borne. I remained so repleat with affliction, that if the temembrance of my State had not stopt my teares, they would have falne in an abundance. I know not by what Fatality I was withheld from fighting against the Prince of Hibernia. I be­leeve that since I had had the Fortune to be your Companion, you have not perceived in me any signes of a base mind, and yet then I had not the courage to lay hand on my sword. I know not if the imagination that Dianea's beauty was supe­riout to that of Doricia occasioned that aversion in me; or rather that some Devill diverted me from that fight. Neverthelesse I enforced my selfe to convince Doricia with words, not ha­ving the heart to give her satisfaction by my actions, I said to her:

Doricia, you mortifie my affection, whilest being engaged in marriage, you have an ambiti­on to entice eies with your beauties, and whilest you have a desire that they should be published. The face of a wife should not pretend to more than to meet the satisfaction of her husband. She is not more comely but by that heart by which she hath been judged and chosen for the most handsome; your beauty henceforth is not to be submitted to opinion nor censure. If I [Page 231]should maintaine it against the follies of the Prince of Hibernia, the danger will be greater than the profit. If I should conquer, I should gaine nothing but a confirmation of my own thought, which hath made choice of you as the most beautifull of this Age. If Fortune should rob from me the Palme of victory, what a griefe would mine be? I should be accused of impru­dency, for being more willing to give credit to the force of my sword, then to the undeceivable judgement of my eies. I should imagine my self worthy of reproaches from all mouths whilest I should defend the beautie of those things which are mine. Give way to others to speake your praises: The Encomiums of those that are in­teressed render merit suspected. Woe be to that husband who desires that the Piazza should be the Theater of his wives beautie, and would that an universall Fame should servefor an Eccho to the Glories of her Countenance. He loves that beautie little, who publishing it makes it more coveted and subject to Rapine. He is very poore of desert, who thinkes not himselfe alone sufficient to comprehend the beauties of his wife. Who so publishes the comlinesse of her whom he loves, or would have Companions, or is distrustfull of himselfe, or his own opinion, had need of testimony from others. That Face wants not proofes, nor defences, which can re­ceive no greater prejudice than to see it selfe ex­posed to doubt. If I should maintaine your beau­tie against the Prince of Hibernia, I should ren­der [Page 232]you equall to Dianea, whilest by all others you would be accounted much her superiour. I affect not so little the Delicacies of Doricia, as I would gaine them Paragons, nor adventure them in a battell, which for the most part is over-ru­led by Fortune. Those things are vile which are hazarded to the Arbitrements of Conquerours. If you be wise, argue my affection from hence, who not to put your beauty into a doubt am content in your opinion to be reckoned for a Coward.

With these, and such like conceits I endea­voured to satisfie her. She had no mind to an­swer me, being doubly afflicted, both with her griefe, and my words: And stuck in an opinion that I affected Dianea, and could not find any meanes to undeceive her. After he had staid sixe daies in a vaine expectation of Combatants, the Prince of Hibernia departed. And soone after I likewise determined upon going. Doricia went with me in obedience to the Laws of Matrimo­nie, and the Commands of her Father. She would rather have died than departed thence, if she had not scared the Censure of the World. Being arrived in Island, there was not any thing I omitted whereby I might rejoyce her, and free her from her so vaine suspitions.

She was even convinced, and thenceforward, laying aside the sadnesses of her mind, she was pleased with the expressions of my affection at­tending her abroad a Fishing, of which our Island abounds above all other things. To this she would come with much content, we lying purposelie [Page 233]for some daies upon the shore. Then also she took pleasure to view the wonders of the Island, which even puzzle Faith, and render the relation of them suspitious.

All the Crows there are milke-white, and the Jay's utter an humane voice. Island hath there high hills, on the tops of which lies a perpetuall snow, and the bottomes give nourishment to a continuall fire. There are likewise foure Foun­taines, a stones cast distance one from the other, all of contrary qualities. The water of one is hotter than fire: And of another so cold that it cannot be endured. The third is pleasant to the taste, and physicall; and the fourth ranke poyson. But all these Marvels, of which Nature may glo­ry, yield to a voraginous place, about the banks of which those men appeare that have perished by a violent death.

One morning (but against my will) Doricia stay'd there, looking on a Damsell, who with a loud voice called brother. He suddenly appeared, and had not been thought a Ghost if she had not embraced him. He was demanded by her the cause of his death: And answered, that to per­forme an acceptable service to Prince Ossirdo, he with some friends went to the Kingdome of Cy­prus to steale Dianea thence. That they having got notice she was to repaire to a Fountaine, there waited to have taken her. The performance had crowned the Designe, if the unexpected comming in of a Knight had not deprived them all of their lives.

Doricia, her old jealousies being awakened, at these words (perhaps perswading her selfe, that this man by my appointment went into Cyprus) began to provoke me with injuries so perspicu­ous, that I could not abstaine from cursing my Fortune, which I found daily in a readinesse to molest my Reposes. I often offered to interrupt her, and plead my excuses, but her out-cries gave not an opportunity to my reasons. Finally, the unhappy Doricia, not longer able to endure her sorrow, ran (for what ever I could do) to the Fountaine of poyson, and taking a draught of it fell presently down dead. I (although it be a species of Felicity to be rid of a jealous wife) took so great a discontent at it, that I fell into a sicknesse that endangered my life.

These newes being brought into the King of Norway's Court, he was so offended, that (for all my Embassadours could say) raising a power­full Army, he came to the harrowing of our Island. I having in the first battell found For­tune averse, fled away disguised, esteeming it as a folly to tempt againe that Destinie who had ever­more declared her selfe my enemy. My Father yielded, having not Forces to resist. The Con­querour mollified by his teares, or rather assured of my innocencie, confirmed his Kingdome to him, reserving to himselfe the Homage for it. I had no mind afterwards to returne into Island: but travell up and down the world with an hope to see the malignitie of those influences changed, which have hitherto continuallie de­signed me to misery.

Whilest Ossirdo made this Relation of his adventures, they heard some voices, which, bro­ken between those Trees, allowed not a distin­ction whether they were the effects of joy or sorrow. Mending their Pace, they descried a Pallace, which being shone on by the second Lu­minary of heaven, to their eies appeared maje­sticall. They heard plainly Lamentations, where­upon perswading themselves some violence was acted, they desired to be admitted in. They were scarce up staires, but entred into a Roome where they saw five so neare dying, that with good rea­son they might be termed Carkasses.

Oleandro and Arnalta were soone known by them. After they had suffered those teares to fall which so miserable an Accident deserved, they enquired of the Damsels what was the occasion of so much evill. Understanding it to be poy­son, Celardo remembring he had about him the Medal against poyson, which Arnalta in her haste at parting had sorgotten, took it, and lay­ing it upon the breast of Oleandro, he speedily re­covered his senses. He neverthelesse immedi­ately continued his Lamentations against For­tune, which preserved him in life that he might be eternally miserable. Oppressed with sorrow, he had not so much understanding as to know Celardo. He believed Nature had made resistance against the poyson, and esteemed it an addition to his wretchednesse, that he could not dye. But this affliction was soone passed over; for the Medal, which was a stone, called by the Ara­bians [Page 236]Bezoardica, made the same effect upon all the rest, freeing them out of the hands of death.

The joyes and embracings cannot be exprest. Tired with so many doubled and centuplicated signes of consolation and affection, they gave thankes to Celardo, and Ossirdo, acknowledging themselves obliged to them for their lives. Here renewing their thankes, they knew one another. Only Arelida accusing the starres, and the Gods as Authors of her infelicitie, provoked a pity with her moanes, even in those that ought to have hated her. She said:

Is it possible (O Fortune) that thou hast drest thy head, and rent thy sailes not to transport else­where the wofull effects of thy malignitie. Is it possible that I should find also the Destinies inexorable against my death? Is it possible that death, who satiates not his desires with Moun­taines of Carkasses, declares himselfe nauseous to my life? I am so miserable, that even Hell re­fuses me. Unhappy Arelida, for an adjunct to whose miseries the World, Heavens, and the Gods have changed Nature. Love hath rendred thee odious, Iron cannot kill thee, Theeves flye from thee, the Sea vomits thee up, Poyson works not to effect thy revenge, nor to withdraw thee from the scornes of thy enemies. O Knights, what wicked Acts have you pitifully exercised against me! If with divine remedies you can animate the dead, you should not therefore dis­quiet those that only in death suppose their secu­rity. [Page 237]I have not an heart that can live oppressed with so many infelicities. But presently you shall see the effects of your pity. Oleandro, Ariama, why delay you to run me through? Why delay you to revenge your selves? Behold the hated, behold the abandoned Arelida, who lived till now only to see you die. The hate which my unhappinesse necessitates me to beare you is that which hitherto hath kept me alive. I have not lived to live, I have lived to hate you. To what end then stay you; Kill me, kill me. Behold my breast, behold my heart, which for their dotages merit justice from your hands, and with reason crueltie from your swords. Since my follies de­serve not the honourable punishment of your disdaine, afford me your swords, which very well know how to deliver me from the Tyrannie of Destinie. It doth not agree with your For­tune to permit me to live who cannot but hate you.

Here she was silent, I beleeve to give leisure to her eies, that they also might present the sad­nesse of her soule. Oleandro with that gentleness which is proper to a native Prince, with his teares compassionated the miseries of such a Princesse. Not enduring that with so desperate conceits she should speake of her selfe, he said to her:

Princesse Arelida, it is time to calme your mind, accommodating it to the will of heaven, which many times instructs us by an appearance of evill. The remembrance of past things shall [Page 238]be buried in oblivion, whilest Ariama and I will have no other memory but of an Obligation to serve you. It is not convenient that revenge should reigne in that breast where the Graces inhabit. If Fortune hath been willing to contra­ry you, shew that your constancy can triumph o­ver the malignity of Fortune, and that out of Iron and fire you have recovered health. The Kingdome of Numidia deplores your absence. The declining age of your Father beseeches you not to abandon him, desirous to felicitate the horrours of death with your presence. But if these reasons are not prevalent to dry away your teares; if revenge overcomes your reason, if your sadnesses cannot admit of comfort but by the determination of my life; if lastly the hatred you beare me will give no leisure to the remem­brance of the love which you have borne me, behold my sword, behold my head, satiate your selfe, kill me, cut me to peeces. I had rather die than live hated by you. It is against my dutie that I should permit that a Princesse should hate me without being able to vent it. So saying, he gave her his sword, and kneeling laid his head on her Lap.

She fetching a deep sigh, and throwing away the sword raised him up, saying to him: Olean­dro, with how many sorts of weapons do you know to overcome your enemies. I acknow­ledge my selfe vanquished, and from henceforth will change the Altar of Revenge into that of Oblivion. I will meditate occasions to serve you, [Page 239]as I have formerly studied waies to destroy you. I receive Ariama for my sister, and beseech both of you to pardon the follies of an enamoured soule, which untill now had not any knowledge by reason. I commend my Kingdome to you two, being unwilling to forsake this house, which hath proved the cause that I can compose my mind to live in quiet. I have no ambition for a Kingdome, which finally will do nothing but di­sturbe me and impoverish me. There is no hap­pier reigning than over ones own affections. These hence forward shall with all my power be kept under to prevent me from encountring er­rours, which till now have prepared precipices for me.

So saying, she embraced Ariama with such an Affection, that it gave not, no not a signe to have received at any time any imaginable dis­pleasure. Turning afterwards to Celardo and the others, she said to them: Pardon me (Sirs) that till now, opprest with my passions, I have negle­cted that entertainment which is due to all, but in particular to those who have conferred benefits. I will endeavour to supply it with so much the more affection. Then she made some meats to be got ready, the Sun being advanced far in his course. Foure daies this most noble Company continued with the Princesse Arelida, without being able to perswade her to returne to her Kingdome of Numidia. Towards which Ole­andro, Ariama, Arnalta, and the Count of Olano parted. Celardo and Ossirdo took their way to­ward [Page 240]the City of Fessa, which gives name to the Region and Kingdome, and is the Metropo­lis of all Mauritania.

Arelida, utterly forgetting all those sorrows which would violently have obliged her to La­mentations, enjoyed the delights of that soli­tude, which is a Paradise to those hearts that know how to enjoy it. She threw to the earth the Statue of revenge, raising in the place of it that of oblivion. It was an old woman crown'd with Mandrakes. With her right hand she held a Lynx bound, and with her left a bow of Juniper. She trod upon a winged boy, who had his eies covered with Poppy. She changed afterwards those black colours into others more cheerefull to the eye, and more agreeable to the life she intended. She abolished those Pictures which excited resentments of sorrow, setting such in their roome as would rejoyce the sight, Hares, Bucks, Birds, and Fish rendred not there un­employed the heart or hand.

One day returning from hunting, got some­thing afar off from hers, she espied a Knight, that sighing with a continuall complaint exprest signs of a very great Passion. He was all armed but his head, having taken off his Helmet to take aire, or to give leave to the wind to carry those signs into her face whom he loved. He bore in his Shield for his Empresse some Roses, with a Mot­to which said, Life and death from the Sun. She came upon him before he was aware, so immo­vable was he become by his passions. He had not [Page 241]so much as perceived her, if Arelida had not said to him, Knight, it were fit you drest your selfe in my cloaths, since with such Lamentations you pa­ralell the weakness of women. Tears misbecome all, and especially a Knight, who should not know how to complaine. What can be lookt for from him, who, to defend himselfe from sorrow, can make use of no other Armes but those which fall from the eyes, put in practice by every the weakest woman. The Knight blush'd at these words, but with a gracious behaviour answered her:

Faire Lady, Lamentations are not prohibited to Lovers. Love exacts no other tribute but of teares, and with them cannot be satiated. There is not any strength of mind that can make resi­stance against that force which overthrows the mind. Love is an oppression of the heart, which receives no ease but from sighs and complaints. Rather he that loves is without himselfe, living in the Object beloved, whereupon it is no mar­vell that the eyes should shed teares for the dam­mage of such a losse. I conclude (faire Lady) that he cannot love that cannot lament; and that the kindnesse of the eyes is an Index of the facilitie of the heart.

I confesse my selfe convinced by your reasons, replied Arelida, and entreat your pardon for my boldnesse in disturbing you, and for reprehen­ding you for a thing, of which I had never any feeling. I earnestly beseech you, for a punish­ment for my errour, to go to my house not farre [Page 242]from hence, where I will endeavour to serve you as much (as jesting) I have offended you. The Knight refused not the invitation, and the rather by reason night was stolne much upon them. Being asked by Arelida of the Amours that caused him to be so sad; in this manner the Knight began to unfold them.

The History of the Stranger-Knight.

I (Lady) in little lesse than sixe Lustrums made love to many. My Genius and opportunitie have made me many times fall upon objects which were unworthy of affection. The first was worse than base, my inclination being un­able any longer to abide the provocations of sense. The weaknesse of my age, and the reve­rence of my Superiours allowed me not there­fore occasion and designe to employ my selfe more worthily. In this I continued but a while, being interrupted by one who with a severe cen­sure watched over the dotages of my heart.

I passed to the second, so much exceeding the former, as I found there beauty above her, who out of her own choice betrayed that faith she owed to another. Some years I continued in this affe­ction, both because I could not enjoy her but by stealth, and because expressing for me a great kindness, I conceited my selfe eternally obli­ged to love her; I was diverted by an accident of Fortune, which in amorous encounters discovered me to those eyes, who could not [Page 243]look upon me but with scorne from them, and danger to me. Her tongue and authoritie em­ployed all their power, so that she recovered his favour whom she had deceived, but upon con­dition to betray him no more. This she observed inviolably, whence turning sensuality into friend­ship, I proceeded to new complacencies. I met with two so singular beauties, that I should ima­gined them from heaven if their infidelitie had not discovered their Deceits to me. One, that had a breast more barbarous than her name, be­trayed me at the beginning of my love, for con­ceiting her beautie of the quality of the Sun, she would communicate it to all. The other, whose name was Aura, was of a mind so covetous, that all the Treasures of the world were not sufficient to satiate the Abysse of her Appetites. In Gold only remained the Ciments of her faith. She knew no other Idoll, and adored no other Dei­tie; I took occasion to part with them both in d [...]slike, being able neither to endure Rival­ship, nor mercinarinesse in love.

I was grievously fearefull to apply againe my mind to other Loves, not that my sense was not assenting, but not to hazard my selfe under tor­ments for so undeserving objects. I exalted my mind upon greater subjects, and bestowed my heart upon those beauties, which not to be ter­med of the world, I perswaded my selfe were divine. And I should never have thought other­wise of them, whilest they themselves made me account them Celestiall. In these pursuites I em­ployed [Page 244]a whole Lustrum with so much the grea­ter foolishnesse as hopes are more doubtfull, de­lights more dangerous, passions more vehement, and the fruit for the most part falne before it be ripe. They were not superiour to others, neither in loyaltie, nor goodnesse, though they made profession of them: peradventure worse, but (Mistrisses in the Arts of dissimulation) coun­terfeited those qualities they had not. It is true that a prohibition renders the delight the greater, and that it is an instinct of our humane kind to desire greatly those things we are forbidden; be­cause Consolations are embittered so by direfull accidents, that the dangers and changes do ex­ceed the delights which may be gathered from them. The examples of others directed me to get out of the way; whereupon I had the For­tune to be secure with dammage to those that were endangered by it. The counsels of my friends (in a high manner) encouraged me to that resolution which was scarce believed by those that saw it. In this while I enjoyed many Mistrisses, imitating the custome of the Dogs of Egypt, to drinke and fly; more to vent the in­citements of nature, than by the setled content­ment of my heart. These violences of sense be­ing passed over, I was ever penitent; the sensua­lity of pleasures being a torment to that mind which loves that delight only by accident.

I had taken up a resolution to live free, all loves being loose and equally engaged to cost and danger, when a pure chance of Fortune made [Page 245]me fall between the Arms of a Beauty, which in despight of time, who had wronged her with some years, had in her a— I know not what con­formable to my Genius. With this for some days I proved all those allurements, and all those sweet­nesses, which are prodigally bestowed by the most dissolute, and the most free. She would move at my very signes, and encountred my satisfacti­on before I knew how to request, or desire them. She took that part of my Presents which was of the least value. Truely, in her I could not disco­ver any thing, but an ardent desire to serve me, aloofe from all those Interests which render the delights of Love to be despised.

I confesse that these tricks won such a posses­sion in my heart, that although I did not affect her, she pleased me so, that I knew not where to pretend to more. One day by Fortune I disco­vered how I was inveigled. Finally, I perceived she was not better then others of the like profes­sion, but yet very much cunninger than others. That which Age had stole from her Face, shee added to her wit. Pride and Covetousnesse strove for precedency in that minde, the most perfidious, the most dissembling, the most base of the world. It was no difficulty for me to leave her, my eye abhorring her no lesse then my heart.

I believe I lived but few hours free, because I gave way to my selfe to be overcome by oppor­tunity, or rather because 'tis the nature of a yong man not to live without love. By chance I be­came [Page 246]spectator of a Beauty so deserving, that it was an injurie to the judgement to imagine her subject to a parallel. I suddenly gave her up the dominion over my selfe; it being an ef­fect rather of stupidity then discretion not to love her. I had the Fortune to serve her to my Contentment, our practice not suspected, but to those that envied my Felicities Conversation, made the flame greater, which so much the more increased, as a supprest Fire burnes the violenter. For a great while I had not the Con­fidence to declare my selfe. Shee with so great a wisedome concealed her Affections, that she gave not me the opportunity to discover my love. If at any time in Discourse I let a word fall to my purpose, she either seemed not to un­derstand it, or returned me an Answer contrary to my meaning.

Six times the Moon had made a Pompe of her Inconstancies, when being growne impatient of my timerous secretnesse, feigning an Affection equall to that I bore her, I asked her Advice: If it were better to discover ones flames to a Mi­stris by Letters, word of mouth, or by the Inter­cession of others. Shee readily answered me, that the Decision of that question depended up­on the conveniency of the Lover. If he could come to speake to her (shee said) at his plea­sure, it was not wisedome to make use of the trust of any in so jealous a matter. That the Messen­gers of such Loves as are not prostitute, if they be base, may be corrupted by others, as they be [Page 247]bribed by you. If they be of a Condition above ordinary, the danger is greater then the profit. Many from Messengers become Lovers, and of Substitutes Principals.

That a Letter is a dangerous thing, subject to a thousand Accidents, all uncertaine; and the ra­ther, because he that writes Love-Letters en­deavours much more to express himself eloquent then enamoured. They insert in them Hyper­boles, sometimes so far from truth and possibility, as the tongue durst not be so impudent as speake them without blushing. Contrariwise, who speaks to his Mistris himselfe, acquires the me­rit of secrecie, which is a most necessarie part of Love; being unwilling to trust with any other then his own heart a business of such consequence. He shewes himselfe bold also, which is the Index of a noble minde, whilst feare ordinarily reigns in breasts repleat with basenesse. He acts his own Reasons with the greater Power; Eloquence ne­ver failing that Tongue which pleads its owne Interests: He perswades most lively, who useth such meanes, that his Countenance accompanies his words, and whose teares and sighes precede them. If a Lover with a bold Oratorie pleads the Reasons of his Cause, he need not despaire of victorie: There being no mind that yeelds sooner to Periwasions then that of Women: par­ticularly treating of Love, and rendring them­selves easie to believe that which they desire, fre­quently deceived by their owne Opinion, which establisheth them (by a treacherous Consultation [Page 248]with a Looking-glass) in a state of Desert, worthy of the obsequiousnesse of all hearts.

If one be enamoured, although a timerous re­spect dares hardly proffer what one desires, there is no minde but may be inveigled, no oosome but may be enflamed. A Woman shewes a great merit in her selfe, if she hath the valour to terrifie her servant. She is perswaded she hath some At­tribute of Divinity, when she perceives such Ve­neration in those that love her. One ought so be fearefull but of great things; And a Woman cannot deny love to those, who loving her profess so great estimation of her. Other things also there are which cannot be expressed, nor brought to effect by Letters, nor by Messen­gers.

Thus she answered me. Whereupon I thus added; Then will I take your Counsell, which without doubt will lead my heart forth of those errours, which those encounter which take no advise but from themselves. So I revealed my Affection: She remained without motion of my Proposall, and all her colour flying from her face, she neither denyed me, nor afforded me a corre­spondency: I would have added other new Im­portunities, but being interrupted by those that waited on her, I left my Enterprize imperfect. The day afterward I found her languishing in bed of a Maladie not inferiour to mine, for shee perceived her heart wounded with an impressi­on. I attended on her, procuring her all those Remedies, which by the ability of Physicians, or [Page 249]by the power of Art were imagined necessarie. In a short time shee was freed from her sickness, driven away (I know not whether) by my vowes or teares.

But yet she kept her bed, to invigorate, espe­cially her minde. when I afresh represented her with my love. She thanked me for it, acknow­ledged her selfe beholding, and promised mee all correspondency, so they might not derogate from the Laws of her honestie. I anew redoub­led my Entreaties and Supplications; whereup­on, on the day (according to the Custome of the Countrey) when all gave Presents, shea vouchsafed me a kisse. This so happy beginning gave me occasion and heart to beseech more, and ravish more from her. It was an easie matter for me, for she with expressions of Affection used to reach to me.

I attended the accomplishment of these De­sires, which are not extinguished with a kisse, when Fortune would infelicitate me with happi­nesses themselves. I was chosen Commissarie to the Souldierie of the Castle of Lomapa by the Councell of State. My departure thence was with that resentment, as if my soule were sepa­rated from my body. A thousand doubts combate upon the feare of my minde, having abandoned her who can only reconsolate the sadnesses of my heart. My greatest ease is to walke sometimes, wandring up and downe these Fields, participa­ting my passion with them. You will not there­fore hereafter have reason to chide me, having [Page 250]understood the justice of my teares.

I suffer with you (Sir Knight) replyed Arelida, and compassionate you; and so much the more, because I have reason to doe so. And now being come neare the Pallace, they were met by the Squires, who having already covered the Tables, waited the returne of their Lady. Arelida and the Knight presently sate them downe. Where, after a supper of the most delicate meats, they proceeded into diverse discourses, untill being told by them that waited, that the night was very far spent, they retired to their rests: al­though the griefe the Knight felt (for the great distance of his beloved Object) did not afford him, but one short sleep disquieted by a thousand Phantasmes.

All this while Dorcone, the King of the Thra­cians, remained in Cyprus, honoured by King Vassileo, with an Affection above his Genius, by reason of his new Enmity with the Prince of Creet. The day was spent either in Tourne­ments or Huntings and a great part of the nights in Playes and Dances. At all times the Thra­cian would wait upon Dianea, who although she was full of sorrow for the remote absence of Astidamo, feigned her selfe to accept him grate­fully, though she seriously hated him.

He repleat with confidence, through the Af­fection of King Vassileo, one day taking him aside, requested the marriage with Dianea, demonstra­ting that these Nuptials onely could secure the safety of Cyprus, insidiated by the Kings of Ar­menia, [Page 251]of Egypt, of Creet, and of all those that en­vied or feared the greatness of him: That the wisedome of men consisted in preventing dan­gers. But if these Motives should even prove useless, he hoped to obtaine her, because he could not bestow his daughter on a dearer friend, and a sonne more interested to his Majesty. King Vassileo thanking the Thracian for his excellent disposition, through which he was willing to change Friendship into Alliance, replyed; That in a business of such consequence, he would ac­quaint his Councell with it, to conclude the mar­riage, with the greater reputation to them both. That he had designed to bestow Dianea on the Duke of Filena, to whom he had imparted some of his Resolution with the Assent of the same Councell, that if it should be in his power to retract his word, he would doe it more then willingly, there being no comparison betweene the greatness of the Thracian, and the poore Fortunes of a Duke. That Princes nevertheless in some business were not Patrons of themselves. Leaving him then in this Commotion of heart, hee demanded the Opinion of his Councell of State.

Onely two raised Opinions. The Baron of O­varta, a young man of great wit, who pre­posed by Favours from the Thracian, main­tained for him: And the Count of Saline­ra, the greatest among the chiefe opposed him.

The Baron said, that the motions of a King­dome [Page 252]had need of great staies. That all forraign Princes were ill-affected, and all their Neighbors Enemies. If that Thracia should not be intere­sted in the defence of the Kingdome, they had no other hope. That the modesty of the Duke of Filena would pretend no Resentment to yield up that to a King, which had been promised to him. That he would assent to it, having not an Ambition after so great things, and the sooner, because that Promise had not exceeded the Kings desire, and the Approbation of the Councel. That Accidents alter the Deliberations of Princes, who would not have a jurisdiction superiour to others, if they might not alter at their plea­sures. He concluded; it was but reason to give a Queen to Thracia, having slaine them a King.

The Count of Salinera on the other side, ha­ving no other Affections but those of the Pub­licke Interest, spoke with more lively Rea­sons.

Then (said he) shall the Kingdome of Cy­prus seek for Kings from Thracia. Then shall our Greatness be prostituted to the command of Barbarians. I know not how such conceits be­come not rejected before they be spoken. What Motives should invite us! Perhaps the greatness of the King of Thracia. Hath then the King­dome of Cyprus need of Greatnesse. To joyne it to Thracia, is to destroy it, not to make it grea­ter. The Kingdome will be changed into a Pro­vince, and we shall all be subjects to Thracia. [Page 253]The feare of our Enemies is not so much as to make us deliver our selves into the hands of our very Enemies. I much more feare the friend­ship of the King of Thracia, then the hatred of the King of Egypt, of Armenia, Creet, and all the World. Then shall a remote Feare without o­ther Foundations then those of Opinion per­swade the Counsell of Cyprus to subjection. These same Kings which are asserted for Enemies would become united to defend us: The reason of State not permitting the Augmentation of another. His Majesty should lay to heart, if not his Word, at the least his Interests. The Armes, and Armies are under the Dukes Command. To render him discontented, in my opinion were to provoke him to the prejudice of the State: He hath a heart that cannot beare an affront. He added other Reasons, but neverthelesse the grea­ter party gave Vote to that of the Baron of O­varta, both because they perceived the Kings minde enclined that way, and because they en­vied at the Choise made of the Duke of Filena. So much Adulation and Envy can prevaile in Councellors.

The Consult ended; the King went to Dia­nea's Lodgings, and taking her by the hand, led her aside; saying to her: You may see (through your owne understanding) our dangers and those of the Kingdom. All Princes aym at my op­pression, and if I prevent not their Malignity with some Defence, I must onely waite to become a prey to the Ambition of those who would raise [Page 254]warre even against Jove. This cannot be done without joyning you in marriage to some great Prince, who interesting himselfe in our Affaires, will be of power to protect us.

There could not have been a worthier Ele­ction then that of the Duke of Filena, while new Accidents had not presented to us new Resolutions. To alter an opinion is convenient to all, but particularly to Princes; who feare not censure, nor punishment for their incon­stancy. The Interests of our security have made me change the Duke of Filena into the King of Thracia, so much the more deserving you, as you merit no lesse Personage for your Husband then a King. You will evermore receive Com­mendations, following the Opinion of the Councell of State, and the command of your Fa­ther.

Dianea suffered not these words without dis­pleasure: Yet she was unwilling that any ex­ternall signes should appeare to her Father, de­siring no [...] to oppose her Discontents though very reasonable. For a while she deferred her Answer, as if she premeditated words, or ra­ther because shee was to declare an Opinion remote from that of her Father, she was wil­ling to prolong as much as was possible her an­gring him. Lastly, the Ensignes, I know not whether of Shame or Discontent, unfol­ded in her Countenance, shee thus answered him;

Sir, in some things I supposed my selfe not [Page 255]obliged to obey your Majestie, above once you commanded me that I should respect the Duke of Filena as my Husband, and (in despite of my heart) I assented, which perchance was very unwilling to submit to Matrimonie. Now I would humble my selfe to your resolutions if I could do it, or if it lay within my power to do it. I find my selfe engaged to the Duke of Filena, and am not in a condition to receive affections, nor to love another. Let the tendernesse of a Father com­miserate the weaknesse of his Daughter, who with the losing of my selfe have been wil­ling to obey my Father. I do not call to your me­mory the infelicious remembrances of the Thra­cians infidelitie, because this ought to be a consi­deration of discretion which some should pro­pose to me. I have not an ambition for the multi­tude of Kingdomes. This of Cyprus is sufficient to satiate the vastitie of these thoughts, which peradventure would not be wooed into a con­tent with the Dominion of a World. The valour of the Duke of Filena allowes us not an oceasi­on to dread the hostilitie of enemies. The King­dome of Negrepont speakes too much otherwise of his virtue. I know not who would resist a ship when he should assist at the sterne.

She would have added other reasons, but was interrupted by King Vassileo, who said to her: Dianea, I am not come to dispute with you, but only to acquaint you with my resolvs. As a daugh­ter you should reverence them, as disercet com­mend them. The interests of the State and King­dome [Page 256]appertaine not to your Age, nor to your Sexe. It concernes me to make you obey, and acknowledge the Obligation you owe to the Gods, and to a Father so affectionate, and so in­dulgent.

Dianea, perceiving him full of anger, threw her selfe at his feet, and there speaking and la­menting, united her teares and supplications to perswade him, and overcome him at the same time. All was in vaine, for with a rigorous se­veritie he determined the Nuptials should be so­lemnized without delay. Whereupon Dianea despaiting altogether of her life, would not any longer conceale her affections. Prostrating her selfe againe at his feet, with sobs, and sighs, and all her cunning, she said to him:

Father, Behold the unhappy Dianea compel­led languishing at your feet to confesse the er­rours and follies of her heart. I deny not to de­serve the most severe rigours of your indignation, not for any fault I can discerne in my Election, but for having made it without the approbation of your Majestie. But now torments and cros­ses are prepared, for I cannot assent to a new Marriage, having given my Faith to Astidamo Prince of Creete. Let not your Majesty thinke that I will justifie the demerit of my disobedi­ence, for I will have no reason against a Father who hath been pleased to love me to such an ex­cesse: Much lesse can I beseech you for pardon, because my mind cannot imagine an offence, ha­ving made choice of a Prince so great, and so [Page 257]worthy; nor can I admit of repentance for ha­ving elected him.

King Vassileo in a moment changed colour a thousand times. That countenance, which through age was nothing but palenesse, he apparelled with so many flames, that it well preclaimed the fire which he nourished in his breast. He would have thrust Dianea from him, who held him, em­bracing his Knees, if a sudden feare had not brought a trembling both into his feet and hands.

Recovering in some measure his strength, and growing into a fury, he gave command for the imprisonment of Dianea. There was not any that durst contradict him, nor enquire of him the cause; shewing himselfe so highly displeased, that it was not with securitie of life to speake to him. About an hour after, dissembling the flames of his perturbation, he sent for the Thracian, to whom he related his miseries, with resentments so lively, that Dorcone himselfe was enforced to accompanie him in weeping. After wards, brea­king the silence, he was compelled to by griefe, he began to say:

O what prodigies are these that reward me with inventions of impossibilitie, only to render me miserable. Father you have slaine me. How can it be, that Dianea, who beares bashfulnesse and simplicity in her countenance, should be dis­obedient to her Father? Can she be immodest? Your Majesty must excuse me if I beleeve it not: For my affection would not receive an impressi­on [Page 258]on of things which might prejudice the honour of Dianea. But yet let it be how it will; I be­seech your Majesty to bestow her on me, because my affection is not capable of any thing but the possession of her. I hope by serving her I shall dispoyle her of all those loves which have ren­dered her engaged to another.

King Vassileo, setting aside the interests of his Kingdome, answered: Friend, I am unwilling she should be anothers who would not be mine. She shall receive from me double punishment, as from a Judge, and as from a Father. Having abused the effects of my love she shall prove those of my indignation. The Thracian replied, suggesting to him; That he could not more wor­thily supply the Interests of her honour than by placing her in marriage; That otherwise she would ever live with that blemish of shame on her Reputation. King Vassileo becomming im­patient by the provocations of sorrow, unable to suffer that others should appoint him Rules to his Affaires, returned him a sharpe answer: which Dorcone taking great exception at parted from him repleat with anger. The voices of the people encreased it upon him, who alwaies ig­norant in their Furies, supposing him the author of Dianea's miseries, followed him through the streets with a thousand reproaches. The Thra­cian was become odious to all the Court, his vi­ces being discovered, appearing the greater, be­cause for a time he had dissembled them. Many times he held himselfe but little assured of his [Page 259]life, perceiving the clamours multiplied in such a manner, that they exprest evidences of an in­surrection.

Dorcone resolved upon his departure, unwil­ling to render himself lyable to the Precipices of the Vulgar, alwaies blind in their Judgements, and ever rash in their Resolutions. He scarce arrived at the Port, when he saw the burning of his two Galleys, consumed with fire before the Marriners could provide any remedy. A few by swimming escaped the danger, the fire at one and the same time having deprived them both of preventions, and an escape. It was an impossi­bility to penetrate into the originall, though the simpler sort imagined it fire falne from heaven. This accident neverthelesse made him not at all retard his departure; for Dorcone, hiring a small Vessell, went aboord with all his.

Before he was got far from the Port, he was certified of the death of Dianea. He with much ado suppressing his teares, began to vent a thou­sand imprecations against that Father who had violated Nature, and thrown into oblivion the name and affection of a Father. Before he would hasten the Marriners to flye from that heaven, so impious, that it rendred a Father an Executioner to his own Children, he would un­derstand better the particulars of Dianea's death.

The Count of Vafraro, who had a great Ac­quaintance in the Court, and who (to that pur­pose) was left behind by Dorcone, thus gave him an account of it:

After the departure of your Majesty, King Vassileo convoked his privy Councell, whom he made acquainted with the Amours of Dianea, proposing what punishment a Daughter deser­ved that had disobeyed her Father, defamed the Kingdome, and betrayed her honesty. By the Councell there was two waies demonstrated to him: The one of the Laws of the Kingdome, which appointed her to punishment, and that of the affection of his Majestie which might ren­der her worthy of grace and pardon: Both just, though that of the Fathers forgiveness more pro­per. For if he pardoned through the effects of his clemency those he did not love; why ought he not to pardon her whom he should love more than himselfe? Afterwards he was beseeched by all the Councell to impose upon the inconside­ration of youth that punishment which the er­rour of the Princess merited. That a Father nei­ther ought to be a King or Judge against his Children. That the old age of his Majestie re­quired not such an affliction; neither the King­dome such a losse.

To these reasons King Vassileo answered, that he could not distinguish between the person of a Father, and that of a King. That he had loved Dianea, accounting her a support to his age, a reputation to his house, an honour to the King­dome, and a benefit to his People. But she proving otherwise, he was obliged to hate her. That, that ill which impunity might bring forth, or the dissembling of his Daughters errours en­forced [Page 261]him to condemne her; else he should al­waies be held culpable of the miseries his Cle­mency would produce That it was more pro­fitable for the Kingdome to have no Heires, than to have them unworthy. That he should im­mortalize himselfe more by punishing her, than by seeing her a mother of many Children. It being an higher reputation in a just Judge, to take away the lives of his Children, than to abide them culpable. This said, he made the Sentence of her death to be signed, which she had incur­red by the Laws of the Kingdome, having diso­beyed her Father, married a Stranger, and made an oblation of her selfe before the Nuptials were solemnized. With a strange undauntednesse he subscribed it, whence many judged him with­out love, or that he was insensible of compassi­on at the miseries of his Daughter.

Dianea, when she heard the certainty of her death, and that the revocation of it depended upon the cruelty of him who was inexorable, said: Is it possible that an only Princesse should not obtaine a jot of pity in a Father to give her the courtesie of her life? Not a jot of favour in the Councell to excuse her? No whit of wis­dome in her Friends to beare with her, who was reverenced a little while since as the Kingdomes Heire? Then by Picture were presented to her many formes of death. She would not look on them; saying, That all deaths were equally cruell, and so much the more commanded from a Fa­ther. She made a little aggravation upon the in­felicity [Page 262]of her Fortune, on the inhumanity of her Father, and on the cruelty of the Councell. Although these words flowed forth from the Ardours of her mind, she had neverthelesse so great a moderation in her sorrow, that she preva­ricated not into imprecations, which are pro­per to those who looke upon death approaching. She desired she might be allowed to write to her Father, and it not being denied her, she signed a Folio with these ensuing Characters.

Having ended the Letter, she left it unsealed: And casting her selfe upon a bed, she comman­ded the Dutchesse of Belprato she should suffer the sentence to be executed. Two Salves entred the Lodgings, and putting an halter of silke a­bout her Neck they strangled her. The which was also suddenly done to them before they were suffered to go thence. The Dutchesse of Belprate got leave to continue a yeare by the A­shes of Dianea, whilest the other Damsell that waited on her accompanied her in death. The City is full of sadnesse, and the bolder sort ex­clame about the Pallace of the King; Give us Dianea, give us the Princesse.

At this Relation Dorcone began to cry out with such a violence, that there was none but thought he was strooke to death. Repleat with fury and anger, he called an Herauld to him, whom he commanded to proclaime war against King Vassileo, and without delay making them give their Sailes to the wind, he tooke his voyage towards Thracia.

The Herauld attired in an habit of black Vel­vet, all emboss'd with Moones of Gold, expressed an importunity to be brought into the presence of his Majesty. Not being able to procure Audience, the People being assembled in the publike Piaz­za, he said with an high voice: Because King Vassileo hath been so bold to lay his hands unjust­ly upon his Daughter, the destinated Spouse of the King of Tracia; And because King Vassileo, hath alwaies slighted the Name of the Kings of [Page 265] Thracia, and hath been an enemy, and a sheddet of their bloud; Therefore I in the name of the King and People of Thracia, who by Armes will repaire such injuries, proclaime and de­nounce War. So saying, he threw about some Papers, which contained the same he had said; Afterwards from time to time he brandished in solemne manner some small Speares towards where the People were the thickest. This done he went out of the City, and retiring to the Sea entered into a little Barque, which attended him to transport him to Thracia.

The Mariners Historie.

HE was answered by the Mariner, that being on the Sea, belonging to the free Princes, he was obliged in duty to acknowledge their Dominion, which was not doubted of by any. Then applyed the Thracian, the Liberty of the Sea is also put into contention by tyrannical Am­bition. Can Navigation, which Nature hath rendred common to all, be usurped by any? The Mariner answered; That the sailing on the Sea was common to all: It remained not therefore, that the superintendency belonged not to some. That Nature her selfe had produced all things for all: yet nevertheless the custome of Nations made every one the Patron of their owne Pro­perties: That it was necessary that some should have the predominancy of the Sea to defend [Page 270]it from the Rapacity of Pirats.

The Thracian replyed, somewhat pacified in his fury; and why doth this Soveraignty of the Sea belong to the free Princes, and to no other Prince who hath his Kingdoms neare to the same Sea?

It is no difficult businesse, added the Mariner, to prove it: There being two foundations upon which the most just command of the free Princes over the Sea is raised. The one is, having oc­cupied it, as a thing altogether abandoned by the first, and legitimate possessors; The other is, ha­ving defended it through so many ages, against all the strength of Armes, and envy of all their Enemies in the world. It is a thing without the jurisdiction of Doubt or Dispute, that those things which have no Patron, or because they never had, or because the lawfull Lord slighted the Possession, belong to those that first seize them, and defend them: and such an one hath a just Title, and a Legitimate Command to be ac­counted the true Owner. By the very same right the free Princes have made themselves Masters of the Lakes, in the which they founded their City, beleeved by all the Miracle of Nations, and a Modell of that of Heaven. For the first Foun­ders, which were the most noble of the most noble Cities, retiting themselves to avoid the cruelty of Barbarians, and finding them unoccu­pied, and abandoned by the Owners, as a thing of small moment, gave the beginning to the glorious Foundation of their City, not finding [Page 271]any that had the boldness to oppose, they became Lords of the place, as of a thing that ought to be his, who came the first to possess it. VVhereup­on the Emperours of the East, and VVest, divi­ding between them the Empire, declared; That the City of the free Princes should remaine free, and that it should be understood to belong to nei­ther of them.

The very same just Title then that the free Princes have of their City, they have also over this Sea. This Sea of Saturne, which is enclo­sed by Istria, Albania, Pulia, and Abruzzo, and Romania, did formerly appertaine to the Emperour of the East. The vicissitude of things which never suffers greatnesses to continue in their heights, debilitated in such wise the Em­perours Maritimate Forces, that being unable to defend this Sea, he left it exposed to the Incursi­ons of all those which would infest it. The Na­rentines, a people accustomed to Thefts and Rapines, becomming potent by molesting it dai­ly, imposed a tribute upon the Navigation, as ab­solute Patrons. The Emperour never supprest so great a presumption, although the teares of his Subjects, who were robbed by these Pirats, acquainted him with the Losses they received by it.

The free Princes perceiving the Emperour had abandoned and neglected the possession of this Sea, leauing it in prey to Pirats, who arroga­ted to themselves the Dominion of it, and made themselves Lords of it, took Armes, and by the [Page 272]space of an hundred and seventy yeares, fought continually against the Narentines. These made such a resistance, favoured and succoured by the King of Croatia, that in the end they were over­come, and constrained to sue for peace. The free Princes gave it them, but with a condition, that leaving their Piracies, they should never more demand any Tribute for Navigation: And so they became Lords of this Sea, the Emperours of the East themselves assenting to it, although Malignity, Envy, or Force should deprive them of it. In the maintaining of which, the Gold and Bloud which they have spent, would buy and re­plenish a world.

I could say, that the prescription of time, which is of many entire ages, admits not of put­ting to doubt a verity rendred so indubitable by yeares. I could say, that a thousand, and a thou­sand Historians, not obliged to their Interest, but to the duty of truth, affirm this lawfull possessi­on, and that for above three hundred years, without ever being contradicted, they have re­ceived Tribute for Navigation. I could adde, that the greatest Princes of the world are wit­nesses to this, who confirming this most just possession, have upon many occasions by publick writing confessed this truth. Neither have they ever had the boldness to passe with their Fleets before they have got leave, which hath many times been denyed them, and many times gran­ted, according to their Interests. I could ad­joyne many other Reasons that vindicate this [Page 273]verity above suspicion: but speaking to a Prince that understands all things, I have peradventure trespassed too farre in saying so much.

It is very true, that I cannot conceale (with pardon from your benignity) an annuall Cere­mony, no less great then ancient, which these Princes use in signe of Soveraignty ever the Sea. One day of the most solemne in the yeare, the Duke and Senate of the free Princes, with the Ambassadours of the greatest Kings with that State which is agreeable to their greatness go to espouse the Sea; the Prince throwing in a rich Ring, saying; We wed thee (O Sea) in signe of a true and perpetuall Command. Can your Majesty desire more true, or Reasons more satisfactory? VVonder not then, if I (con­forming my selfe to Custome, and so good cause for it) have done the Obedience that was due.

The Thracian seemed to be satisfied, saying; These Reasons beare a great strength: but how come so great Interests knowne to you, accusto­med onely to plow the waves, and know the windes? how grew you acquainted with the Jurisdictions of these people? Your Majestie may please to know (the Mariner answered) that I am not such as my Habit and Profession shew. I am not a Mariner, but through pure necessity, Fortune that blindfoldly dispenses her Inconstan­cies, hath made me rather trust to the Infidelity of a Sea then that of a Prince.

I was borne in Catalonia the onely sonne of a Duke, who for his vertues might have preten­ded to the greatest matters, although hee had not an Ambition to desire them. My King knowing me an emulator of my Fathers example; suspe­cted he should neither keep his Life nor King­dome, if I should have Children, or should come into a way to have any: I was compelled to re­bell against my Genius, and to put on an habit different from my heart. This did not satisfie to secure the feares of my King, who perhaps was suspicious of punishment for his owne violences. Comforted with hope, I undertook a voluntarie Exile. I went into the Kingdome of Fortune, and even into that City which is accustomed to allure every one by the Name of Love, although in the effects it returns death.

There I had the occasion to detest Covetous­ness and Ambition, that triumph in that Court. Adulation is there in an excess, every one endea­vouring to advance himself in some Degree of Fa­vour with his Patron, for his owne advantage. The pillage and sale of Places, sacred to the gods, is not reputed a Crime, because it is practised by the greatest. Cruelty there keeps residency, they not knowing Love, who know nothing but to destroy Nature. Gold becomes a recompence to the most vile, and the most ignoble. Holiness, Innocency, and goodnesse professed in words, but by deeds altogether trodden under foot. All there is vendible, and many there sell themselves at the low price of a Mercenary hope, so much [Page 275]the more uncertaine, in that it depends on a life for the most part consumed of Physick and Years. The Kings there are Elective, whereupon they attempt all meanes to enrich themselves, though to the prejudice of the Kingdome, and their Subjects. Rewards and Punishments are be-bestowed at randome. Bribes overcome all dif­ficulties: nor is there a greater Desert then that of Riches. Justice in that Kingdome hath eyes and hands. There is no Religion but in habite, and that for the most part so lascivious, that it e­quals those of the most publick Courtezans. Ver­tue, which usually in that Kingdome attained to the Crowne, is reduced into such a Contempt, that either it is not known, or if known, despi­sed. Hypocrisie possesseth a great part of those that desire to deceive the people. They endea­vour the suppression of truth, and there prohi­bite Pens and Pensils. They forbid to others those things which they would enjoy alone, and with the greatest severity punish those faults which they themselves are guilty of. In briefe, the most execrable Crimes, and the most detestable by the Laws of Nature, and the World, are in this Court become naturalized.

Upon good Reason I can affirme so much, ha­ving to my owne perill had tryall of them all. To please the insatiability of those, who deprived me of mine owne, promising me what belonged to others; in a short time, I found my selfe made a scorne to the Covetousnesse of those impious ones, who so extreamly hate Poverty, that they [Page 276]cannot as much as endure it in others. I was con­strained to depart thence, food failing me to su­stain life withall: The promises of my King vani­shing, together with that allowance which he owed me upon all Obligations. But there is no rea­son that is prevalent with the powerful. I retired into the Island of Roses, where betaking my self to Navigation, altogether clearing my minde of those hopes which were able to disquiet me, I passe away my years in felicity.

They were in this while advanced a great way in their voiage, and entred into the Archipelago, when they discovered a Fleet, which made them put a period to their Discourses. They that stood Sentinell, gave notice that they disoovered a number of Sailes so great, that a greater had ne­ver been seen upon those Seas, and that by their Streamers they appeared to be of Thracia. Dor­cone troubled at this Newes, proceeded on in such an anxiety, that he knew nor what to ima­gine: but this change continued not loog; For two Galleyes putting forth to know the Vessell, and hardly understanding their King was aboard it; but signe being given of it to the Navy, there was not any demonstration of joy omitted. The Duke of Nicopol is, with all the other Knights came to receive him; whereupon entring upon the Admirall, he enquired the cause of their say­ling. When he understood it, he began to thank the Gods that had exceeded him in his desires. He acquainted them with his Thoughts, and so without any delay they went on towards the [Page 277]Kingdome of Cyprus. They sailed sixe daies, and there wanted not two houres of determining the night of the seventh when the Fleet entred into the Port of Cromia, distant from the City of Cury halfe a League, scituated on the top of the Cape towards the West. Although the Soul­diers were prepared for battell they found no im­pediment that might prohibit their Landing.

King Vassileo being ascertained of this evill that was neare him by the preparations of so powerfull an enemy, his sorrowes for the death of Draned, being for the most part past over, (a new hurt frequently occasioning the forgetting of the paine of others) betook himselfe to the defence of his Kingdome. He confirmed Viral­to the Duke of Filena in the Generalls place, al­though he urged to it by Floridea had attempted all meanes possible to be dispensed with. The King would have the opinion of his Councell about the state of this War, so much the crueller by how much the unjuster. There were divers opinions, and many not without Interests. Those that had possessions, the nearest to the enemies violence, eagerly maintained that they ought to impedite his Landing. These were their rea­sons:

That it was not fitting at the beginning of a War to shew any signe of feare, shutting them­selves up within Walls, erected only for the weaknesse of those minds that dare not make a wall of their own breasts against the courage of their enemies. That keeping the Thracians by [Page 278]strength some daies at sea, they might be constrai­ned to suffer those discommodities that perad­venture might have the power to perswade them into new deliberations. That they ought not to abandon without bloud a thing so deare to them as the Port: neither was it reasonable to lose it without danger. Perhaps the Thracians having experimented our Force will repent them of the Enterprise. There is not any thing that alters minds more than perill. To concede ones owne to an enemy without blowes is to encrease his pride by the cowardice of our own Souldi­ers. That the Thracian, being kept aloofe at Sea, will suffer the incommodities of hunger, which being permitted to Land he will make us under­go. These reasons, though they were lively pre­vented by those to whom their own interests ad­ded the more carnestnesse, did not attaine, per­swasion, the Baron of Acamara speaking to the contrary with his utmost eloquence.

It is a rashnesse (he said) to contend against impossibility; we must leave the Port free to our enemies, because we have not Forces to defend it. The reasons alleadged were probable, if the Island of Cyprus had but one only Port: But having so many, which of them shall we defend? The Thracian Fleet is so numerous, that they divi­ded can assaile us in divers parts. On the other side, we have not so many men that we can part them. In my opinion, it will be the surest way to preserve our Souldiery in the principall Cities untill wisdome or fortune shall afford us [Page 279]an occasion to attempt greater matters. If by Armes we should oppose their landing, we should have our enemies in our face. Leaving them the Port and the Field, fighting them they will be alwaies divided. The Souldiers will the rather stick to our defence, seeing that we would not have our security by their danger. The Cities are well stored with provisions for life, and Am­munition for war: Is it possible then in the meane while that our miseries should not awa­ken the pity of those who feare the greatnesse and the ambition of the Thracian. I beleeve the Embassage destined to the King of Egypt will not prove fruitlesse. The King of Arabia would not see our oppression. Mauritania and Gorsica doubtlesse willstir in our defence. In the meane while, to keep our Forces entire is the most se­cure way: It will alwaies be time enough to hazard them. Valour consists in fighting, not in precipitating. Let us let our enemies land, it be­ing an act of prudence to leave that which can­not be held without perill. This is my opinion, who have no Interest greater than that of the publike safety. Notwithstanding I alwaies re­serve my selfe to an obedience of what your Ma­jesty shall command.

There was not any that had the confidence to oppose those reasons: Whereupon the Thracians came to land without hinderance. But they would not remove from the Port untill they received information from their Spies. Being certified of King Vassileos Resolutions, they plundered a [Page 280]great part of the Isse with small profit to them­selves, the people and all things of value being got into the principall Cities. They put it into a dispute whether they should first attempt the Conquest of the other Cities, or of the Metro­polis, which was Arsinoe. Many delivered their opinions, and amongst others the Duke of Pere­no maintained they should first take the other Cities before they laid siege to Arsinoe.

Conquests (said he) and victories consist in the reputation of Armies: And how can this re­putation be acquired continuing at the siege of a City rendred inexpugnable by the strength of the scituation, and the obstinacy of the Defenders? I for my own instruction have studied the de­signe, and I thinke it insuperable if you have no secret intelligence, which if you have I am sa­tisfied. It is built upon a naturall Rock, and not liable therefore to be mined. The walls are all of fine stone, and so broad that two carts may meet. On the top they are made after the fashi­on of a Scarpe, and within there is so much roome that it can containe an infinite number of people. Within it is fortified by an high Cavag­liere, and three Bastions of earth. It hath a Bul­warke in the wall furnished with warlike instru­ments, that both from above and below scoure the ditch from one side to the other. It is also de­fended by great Towers which encompasse it, and within hath a large street following the Cir­cuit of the wals for the conveniency of the horse. The Ditches are deep, industriously made [Page 281]by the force of Chizels. The Flankers of the Ditch are as high, or higher than the top of the walls. The earth without is made like a Scarpe, so that the houses of the City cannot be discer­ned, and in assaults can receive no harme. There is also the Castle trenched about with ditches, into which the Sea comes, in such wise scitua­ted, that I figure to my selfe the winning of it an impossibility. Contratiwise, setting upon others lesse strong, and weaklier defended, our Soul­diers will receive a recompence for their labours more commodiously, and with lesse danger. All the chief strength of King Vassileo is within Arsi­noe; there he attends us, there he wishes for us. He will consume us before he can be overcome. It is provided with victuals a long time, and fears not storming. For my full discharge I must add, that to besiege it is to endanger the Army, the aire being unwholsome, and the waters corrup­ted, whilest they within the City on the other side have most pure in their wells. All the Island being surprized, what will King Vassileo do with the only place of Arsinoe? Afterwards we may with lesse inconveniency besiege him, having no Foe at our backs. I beseech your Majesty to excuse me, if peradventure I have not encountred the best, and your meaning.

The Duke of Nicopolis, all the other remai­ning silent, thus answered him: If all the Cities of the Kingdome of Cyprus would fall into our hands with that facility that your opinion figures to you, I should likewise subscribe that Arsinoe [Page 282]should be the last that should prove our Forces. But all the Cities being very strong, I must af­firme there can be no securer counsell given, than in the first place to beare our Armes to the Siege of Arsinoe. It will be a great terrour to King Vassileo, and all his Kingdome, to see us resolved upon the most difficult enterprise; without ta­king Arsinoe, and the King, what will the King­dome of Cyprus availe us? When these are fala into our hands, who can supply his Office? Who will refuse to obey us? Rewards and punish­ments are ordinarily fomentations to the greatest resistances. The King being taken, who will adven­ture his life without hope of reward! And who will prove faithfull, not fearing the punishment of infidelity? But let us passe to a point of high­er consequence. We ought, without doubt, to beleeve that King Vassileo will be aided, either by those that love him, or by those that feare us. To perswade our selves otherwise, is to give credit to the apparency of dreames, and to flatter our own desires in an impossible supposition. Their Embassage designed for Egypt is now known, and the jealousies of other Princes, who feare our greatnesse. Succours then comming in time, before Arsinoe be tooke, or King Vassileo slaine, all our endeavours will prove in vaine, and our Armies fruitlesse. Then we shall be necessitated to adventure a battell with an incertainty to which side victory will encline. The taken City seeing aide come will be against us, partly for hating to be under our command, and partly to [Page 283]deserve some reward from their King. Having betrayed, and renounced their friends, with the greater facility they will deceive their enemies. It is not a secure resolution to confide in the con­quered, whilest any hope of their former Liberty remaines in them. They will rather be an impe­diment to us; for being to go to field, we must dismember our Forces to guard them with a good number of Souldiery, not to afford them an opportunity of rebellion. Arsinoe won, all is won, and the Kingdome subjugated. The head is that which enlivens the members, and gives motion and strength to all the rest of the body. That the place is inexpugnable I know not to af­firme, although I acknowledge it very strong. As light is communicable to all eyes, so there is not any place that submits not to a valour above or­dinary. All that which is subject to necessity, and to the command of the elements, may also be brought under the Laws and strength of a Conquerour. A Sword can make way through all; neither is there any thing but perseverance, and experience may overcome it. So much the greater will the glory and the reputation of the Thracian Armies be, which attempt not upon enterprizes imagined possible. Facile attempts are thought unworthy of the Thracians.

This opinion prevailed, whereupon all the Army began to presse upon Arsinoe, they having tooke order that their Galleys should block up the mouth of the haven. Viralto, who was un­willing to adventure upon so unequall a battell, [Page 284]kept within the Wals, issuing forth onely under the advantages of night. The first time he did great harme to the Thraeians, with the slaughter also of many of their Officers: But once falling into an Ambuscado, he was in danger of being slaine, losing a great part of his men. Therefore he adventured but seldome forth; and onely to impedite their Machines, which the enemy built, carrying fire to them, but ever with very much danger.

The Duke of Nicopolis perceiving that a part of the Army was sufficient for the begirting of Arsinoe, whilst they within possessed with feare stole out to runne away, and not to fight, coun­selled Dorcone to attempt some surprizall. The Thracian approving of the Counsell, with ten thousand men marched to Ceraunia, sending the Count of Maronia with as many more to surprize Carpassia. This fell speedily into the Earles hands; for comming upon it by night, and the Guard being deceived, he was brought into it without Resistance. They saw themselves seized upon before they knew the Thracians. Some that had time to lay hold on their Armes, there miserably lost their lives. The Count staid not there, for leaving a good Garrison in it, he advanced to the taking in of some Townes, in the which he found no opposition of any moment.

Clides was a very strong Castle, which with a few Souldiers could withstand any violence. A Knight of good birth commanded there in [Page 285]Chiefe; but so unskilfull in Martiall affaires, that he had scarce the courage to look on the enemies Colours, and so basely fled thence, that he be­came a shame to his Nation, and a disgrace to those who had advanced him to that Degree. So the Count took that place, and remained Ma­ster of all the Champaine towards that part of the Island. On the other side, Dorcone, going to force Ceraunia, had the Fortune to seize upon a a Gate unexpectedly; but was suddenly repulsed by the Guard he found there. The Baron of Ni­comia was Governour, a subject for every condi­tion regardable, but admirable for his Loyalty. He defended the place with so much Valour, that he gave not occasion to the Thracians hope to de­part thence with Victorie: Although a suddain fire had consumed his Provisions of Meat, and his Ammunition for warre, he was not at all de­jected, resolving rather to dye then to be wan­ting to the Generosity of his owne heart. The Thracian, who desired to carry this place, temp­ted the Baron by those meanes that ordinarily use to overcome any possibility. The King made a Letter his Subject to overcome that minde, that so well knew how to defend himself from his Sword.

This Letter carried by a Trumpet, bad no other effect, but obtained an Answer as repleat with Courage, as that heart was generous that dictated it and the hand valiant that writ it. Notwith­standing, [Page 287]he forgot not that he writ to a King, who might hereafter chastise him for an inconsi­derate Answer. He writthen;

The Thracian disdaining to see the constan­cy of those that were combated by necessitie, gave command they should be stormed at two places in one time, Those within with such an undauntednesse defended themselves, that very many times they made them repent, whose cou­rages had transported them so far. The Governor willing to lay hold on any advantage, comman­ded a Captaine to issue forth with a Troop of Horse, and to charge the Enemy on the left side, whilst another should doe so on the right. The Thracians intent onely on their Assault might receive a notable losse.

The Captaine refused to goe, saying; That he loved not his men so little to endanger them to Death. That it was rashnesse, not valour, to fight without hope of victorie. That to open the Gates could not be without perill, at the same time Conquerours, and the vanquished having opportunity to enter into the City. The Gover­nour angry at such a Reply, and the rather be­cause it was in the hearing of all the Officers, and beleeving without doubt that he was gained by the Treacheries of the Thracian, unwilling that such a Liberty should passe into an example, drew his sword, and many times calling him Traytor, and enemy to his King, with two thrusts killed him, running him thorough the breast. This was carried to two of the dead mans brothers, who with no ordinary valour were repulsing the violence of the enemy. Not supposing them­selves secure of their lives, and making more [Page 289]account of Revenge then honour, they left their standings, and making many others adhering to them and friends to do the like; they said, What reward can arise to be from Victorie, since our owne party is crueller then the enemies? What Palmes can glory promise us in a triumph soiled with our bloud? Are not the Thracians sufficient to kill us, but we must feel the sword of our friends? This is the fruit of our hopes. This is the end of our victories. Are souldiers so recompenced? Doe they so Crown Conquerours with the death of their Brothers, with the slaughter of their friends, and the destruction of the most valiant? The Foe surely would not have beene so cruell.

The Thracians were aware that on that part the Wall was without Defence; but they were unwilling to be too suddenly confident, suspecting Treacherie. Lastly, the boldest among them leading the way, they made it easie to others to climbe after them; whereupon a great number being got up, they set open a Gate, with the death of those that made resistance. The Governour ran thither, but it was too late, the enemy being encreased, and he in such manner being abando­ned by his owne Party, that he had not so much time as to retreat into the Castle. Notwithstan­ding, his defending himselfe with a great deale of Courage, he was set upon by such a multitude of Souldiers, that after he had received many wounds, he fell downe dying, whilst the Thraci­ans possessed the whole City.

They fell to the sack of it, with such a slaugh­ter of the Inhabitants and Souldiers, that there was not a person of any condition, who was not a partaker of the mischiefe. The Covetousnesse of the Conquerors being satiated with the Riches of that City, which were inestimable, they gave themselves over to luxury, not sparing the most noble Maids, or the most chaste Women. The night came upon them, which found them drow­ned in sleep and wine, without either Guards or Sentinels. They that fled from Clides, assembling together all those others which forsook the Townes to retire into Arsinoe, understood the taking in of Ceraunia. The Count of Terra Grossa, that led those souldiers, imagining with him­selfe that Victory had rendred them without Guards, and Defence, resolved to assault them.

It was a little after midnight, when he attemp­ted to surprize a Gate. It succeeded happily to him, finding onely the shouldiers, who rather suf­fered themselves to be slaine, then shew any signs of fighting. They were in such manner spread over the City, that the noise was not observed, every one supposing those voices were of their owne souldiers. If also any loud groane pierced the eares of the Captaines, it was believed of the miserable inhabitants. It was already day, when lastly, approaching death made them a­ware of the dammage they had received. The King would have made head, but finding himself onely with ten or fifteen of his Guard, he thought it wisdome to withdraw from danger. He cast [Page 291]away the Royall Ensignes that they might not witnesse who he was. The confusion of souldiers wearied with so much slaughter, exempted him from imprisonment, and secured his flight, the greatest part of his notwithstanding being took Prisoners.

He was got a League from Ceraunia, when he discovered a Troop of Horse which came against him. He accounted himselfe dead. He began to cry out, he was the King, that they should not hurt him. These, throwing themselves from their Horses, ran to reverence him, revealing themselves for the Brothers of that Captaine, slaine by the Baron of Nicomia. They said they were come to change Fortune, not willing to live any longer under his Command, who had so cruell Ministers; That if he would please to ac­cept of their service, he should finde them as faithfull, as where they had given a triall, by a­bandoning the defences of the Wall. The Thra­cian received them with affection, offering him­selfe a Companion to revenge the injust death of their brother.

Being arrived at the Campe under Arsinoe [...]s Fugitives, they brought a great terrour into the mindes of the Souldiers. And although this losse was insensible to the greatnesse of such an Army, nevertheless, Valour consisting more in the heart then in the number; many figured to themselves dangers remote, not onely from ima­gination, but sense. If the newes of the Victo­ries of the Count of Moronia had not reconso­lated [Page 292]and envigorated the Army, without doubt this enterprise had falne to nothing. When they saw those Souldiers so loaden with spoiles, en­vying their felicity, with a great deale of cou­rage they longed for an occasion to fight.

Viralto gave them one; for being advertised of all their successes he consulted, with K. Vassileo to tempt Fortune a little under the auspiciousness of the night. By redoubled Messengers he gave the Count of Terra Grossa to understand, that with the greatest strength possible he should march off to the enemy, just at that time when he thought him the most engaged in sleep. That giving a signe by fire of it, and finding himselfe answered, he should fall on them with all violence, forbid­ding Pillage to every body, and taking of Priso­ners.

The Count, having received this Command, put himselfe into order, without communicating his thought to any whatsoever. Being drawne neare to the Enemies Campe, the night being already farre spent, and the signe given and re­ceived, he divided his men into two Bodies, to bring the greater confusion, and the greater feare. There were two waies which led to the Thracians Quarters. The one the ordinary, known to all, through the Champaine: the other full of Bushes and Stones, a little about by the Shore. By this he would march, commanding the Baron of Lapithi, a Knight of great Fame, though poore in estate, to advance through the other.

These two Divisions (amounted to above three thousand Combatants, and although une­quall in number, yet not inferiour in hope) at­tended the advantage to assaile an Army, which they beleeved reposed secure under the shadow of the night. They silently marched on, nor broke silence untill they were come up to the first Guards. Then thundring forth an infinite of shouts, that would have incited feare in the breast of undauntednesse it selfe; A sound of such warlike instruments accompanied those cries that animating all to victory rendred the Soul­diers more fearelesse against the enemy. Feare and death opening a gap among the Thracians, made them give way to the Corps de Guard, who with their flight filled all the Tents with confusion and noise. The nearest, becomming bold by necessity, ran to Armes, but sleepy, and full of wine, no knowing either Command, or obedience, fell upon themselves, treading upon, and striking one another.

They said, repleat with feare, where are those that assaile us? Who hath the boldnesse to disturbe so powerfull an Host? Are they enemies, or traitours that provoke us to Armes? Many in this while thought upon flight, which was no lesse dangerous than fighting. Though the Trum­pets called the Souldiers to their Colours, though the Captaines endeavoured to reduce them into their Rankes, it succeeded but slowly, and with disorder, the darknesse concealing the blushes of the Cowardice of the most vile. At the selfe [Page 294]same time the news of this ill, and the shouts of the Souldiers arrived at the cares of the Thraci­an. He presently armed himselfe, commanding the Duke of Nicopolis that he should make resi­stance on that part, whilest he turned himselfe to the other.

To see their King so exposed to dangers was the occasion that all hastened to the fight, not so much to overcome the enemy, as to defend the King, and to merit by the attestations of their valour. The Count of Terra Grossa having bro­ken into the Trenches, and won some of the Forts strove to set them on fire. But the Thracian comming upon him with the greatest strength of his Army, saw the mighty slaughter of his. The Souldiers were already drawn back to the breach, when in the meane while Viralto marching out of Arsinoe fell upon the Thracians, meaning to come on their backs. He assaulted them with mighty outcries to encrease the hor­rours of the battell, and the night.

Viralto said to the Souldiers: On valiant Spi­rits, and triumph over those, who, almost over­come with sleep and feare, have no resistance a­gainst your valour. Let us sacrifice to Revenge, by the benefit of the night, these cruell men, who causelesly hate us. Regard not their num­ber, which is neither defence, not security to them, but addes to their confusion. Being dis­orderly in croudes, the darknesse will make them kill one another instead of us. If with a gene­rous resolution you do not strive for the victory, [Page 295]which Fortune offers you, there will be hereaf­ter no more hope neither for liberty, nor for life, nor honour.

This threefold assault in this manner daunted the courages of the Thracians, that with a diffi­culty they were made to move by their Officers. The Count of Macronia, with all the strength he could gather, turned himselfe to that part of the danger, and constrained Viralto to retire with all those that followed him. Whereupon these, not a jot retarded by the hurt of wounds, by the losse of their Companions, or by the feare of death, would passe the Bridges or dye. Now they grappled with those that resisted them, and now with an obstinate resolution, making a La­ther of dead bodies, they attempted to clime upon their Rampiers; Darts and Arrows, though sent at randome, yet fell not in vaine.

Viralto, willing to shew proofe of his cou­rage, forced the Trenches in despite of all those that opposed him. He could dot be followed but by a few, the Princes of Missia and Epirus fal­ling on with such a number of Sonldiers, that the Duke was enforced to render himselfe prisoner, whilest all those were slaine that accompanied him. On the other side, Dorcone and the Duke of Nicopolis rendred vaine the Forces of the Count of Terra Grossa, and the Baron of La­pithy.

The night to both the Armies encreased the slaughter exceedingly, for not perceiving ad­vantages, or dangers, every one encountred [Page 296]death without fearing it. The Count of Terra Grossa not able any longer to abide the impetu­ousnesse of the Thracians set fire to their Tents, making also the same to be done to many of his. The Thracians, on the other side, making the wood-worke to be cast to the ground, prevented the fire from encreasing: Yet the smoke adding to the darknesse of the night occasioned more horrour to the Souldiers, and the Conflict to be more cruell. Many falne and dying with a new manner of anger attempted revenge upon Car­kasses. Others losing their swords made use of their nailes and teeth, with so much savagenesse, that they appeared rather beasts than men.

The Duke of Nicopolis, not able any longer to abide that the victory should hang doubtfull, the Sun being now risen, leaving his command of the Souldiers to the King of Scythia, and the Infante of Macedonia finding that multitude a­vailed not but to disorder them in those narrow passages, led a great Party out thence, and taking a compasse fell upon the backs of the enemy, making a way through them. The Count of Terra Grossa advertised of this danger, without expressing any shew that he shunned it, sent word to the Baron of Lapithy, that wheeling a­bout with all the speed possible, he with his men should sustaine that charge. The Baron o­beyed; but being presently followed by the King of Scythia, and the Infante of Macedonia, hee was taken in the way by the Duke of Nicopolis. There in an open place, their small [Page 297]number being known, they were in such manner streightned, that they had not hope to save themselves.

The Count of Terra Grossa, who saw the dan­ger the Baron was in, hopelesse to conquer, charged on to relieve him. Dorcone followed him, animating his to victory. He said: Be­hold the enemy that flies and leaves the Field. Behold the Palmes which a Triumph promiseth us. This miserable Remnant that hath escaped our hands it behoves us to subdue, to give satis­faction to our anger. Behold the Enemy that re­treats, not so much to over come, as to be over­come. Rescue with all your force your friends from the madnesse of this desperate Foe, which runs to death. So having said, he moved to fol­low the Count, accompanied by all his Squa­drons.

Cruelty triumphed in this new encounter, Every moment the Souldiers fell, and their own dangers gave them not leisure to compassionate the miseries of others. The Colours were confu­sed and disordered in the battell, and the Army now lost those Parties that observed martiall Rules. The quantity of the dead served as Tren­ches for King Vassileo's Souldiers, encompassed by so many Armes that defence was impossible. The slaughter that the Archers made was without number. Dorcone, not regarding that he was a King, concentred himselfe among the thickest, hazarding himselfe to every danger. He was followed by all the Princes, and those of his [Page 298]Guard, who continually made vowes for his health and safety. The Duke of Nicopolis also followed by the Barons of Cordia, and of Achi­alo exposed himselfe to all perils. Now he broke the order of their Rankes, now encountring the most couragious, he gave leisure to others to as­saile the weakest. Finally, he managed his sword with such a fiercenesse, that his enemies thought him a lightning. Yet neverthelesse this did not daunt the courage of his Adversaries. The hope of Liberty, and the desire of Victory made them fearelessely to despise death. The Count of Terra Grossa, in valour, and in the richnesse of his Arms singular among the others, visited the Squadrons one by one, exercising at one & the same time the office of a private Souldier and Captain. He made use of commendations and rebukes, accordingly as the Actions of the Souldiers deserved. He was ready to repaire their Losses, sending al­waies fresh Souldiers in their roomes that fell. He said, We must, friends, either conquer or dye. Be­hold there Arsinoe which expects you. And it is necessary that you open your way by your force; What will become of you, if you had rather dye flying than fighting? He dies not, that gloriously loses his life, defending himselfe, his Country, his Friends, and Children. He spoke these words with so much boldnesse, that although he knew the danger, yet he seemed to feare none.

He encountred in the greatest terrour of the Fight the King of Thracia, conceiving he un­dertooke the most glorious enterprise of all, be­cause [Page 299]it was the most difficult, he attempted to kill him. Three blowes he gave him, the one after the other, so mighty, that he fell downe senselesse on the earth. He believing him dead, or at the least mortally wounded, ran upon the Count, who finally being run through with ma­ny thrusts, after he had sold his life at a deare price, breathed out his soule, which seemed ve­ry unwillingly to abandon that body, and may be guessed it was loath to go forth, fearing the vio­lence of so many Armes.

On the other side, Dorcone being remounted, without having received any hurt, fell upon the Souldiers, who having lost their Count despaired of their lives. In a short time the Field shewed it had produced an infinity of Carkasses. There was nothing seen but dead men, nothing heard but such as were trodden on and wounded. The Thracians were become so formidable, that there was not an eye that durst looke them in the Countenance. The clamours of the Baron of Lapithy, who encouraged them to fight, were not heard: The feare of death being powerful­ler than all things. Whilest he blamed their Co­wardice with many words of infamy, he was just struck with an Arrow in the mouth, which he held open, whence silence and dying seized him at one and the same time.

This death gave the last shake to the souldiers hopes; having none remaining that could regu­late their feares, nor bridle their Cowardice, they shewed their backs to their enemies. Many [Page 300]retreated to the sea, and many to save themselves hid themselves in Caves. But the greatest part, carried by feare, ran they knew not whither, leaving their heads and their members to the discretion of their heeles. There were some that losing their breath with long running, fell down an infamous prey to the horse that pursued them. Others (Feare not leaving to them a distinction of dangers) ran of themselves into the sea, and dyed there, because they would not dye; as if the waters had that pity which they despaired to find in men. But many, and those of the most worthy, to whom death was not a terrour to daunt them, flying, and fighting, tooke the way which lead to Arsinoe. There they found that Fortune had presented a Tragedy not inferiour to theirs.

The Princes of Missia and Epirus, emulatours betweene themselves, ran together to make a Pompe of their valour by the death of those Souldiers, who, after Viralto was taken prisoner, aimed at nothing but to retire. There had not any o [...] them escaped with his life, if King Vassi­leo, fearing this the last day of his reigne, had not issued out against them, but the disorder, and the terrour was so great, that changing their re­treat into flight, that venerable old man with his words and entreaties was not able to stay their Cowardice. Finally, all the Chiefe, ashamed to see their King in danger to be lost, and their own duty adding courage to their feare, they made a stand afront the Enemy, so that their flight [Page 301]might succeed with the least dammage possible. The two Princes notwithstanding had forced the Gates, entring with the Souldiers that fled, if the prevention had not come from the Walls.

The slaughter being over, all those Princes re­tired into Dorcone's Tent, the which although it was secured from being assaulted, he would not nevertheless (it being about an houre after Sun­set) put off his Armes, unwilling that the joyes for the Victory should againe produce the dan­gers of the night past: He made the Sentinells, and Corps de Guard, to be doubled, to be ready a­gainst all those suddaine Chances which ordi­narily happen to Conquerors; Fortune many times rejoycing to draw griefe out of Consola­tions.

In Arsinoe on the other side, sorrow and ter­ror was seen in the face of all. Women, old men, and Children ran into the Temple, making vowes to the Gods for their safety. This night was so repleat with groanes, that they occasioned horrour, even in those Breasts who had [...]ever known what it was. This lamented for his Son, this his Father, she her Father, shee her Hus­band: And there figuring the enemy in the City victorious, and triumphing, increased their terror. The greatest part of the Women altogether for­getting the weaknesse of their Sex, ran to the Walls to carry stones, and other instruments to resist the Assailants. Others, (on whom Fear had not the power to cleare their mindes of Cove­tousnes) [Page 302]hid their Money, Jewels, and Brace­lets in the most secret places, and the privatest holes. Many giving themselves over to griefe, were so over-whelmed in a dull sorrow, that they were insensible to all things. And some over their little Children, deplored their owne, and their infelicity, feeding them more with teares then milk. In summe, every thing was so re­pleat with Confusion, Terrour, and Amazement, that there was not an eye that had the boldness to take any sleep; nor a member that desired, or would have any repose.

The Day, and the Light augmented their sad­ness, the Loss and the Danger appearing ever greater then the feare. The Field was lookt up­on all covered with dead bodies, that presented to the sight a spectacle so dolorous, that it would have enforced to sorrow a breast of Marble. But all their sadness notwithstanding gave place to the griefes of Floridea, Her minde, that sel­dome was deceived in its Auguries, assured her of her dammage, and the loss of the Duke of File [...]: she ran hastily to the Gate to enquire the newes on which her life or death depended. One by one she entreated the Fugitives, asking them of the Generall. This said, he was safe; That, that he would come presently. Others, that he was taken Prisoner; and many, that he was slaine.

Although feare, that alwayes presents things greater then they are, combated her; yet in her selfe she was not void of desperate hope, which [Page 303]after the manner of a Heart, is the last that dies in our affection. Sometimes being tormen­ted by passion, she vented her selfe upon the Cowardice of the Souldiers; saying to them; Where, where (O you pusillanimous!) have you left your Generall? He that hath no grea­ter Interest in this Warre then your safety, hath hazzarded his life for you; and have you so vilely abandoned him? Perhaps you suppose you may be secure, without the protection of his valour. May be you perswade your selves you may live, though he be dead. VVho hath had the Guard of his person? VVho was neare him in the Battaile? Friends, I am not afraid of unluckie Newes, being alwaies accustomed to griefe. Finally, understanding, that in the Entrance of the Enemies Rampiers, (it being impossible to relieve him) he was taken Prisoner; suddenly annimated by that Love which renders the wea­kest breasts valiant, altogether forgetfull of her owne dangers, she went out of the walls, run­ning like a mad woman towards the Tents of the Thracians.

Being stopped by the Guards, she cryed to be carried to the King. There was not any that had the boldnesse to deny her this request; the simpler sort believing her a Goddess: For just such an one her beauty described her. She was seen to runne so swiftly over the dead bodies, without any signe of feare, that they could not imagine but she was above humane. Shee was guided to the presence of Dorcone, who with his Armes [Page 304]on, discoursing with his, about the conclusion of the Warre, attended till Aurora had dismissed the night. Floridea prostrating her selfe at his feet, attempted with signes and teares to gain a pitty from them whom she was to perswade. The Thracian unable to suffer that that Beautie should continue so languishing, commanded; That rising she should expresse her desires. Let the Magnanimous breast of your Majestie (added Floridea) vouchsafe pardon to the tender­nesse of the affection of an unfortunate woman. I well know that pitty resides in Regall mindes; for they having the instruments to make happy, would not that their hearts should be inferiour to their Fortune. I come then (O Magnanimous!) to supplicate you for an Action which will aug­ment Glories to your Triumph and Acclamati­ons to your Fame. In the first Battaile, an only Brother of mine became a prey to your Victo­ries. He fought through meere necessity con­strained by King Vassileo's Commands, being a stranger, brought into Cyprus by my infelicity. He [...]th no other enmity against the Thracians, then that of obedience which he owed to him, against whom he was not able to refuse it. I adde not with new teares provocations to the genero­sity of the King of the Thracians, who ought not to receive Motions for his Munificence, but from himselfe. I wipe them away, not because I feele my griefe to waine, but not to offend the divinity of that minde which is not liable to Affections. I would offer any thing in recom­pence [Page 305]of such a favour, if my poverty and yoer greatnesse admitted of Gifts, I have not the a­bility to prepare you royall ones, nor you a mind to receive them: At the least I should give you thanks, but the bitterness of my sorrow so con­fuseth me, and the greatness of the benefit permits me not. Let this also be an Adjunct to the won­ders of your Glories, that you can bestow fa­vours on those, who eve know not how to re­turne thanks. To a Magnanimous man, his own Conscience is a great reward. Yet you may as­sure your selfe, that all my speeches shall be no­thing but Encomiums of your Liberality, and all my Vowes shall not supplicate the Gods, but to see you live eternally, as you shall live immortally in the memorie of all Ages.

So she held her peace, awaiting an Answer in such a posture, that in silence she had voice, and entreaties, and peradventure also violence. All were perswaded by these words, which came forth accompanied with a certaine Majesty, that the gave a credit to her passion. The Thracian delayed his Reply, feeling his heart at one and the same time combated by divers affections. The Memory of Dianea, to whom he had sacri­ficed all his Affections, would not give place to the beauties of Floridea. But fire cannot be e­ternall among ashes: It may well preserve it self, but finally it will goe forth. He blaming the foo­lishness of his thoughts, which obliged him to love an Object, which could be not loved, gave himselfe over a prey to this new beauty; so much [Page 306]the rather, for the seeing her in his power, added fomentations to his love, facilitating hope to him. He then answered:

Faire Maid, if I by silence have entertained your hopes with fears, it was not because I found my selfe unresolved to pleasure you. Lay the fault of my suspension on your face, which asto­nisheth even those that are willing to serve you. Your Brother shall be delivered, and all that which may accomplish the vowes of your De­sires. I know not, notwithstanding what cruell pitty you have about you, imprisoning those that give you Prisoners. You onely perhaps would do violences. Peradventure you disdaine that others should have the Valour to take Captive. But be it as it will, what ever depends on you, is grate­full to me. Know that in reverencing you, and loving you, I yeeld not at all to the Brother whom you seek for. If I shall live, Fortune shall no more glory to behold you a Supplyant. Do you also exercise that pitty which you have experi­mented in others.

Floridea replyed not. The bashfulnesse that soon shadowed her face, tied also her tongue. She bowed, kissing the Thracians hands, who would not resist it, to accreditate the beginnings of his Love to be of estimation. All the Priso­ners came, among which, not perceiving the Duke, she afresh gave way to her teares. Dor­cone omitted no diligence to have him sought for among the dead; but that not availing, he com­manded Floridea should be kept carefully. He [Page 307]was in such wise enamoured on of her beauties, that without enjoying her, he perswaded himself he could not live. He will'd that the Count of Ruf­fan [...], under the species of comforting her should endevour to render her perswaded to his pleasures

This was an old man, blemished with the most enormous dishonesties. He had nothing in him but what was vice. Years that use to remember men of Repentance for their dissolutenesse, in this man fomented sensualities. The fear of lo­sing them, made him more covetous of enjoy­ing them. By Arts the most dishonest he had got possession of his Masters Affections, who see­ing him of Customes conformable to himselfe, could not but love him. His Vices raised him to that Degree of Honour; whereto others by vertue hardly arrived to by desire. This man that with a presence that counterfeiting goodness, would have beguiled wariness it selfe, entred to speake with Floridea, who sitting on a bed be­wailed her infelicity. The first words were of Complement; the Count saying: That by Com­mission from his Majesty he was come to com­fort her; promising her (for his part) all dili­gence to search out all signes, that might discover her Brother. Floridea answered with so much the more humility; adding, that she was accon­solated in her Miseries, that rendred the Prote­ction of such a King interested, and the good will of so worthy a Knight.

The Count then taking occasion began to say to her: Lady, if your countenance gave me not evi­dences [Page 308]of your Wisedome, I should enforce my selfe with words to make you believe what a gift Fortune, through the merit of your beauties hath bestowed upon you. But acknowledging in your Arguings, that exceed the Discourses of those that have spent all the yeares of their life in Negotiations; I will onely say, that Dorcone hath made you worthy of his affections, and of his Embraces. See how Heaven compassio­nates the Resentment of your teares, and how the Gods undertake the Protection of Beautie. I will not presume to perswade you, because I cannot doubt you will slight the love of a King, whom to enjoy, the Goddesses in Contention would descend from Heaven. These graces fall but on a few. To undervalue them, is to shew your selfe unworthy of them: and the rather, because it would be an ungratefull act, and dan­gerous to oppose your selfe to the Desires of a Prince, who hath overcome all delayes to fa­vour you, and who may obtaine that by force, which your wilfulness may deny him. Peradven­ture your Love may perswade him to greater matters. There are many Alexanders that espouse their servants. The Opinion of the vulgar, and of those in particular, that with deceitfull names, and vaine, betray the simplicity of maids, falls not upon Princes, that give Lawes without re­ceiving any. There is not any thing that is un­convenient to a King, so it be agreeable to his pleasure. I adde no more; not to prejudice your Election, and not to steale from you that [Page 309]merit which your promptnesse to his Majesties Desires may acquire for you.

Floridea received so much displeasure at the words of the Count, that the feare to see her selfe exposed into the hands of the Enemies of her honour, could not make her forbeare those words; which could not be spoken but with pe­rill. Although necessity presented before her eyes the profit of Dissimulation; notwithstanding, she would not suffer that her tongue should seem base against those that tempted her in her repu­tation. Before she answered him, she stood a little in suspence, to premeditate a proper Reply, and to give way to her anger, that it should not stop, nor hinder her tongue. After she added;

I answer you, (good old Man) that you might not beleeve I assented with my silence to those Proposalls, unworthy of your age, and my repu­tation. You have ill imployed those gray haires, whilst you know not how to serve, but as a Mi­nister of infamous Actions. I cannot perswade my selfe, that Dorcone would soile with blemi­shes the Graces he hath done me. I should be undeserving to have received them, if I had not his consent to maintaine mine honour. I know not how a Carkasse of Fortunes fury can allure the pleasure of a King. I rather believe it a trea­son of your perfidiousnesse, then a desire of his Majesty, who representing on earth the Image of the Gods, cannot encline his heart to such basenesse. Every thing is lawfull to Kings, be­cause 'tis supposed, that a King will not put his [Page 310]hand into things illegall. He would be unwor­thy of this name, or to speake better, he would have nothing of a King but the name, who is not mightier than others in all the virtues. And though Kings may do what they will, yet honour is without their jurisdiction. I have an hand, which though it cannot resist the forces of ano­thers incontinency, can neverthelesse settle my honour in a secure place. I have not an heart that can suffer me to be dishonoured, nor hath your speech perswasion to make me such; your infamous employment for this time hath gained you nothing but the indignations of heaven, which by me shall be accelerated upon you, if I may one day sit upon the Throne of my Ance­stours.

The Count was not troubled at this refusall; being accustomed to know that women deny that with the greater earnestness which they the most ardently covet. He would not reply any thing to her, either not too much to provoke her anger, or to let her strive with her own affections; ve­ry well knowing that Ambition is the Tyrant of women. He acquainted not the Thracian with Floridea's backwardnesse, being confident to o­vercome her at the second encounter; not being able to perswade himselfe (by his experience in others, that a feminine bosome could long resist the stroakes of Interest.

In the meane while Dorcone spent the re­mainder of the day in consults about finishing of the War. All the Cities of the Kingdome, upon [Page 311]notice of the Thracians victory, fell voluntarily into the hands of the Conquerour. He looking on them all with a mercifull eye did no hurt to a­ny save to those of Cerannia. He made it be ruined to the Foundations, making all the ancient, and men fit to beare armes to be buried among those Ruines alive; making Slaves, on the other side, of all the Women and Children. The night that followed this slaughter was so replenished with Thunder, Lightning, and Thunderbolts, that it appeared that heaven agreed to foment the fury of the Thracians. Truly, it seemed that it would open Gulphs to bury those Wretches who found heaven and earth conspired to do them mis­chiefe. All the Poles and Tents of the Thraci­ans were throwne down, torne, and scattered by the winds which blew with such a violence, that many times the Souldiers were not safe from their fury. There was seen to fly through the field an abundance of divers things, with such a confusion of the Army, that one Troope of horse would have been sufficient to have conque­red them.

The Guards that had the Custody of Floridea had left her; although those terrours would not suffer her to think of making an escape. The night grew more repleat with darknesse, in such man­ner, that if it had been observed it calmed the winds, which being afraid of themselves had not the courage to presse upon those shaddows. Torches lighted in a great number through all the Army served not but to confound the sight [Page 312]the more. Floridea stood there in a great amaze­ment when she heard her selfe called by name by a voice unknown to her. She was the more ter­rified beleeving it a Ghost; but perswading her selfe after that it might be the spirit of Viralto, which came to invite her to death, or to guide her out of the hands of those Barbarians, reco­vering a little courage, she asked what it deman­ded of her that it called her. That if it was a Ghost that intended to affright her, it was decei­ved, she being also reduced into that same state by her own griefe, and the injuries of Destiny. But on the other side, if it was the shaddow of him whom she adored, that she rejoyced at it, because she might make him see the greatnesse of her Love. She heard it reply to her: That he was a man that desired to deliver her from the captivity of those who every mo­ment contrived treacheries against her repu­tation: that if she would secure her honour and her life, she should follow him in silence. Flo­ridea obeyed, walking all that night, and estee­ming any danger inferiour to that which was threatned her by the Thracians. But she felt for all that an alteration of the heart so vehement, that she could not but prognosticate some ill to her selfe.

They arrived at the mouth of a Grot, just upon that time that darknesse vanished, disdai­ning perhaps to be trodden on by the horses of the Sun. There she suddenly perceived her guide to be Prodirto the Duke of Lassimano. He had [Page 313]continued in the Court after the departure of the Prince of Create. Knowing Viralto, he obser­ved him daily, attending a time to revenge the offences received from him. The first day that Viralto assaulted the Thracians he took notice of Floridea: but made no shew of it, waiting an opportunity for his designes. Seeing her enter among the enemies he followed her. He found no difficulty in concealing himselfe among such a multitude, having the habit, and the language of the Thracians. Taking the opportunity of those darknesses he led her into that Cave, very well known to him, into the which he had al­waies retreated before he was wounded in that of Dianea. Floridea knowing him, received so grand a sorrow, that she fell in a swoone, with danger perhaps to have been killed among those Rocks, if the Duke had not received her between his armes. Being returned to her selfe, she said to him:

Is it possible (O cruell one) that thou art not yet satiated with the infelicity of my fortune? Is it possible that thy barbarousnesse should not be extinct in the bloud of my Father, and my Brother, and that it is not buried in the ruines of my house? Perchance thou hast stolne me from the Thracians, because thou fearest, that to tor­ment me, they had not instruments more inhu­mane than those of thy perfidiousnesse. Wicked Traitour, unfaithfull to thy Prince, and heaven, and thy selfe; preserved till now alive to accom­plish only the high judgements of the Gods, [Page 314]who with the cruelty of the impious exercife the patience of the good. I cannot con­ceive how the the earth rendred execrable by the excesses of thy infamies, prepares not for thee at every step either a Precipice, or a tombe. You Thunders of Jove, that exercise the furies of your anger upon towers and moun­taines, infensible of your chastisements, why strike you not this perfidious, this wicked, this sacrilegious man.

Prodirto, growne furious at these words, which, reproaching him for his enormities, could not be but displeasing, comming against her vil­lanously, gave her many blows on the face, saying to her: Learne, impudent one, to injure those who so many times have preserved thee free from wrongs. Receive now the fruits of my anger, having not had the will to try those of love. Let your Duke of Filena come now to free you from him, who hath an heart more cruell against those he hates, than he hath it amiable to those he loves. Enjoy now my indignation, of the which I have shewed my selfe so anxious. Because you have abhorred my embraces, having given up your selfe to those of others: Now to thy dou­ble vexation I will take them more to triumph over thy obstinacy, than to gather the most vile leavings of thy immodesties.

Thou lyest (O wicked man) replied Floridea; for there is not any that can boast himselfe over my honesty. But it is no wonder that a Traitour should take away the fame of those Princes [Page 315]whom he will murther. I care not that thou ha­test me, equally despising both thy love and ha­tred. Distaine (cruell man) thy hands in my bloud: For I only remaine a Remnant of the barbarismes of thy Infidelity. Thou hast reason to kill me, that I may not witnesse to the world that thou art the most infamous Traytour that lives.

Then (added Prodirto, interrupting her) shall I neither have power nor punishment to bridle thy mordacious insolency. Dares then the Te­merity of an impudent woman thus far! So say­ing, he began to strike her with so much anger, that the bloud ran from many places. She schree­ched out as loud as ever she could, rather to in­cence him more, than for any reliefe she might receive to her sorrow; were she secure of her honour, she would not have shewed a resentment for all the mischiefes of the world; she much more feared the love of Prodirto, than the offen­ces and injuries.

Whilest Floridea with bitings, blows, words, and schreeches fomented the furiousnesses of Prodirto, Astidamo the Prince of Creete was brought into a griefe not inferiour to hers. In a short time he was carried to Creete, having in his voyage received no other discommodity than that which the absence of Dianea occasioned. Hefound them just a celebrating the Funerals of his Father and Mother, who both died in one day. He shewed a passion only to deceive the observation of Subjects, who rejoyce in the [Page 316]tendernesse of their Princes. They seldome weepe that by the death of their Parents obtaine a Kingdome. Great gainings would stop teares in the eyes of pity it selfe. He suddenly appea­sed the alterations of the Kingdome, occasioned by those, who, by being of the bloud royall, had had ambitious hopes for the Crown. The deaths of some the most culpable terrified the boldnesse of others. He forgot not to exercise his mercy towards the penitency of those which ran to his feet. He well knew that those Kingdomes were not stable which were builded upon bloud. He had, under the pretence of reducing his Sub­jects to obedience, raised an Army worthy of his greatnesse. All hastened to serve him with Armes, Money, and Men, to gaine a place in the affection of their new Prince. He, thanking eve­ry one, gave the highest Commands to those who had the vastest thoughts, not thinking him­selfe safe by leaving them in Creete, lest in his absence they should attempt any Innovation. Making afterwards, with the greatest celerity possible, all the Ships and Galleys of the King­dome to be prepared in readinesse, and, em­barquing all his Militia, he made them direct their Prores towards the Island of Cyprus.

To avoid the injuries of heaven, he was com­pelled to take land in an Island uninhabited, with so much impatiency, that his complaints against the aversenesses of heaven was the least of his ravings. Eight daies were past wherein the sea continued his fury, when a Long-Boat, guided by [Page 317]foure Marriners, who fled from shipwrack, en­tred the Port: There was within it a Knight of no ordinary presence, who, with two Squires, rendred thankes to the Gods that they had esca­ped out of the hands of death. Astidamo went quickly to see them, and there knew the Knight, who was the Baron of Cormio, a Subject to King Vassileo. He enquired of him the news of Cyprus, and the causes of his voyage. He answered: That the King of Thracia, being displeased at the justice of King Vassileo against his daughter, was departed from Cyprus, with a resolution to returne back with a powerfull Army. That he had been sent in all haste into Egypt to procure Aide from that King upon any condition: that he had obtained it, the King of Egypt promising, in less then two months either to enter into Thracia to call back Dorcone to the defence of his, or else to come to Cyprus with a potent Flect. That returning joyfull with this answer, he had been many daies tossed by the seas, against which having neither force nor instrument to resist, perceiving themselves neare that Haven they were abandoned beyond the hope of For­tune, who having spent all her rigours with the Ship which carried them (it being swallowed by the waves) afforded me here a landing place, and security.

Astidamo could hardly suffer that he should give a period to his discourse, but he asked of what justice he spoke exercised against his daughter by King Vassileo. I (Sir) replied the [Page 318]Knight, would not weary you with a new Rela­tion, supposing you had been fully informed of it, it being every where knowne, that King Vassileo understanding from his owne Daughter her self, that without the assent of her Father, she was de­nated to a Marriage, he had made her be put to death in prison with a sorrow even to those who loved her not. You have killed me, replyed As­tidamo with a report so miserable. He had scarce said these words, but he fell down halfe dead be­tween the Armes of his. Being returned to his senses. he gave himself over to teares and lamen­tations, with such a resentment of those that waited on him, that they would have estee­med to dye the least expression of their sor­row.

Fortune (he said) how dost thou know to torment this heart, which believed it selfe neare to felicity. These Armies, this Mili­tia which declare me one of the greatest Kings of the world, serve to no other end but to augment my affliction. If one under­goes a poverty contrary to his desires, he need not complaine but of Destiny: but he that in wealth and power envies not the felicity of Jove, feeles the greater torment, by how much the lesse he can satisfie his appetites. Every great­nesse hath its contraries, neither is there autho­rity or power which are not exposed excessively to the anger of Heaven. I will not (friends) present my Griefes to you, for in the remem­brance of it, perhaps my paine will be redoub­led [Page 319]upon mee, and I have more strength to endure it, then to expresse it. It should not be great, whilst my Tongue can conceale the greatnesses of it. And if by the extremi­ty of it, I be not compelled to reveale it, I would not speake it, lest I should torment your mindes with the effects of pitty. Compassion would adde ease to my sorrowes, which my in­felicity wills should torment me to an excesse. To have Companions, which is a grand Conso­lation to the afflicted, is not convenient for him, who ought onely to be tortured by passion. But why doe I multiply in Complaints, having (to prove death in sorrow) designed to bury them in my soule!

He accompanied these words with so many teares, and so lively resentments, that there was not any who would not have borne part of his Evill to have eas'd him. Now with a vehement Motion, and unquiet, he gave signe of the ar­dour he felt within his Breast. Now sitting im­moveable, with an abundance of sighs he shew'd, that his soule tormented, gave signes of leaving the body. Now he fixed a great while his eyes up­on heaven, as if he implored the aide of the gods, or rather that he complained of them that agita­ted him with so many infelicities. The night came on, which instead of affording himself rest, heaped afflictions on him. Those silences, and those horrours which usually lull asleep thoughts and sadnesses, could not now give a stop to the passions of a desperate heart. Rather under the [Page 320]shadow of night those dolours seem to be privi­ledged; for the which the light of the day would have reproved him of shame. He went to bed, but could not lie in it, but by minutes. Having gi­ven a Command to his to withdraw, he went forth with the greatest secresie into the Island, where giving his heart to the disposall of his feet, he was carried into the thickest part of a wood, in the which there was neither foot­step, nor signe that any body came there. There not seeing any witnesses that might censure his passion, he bestowed upon griefe all the teares his eyes could administer. There was a little Fountaine with steps. Above it he cast himselfe in a carelesse manner; pouring forth so great a Lamentation, that his words came not out but broken and imperfect. When his heart could no longer supply water to his eyes, his tongue under­took their Office; he said:

What wilt thou doe, O King of Creet, the true scope of all the miseries of Fortune? What wilt thou doe, the sole occasion of the death of the most beautifull woman, that Heaven, Art, and Nature agreeing could frame? VVhat thing hitherto hast thou not felt? To what infelicity hast thou not been subject? VVretched, and miserable King, what thing more wilt thou wait for, what thing more wilt thou hope for? To what greater Calamities wilt thou reserve thy selfe? Dead is Dianca, Dianea is dead. Heart hast thou patience to suffer it? And hast thou Mouth the boldnesse to speak it? Pardon me, O [Page 321]happy soule, Pardon me; beloved soule, that I know not how to die at the newes of thy death. Peradventure heaven would that thou shouldst live in me, the Cruelty of thy Father having denyed thee to live in thy selfe, or rather it would honour thy Sepulcre with the teares of one who hath infinitely loved thee, and in whom his heart shal sooner die then his affection. I live by the severe judgment of the justice of the gods, who having known me innocently guilty, will nevertheless punish me, by not suffering me to die. Unhappy Dianea, slaine and condemned by thy Spouse and Father! Miserable old man, why hast thou been willing to defile thy hands in the bloud of thy Daughter? Cruell Father? wicked Fa­ther, Father unworthy the name of a Father; Where are such impious Cruelties practised? Impieties so cruell? An onely Daughter of beau­ties so singular, that they would have awaken'd Emulation, and Envy in those of heaven, who in Prudence, and in the other Vertues, gave not preheminence to the wifedome of the most wise, he hath sacrificed to his fury. Then Errours, and the Errours of Love can finde no pitty in the af­fections of a Father. Why hadst not thou Pa­rents so cruell, that thou mightst not have con­demned thy selfe in the life of thy Daughter? But whither doth my passion transport me, and my grief? The Father hath not been the murthe­rer of his Daughter; I am guilty of this crime, I have slaine her, the sacrilegious blow procee­ded from my hands. And guilty of such an ex­cesse. [Page 322]shall I live? shall it then be true, that I can endure the killer of Dianea to live? No, no Dianea: behold the bloud of thy greatest Enemy, which is as voluntarily offered to thy death, as unwillingly he deprived thee of life. If among shades there is a correspondency of Affection, or memorie of a Benefit, I hope that thou wilt be wholly mine, seeing with how much readiness, without sparing of my bloud, I know to revenge thee.

This said, he drew his sword, fetching some deep sighes, fixing his eyes on heaven: Now full of pitty, now of fury, and set it to his breast to have slaine himselfe. The which doubtless had happened, if a most beautifull Lady, who with­out being observed, had heard a great part of his Lamentations, had not staid him, taking the sword out of his hand. He was so disposed to die, that he fell, without seeing who hinde­red him from it. Breathing a languishing sigh, he said: You doe nothing that with an unsought for pitty endeavour to save my life. It is a grea­ter Commiseration to kill me, then to let me live, for that would be the onely ease to my do­lours. And besides, there is not any that can hin­der desperate men from death.

These words being finished, he fixed his Eies on her, who having got his head into her Lap, enforced her self to consolate him. Knowing the Effigies of Dianea, he began to cry out; Now, (O Friend!) I am sure of the greatness of your affection, since you have not been unwilling to [Page 323]grace me with these last Offices. But why will you be cruell to me with a pitty, which doubly torments me? I cannot out-live you, neither can I live without you. Dianea her teares for a while being stay'd, answered him; Friend, if you desire the Company of Dianea, live! For I am alive. Astidamo perceiving that it was not a Ghost, as at first he was perswaded, and that the Reports of her Death were false, having for­gotten in a moment his passed Commotions, so gave up himselfe a prey to Joy, that he had like to have perished; so great a swooning comming upon him that it possessed all his senses.

After his spirits were recovered, they fell to embracings, with that tendernesse of affection as their affection could expres. They gazed upon one another, not crediting the truth, their hands, nor their eyes. They multiplied their embraces and kisses, nor had afforded an end to those Consolati­ons, if the day being much spent, they had not been come upon by the Knights, who were in search for their King, not without doubting some mis­fortune.

Then they redoubled their joyes, his shewing Dianea to them, whom with so desperate ac­cents he had bewailed as dead. They all came to kiss her hands, reverencing her as their Queen. With these welcomes they retired to the Fleet, and the Tempest being ceased, Astidamo gave order for departure. But before they undertook their Voiage to Creet, Dianea gave an Ac­count how shee escaped the Anger of her [Page 324]Father, and how she fled fram the Dangers of Death.

The Historie of Dianea's Escape.

MY Father (she said) was obstinate in his Resolutions to make me assent to Nupti­als with the Thracian. I to render him diffwa­ded, used all those Meanes, and all those Arts, which were subministred tome by necessity and love. All was in vain, for being the more exas­perated he came to force me. Then esteeming silence a greater crime then the former, I cast my selfe at my Fathers feet, giving him a Rela­tion of our amorus practises, yet prosecuted with promise of marriage. My Father altered in such manner, that consigning me to the Coun­cell, he would that the Law should be observed, which condemned all those to death, that born of Royall bloud, presumed to marry themselves. For me there was no pitty. Those of the Coun­cell endeavoured all wayes to save me, but they could not obtaine from the King that the Law should be altered. The Dutchess of Del­prato obtained through favour to be my compa­nion in my Sepulcher.

They use in Cyprus (and I believe it is known to you) to bury those who have any Characters of Nobility, in a vault under ground, one or more persons of those who loved them best in life, continuing there a yeare. The Dutchess feigned, that one of my Damsels was elected [Page 325]for her Companion in this Function, who of Counsell in the Intention of the Dutchess, de­ceived the Executioner of the sentence, making her selfe took in my stead. The Dutchess gave an apparance to the Deceit, scattering so ma­ny Teares, and such Sighes, that they deafned the Aire. She acquainted me with it just at that time, wherein prepared to dye, I had not an hope to comfort me. She made me put on the Cloathes of the Damsels, and I entred with her into the Tombe, which was prepared for me.

The Report of my death was spread over the whole City with an universall sorrow. There was not any that made doubt of it, whilst my owne Father beleeved no otherwise. I remai­ned so buried many dayes, with such a passion, that I should rather have chosen death a thousand times. Finally, one night, (though there was never known neither Light nor day) we found by chance a secret Portall, which led into a Grot. Having lighted a Torch, we walked to see the end; It brought us into a field neare the Sea shore, there finding by chance a Vessell which was upon saile, we went toward Creet, with the thought of finding you.

Fortune, that knowes to shew her selfe an E­nemy to the most just desires, made us fall in­to the hands of Traute, a Pirate. He scarce saw me, but he had a designe of me, believing me Daughter to the Dutchess, for such I al­wayes gave out my selfe. A great deale of his [Page 326]fiercenesse being layed aside, he requested my af­fection with such humility, that I wonder in my selfe how for love he could be separated from himself. I, inanimated by his humiliations, entrea­ted him for a time to be able to dispose of my self to his will. Having obtained this occasion of de­lay, I got the Dutchess to speake to one of the Pyrates, who next to the Traute was in chiefe Command. Our enterprise being in good order, and our hopes agreeing, the Dutchels taking Pi­lane aside (for so was the Pyrate named) she said to him:

Son, I will not speake at large because time permits me not. I would not that my tongue should make jealous so many eyes, and so many eares as observe us. My daughter is ardently en­amoured of you; she hath perceived that you have not disdained to looke on her with some liking, whereupon she gives you to understand that she will rather make an election of death than consent to be anothers. She beseeches you therefore, if her affection be pleasing to you, to defend her from the violences of Traute. He dayly assaults her, and if your valour doth not oppose it, he will shortly use force. Then hence­forward it will be your thought to prepare a de­fence for those things which are dedicated to you, and not to staine your honour with the infa­my. That things recommended to your prote­ction should become a prey to the insolency of others.

These words in such manner won possession [Page 327]over the heart of Pilane, that he answered: Mo­ther, I thanke you for the occasion you have pre­sented me to quiet my heart, which already I have sacrificed to the beauties of your daughter.

If Traute will contend with me for her, he shall prove what the force in the breast of a Lo­ver can do. In this meane while, to avoid the injuries of heaven, and the sea, which threatned death to the most dauntlesse, we retired into this Island in a Port unhabited. Here was a Sup­per prepared, where all the Pyrates sat downe, willing also that we should sit; when they were full of meat and wine they fell into a thousand dishonesties, and Traute by force cast his armes about my neck espying me neare him. Pilane plucked him back by the arme, saying to him: Traute, That prey belongs not only to you which is made common to all. At thy pleasure thou shalt be Patron of the things which belong to thy part, not of those which not being divided appertaine to all; you have been chosen the head, but not a Tyrant, and you not observing the Laws of your election, neither am I bound to observe those of obedience.

Traute, not accustomed to injuries, being en­raged by wine, threw at him a great Bowle of silver, saying to him: So the rashnesse of those is to be corrected who refuse to obey. This of­fence was not without resentment, because Pi­lane, who stood upon warinesse, wounded him with a knife in the breast, and killed him. The others suddenly betooke them to Armes, and [Page 328]they being almost all overcome with wine, their stroakes were not but mortall. I then said to the Dutchess: Mother, Let us go hence not to re­maine a prey to the Conquerours. My feare car­rying me into the thickest part of the wood, I beleeved that the Dutchess followed me, and was not aware of it, but after a great while that she had not been with me. The griefe I had at it I leave to them to consider, who knew how well I loved her. I would to have found her have turned thence back again, but night comming upon me I could not. I continually wandred, my passion keeping me in a perpetuall motion. Lastly, cal­led by your teares I have found my Astidamo, than whom, through the benignity of the Gods, I could not attaine to a grace more desired, nor more unexpected.

Here she was silent, redoubling her Embra­ces; Astidamo not being able, but with multi­plied signes of consolation, to expresse the joy which his heart felt. He sent many Knights in search of the Dutchesse, who returned without having received any notice, yet the comfort to see themselves united mortified in great part the griefe they received at such a losse. For all this Dianea would not depart thence before some Galleys had took a circuit round the Island. They returned with news of the death of the Pyrates, but there was not any that could give them no­tice of any thing else. Lastly, they appointed their departure towards Creete, so invited by the sea and the winds which recalled them to their voyage.

Floridea, in the meane while ploughed in a Sea more perilous and fierce, with making re­sistance against the forces of the Duke, she was become so strengthlesse, that already her hands strived no more for victory agaist the Ardour of that impious man who attempted to dishonour her. Her mouth, that with bitings had afforded defences to the purity of her heart, could scarce utter some languishing Ah me! which being ecchoed to by those Rocks would have mollified the Duke himselfe, if that love and disdaine had not estranged him from himselfe. He having scratched her face in many places, which was an adjunct to the horrours of his fiercenesse, con­tinued to strike her with such an unmercifulnesse that I know not how his hands were not af­frighted at so infamous a wickednesse. There were no more defences in the miserable Floridea; Her flesh either black or torne, her haire was rufled and rent; Her eyes, enlanguished by griefe and teares, durst not look up not to see the Te­stimonies of her shame; Her spred Armes gave boldnesse to that impious man to redouble his Assaults the more.

He was now ready to steale the fruits of his love, when those languishing voices called a Knight to their protection, who seeing those vi­olences, and knowing to whom they were used (accidents not being able to raze from the memo­ry of Lovers the remembrance of the beloved) he began to crie to the Duke that he should stay, if he would not be slain as basely as he was employed. [Page 330] Prodirto changed his anger into fury, there be­ing not a mightier passion than for that which retards the delights of the sense; whereupon he said:

Knight, you shall feele the reward which those gaine who with rashnesse intermeddle in the bu­sinesses of others. So saying, he gave him a thrust, which his armes falsifying made a little wound. That hurt cost him deare, for he suddenly found himselfe struck on the head, from whence began to run a great abundance of bloud. For all this Prodirto shewed no signes of Cowardise, now rewarding, and now warding the blowes of his Adversary. He used dexterity and strength ac­cordingly as his judgement gave rules and ad­vertisements to his hand. The Vows of Floridea, with which she strove to supplicate the pity of the Gods, promised her no other victory but that of hope. They were both wounded when they drew back to take wind. The Knight blaming his weakness, which suffered him not to attaine the victory, cried out, O Gods, what judgement may be formed of your providence, whilest you refuse to assist to the protection of those who defend justice! One only man, spotted with the most unworthy Characters of infamy, hath strength to put me in danger of my life, not only not to overcome. With these vowes he ran to assaile the Duke, who knowing him by his voice, was daunted in such manner, that having no longer the heart to defend himselfe, he would have fled away, but the Knight prevented him, [Page 331]for with two redoubled blowes he tooke away his life.

This end had Prodirto the Duke of Lassimano, a man of inimitable conditions, if dishonesty and ambition had not been predominant. In for­raigne Wars he gained no ordinary name, and in his Country he had not Equalls. In battells it was not discerned which was the mightier in him, either Prudence, or Fortune. His Counte­nance shewed the ferocity of his heart, though his Fortune and Eyes manifested his perfidious­nesse. Of his Customes it is not able to frame a judgement. He was bold in his resolutions, neither trusted he secrets but to himselfe. He found death from his hands for whom he ever­more had woven snares.

Floridea cast her self at the feet of the Knight, who making himselfe known to her for Viralto, (who, having escaped from those that kept him, was come thither by chance) there was not any externall signe which she made not to declare her joy. She wept, swooned, cried out; and with centuplicated embraces it seemed that she would make her selfe one with her beloved. These first impetuousnesses being passed over, she said:

Supernall Gods, that by your unknown wis­dome from poysons extract Antidotes, and from Lamentations joy; I know not how to render you thankes for so many felicities which have conquered my desire. If all these words were soules, and all they consecrated to your honours, they would not be sufficient to tender you thanks [Page 332]for such a benefit. Because by your goodnesse e­very the least expression is accepted of, I have humbly thanke you, O Celestiall Deities, O Supreame Intelligences. From you I acknow­ledge my life, the which only to day I have lear­ned to desire. To day new borne I begin to live. To live with the torments of an amorous passion hath no other of life but the name and the opini­on. The streightnesses of the World, the con­tempts of Love, the anger of Destiny, the losse of my Father, and Brother, and of my Country, have been all instruments to felicitate me. There is not any that should complaine of ill. Mortals accuse not Fortune as the Minister of your infe­licities; for the providence of the Gods knows how to draw Ashes from Glory, and Glory from Ashes. Whilest she said these words, she hung about Viralto's neck, and it seemed that with a covetousnesse of desires she was insatia­ble to all the demonstrations of joy, or rather that she would hold him so embraced, as if she doubted the truth of her sight and feeling. They waited for the night, to depart thence with the greater security, because the Thracians held all the Island.

In this meane while King Vassileo maintained himselfe with the Reliques of a beaten Army and driven into Arsinoe from moment to mo­ment expecting death. After the imprisonment of Viralto, he gave the Command of the Army to the Count of Salinera, who for wisdome and affection had few Equals in the service of his [Page 333]Prince. The Count having regard to the weak­nesse of his men, had no other thought but to de­fend the Wells from assaults. He had neither Forces, nor the boldnesse to joyne Battail with them, who rendred audacious by Victory, and their number boasted themselves invincible. The great abundance of Provision that was with­in Arsinoe, suffered not the besieged to feele the incommodities of a siege. On the other side, the Thracians being become secure by the daun­tedness of their enemies, wore away all their dayes in Chases or Banquets.

One day the two Princes of Missia and Epi­rus, the Infante of Macedonia, with many o­thers of the chief of the Army, met together in the Scythian Kings Pavilion. Heated with meates and Wine, they fell into divers Discour­ses. How much the more Fire is supprest, so much the more it operates with greater force. Some proposed, what was the most unbeseem­ing thing for a Knight? The doubt displeased not, because there was not any that feared to have in himselfe any thing unworthy of a Knight. The Opinions were as various, as were the Ge­nius's, and the humours of those that discour­sed.

The Scythian, accommodating his words to his heart, said; To flye from Dangers is the in­deleble blemish of a Knights Reputation: Who would not encounter death, hath not an undaun­tednesse: who hath not that feare, and who feares is base; and Cowardile is that, which a­bove [Page 334]all things is contrarie to the Glories of a Knight. A Knight ought not to suffer injuries, no not from those who are much his Superiours in Fortune. If he encounters not dangers to prepare a Revenge, he blemishes his name with notes of Infamy. VVhen perils enforce a Knight to make Resistance, it is pure necessity, not va­lour. He ought to exceed others, who would be greater then others, He that with a virile leas [...]reness waits that Fortune should present him Subjects to trie himselfe, is obliged to Fortune, not to himselfe. Even Cowards sometimes will maintaine a Bussle. In briefe, the animosity to create perils, is the prime glory. As to attend that Chance, should deliver a City into his hands, is the mightiest shame to a Knight. E­ven the Sun would merit Reproaches, if with a precipitate and continuall motion, it should daily seek for dangers among shades. In atchieving is honour, and in things hard by others, immor­tality.

The Infante of Macedonia said; That so high Rewards being due to faithfulness, he could not perswade himselfe, that more blameable things could be in a Knight then infidelity. This would soile the lights of the Sunne, not onely the Acti­ons of men. An unfaithfull man is abhorred by all, because all feare his Treacheries. Faith­fulness is a thing sacred, the first daughter of Jove, the honour of men, and of the gods. Without this neither the earth nor the sea would enjoy any peace. It is a particular Deity, which [Page 335]resides silently in those breasts that possesse it. A man otherwise void of this, may be termed a Carkasse: And lesse, he is more vile then nothing. The Dammages of Infidelity are much more mightier then that which can be conceived in the minde, or expressed by the tongue.

The Count of Tinia would that it should bee Ingratitude. And what other (said he) can con­taminate the birth and the vertues of a Knight, but Ingratitude, abominable in all. A Knight is elected to chastise those that acting ungrate­fully, offend Heaven, Nature, and their Friends. Now how much the mightier will his Reproach be, when he falls into that vice the Trespasses against which he is made choice of to punish▪ All other faults carry with them some excuse, or some Appearance of Reason. Onely Ingratitude hath no pretence that can excuse it, hath no rea­son that can defend it. It is a vice so detestable, that it becomes even odious to those that exercise it. Whoever is unthankfull is unsaithfull, be­because he rebels against those obligations which he owes to the favours of others. He is cru­ell, because he torments the Liberallity of those to whom he is knowne beholding. In summe, all Vices are seen in ingratitude, and therefore an unthankfull Knight is unworthy of the name of a Cavalicre.

The Baron of Cardia maintained that Cruelty was the most blame-worthy thing in a Knight. Cruelty (he added) is the most certaine Por­tent of, or Folly, or of Covetousnesse. To be [Page 336]short, all Vices are Vices; but Cruelty holds the preheminence. It spoiles, unbowels, unsoules the world. It is the worst of all things, by rea­son that from it all the worst things proceed. Who is cruell, is vile, a desire of Blond not reigning but in those Bosomes which are corrupt. He is an enemy of Nature, since he procures the Destruction of his owne species. He offends the Gods, that with pitty onely have gained di­vine Attributes. He injures himselfe, because by the death of others he robs himselfe of those Duties which would have afforded him a supe­riority among others. Lastly, he is the worst of Animals, the which although they be void of Reason, are not neverthelesse without pitty.

The Prince of Missia, with his usuall morda­city said; That Love was the most detestable thing in a Knight. This (cried he) is that that disturbes the Intellect, that contaminates the Reason, that tyrannizeth over the Will, and that makes a man different from himselfe. Who loves, betraies himselfe in the tyranny of a face, who knowes not to obey any thing, but affecti­ons, nor knowes not to be faithfull but to those who alwayes betray. Love is a species of Infa­mie, since it subjects the will of that heart to the which the Gods have prescribed no lawes, but voluntary.

The Prince of Missia ushered in these Reasons with a laughter, repleat with contempt, holding his eyes continually fixed upon the Prince of E­pirus. [Page 337]He who in his owne conceit was lost in love, thought that those words wounded his Re­putation, so much the more, because upon him all their looks were cast, as upon himalon who was subject of this Discourse. He having no longer sufferance to see himselfe injured, interrupting him, said to him: Prince of Missia, if your de­clare your Opinion without thought to wrong me, I shall take no Resentment at it, because the Table even permits those things, which should not be spoke. If I have loved in Ex­cess, I repent not; because my Affections have not been unworthy. VVho is so bold to reprehend me, lies, and peradventure blames love, be­cause he is unworthy to be beloved. Declare your selfe then, because I am not accustomed to be reproached, and in particular by you in these Errours.

The Prince of Missia answered: I spoke by Chance, dictated by Reason. But that you should not believe that I say this for fear of your Anger, I will make it good with my sword, that having loved without Moderation, you have done a thing unworthy of a Knight; and therefore me­rited for it a publick reprehension. The Prince of Epirus, let him not finish these words, but drawing (in disdaine) his sword, he flew to­wards the Prince of Missia, who doing the same, met him. The Tables went suddenly to the ground, and all those Knights with their naked swords interposed themselves to quiet them. The two Princes notwithstanding, staid not a jot, [Page 338]both desiring that the death of the one should serve as a Victime to the Revenge of the other. They bestowed their blowes at randome, holding equally all those for their Enemies, who for all they interposed themselves, shewed themselves Neuters. Clamours already were multiplyed, and Fame spreading the wounds and deaths of these two Princes, enforced all to betake them to their Armes, with a Confusion equall to the Perill.

Dorcone, at notice of this, came into the place of Contention. The two Princes seeing the King, drew back, but not laying aside that Ire, which in their hearts was implacable. He being informed of the Cause of the Quarell, en­deavoured by all meanes to perswade them to peace. But all became fruitlesse, by reason the Prince of Epirus would that he of Missia should unsay whatever he had spoke to injure him. On the other side, the Prince of Missia preten­ded he would not give satisfaction to him, be­cause from himselfe he had received injuries. Fi­nally, the Thracian having no greater authority over them, then that which they were plea­sed to let him have, was content that with­in publike Lists they should determine their Quarrell.

With all speed all retired to their Tents to arme them, whilst a most large place was prepared for the Combate. Ten thousand souldiers, with the Baron of Racara, had the Guard of the Camp, to the end that they might not permit, that either [Page 339]by word or signe the Combatants should be fa­voured. The Souldiers ran in strife to get the best place, as if that Battaile was made to de­light the sight. Some in their desires favoured the Prince of Missia, others him of Epirus, ac­cordingly as these Princes suited to the Genius of those, who for the most part love and hate without reason.

But the wiser sort notwithstanding abhorr'd that fight which could not be determined but to their owne dammage. The Victorie either on the one, or the other fide, could not but prove funebrous.

In this meane while, there was heard to pro­ceed from the Pavillion of the Prince of Missia, such clamours, that they seemed to deafen Hea­ven. This was the occasion of it: The King of the Scythians had with his owne hand armed the Prince, taking notice of all the Armes with a diligence not ordinary, when he said to him; Prince of Missia, you are to fight against the most couragious sword of the world. The Prince re­plyed, having his heart and eyes without feare: May be you have an ill opinion of my valour? The Scythian answered, I know you are of such a Generosity, that you yeeld not to any whoso­ever; but neverthelesse, you are to combate a­gainst one, who hath had more Victories then Foiles; and this makes me presage your destru­ction.

The Prince was alter'd at these words, where­upon he said; If you had loved me, you would [Page 340]have had a more worthy an opinion of my valour. Auguries so infelicious, (although despised by my undauntednesse) settle me in a minde, that you are interested with my Enemies, and that you come to tempt me to Cowardize, to advan­tage those with terrifying me. The Scythian, not accustomed to permit, that the pride of his heart should lend an eare to such like Reproaches, added; I would to Heaven Prince that your hand corresponded to your tongue, and that you were as valorous in striking, as you are in speak­ing. Notwithstanding, if Fortune favour you with Victory, I will that you shall render mee an account of what you have spoke, more con­fident in my patience then your valor. The Prince replyed, that then and alwayes he would make him know, that he spoke unworthily, putting in­to doubt his force, and his undauntedness. The Scythian was not longer able to refrain, but with his shut hand came against the Prince, who lay­ing hand to his sword, began to lay at him with many blowes. The Scythian had nothing but a sword, and yet he defended himselfe so well, that for the most part he deceived the eye, and the hand of the Prince.

Dorcone arrived just upon that time there, when tardency could not but be perilous, because the Souldiers of the Prince, and the Scythian, were run with Armes to aide their Lords. The Thracian attempted by all meanes to appease them, making use of both his authority and en­treaties, when in the Tent of the Prince of Epirus [Page 341]the like shoutings were heard: arising from a Contention, perhaps greater than the former. The Prince of Epirus was armed by the assi­stance of many Knights, which reached him, and looked to his Armes. The Infante of Macedo­nia, willing to give him his sword, saw that it had written on it; The Sword of the Heires to Mars. VVith a mighty earnestnesse he reque­sted how he attained the possession of that Sword. The Prince answered, that the King his Father had won it by strength of Armes, killing a Knight that wore it. The Infante added, I know not Prince, whether you understand the secret of this sword. This is a gift which Mars was willing to bestow on his Posterity. To me it belongs more then to any other. By my paternall and mater­nall Line I am descended from the God of VVar. To those that would have a larger Information, I engage my selfe to make this good by strength of Armes. Provide your selfe therefore of ano­ther Sword, for this shall not goe forth of my hands but with my soule.

The Prince full of indignation, taking a Lance, would have strook the Infante, who being aware of it, made the Blow prove in vaine. After they continued fighting, there being not any that had the courage to interpose, the pitty of many ha­ving taugt others, that there is not a greater Folly, then to procure the safety of others with danger to themselves. Dorcone ranne thither, leaving in the Prince of Missia's Pavillion, the Duke of Nicopolis, that he might not suffer any Inconveniency to ensue. He proposed a [Page 342]thousand Offers, mentioned infinite waies to pa­cifie them. He interposed Entreaties, and desired time to decide their Controversie; but all was in vaine, whilst obstinate, they would then put an end to their Quarrel. The Infante was con­tent to lend him the Sword, so it were requested with some humility. The Prince answered, that all the force of the world should not be sufficient to make him desirous to borrow that which absolutely was his owne.

On the other side, Dorcone, leaving here such a Guard, that he might feare no worse, would have the Advice of his Counsell upon this. Whilst the Baron of Falarta bore now from one side, then from another the Commissions of the King for the decision of so many differences, he met with a mightier then the others. He hasting by his Majesties Orders, a Dog of the Infante's of Armenia's ran under his Legs, and made him fall to the ground. The Baron changed at this acci­dent, and so much the more, perceiving the laughter of the by-standers, and of the Infante in particular: whereupon drawing his Sword, at one blow he killed the Dog. The Infante con­ceiving the wrong to his Dogge done to him­selfe, gave him a stroke with such a violence, that the Spectators doubted of the Barons life: He, avoiding the blowes, withdrew from the Assaults of the Infante, who, with that his fury had no other effect, but to gaine ground on the Baron, at the same time tiring himselfe out of breath. The Baron resolute to strike, not ac­cording [Page 343]to the impetuousnesse of his anger, but conformably to the rules of occasion, expected that this fury should weaken his Intellect and strength. When he perceived his stroakes grew more faint and slow, he drowned his sword in the body of the Infante, fixing him to earth in an estate neither to entreat for, nor to receive his life.

The Armenians, not able to endure so fune­brous a spectacle, tooke armes to revenge the death of their Prince. The Thracians did the same to carry the Baron out of danger. All the Campe betooke them to Armes, making slaugh­ter of all those which would make head. The Prince of Epirus and Missia had opportunity to meet, notwithstanding that the Scythian and the Infante of Macedonia ran always between them. The Souldiers were all crouded up to help their Princes, laying upon one another with so much cruelty, that a greater they could not have used towards their enemies. Being enclosed within the Lists, and in their Tents, they were slaine without resistance, so streight a place not able to containe such a multitude. They that were trod­den under foot were more than the wounded, men and horses contending with an equall fera­city. The Squadrons were in a manner united, so that there was not roome to retire or fly. They strooke with their bodies no lesse than with their weapons. In so closed a fight there was no o­ther hope but to dye. All equally were enemies, and many times the Souldier killed him who had [Page 344]saved his life. Nothing was heard but confused cries, languishing schreekes, that, mixed with the noise of Armes, formed to the eare a sound most dreadfull which threatned death.

The Thracians, by reason they were the grea­ter in number, made the more slaughter of the others, although also they made the greater loss: Dorcone cried out, but was not heard, he was not obeyed. He used all meanes to appease that uproare, but it availed not; for they obstinate in fight attended not to any thing he said.

Is it possible (he cried) that you will with your own blouds give the victory to your ene­mies? What Anger, what hope, what reward en­forces you to be cruell against your friends? Em­ploy those weapons with a more meritorious vio­lence against those who laugh at your furies. What Deity constraines you to sacrifice your selves here to death? What barbarismes? What foolishnesses are these? What Fate wills it, that the besieged should enjoy their security by our perils? Shall then a simple indignation, sprung by chance, doe more than an inveterate hatred of your enemies? You cannot be overcome but by your selves. Would you then that the Foe should triumph o­ver you long of your selves? Vent your rage a­gainst those who from the Walls looke for safety from our harmes.

These words neverthelesse prevailed not any thing in those minds, which encruelized had not distinction to know their madnesse. The com­plaints, and the voices of the wounded did not [Page 345]allay at all the fury of the Combatants, rendred incapable to obey, and to command. All those Princes rushed into the Squadrons, by maine force routing them, not taking either example, nor moderation by the misfortune of those that were falne before them. The Thracians many times endeavoured to draw out of the Rampiers, obeying more to the hand than to the voice of the King; but the Souldiers of the Armenian, and the Scythian, with those of the other Princes per­mitted them not. The Infante of Macedonia and the Prince of Epirus, many times meeting, and many times parted by the great Croud, fell, upon one another afresh. Perceiving that to use their swords was impossible, they closed, each striving to cast his enemy. They both fell, nor could they rise againe, this being the last fall to them. The Presse was so great, that whosoever fell was not in a state to rise, fining a Sepulchre many times before death.

The Scythian, who ran formidable, carrying terrour by the most illustrious bloud, met with the Prince of Missia, who wheresoever he pas­sed left alwaies signes of his valour. Both of them seeing they were so neare (every other en­terprise being cast aside) turned against that which they most hated. That Tragedie had not presented a Scene more funebrous. Before he strooke, the Scythian said: Now thou shalt pay for the contempt which with thy speeches thou hast given to my Councels and Affection. A Boy might well receive directions from a King that [Page 346]loved him. I hope shortly to make you see that it had been better for you to have been born with­out a tongue. Thou shalt not have friends, nei­ther the protection nor authority of the King which shall hide thee from the fury of this sword. The Prince answered: In truth thou art come at this time to receive chastisement for thy pride. I know thou desirest I were timerous and base, because thy particular knowledge of thy own debility made thee feare one day the un­dauntednesse of this heart. They replied no more, because with their swords they began to worke treason to their lives. The strength of their Armours made many of their blowes fall in vain, although from many places they drew bloud. They were so streightned by the multitude of Souldiers, that they could only strike with their fists. This neverthelesse they did with such a strength and anger, that, their Armours being bruised, they were both desperate of their lives. Throwing aside their swords, they drew their knives, with which they left not any place of their Armours which they attempted not to kill by. The Scythian was more fierce, and the Prince more discreet, so that no advantage was known between them. Finally they resolved to overcome or dye. The Scythian strooke the Prince in the groine with cutting the buckles of his Armour, the blade entred into his bowels. He feeling himselfe slaine strooke the Scythian in the throat, between the joyning of the Brestplate and the Helme. They both fell to the earth, brea­thing [Page 347]forth their soules, which without doubt will renew the fight, if hatred and anger are nou­rished among the dead.

Dorcone, seeing this Battell so obstinate, en­deavoured by his utmost power to make his men draw out of the Rampiers. Lastly, it succeeded, though he was divers times in danger to be over­pressed. Two houres only remained to the day, when with his head and his hand unarmed he be­gan to pacifie the Souldiery, who being adverti­sed of their perill, began in a great measure to calme their anger. But their miseries were re­doubled on them, when they were certified that Fire had taken possession of their Fleet. Such a multitude of Galleys were on a sudden come up­on them, that the Thracians not having time to weigh Anchor, or to retire into the Sea, were become a prey to fire, which in a mightie quan­titie was thrown upon them. Although the di­stance was of many miles, those terrours were ne­verthelesse heard, which declaring the burning rendred the dammage irreparable. Their feare was encreased upon them, when they understood that the enemies who had made the fire, in a grand number being landed, were marching thence to fall upon them.

This was Astidamo King of Create, who, joy­full that he had found her alive, without whom he could not live, had resolved to returne into his Kingdome. Whilest they were in their voyage, by asking after newes, they understood the de­struction of the Kingdom of Cyprus made by the [Page 348] Thracians. That all the firme land of the Island being lost, Arsinoe only held out besieged by so many Armes, and so many Armies, that it could but a little longer resist the force of so many ene­mies. That the Armeniuns, the Scythians, the Macedonians, with many other Princes, had de­clared themselves against King Vassileo, and to their detriment had raised Money and Souldiers. Dianea at these newes was not able to stop her teares that in abundance fell to vent forth the passion of her mind, casting her selfe at the Kings feet, she said to him:

I supplicate Astidamo, over whom my affecti­on presumes to find some desert. Sir, If I should not love my Father I were unworthy to be yours, and in the same time to live. You your self would but be a shadow of that heart that had not af­fections for him who hath given me my being. If I had no other reason to love him, I have that of his begetting me to be yours. His having con­demned me to death alters not my love. I rather glory to be daughter to a Father, who had rather punish his Child than derogate from Justice. That mind should not be but celebrated which condemnes it selfe not to leave Crimes unpuni­shed. At this present, that he is exposed to the invasion of Barbarians, to the power of the Thra­cians, who boast to impose servitude upon Cyprus, I beseech you, by that affection that interests you, to afford aide to my affaires, which at other times you haue not known how to refuse to him. Permit not (O magnanimous) that these wicked [Page 349]ones should vaunt to have the Father of her Pri­soner to whom you have acknowledged your self so many times a Prisoner. Besides, how could you rejoyce in my embraces which would be con­tinually sadded by my feares? I need not add that the Kingdome of Cyprus is mine after the death of my Father, because where my entreaties pre­vaile, it is not fit that Interest should plead a Title. So much the rather, because the greatness of your mind receives not an alteration from those low­nesses that reign only in vulgar bosomes. I know if Cyprus should fall under the subjection of the Thracians, Creete would not be secure from the ambition of those who would enlage the migh­tinesse of their Empire beyond the Confines of the World. But of this also I need not use a word to that heart which hath never been capable of feare, and which rejoyces that others conquer to make his own triumphs the more glorious. Let this only be an Adjunct to the immortality of your name, that you have twice delivered Cy­prus from the barbarismes of the Thrasians, and given twice life to a King when he the least ho­ped for it, and least deserved it. Dianea hath never entreated Astidamo without being heard. I assure my selfe the more in it, because I suppli­cate for a Father.

Astidamo embraced her, saying to her: Dia­nea, I was unwilling to interrupt you, extream­ly rejoycing in your piety. The tendernesses shewed toward your Father, confirmes my opini­on that you know how to love. I glory that the [Page 350]heavens have vouchsafed me the possession of a mind which forgets not the Obligations of Na­ture. Not to have a memory for injuries is pro­per to your generosity. The wrongs a Father doth, should not beget anger in those that receive them. The earth at no time hath reason to com­plaine of the Lightnings that Jove throws on it. I will go to the succour of your Father, because it is not convenient, that any beloved by you should be in danger to be lost. I know that beau­ty will carry felicity into that Kingdome which undergoes so many miseries only by reason of your absence. He speedily commanded that their Voyage should be directed towards Cyprus; Fame giving out that having obtained a Wife he went to get possession of her dowry. To the Souldiers he promised the spoyles of the Thra­cians, proposing one other intervall to the victo­ry but till he met with the enemy.

Favoured by the Sea and the Winds, they arri­ved upon the Fleet, which under the Command of the Count of Brandilia was dispersed into the Ports without feare, and without defence. The Thracians beheld at one and the same time the Fire, Armes, and Death. The Count was busie in play with all the other prime men that had Command in the Fleet in a Galley far distant from the rest. Being informed of the fire, not willing to leave off play, he being a winner, commanded it should be quenched, supposing it kindled by accident through the carelessnesse of the Galeyots, or Marriners. Being assured the [Page 351]Navy was assaulted by enemies, now perswaded the winds could not have such force, he would not nevertheless stir, until the violence of the fire represented the inevitable danger to him. Then necessity rendring him a certainty of his neglect, he consented not to retire or flye, much more fearing the displeasure of the King than death. Perceiving the flames unextinguishable, and de­fence impossible, he commanded his Galleots they should charge upon one of those Galleys, whilest he himselfe resolved to dye on the wea­pons of some worthy person. There was not any there that would understand, or that would obey him. Feare had so daunted the minds of them all, that to avoid the fire they leapt out to swim, finding no defence but in desperation. The slaugh­ter was great, whilest both Elements conspired to the dammage of the Thracians.

Astidamo victorious, without delay made his Souldiers go a Land; understanding by his Scouts the discord that was in the Campe in the Ene­mies Army, heightning his courage, he said to his:

On O valorous! Let us pursue the Victory: Here is neither danger, nor labour in assaulting those who are overcome by their own discords. Being at division among themselves, they will bring confusion and terrour among themselves. They were infinite in number, but there hath hapned such a slaughter among them, that they will not any more have strength to make resi­stance. The prime Chieftaines that rendred that [Page 352]Army formidable are killed by their own wea­pons, and the Gods would have made them all dye so, had they not been willing to have afforded some glory to your valour.

On, on (O valorous) take to heart the teares of Dianea, my entreaties, and your own reputa­tion. Make a slaughter of these impious ones; kill them, for they would do the same to you if your virtue would permit them. To take a Pri­soner is to adde an impediment to you, and to save enemies. Spoiles will not be wanting to you. These words being ended, which were at­tended by a felicious shout of all the Souldiers, he marched against the Thracians, who being got out of the Lists, were put into that order which seare, danger, and the shortnesse of the time would permit them.

Dorcone, on the other side, inanimating, and exhorting his, said: See to what termes your particular angers have reduced you. Now by a generall resolution repaire that honour which in the opinion of men would be hardly cen­sured of by reason of your rage. Although the past misfortune hath swept away a great part of our Souldiers, we are neverthelesse yet the more in number. They would not have had the boldnesse to have affronted us without the ad­vantage of our own differences. They have been invited by us, having built their hopes uponour ruine. Perhaps you beleeve the Cretans will venture their lives for an old man repleat with ingratitude: That they will dye without hope [Page 353]of reward. They will hardly make triall of your force but they will supplicate us for pardon. If you have nor the heart to defend your selves, you will be necessitated to dye basely. We are en­compassed by enemies; We must conquer or dye. Call to mind your victories, and that you are in the presence of your King, who hath returned from all battels with honour.

These and other words the Thracian used to encourage them. The fight begun, the two Kings of Creete and Thracia defended their right Wings. The left of the Thracians was maintained by the Duke of Nicopolis, whilest the opposite was commanded by the Count of Cor­nia of the bloud Royall, and who among the Chiefetaines of Creete held the first place. Both the Armies fell to it with such an impetu­ousnesse, that the desperation of the Thracians was very easily discerned, and the boldnesse of the Cretensians. Ire from it selfe presented mi­serable speeches. Every thing was slaughter, e­very thing demonstrated death horribly. Dead bodies were seen in heaps, in mountaines, with­out distinction either of their dignity or merit. The wounded fell upon the dead, and before they could dye, they had the horrour to see the destruction of a Parent, or a friend. Many unburi­ed bodies the living buried. Bloud fell in so great an abundance that the Souldiers could not keep their feet.

The Count of Cornia shewed proofes worthy truly of his valour, opening a way through the [Page 354]thickest, with the genuine fiercenesse of his heart. He encountred the Duke of Soitone. He turned upon him, willing to Nobilitate his Victo­ries, by the death of some remarkable Person. He strook him with two redoubled blowes upon the Helme, while not being able to resist such a force, gave way to the Iron to enter, making almost his life to follow them. The Count called out to his to strip him: but being treacherously woun­ded in the Flank by the Baron of Achialo, hee was enforced to fall, with such a Resentment of his, that they killed the Duke, not yeelding to take him Prisoner: for the which hee used all Importunity, promising Mountaines of gold.

Astidamo, hearing of the death of the Count, became in such wise encruellized, that neither Prayers nor Lamentations had power to move him to pitty. Shields and Helmets had no more resistance against his sword, then if they were of Glasse. Every stroke fell'd to the Earth, or kill'd. By his look and voice he drove the soul­diers before him, who equally dreaded his me­naces, and strength: And for the most part, when his Sword fell upon them, they believed it a Thunder-bolt.

Also Dorcone rusht into the Troops, routing them with such a courage, that there was not any that fled not from his blowes. He struck downe, wounded, flew, and with a desperate resolution, abandoned himselfe into all dangers. Astidamo, who to attaine to the Victory, knew the head of the Thracian was necessarie, call'd [Page 355]him by name in the thickest Croud of the soul­diers. These words often, and often repeated, arrived to the Eares of Dorcone, who disdaining himselfe for being challenged the first, ran spee­dily thither, where Astidamo carried death, both in his Countenance and Sword. Before he would strike him, he said to him: Who art thou that hast the boldnesse to invite me to the Com­bate? Astidamo answered; I am he who am glo­rious by the death of thy Brother. O yee Gods, replyed the Thracian, I render you thanks of passion, that I have suffered till now, since you have presented me the occasion to revenge that bloud which was shed by so much injustice. To thee (O beloved soule) I offer up this vi­ctory, it thou disdainest not a Sacrifice so infa­mous. Astidamo replyed not, but with his Sword, giving the Thracian a blow that made him a little wound in his Flanke. On the other side, the Thracian struck Astidamo on the arme, so that the bloud issued forth in great abun­dance.

Whilst these Combated, Victory turned her back upon the Thracians, who by little and little drew back, retreating. All their Chiefe were either slaine or wounded. Whereupon, not ha­ving any that should awaken their Courages, they began to be disordered, and to flie thence, whither they were transported by their feare; VVhich encreased much more upon them, when King Vassileo, not pardoning those yeares which necessitated him to repose, marched out with [Page 356]the Count of Salinera, falling upon the backs of the Thracians, who being so intercepted, knew not whither to flye thence. The burning of the Fleet, and the cry of Souldiers, confused by the fragour of Armours, carried into Arsinoe, the state of the Enemy, who neverthelesse took on them a Resolution to issue out, not willing to o­vercome without danger, neither without labour. Here the slaughter was more then great, because the Thracians shut up into the midst, knew not how to get off, becomming of Besiegers, the Besieged. They knew not what to do, but to cry for Quarter, and throwing downe their Armes to embrace the feet of the Conquerours. All the Standards were laid on the Earth, and the Companies no longer acknowledged their Offi­cers. There was nothing else heard but indistinct Cries and pittifull of the overcome, which in­horridated the aire.

Death and Feare had deprived the Thracians of all Resistance, so that excepting Dorcone there was not any that made head, at the least not to die cowardly. The Thracian perceiving himself encompassed by so many victorious souldiers, said to Astidamo; You confesse your basenesse, that you have not the boldnesse to overcome me one to one. Astidamo answered; Let us withdraw aside: for I would that you your self should be judge of it. This said, he commanded his, that they should not offend him, receiving many times on his owne Shield, the strokes of those that ran so­licitous to wound him. They went forth toge­ther, [Page 357]retiring after many Compasses into a Valley, which enclosed round by some Hills, made shew as if it were so shut up for some Fight. Here then they staid to renew the As­sault.

They began then afresh to strike with so much Anger, and so much Force, as if then onely they gave beginning to a Battail. Astidamo ren­dered vaine all the blowes of his Adversary, knowing him of great strength. Now he fen­ced, now he bowed, now with his Sword he put by the Thracians; whose Valour being in great measure decreased, by a continuall toile, his blowes were not but weak. Whereupon, Asti­damo, although wounded in many places, pre­served the more his mind, and his courage more; Feigning he would strike Dorcone on the face, he wounded him in the Hip, who growne furious at it, made in a moment a wound on Astidamo's Head.

They both lost bloud, and leaving warding, and the rules of a Duell, they attempted not but to kill. How much the more the fight wanted of Art, it was so much the more perillous and mortall. The Furie in those debilitated strengths then began to languish, when Astidamo woun­ded Dorcone in his Breast, in that part the nea­rest to his Heart, plucking back his Sword all bathed in bloud. The Thracian fell, but with that heart that feared not death; helping himself with his left hand, hee stood to his Guard, resting on a knee. Astidamo admiring at the vertue of such [Page 358]a man, said, Yeeld (O Generous) since that Fortune wils that thou shalt be overcome. The Thracian abusing that gentleness, which offered him the gift of his life, stuck his Sword into his Thigh, running it quite thorough. Astidamo growne furious, and crying; Is this the recom­pence of my Mercy, thrust his Blade into the sight of his Helme, which could not resist the force of an Arm, moved by a most just Anger. The Thracian dyed, when Astidamo, not having strength any longer to stan, fell likewise down, ready to dye, not leaving any distinction to know the Victor from the Conquered.

King Vassileo in the meane while remaining with the Cretensians master of the Field, gave leave to the Souldiers, that they might enrich themselves with Plunder and Prisoners. This Victorie in such wise rejoyced the minde of the Citizens, that there was not any of them, who enjoyed not part of the fruit of the Victorie. The weakest old men could not stay in the City, nor the infirmest Company of Women and Chil­dren. Every one ran out to get some prey of the spoiles of the Enemy. The Prisoners were without number, and the booty was above value. So rich preyes, never Cyprus nor Creet had en­joyed.

King Vassileo, seeing the Crowne setled on his Head, and those destroied that attempted on his Kingdome, and life; would be informed, if this succour was dropt from Heaven. When he un­derstood, that that Army belonged to Astidamo, [Page 359]King of Crete, hee was assaulted by grave thoughts. Peradventure, he had a feare equall to that he had had of the Thracians. He knew that Enmities with Kings were not appeased, but with bloud. He very well remembred, that he had forbidden him the Court with termes more then severe: And that by the condemnation of Dia­nea, he had expressed signes of the hatred hee bore to the Kingdome of Crete, unwilling to endure her in life, who had presumed to match her selfe with his Enemie. He feared these suc­cours aimed not but to oppresse him; the Armies of Potentates not moving, but upon grand Inte­rest. Neverthelesse, dissembling those Passions, which permitted him not to enjoy the joyes of the Victorie, leaving to the Count of Salinera the Command of his men, with some few of his, he went in quest of Astidamo, willing by a demon­station of Confidence and Affection, to masche­rate his diffidences, and his feares.

Astidamo, not being to be found in the field, he imagined he was retired to the Navy.

He took his way thitherwards, but being some­thing neare, he espied a Lady, who by her fashi­on and motion, made a grand Pomp of her self. Approaching nearer, and descrying the likenesses of Dianea, he cryed out: VVhat is this that is made an Object to my eyes? Are these Dreams or Phantasms, that occupy my Cognoscitive ver­tue? This was Dianea, who hearing of her Fa­thers coming to the Navy, was descended thence to meet him.

Suddainly, as he drew neare her, prostrating her selfe at his feet, she said to him; Father, I am that unhappy Dianea, who have demerited your affections. I have lived, not because I have deserved life, but because Destiny hath been pleased to make me an Instrument for your secu­rity. Excuse me (O Father) if by my presence I am come to funerallize the joyes of your Victo­ries. But in Consolations, Favours, and Gra­ces are dispenced: I supplicate you therefore, (most benigne Father) for pardon. Forgive by your favour the Errours of that heart that hath offended you, not to injure it selfe. It is true, I have loved the King of Creet, and I could not but love him, he having elected me for his Consort. I conceived it a greater Crime to de­nie him, then to afford him my affection. Who ever knowes Astidamo, and loves him not, knowes not who deserves Affection. Father, excuse my tongue, that presumes to run so much in the Applauses of Astidamo, for I know not how to honestize my Errour better, then by ex­alting the Prerogatives of him, who hath made me commit them. I should plead something in Excuse of my fault, if I could repent me of it. I know not how to acknowledge a penitency for such an Excesse, since from thence the De­fence of your State, and the safety of your per­son is derived. Behold, (O Father) at your benigne feet, Dianea, who untill now, through your displeasure confesses her selfe unhappy. Be­hold her at your feet, who though condemned by [Page 361]you, hath not therefore refused to love you. Let my sorrow to have provoked your indignation make amends for what I have trespassed in. Awa­ken (mercifull Father) those Affections to which Nature obliges you. Remember that you are a Father, and that only I can preserve alive the me­mories of your greatnesse; suffer not (affectionate Father) that your Daughter Dianea should sup­plicate and weep without being heard.

King Vassileo, that hitherto remained opprest by a not known alteration, shedding so many teares, that one might even say, that the snow of his head thawing issued through his eyes, with a very great affection cast his Arms about the neck of Dianea; saying to her: Oh! Of how many victories to day have the Gods been favourable to me! Beloved Dianea, lay aside those sorrow­full remembrances which perchance may render my presence odious to you. Let Oblivion take possession of all things past. I receive you for my daughter with a double consolation, having so many times bemoaned you for dead. Beleeve me, I have received punishment for the sentence fulminated against you, because a Father is con­demned in the guiltinesse of a Daughter. But where is Astidamo, to whom we professe our selves doubly engaged, both for your preservati­on, and my life? To this purpose I came to the Navy. We are a severe Judge, but not an ingrate­full Prince.

Dianea replying the same sollicitousnesse, not knowing what was become of Astidamo, began [Page 362]to suspect some ill. She used all diligence to have a certaine account. Many of the chiefe spred themselves through the field to direct them the way, when they were turned aside by the slaugh­ter of their enemies. Others with lighted Tor­ches disquieted the dead, with a feare to find him whom they sought for. The night was much spent, when the report was that Astidamo was found dead not far off of the field. Feare carried the newes of it to the eares of Dianea, who, with an inquietude equall to the love she bore him, gave command that the authors of the re­port should be found; she heard too much of that she would not from two Souldiers who had found him by chance, and were come thence to acquaint their Captaines with it.

His death divulged, and the night assisting these cruelties, rather amplifying into worse all that Fame delivered, there was to be seen in the faces of all signes of sadnesse and displeasue. The voices of the Souldiers were in such wise heated, that, abandoning their Rankes, and not obeying their Officers, they knew not what else to do but with horrible exclamations to lament and sigh. There neither Ostentation nor Adula­tion had place, for they felt a mightier passion in their soules than they could express with tears. The Army now appeared a Desert for silence, now an hell for the cries that were heard there. All the Souldiers in Armes with lighted Torches roared out the world was ruined, all their hopes were destroyed, with a behaviour so licentious, [Page 363]that King Vassileo was in some hazard of his life.

Dianea, after the manner of one distracted, ran crying, Where art thou O friend? Who hath had the presumption to ravish thee from me? You tutelar Gods of Cyprus, how have you a sufferance at these injuries which this death hath administred? Is this the recompence he receives for his Labours, his Assistances, his Love? Most unjust heaven, since that evermore against him thou hast produced maligne Influences. O in­constant Fortune, what availes it me to have escaped from the anger of thy punishment, to have falne into the hands of him whom I adored, to have delivered my Father from his enemies, and my Country, to have obtained a pardon for the errours of my heart, to have twice beheld the destruction of the Barbarians; if finally these joyfull remembrances serve to no other purpose but to infelicitate me!

Unhappy Astidamo, dead without the last em­bracements of Dianea. But how could he have been able to endure the presence of her, who hath been the cause of his death? To save my Father, I have killed him. Then could not I gaine my Father without the losse of my Husband, nor enjoy my Spouse without the losse of my Father. O rigours of Destiny! O inexorable necessities of Fate! Trust your selves O mortals in the graces of that blind Goddesse that affords prosperities, to the end that with greater oppression we may receive her discourtesies. I having freed my Fa­ther, [Page 364]seen the Thracians destroyed, and having attained to the Title of the Queen of Creete, and of Princess of Cyprus, beleeved I was not sub­ject to the instability of her inconstancies. But these highnesses have proved no other but instru­ments to precipitate me the more.

So saying, she arrived where Astidamo lay. Then, redoubling her teares and sobs, it seemed that her heart would issue through her eyes, or that she would altogether distill her selfe into teares. She said sometimes, when her lamentation allowed her an intervall:

Unhappy Dianea, who could have presaged to thee an object so infelicious? The feare of Lo­vers, which presents to the Intellect, things which befall not under sense, could not, no, not by the assistance of sleep could not have presented Scenes so unlucky. Who could have made my eyes beleeve thy presence would have proved offensive? O beloved, O delighted in, O desired Astidamo! I should number up thy beauties, and thy perfections ravished from me in that time wherein I chiefly hoped to enjoy them, but I will not render the Parcae more proud of so worthy a Rapine. Pardon me, if, having a mind to follow thee, I rob from thy memory the due Tribute of my teares. 'Tis true, I ought to love life only to bewaile thee, but I know the Recordancie of thy vertues have no need of Commiserations; who knows not eternally how to lament Asti­damo, will weare the brand of the punishment not to have known him.

With these and the like conceits Dianea be­moaned her selfe, not permitting that her words should come forth but accompanied with teares and sighs. That hot humour which bubled from her eyes, falling upon the face of Astidamo, gave some spirit to him; whereupon opening his lips languishingly, he sent forth a sign. Dianea perceiving that messenger of life, using violence against her griefe that rendred her desperate, ha­ving tooke some part of comfort, began to say to him:

Beloved Astidamo, observe the Exequies which Dianea celebrates to thee with lamenta­tion. Friend, abandonate not Dianea, for Dianea will not forsake thee alive or dead. Astidamo opened his eyes, but was againe enforced to close them, made heavy and troubled by wearinesse, and the abundance of bloud he had lost. The Chirurgions came, who found his wounds peri­lous, but not without hope of life. They only bound them up, applying Remedies and Lenitives to the sword of the Thracian, to the astonishment of those who knew not the secrets of Nature, and the power of Sympathy. Wounds are hea­led with medicining the sword of him that made them, without the paine of the patient, and with­out the violences of those remedies which render a thousand times to the Infirme, death desirable.

He was brought into Arsinoe upon the armes of his. Being left to repose, the Physitians com­manded that he should not be disquieted for any accident whatsoever. Dianea notwithstanding [Page 366]would waite at his bed all the remainder of the night. Ever and anon she stole to the Curtaines, doubtfull of some new fainting, and fearing lest Destiny againe should ravish him from her. He languished between sleeping and waking, and it was neare upon day, when he had not opened his eyes, neither had any knowledge where he was, nor of who attended on him. His voice was lan­guishing and imperfect, so that his words pro­ceeded so ill composed, that they were hardly distinguished by eares, the nearest to him.

As soon as he could discerne Dianea, who by maine force kept back her teares, he said to her; Friend, do not doubt of my life: For I cannot dye having you neare me. Afterwards, under­standing the destruction of the Thracians, obtai­ned with little losse to his, and the discourse of King Vassileo with Dianea, in a great measure he gathered strength, and gave signes of recovery. The Chirurgions having found in the Armes all the best tokens, promised him sound within the space of a few daies.

The people then, and the Souldiers, receiving a certainty of this, gave themselves up to rejoy­cings. Some walked to the Temples to render thanks to the Gods. Others seeming mad for joy, ran up and downe the streets. Divers studied Epithalamiums, and Panegyricks. Many prepa­red for Banquets. All finally embracing their Friends, and rehearsing to others that which all knew, redoubled their Consolations. Yet there was not any that equalled the mind of King Vas­sileo, [Page 367]and of Dianea. The first time the King vi­sited Astidamo, he said to him: Friend, The affe­ction you beare this house doth not allow me the occasion to passe into the duty of an excuse. Who knows how to oblige without hope of reward, can also suffer ill satisfactions without disdaine. I make preparations for the Nuptials of Dianea, not to give you that which is yours, but that in the celerity you might take knowledge of my heart.

So the Espousals were hastened on with that solemnity which is proper to so grand Princes. There was not a Pompe that could be equalized to this. The superbiousnesse of Asia, and the ra­rities of Africa here demonstrated the extreames of their power. In the Temple of Venus the Ceremonies were celebrated. Afterwards atten­ded by all the people, they returned to the Pa­lace, wearing away many daies in Banquets, and Turnaments. Their rejoycings were afterwards redoubled in the Child-bed of Dianea; she was delivered of two Sons, who for valour and beau­ty need not envy their Parents. Dianea, being accounted of as an heaven, would also emulate it in Twins. I remit the relation of their glories to the Genius of some pen more sublime.