The History of Alphonsus and Cordelia.

Otho Duke of Ferrara and Modena had an only Son nam'd Alphonsus, who was above what I am able to de­scribe; all the World acknowledging him accomplish'd to the highest De­gree. His Father was yet lusty, and stirring in State-affairs, which gave Al­phonsus liberty to follow many youth­ful Adventures.

Amongst the rest, he propos'd to a Favourite of his, call'd Don Castro (the beginning of a glorious Sum­mer) taking a Ramble in the adja­cent Countries under borrow'd Names: the Prince was very young and very brisk, when this was men­tion'd, and his Companion being sui­table for years and Temper, they soon agreed, and put their Design into Action. Alphonsus calling him­self Don Pedro; and Castro, Philippo. The morning they began their Fro­lick, [Page 18] Alphonsus left a Letter upon his Table for his Father, the Contents of which, only wished him long life, health, and happiness, begging his Pardon for a youthful Excursion; which should tend neither to his own, nor any persons prejudice, &c.

The Court was at first mightily alarm'd; but Otho recollecting the Humors of his own Youth, was at length content to hope this was only an innocent Folly.

These noble Rovers had past some weeks, and were got a great distance from Ferrara, before any extraordi­nary Occurrence happen'd to them. They had visited some Cities; but were now retir'd into the Country, where Don Pedro (for by that Name you must understand the Prince) be­gan to complain to his Friend of the dulness of their Ramble, and inveigh against the fair Sex, for their Civili­ty in sparing them their Hearts and Liberty. ‘It was such melancholy [Page 19] Reflections as these, reply'd Philippo, caus'd me, at break of day, to fetch a pensive Walk some distance from hence, where I met with a small Intrigue that gave me a proportio­nable Diversion. 'Oh Churl, cry'd out Don Pedro, how could you con­ceal it one moment; Be not so im­patient, answers the other; for I think it scarce worth your hearing: however thus it was, I enter'd a large Forest, and after I had walk'd some time, listning only to the Harmony of the Birds, and viewing the Verdure of those plea­sant Shades, I saw through the Trees, walking a swift pace, a Ca­valier well dress'd. After I had a while observ'd him, I fancy'd by his haste, and the time of the day, he was upon some private Design; therefore not to interrupt him, I left the path that led me after him, and wandred into another. But Fortune resolv'd that should not be my last interview; for in a quarter of [Page 20] an hour's space, I was come to a high Wall where I percev'd my Spark some yards from me, waiting in a disconsolate posture, and seem­ing to expect something from thence. I should he had not dis­cover'd me; and my curiosity was such, I could not forbear observing the Event. To that end I conceal'd my self behind a Shrub, where I could with ease view what pass'd. The Gentleman began to grow ve­ry impatient, as I perceiv'd by his Gestures: sometimes he whistled, which I guess'd to be the sign; then walk'd with a perturbed pace. At length, quite tyr'd, he cry'd out: Perfidious Creature! false as thou art foolish! to squander away thy Patrimony only to satisfie thy curst curiosity! After he had rav'd thus, and vex'd himself above an hour: away he walks, still cursing his un­auspicious Stars, and those greater Plagues, deceitful Women. I laugh­ed, and hug'd my self, for being [Page 21] free from all the Snares of that insi­nuating Sex. Entertain'd with these pleasing Thoughts I hasten'd home­wards; but e're I was got half way, a Fancy seiz'd my Noddle to return back, and visit the afore-mention'd Wall again, making such a sign as I had already heard. The Whim pleas'd me; and methought I was assur'd, I should finish the Adven­ture which this too hasty Gallant had left. Accordingly I turn'd my steps, and having reach'd the place, I had no sooner whistl'd, but my expectation was answer'd; for over the Wall came a Key ty'd to this Billet, which he gave to the Prince who read these words.’

There was a Postscript to this ef­fect: ‘I Suppose you have been so long viewing the Wall, that I need not in form you the little door, whereof this [...] the Key, is on the West side.’

‘Well, said Don Pedro smiling, and what Advantage do you intend to reap by this pretty Mistake? 'Truly, answer'd Philippo, I heartily wish the Gentleman, it belongs to had it; for I have no mind to hazard my Life in our Italian Families to see novel Sights. 'Nay, if yo [...] are so indifferent, reply'd the Princ [...] [Page 23] you shall quit your Right in this Adventure to me; for I am confi­dent there is a fair Lady in the Case, and am resolv'd, if you desist, to see her.’

In vain Philippo us'd a thousand Arguments, and talk'd till the Prince commanded his silence. He was obstinate, nor could a fond Bride­groom long more for the night's ap­proach, than this rash Noble Youth did for the morning. As soon as ever the first streaks of day appear'd, he begins his Walk. Poor Philip­po parts with much reluctancy and fear, resolving to follow him, and watch thereabouts, till his Return. Don Pedro carefully observ'd the Di­rections he had forc'd from his Friend, whom he would not suffer to go with him; his Fate seeming to whisper the Prize he was to gain, would admit no Sharers. When he had found the place, he softly un­locks the door, which he perceiv'd was left unbor'd on purpose, and en­ters [Page 24] a lovely place, beholding both to Art and Nature for its beauty. He takes the first close Walk, which brought him to the pleasantest Grotto, your Fancy can possibly represent. It was exactly four square; and in every corner the knots of Trees were thick, mingling their Boughs over delicate Marble Seats, whose backs were painted with several Histories. Long Walks, with leavy Screens, that shut out the Sun's fierce Beams, conducted you from every of these delightful Seats to the other. In the midst was a large space adorn'd with a curious Fountain; that which made this Fountain so admirable, was the Statue of Venus: at the head of it there was the Goddess figur'd in Marble, with Adonis slain at her Feet, whilst from her Eyes streams incessantly ran down, bath'd the lov'd Youth, and seem'd to fill the vast Cistern underneath, which with an agreeable murmur still receiv'd them. Beyond all this was an exqui­site [Page 25] Garden enamel'd with choisest Flowers and Fruits.

The Prince had entertain'd himself a considerable time in this Charming place, and began to fear the Sight the Letter promis'd, was only these Rarities; though, to comfort him, he could at a great distance espy a fair well built House; and hop'd a fairer issue from it. Nor was he disappointed; for e're he had waited much longer, he through the Trees, discovers a Woman bringing four crimson Velvet Cushions, which she lays, two upon the ground, and two upon one of the Marble Seats. After she was gone, our Hero seeks out a place, as near this Arbour as he could that would conceal him. There was no possibility of looking into it, with­out being seen; so that he is forc'd to go behind, and be a Hearer only of what the Persons would say, that were to possess those Seats.

He had scarce time to fix himself before he heard the rusling of Silks, [Page 26] and sweet small Voices: which made him conclude his Neighbours, Ladies. After general Discourses, not material, one of them said: ‘I cannot but wonder, my charming Cousin, that the wise Sulpitia should take delight to bury so much Beauty as yours in obscurity, and confine your Youth to these melancholy Shades; when but appearing at Court with you, would soon raise your ancient Noble Family to its pristine Splendour. For I am con­vinc'd no Prince, of what Rank so­ever, could look upon so lovely a Creature, without laying his Heart and Crown at her Feet. 'Fy, Cou­sin, said the other, with a charm­ing Voice, I must needs chide you for your flattery, and condemn your blaming my Mother's conduct. You are sensible, the riotous living of some of my Ancestors has so impai­red our Fortunes, that this Seat and a small Revenue, is all remains. In this deprav'd Age, without Gold, [Page 27] what can I expect by this little stock of Beauty, which you talk so much of but vicious Adorers? Would you have my Mother then expose me to Courts? The thought shocks my Virgin Soul, and makes me start when no danger's near. Oh! rather, let Cordelia's Name pass ob­scurely to the Grave, forgotten, than be remembred, and Dishonour affix'd to it.’

A noble Resolution, thought our Listener, who now long'd to see her Face. Some time after, they rose to walk, the Prince then crept near as possible, and putting the leaves a­side, beheld the brightest Beauty upon Earth. He stood immoveable, and if the Ladies had look'd that way, with half his Attention, they must have discover'd him. Cordelia was dress'd in a Gown of green Da­mask; the Sleeves were becomingly tucked up to her Shoulders; and trim'd round with white and red Knots, like Roses. Her shining Hair, in [Page 28] careless Curls, partly cover'd her lovely Neck; the rest exactly puff'd: adorn'd with many pretty Ribons, and some Jewels.

‘I have describ'd her Garb (said Olimpia smiling, and pointing to a large Looking-glass that hung in the Closet) but you must look in yon­der Mirrour to see her Person. Me­lora blush'd, and Olimpia went on.’ The Prince, at this moment, ba­nish'd from his Breast the Idea of all the Court-Beauties he had ever seen, and gaz'd on this Master-piece of Nature so long, till he had imprint­ed Cordelia's Image too deep for time ever to deface. Whilst the Ladies, far from guessing at an Observer, fi­nish'd their Walk, and went in, lea­ving Alphonsus like one who had seen a Vision, all surpriz'd. When he began to think, he summons his ram­bling Humour to his aid, and the improbability of obtaining his de­sires. This, and much more, he thought, but all in vain; her Shape, [Page 29] her Mien, her charming Face; then her noble Mind surpassing all, secu­red him her Slave for ever. He re­solv'd a thousand Projects in his working Brain, which way to ob­tain access to her. Sometimes he tormented himself, because he had not spoke to her when she was there; now pleas'd with the hopes she would return. In these restless Cogitations he spent most part of the day. As the Evening began to ap­proach, Don Castro who had often visited the outside of the Wall, was in a great Consternation; he fear'd some mischief had befaln the Prince; and knew not what Method to take to be satisfy'd. At last not being a­ble to remain longer in suspence of his safety, he went boldly to the Front of the House, and knock'd at the Gate: the Porter came, and when he had open'd it, says Don Castro; ‘Pray, Friend, what is be­come of a Gentleman that came this morning into your Garden? If you [Page 30] have done mischief to him, all your Lives, even to the highest of your Family, must answer it.’

The Fellow all amaz'd, cry'd out; ‘I suppose, Sir, you are either mad, or have mistook the House; for we have no Gentlemen ever come with­in these Walls, since my Honour'd Lord is gone to Heaven (at the mention of whom, the Lowt began to make a Face, as though Tears would follow). Don Castro, whose Fears were augmented by this Fel­low's, as he thought, pretended ig­norance: charged him in a furious Tone, to be his Conductor to his Friend, or he would send him to a place just contrary to that he said his Master was in. At this Noise the other Servants came about them. One discreeter than the rest, ran and acquainted Sulpitia with this strange story. Sulpitia, whose Daugh­ter was the dearest Jewel she had on Earth, hearkned to it with an emotion of Spirit, and desir'd the [Page 31] Gentleman might be brought to her. When Castro came, he told the whole matter, just as I have be­fore related, as much as possible, excusing the Curiosity of his youth­ful Friend. Lusetta was instantly call'd, who when she had heard her Accusation, trembling confess'd, That she was seduc'd by a Kinswo­man for a Summ of Money, to let one Don Ferado see the beautiful Cor­delia: Sulpitia only bid her retire, deferring her punishment to another time, and hastened into the Gar­den.’

Now whilst this had been acting in the House, the Ladies who were gone to take their evening Walk, were not free from their surprize; for Alphonsus seeing them return, re­solv'd to appear and say, what his fierce Love should dictate. Accord­ingly he walk'd towards them, Cor­delia lifting up her Eyes at the noise he made in walking, and seeing so brave a Cavalier in that prohibited [Page 32] place, shriek'd aloud, and would have fled: but he putting one Knee to the Ground, took hold of her Gar­ment, viewing her with a piercing Air: ‘Divinest Creature, said he, Heaven e're made, or Man e're worshipp'd! Fly not; your Guar­dian Angel as soon will hurt you as your kneeling Slave. Fate, prodi­gious Fate, brought me hither, and now a greater Power tyes me at your Feet for ever.’

As he would have proceeded, they heard people talking, and Cordelia saw Sulpitia just by her: ‘Oh Hea­vens, cry'd that lovely Maid, my Mother will think me culpable, and that with consent I have entertain­ed Discourse with this Intruder.’ Alphonsus rose astonish'd to see his Friend there, and turning his Eyes with anger upon him, was about to speak, when Sulpitia interrupted him, in saying: ‘Whatever your Designs were, this Gentleman (pointing to Castro) hath told such [Page 33] a plausible story, that I am content to dismiss you without farther Ex­amination, provided you instantly retire, and trouble our Repose no more.’

‘Though you were a Goddess, an­swer'd Alphonsus, as being Mother to this Lady, I esteemm you little less (bowing to Cordelia) I would not stir till this bright Fair com­manded; let her but speak; let her but say my Presence is an Offence, and I'le fly fast as I would do, if Ho­nour call'd; swift, as Cowards fly, when Death pursues, else I am root­ed here.’ Cordelia blush'd; but the curious might perceive it was not with anger. Her Mother bid her command him thence, and she obey­ed; yet not quite so readily as was expected. He respectfully took his leave, told Cordelia, with his Eyes that he had left his Heart; turn'd back, and seem'd to wish she would use it kindly.

‘Oh, Castro, said the Prince, when [Page 34] they were disengag'd, and walking homewards, Thou hast undone me. Thy officious Love hath prov'd my ruine; rob'd me of the only happy moments my life will ever know: now I must wander o're the World the veriest Wretch that eye of time e'er saw, whilst this bright Image I have thus transitorily view'd, wracks my captivated Heart, and takes repose for ever from my Soul.’

‘I hope, says Castro, this Roman­tick speech is only to show your Highness's Parts, and amuse me; for certainly no Idea, how beautiful soever, can ruffle the calmness of your Royal Temper. 'Dull Crea­ture, reply'd the Prince, couldst thou behold the Miracle, and after that remain so stupid, to believe I am in Jest? No, I swear it is unal­terably fix'd by Fate. I must neg­lect Interest, Ambition, Glory, and all the noisy Pomp the World af­fords, since now the study and busi­ness [Page 35] of my life is only to obtain the ador'd Cordelia.’ Castro seeing him in this Rapture, thought 'twas to no purpose to interrupt him; and desi­red to hear the story of the day, which the Prince related, and concluding with new Protestations of his endless Love, they went to their Lodgings. But no Rest had the amorous Alphon­sus, plainly telling his Friend, if he did not contrive some means, that he might see her again, he must expect to see him dead. Castro at last began to believe it; for he scarce eat or slept, nor ever seem'd pleas'd, but when he was talking of Cordelia. In vain did his faithful Servant remonstrate the necessity of returning to Court: nay, he could not mention it without putting the Prince in a passion; who solemnly vow'd he would never see that, or his Father more, till he had again blest his longing Eyes with the sight of the beloved charming Cordelia. When Castro saw all Argu­ments, all Endeavours to reduce his [Page 36] Reason, fruitless: he thought the only Expedient must be, to procure this much desir'd Happiness; and in order to it, made inquiry very strict­ly about the Village, what Persons resorted to Sulpitia's House. But could hear of none, except a Fryar who was a constant Guest there. He then examin'd into the Temper of that Holy man; heard it was jolly, free from care; that he liv'd the life of Sense himself, how severe soever his Doctrine was; though before Sul­pitia he carry'd himself with a be­coming Gravity.

This Man Castro resolves to get ac­quainted with; and understood the way was easie, only two or three good Treats, and he was yours for ever: he soon effects his first design; grows wondrous intimate with the Fryar, his only Favourite; and ta­king his opportunity, cunningly in­terweaves his Discourse with many particular Questions: amongst the rest, becoming inquisitive about Sul­pitia's [Page 37] Family, asking what her Re­solutions were, concerning her beaute­ous Daughter the fair Cordelia; At which the Fryar blest himself, won­dring how he had so much as learnt that Lady's name; in such secure Retirement her Mother kept her; nay even he, whose Tongue some­times run of all things, seldom men­tion'd them. However this was too dear a Friend to be deny'd any satis­faction his Knowledge would afford; and he immediately, at large, ac­quaints Castro, how nicely vertuous; and withal, how high Sulpitia's Tem­per was; that she rather chose to keep the unimitable Maid immur'd in the most secret privacy, than marry her below her Birth, though equal to her scanty Fortunes. Next that, she carefully avoided Courts and publick Places, fearing the censorious World, which always fixes its fascinating Eyes on the most lovely Faces.

This Information Castro commu­nicates to the Prince; yet both their [Page 38] industry could imagine no advantage by it. At these difficulties Alphon­sus abandons himself to Despair; threatens to be rid of life, since no fairer Prospect was in view to ease his Heart of Love's tormenting Fires. The young compassionate Lord, di­stracted with his Master's griefs, propos'd the Fryar's making the mo­tion of a Marriage, under the bor­row'd Name of Don Pedro. But the Heroick Prince declin'd that Offer; resolving first to endeavour the inga­ging Cordelia's Heart, and not force the gentle Maid to Bonds, she might think uneasie. He told Castro he discover'd small incouragement from his Acquaintance with the Fryar; unless his Interest could prevail so far, as to ingage the sociable Gown­man to introduce him in some Dis­guise into the Family: then he might hope to sound Cordelia's Inclinations, and also tell his own, in Terms mo­ving enough to touch her. Castro promis'd to undertake it, though he [Page 39] fear'd the Task would prove hard to accomplish. In order to this De­sign, he desires privacy with that Fryar, and in the first place genteely forces a considerable Summ of Gold upon him, beginning his Discourse with the Merit, Riches, and an in­vented Title of Quality for his Friend; adding his desperate Condition assures him, unless he inclines to pity, and assist, Death must certainly be the Catastrophe of his Misery. The Fryar consider'd all these Reasons, and chiefly the Present; yet shrug'd, and said, 'Twas difficult, 'twas dan­gerously difficult, desiring time for his Answer; which Castro allow'd.

When they met next, the Priest tells him, there was but one possibi­lity of obtaining the Freedom of the House, and that did neither agree with the good Man's Conscience, nor was consistent with his Friend's safety. Castro starts at this; how­ever was eager to know the dange­rous Contrivance. You must under­stand [Page 40] then (thee obliging Fryar goes on) I have often mention'd, at Sul­pitia's, that I expected a Relation of the Dominican Order very suddenly. Now if Don Pedro could personate him, which is Death by the Law, if discover'd, he may have admit­tance with me as often as I please; and I think it is impossible, they, ha­ving had so short an Interview, as you speak of, can ever remember him in the disguise of a Hood. Ca­stro agreed to that; but could give no further Answer, till he had ac­quainted the Prince, who seems to swallow his words, and with swiftest haste returns with him to the Fryar: gives the Priest more Gold to molli­fie his Scruple of Conscience: and instantly prepares for his Disguise.

‘In my Opinion (said Melora, in­terrupting Olimpia) a religious Ha­bit is both unhandsom and unfit to carry on an amorous Intrigue.’ ‘It is so, my pious Maid (answers that Dissembler) and, for ought I know, [Page 41] the many Troubles that are inflict­ed on their Posterity, may be pu­nishments for this first mockery of the Divinity.’

However the Design succeeded to their Wish; for Don Pedro was with the Fryar, receiv'd free from all su­spicion, and enjoy'd often the agree­able Conversation of the amiable Cordelia. Their Discourse was of various Subjects; he never having had opportunity to speak to her a­lone. All Occasions he watches, which may in the least advance his desires: and Love being mention'd by chance, our disguis'd Prince falls into a Rap­ture, calling it, if a vertuous Flame, the highest Perfection humane Na­ture is capable of; a resemblance of Heaven; adding a thousand Fineries on that delightful Theme.

‘You always speak with much Rhetorick (says the fair Cordelia smiling) but on this Subject seem inspir'd, and I should guess, did not your Habit contradict it, Love has [Page 42] been no Stranger to your Heart; 'tis so familiar on your Tongue.’ He only fetch'd a deep sigh, and stole an amorous Glance towards her; which she not observing, went on. ‘Pray, since you understand this passion so well, oblige me with a description of it; tell me in what manner people are, when possess'd with the Frenzy: for the grave and wise give it no better Title.’

‘The Task you enjoyn (Madam) said the Prince, is none of the easi­est; for divers ineffectually, tho' they felt its Torments, have essay­ed. I have the greatest Reason then to fear falling amongst that num­ber, being the most incompetent. However I will venture, rather than disobey your Commands.’

‘It is an Inclination, which being throughly fix'd in the Heart, gets predominant over all others. 'Tis the whole Employment of our Thoughts; for the passionate Lover has not one intervening moment; [Page 43] his breast is for ever fill'd with the beloved Idea. If they are asunder, a violent desire is join'd to this Incli­nation to be with the charming Ob­ject. These eager Wishes render nights and days insupportable. If they are together, a trembling Fear, lest any word or action should dis­please is ever present. Then too of­ten Jealousie steps in. Thus absent or present, still in fears. Such unea­siness attends the most happy Lovers. But what Wrecks, what Tortures unexpressible seize the Wretch who loves, and yet despairs! Who doats, yet has no room for hope.’ Cordelia sighed, and cry'd, ‘Alas! that's sad indeed.’

‘Why, Madam, said the Prince, hastily; I hope such Misery hath no relation to your softer hours; 'Not much, she answer'd, with a Blush that increas'd our Lover's fears to distraction.’ He was eager to pur­sue the Discourse, though it might discover what he most dreaded; but [Page 44] she prevented him, by going to the Company.

His Resentment and Grief was too great not to be perceiv'd; therefore he took his leave somewhat abrupt­ly; and when he had shifted his Dif­guise (which he always did at the Fryar's) he hastens to his dear Con­fident Castro, immediately tells him his Misfortune, how Cordelia was prepossess'd, had given that inestima­ble Jewel her Heart to a Rival, a Rival belov'd: there was the wound! This obliging Friend said all that might asswage his Sorrows; yet no­thing could allay them: he pass'd that night in terrible Inquietudes, goes the next day, without resolving any thing, to Sulpitia's: his inward vexations had made a visible altera­tion in his Countenance, and he ap­pear'd with an Air of melancholy disorder. Cordelia, who was allow­ed but little Conversation, finding the Prince very ingenious, took great delight in it. She immediately ob­serv'd [Page 45] this alteration, and ask'd him the occasion. ‘Herein, Madam, said he with a Sigh, forgive the forfei­ture of my devoir, and permit me to disobey you. 'I will, reply'd Cordelia pleasantly, provided you quickly reassume your good Hu­mor, and thereby give me cause to think, that this fit of Dulness pro­ceeds from some slight Affliction of small moment. 'Of far less moment is my Life, return'd the Prince pas­sionately, observing none near them, nor, if my fears be true, can Time obliterate these Sentiments of woe, though it were possible that I were forc'd to live ten Thousand years. Since nothing can mitigate your sor­rows, reply'd that Charmer, the best Wish your Friends can make is, your fears may prove false.’ Alphon­sus had neither courage nor opportu­nity to say more; for the Fryar and Aminda came up to them. Aminda was of a facetious humour; Cordelia's Relation left to Sulpitia's care; The [Page 46] same Lady that was in the Garden, when the Prince first saw the lovely Idol of his fond Desires. Aminda briskly challenges the Fryar, and bid him maintain his Opinion, if he could. ‘What novel Dispute is it, for Hea­ven's sake, cryes Cordelia, you two are ingag'd in? 'I aver, answers her Cousin, that no where but in Romances, Persons fall in Love at the first sight; and only Conversa­tion and a long Acquaintance can produce a violent Affection. 'I grant you, replies the Fryar, that Love increases, and grows to a height by continual Conversation; but still I say, a beautiful Idea seen once, may make an impression ei­ther in Man or Woman, sufficient to take away their Repose. 'Ay, take their Hearts away also, to my knowledge, said the Prince earnest­ly.’ The Ladies both laughed at that; and Cordelia told Aminda, she must now acquiesce, since the Gen­tleman declar'd against her Argu­ment, [Page 47] upon his own knowledge.

The Fryar hastened the Prince to take his leave, seeming impatient to talk with him. When they were walking homewards, his Introducer told him, that the time he had limi­ted for his Kinsman's stay, was al­most expir'd; and ask'd what pro­gress he had made with this desir'd Freedom, which his Industry had procur'd? ‘Alas! said the Prince sighing, Love hath made a far grea­ter progress in my Heart, than I in my Designs.’ Adding his Reasons, to believe Cordelia was already in Love with another, which was a Thought oppress'd him more than he could express. ‘I believe you are mistaken, reply'd the Fryar; for I have this day heard from A­minda the whole story of the Garden-Rencounter. She tells me her beau­teous Cousin hath often sigh'd since, and mention'd the Cavalier, she there saw, with advantageous com­mendations.’ This Discourse occa­sion'd [Page 48] the beginning of that Dispute you heard part of, of loving at first sight.

No News ever surpriz'd, and pleas'd Alphonsus like this Kind hope, which, like its contrary, despair, is a Lover's attendant; began now to give him great assurances. He em­brac'd, caress'd, and bounteously re­wards the Fryar; then flies to com­municate his Joyes to his Friend. When Castro had heard him out, and discover'd there would be no great obstructions to a Marriage: he be­gan to consider the weight of the Concern, and take the freedom his friendship allow'd to tell the Prince, that though, when he saw him so passionate, that his life seem'd to be at stake, he had foolishly enough talk'd of a Marriage; yet now, in cooler thoughts, reflecting upon Otho's Temper, who was ambitious beyond measure: it must needs in­volve him in endless troubles. Be­sides, his long absence from Court [Page 49] would give nourishment to such Fa­ctions, whose growth might entan­gle him, past his best skill to disen­gage himself. But Alphonsus's heart was too deeply prepossess'd by Love, for such saving Counsel to enter; and if the loss of one must be ventu­red, the Dukedom would be in dan­ger of running the hazard before Cordelia. However to sooth his Fa­vourite, he alledged some State-Rea­sons for his absence, minding him of his Father's jealous Nature, who abhorr'd his Subjects should make their Court to his Son, whilst him­self was so well able to wield the Reins of Government.

‘This you know (went the Prince on) broke the heart of my elder Bro­ther, whose Actions still our Royal Parent frown'd on, because the peo­ple admir'd them too much. Then it follows; whilst I am absent from Otho, I am nearer in his Affection; Therefore, dear Friend, says the Prince, embracing him tenderly, [Page 50] assist me to obtain my Mistress; and I will return time enough to my Father.’ Princes easily perswade, though their Reasons are weak; be­cause all are willing to oblige them.

He found it hard to speak alone with Cordelia, so that he resolves to write, and get the Fryar to deliver it. The way was easie to purchase his consent; Gold and noble Enter­tainments did all things with him. After a thousand alterations, Alphon­sus, under the borrow'd Name of Pedro, sent these words.

The Fryar takes charge of it; and as soon as he comes to Sulpitia: Cor­delia ask'd him, if his Kinsman was return'd to the Monastery? He answer'd her only with a sign to speak with her unobserv'd: she un­derstanding what he meant, goes to a bay Window, and beckon'd to him to follow her, examining what he had to say. That Kinsman is not the [Page 52] ‘Person you take him for, nor in­deed any Kin to me, begins the Fryar, though in you he reposes a mighty Trust, when he ventures his Life in your hands. 'Tis true, he has prevailed with me, to con­nive at things which neither ought to have been done; nor, when done, reveal'd; as I suppose this Paper will inform you, giving her the Letter.’ She paus'd at first, and was about not to receive it, till con­sidering her Ghostly Father was the Deliverer: she condescended, and with an amazing Look retir'd into her Closet to peruse it. When she came back, she told the Fryar, with a compos'd Countenance, he was culpable in a high degree, and that his guilt transcended the Genleman's; for the severest part of the World sometimes winks at youthful Extra­vagance: but that He, whose busi­ness it ought to have been to deterr men from folly, should incourage them in it, was unpardonable. Then [Page 53] she urg'd his Infidelity, in so horri­bly betraying that great Trust her Mother repos'd in him.

When the poor Priest had patiently heard his Charge; for his Excuse he alledged the danger the Cavalier was in, of making some desperate At­tempt upon his Life; how assured he was of the Honour of his Intenti­ons, and the sincerity of his Affecti­on. Then he fell to extolling the Nobleness of his Temper, the sweet­ness of his Nature; not forgetting the greatness of his Estate: and in conclusion, press'd hard for a favou­rable Answer. But Cordelia, whose Wis­dom far exceeded her years, would return none; only said, she was con­tent to conceal their Crime, because they had made Love of Her, the pre­text for it. With this cold Comfort, the Fryar returns to the impatient Prince; who with a Diamond had just wrote this Distich in the Win­dow.

Our Messenger out of breath with haste, and heart-broken, his News was no better, in a sorrowful Tone delivers his story. But the Prince, who receiv'd it more contentedly than the Fryar durst hope for; since his Mistress neither banish'd him her sight for ever, nor was inrag'd to excess, did not wholly despair of kinder moments. Then in his Arms he hug'd the dear Procurer of his Happiness, and told him he long'd again to view that fair one's Eyes, now she knew their Power. ‘That Longing shall soon be satisfy'd an­swers the pleas'd F [...]yar, consult your Pillow what to say, and tomorrow we will be sure to attend her.’ When they came the next day, the young Ladies were both in [Page 55] the Garden, and they, being privi­ledg'd Persons, went both to them. Cordelia blush'd at the sight of the Prince, yet in her heart could scarce harbour wrath, when she saw his Countenance turn pale, and the visi­ble pangs his fears put him into; so that in spight of all his Courage, he had like to have fallen.

There was a silent Meeting; eve­ry one being busily entertain'd with­in. The obliging Fryar call'd A­minda aside, to behold the growth of a young Orange-tree they had plant­ed some time before. She observ'd the hint, having understood the sto­ry from her Cousin: and knowing that, however she dissembled, she had an inclination to hear him. Al­phonsus took this opportunity to cast himself at her feet, and tell her with what a zeal he worshipp'd her; that she was the perpetual Image of his thoughts, the Object of his dearest Wishes, the Center of all his earthly Happiness. Whilst he spoke, Love [Page 56] trembl'd in his Eyes, and falter'd on his Tongue, giving greater power to his broken Language, than choi­sest Eloquence. Cordelia forc'd him to rise; then told him he had already been an Impostor, and that in the most serious matter in the World; therefore he must give her leave to doubt him long; and also be very cautious of ingaging in an Amour, which she could hardly ever think would be fortunate: it being begun with prophaning a Habit that ought only to be wore by sacred Persons. Besides, she added, she gave up her Will and Actions in a perfect resigna­tion to her Mother, and without her approbation should never proceed in so weighty a matter, having no other Friend she durst rely upon.

In his Excuse for his Habit, he said, he hop'd the purity of his Affe­ction, with came near to Religion, would in some measure extenuate his Crime; and for her Mother's content, Heaven had so largely en­dow'd [Page 57] him with the Goods of For­tune, he had great reason not to de­spair of it: But her Love was wha [...] he beg'd to obtain, since withou [...] that, even injoying the World o [...] Beauty she possess'd, would prove unsatisfactory; and though no thoughts were so terrible, as those which represented living withou [...] her; yet he would sooner undergo [...] that exquisite Torment, than endeavour to procure Sulpitia's consent without first knowing, whether he gentle Breast was compassionate e­nough to receive sentiments of Kind­ness for him.

Cordelia gave him a Look, which severely check'd him, for prying so narrowly into her secret Thougths and told him, she had already im­pair'd her Duty in listening to such stories from a Stranger; nor could she, under much time, digest thi [...] odd beginning, if ever perswad [...] her self to proceed further. At [...] end of these words she went to [...] [Page 58] Company, not giving Alphonsus time to answer. All the day after, the Prince could not perceive one favou­rable Regard, which terrify'd him to a high degree; and returning to Castro, he unloads his Bosome with Complaint. Tells him how cold that Sun of Beauty shone upon his hopes, and such Romantick stuff, as Lovers talk. Castro, the raising of whose Fortunes depended upon the favour of his Prince, seeing he was too positively bent to be perswaded, resolv'd to concur with him, and contrive all means possible for the obtaining his desires. The first Ad­vice in order thereunto (because the Prince would not discover himself even to Cordelia; so fearful was he, lest his Greatness should tempt her, without Love, to be his Wife) was the buying an Estate some miles di­stant, to satisfie the Mother. This Alphonsus approv'd of; and he also [...]hought it convenient the Fryar [...]ld go alone, to give Cordelia op­portunity [Page 59] to examine him, whilst his Instructions were often repeated to him, That he should say Don Pedro (as the Prince call'd himself) was of a noble Family in Ferrara; had an honourable Place in the Duke's Court, and came into that Country to view an Estate he had lately pur­chas'd. All This for much lov'd Gold, the Fryar went and affirm'd with the greatest confidence imaginable. Cordelia listen'd to it with much at­tention, and, blushing, said, the Stranger had the Aspect of a Gentle­man, and must make his Address like one, if his Desires were so vio­lent as he express'd: that being the only way to obtain them. Great were the Assurances the Fryar gave Alphonsus, at his Return, of the good Inclinations Cordelia had for him.

But 'twas impossible at present the Prince should follow her Advice, in appearing undisguis'd at Sulpitia's, both for want of Money to purchase an Estate, as also his returning to [Page 60] Court, which was now grown abso­lutely necessary. Therefore he re­solves to leave Castro with Commis­sion to inquire out an Estate; visit Cordelia once more, then haste to Ferrara. When Cordelia saw him come again in Priest's habit, notwith­standing the item she had sent him, she turn'd pale, and fear'd he had deceiv'd her. He guess'd the cause why her countenance chang'd, and blush'd, which augmented her Jea­lousie. The Fryar observ'd their disorder, and quickly set all right again, by taking Sulpitia away to consult of business, whilst Alphonsus told Cordelia, such pressing occasions call'd him to Court, that he could not possibly evade, without hazarding his utter ruine. He express'd this, and the inviolable Affection he had for her, with so becoming a tenderness, that he obtain'd from the charming Maid many words and looks of kind­ness; and as an instance of it, she promis'd to repair early to a Lodge [Page 61] over the Gate, that she might see him pass Mounted, en Cavalier. He said, the longest time of his stay should not exceed a Month. Obligingly she gave her lovely hand, to preserve him in her Memory, which he having ar­dently kist, took his leave. The next Morning he appear'd, attended by Castro, before the Lodge; and Cor­delia at a little Window; a place pro­hibited her; though now by some contrivance, she had stollen to it.

The Prince look'd extreamly grace­ful; being a Man of an extraordinary make. He sent up whole Volleys of Sighs to his fair Spectator; who in pitty return'd many; and kindly re­solving to bestow a mark of her Fa­vour; took a blue Ribbon from her Wast, that Colour being the Emblem of Constancy; and threw down to him. He passionately kiss'd it; re­turning his Obeisance with an admi­rable mien, and fixing his Eyes upon her, full of Love and Tears, he seem'd immoveable; till she, fearing some [Page 62] mishap, first held up her hands to Heaven, for his safety: then wav'd them in sign she would have him go; her self also retiring, forc'd him un­willingly to move forward. Castro accompanied him part of the way, and taking all needful Instructions, return'd, visited the Friar; and lea­ving what money with him he could conveniently spare, gave him a great Charge to observe all proceedings at Sulpitia's: and if any thing happen'd prejudicial, to give Don Pedro notice at Ferrara, by directions they had contriv'd; which still kept them con­ceal'd. The grateful Friar faithfully promis'd his utmost assistance, and Castro began his Perigrination, to seek an Estate that wanted a Purchaser. In this time of absence, there happen'd a Contrivance at Sulpitia's, that was very near ruining all their Designs.

Lusetta, whom I mention'd at the beginning of the story, being discar­ded for her infidelity, repairs to the Kinswoman who had set her at [Page 63] work, and meets again with Don Fe­rado; where discoursing of these dis­appointments, she gives such a lively Description of the Beautiful Cordelia, that rekindles his Curiosity. So no­thing now will satisfy him, without seeing her. But the means, there was the difficulty. After many ir­resolutions, Lusetta remember'd a humour of Cordelia's, how she was always very fond of seeing the Tri­fles, stragling Women carry about to sell.

In this dress Don Ferado is dis­guis'd; buys a world of litte Pi­ctures, fine Beads, and such Trin­kets; goes with them, and hath im­mediately admittance into the House. The young Ladies, having notice, come about him; the was not a mo­ment to seek, which was Cordelia, but so amaz'd at her Beauty, that he stood gazing without power to move. Cordelia blush'd to see the Woman, as she took her to be, look so earn­estly, and minded her of her Things. [Page 64] This rous'd the Spark a little from his Contemplation; yet still his Eyes could fix on no other Object. When she had furnish'd her self with the Toys she fancy'd most; he was dis­miss'd. He returns in love, to that degree, that he thought of nothing but proposing a Marriage; though it was absolutely inconvenient; his Circumstances requiring a Fortune; having many Sisters to Portion. Yet so amiable, Cordelia appear'd; that whatever Consideration interest of­fer'd, Love turned the Scale; and he follows his desires, with precipitati­on; employing a Friend the very next day, to solicite Sulpitia; who approves of the matter; gives leave to his Seranades; several of which were perform'd before Cordelia knew from whom, or so much as guess'd her Mother was consenting. Till that discreet Lady, thinking it pro­per to sound her Daughter's inclina­tions, began to break the design to her. First commands her to follow [Page 65] into the Lodge, and shows her Don Ferado, bravely accoutred; prancing upon his great Horse. Words cannot express Cordelia's surprize; her Mind was already fill'd with an Idea, too admirable for Ferado ever to hope an Entrance; and compar'd to the Prince her partial Heart, being prepossess'd with Love; made him appear be­neath her regard; much less esteem. She pretends indisposition; and re­tires to her Chamber. Sulpitia saw her much disturb'd; but was wholly ignorant of the cause.

Cordelia instantly acquaints the Friar with this affair; declares her aversion, and desires him to inform Don Pedro. The good Man goes a­bout it with speed, and dispatches his Intelligence to Ferrara, according to his directions. This information comes to the Prince, just as Castro had sent word of an Estate, he had pitch'd upon. The Priest's news heartily tormented Alphonsus; how­ever he was infinitely pleas'd, Corde­lia [Page 66] order'd he should know of it. The careful Friar had writ every circum­stance of Don Ferado's Fortunes; and the Prince, with reason, look'd up­on him, as a formidable Rival; being a Neighbour, which, in all probability would induce Sulpitia to embrace his Interest, before the Prince's; who must of necessity be often absent, that is, if he kept his Quality conceal'd; which he could not, without running great hazards, avoid. Therefore he resolves to re­move this Don Ferado; and to that end gets, by other hands, a Com­mission for a Regiment of Horse, and sends to him; with Orders, that he should speedily repair to Court. Ferado could not imagine what secret Friends had done him this favour; however he was advis'd by all his Acquaintance, to embrace it: they convincing him, how much it would conduce, both to his profit and ho­nour. Great was the Conflict; In­terest and Glory were powerful Ar­guments; [Page 67] but eager wishes, and fierce desires all centr'd in Cordelia, were more pleasing. These dear tor­menting Flames he nourish'd; but Cordelia blasted; for there he could discover only frowns, disdain, and freezing coldness. All that love him, urge his going; and flattering hope perswades he may return Crown'd with Lawrel; at which the Cruel Maid, overcome by Constancy and Courage, may yield to longing love. Such thoughts at length prevail with him; and he sets forward to the Court of Ferrara, just as Alphonsus had left it; who posts away to Castro; takes care for the payment of the Money that was to be given for the Estate; puts servants into it, with orders to furnish the House neatly, and with riches, suitable to his pre­tended Quality: though he spar'd Magnificence.

He had made himself very fine, and brought many considerable Presents for Cordelia; and having put all [Page 68] things at his new Mansion, in their design'd Posture; he hastens, with Castro, to his Belov'd Mistress. As soon as ever they arriv'd at the Vil­lage, the Friar was acquainted with it, who flies with the news to Cor­delia; and humbly desires her from her Subject, yea and Slave, Don Pe­dro, to prepare Sulpitia with a full re­lation of all the foregoing adventure. The young Lady trembl'd at the Task; but Love mann'd her Resolu­tion; and she, on her Knees, relates the story to her Mother. Sulpitia's Amazement, when she heard these unexpected Practices, is scarce to be conceiv'd; however being a Woman largely indowed with Wisdome, and Descretion; she perceiv'd her Daugh­ter's Inclination, by her palliating the crime of his disguise, and repre­senting every action favourably of this cunning Lover's. Therefore she consider'd, being ever indulgent to her Daughter, if she should now in­terpose her Authority; she might [Page 69] sooner break her heart, than bend it. These thoughts induce her to give way to his coming; setting her self to inquire after his Estate; which finding according to his word, and being afterwards, by his Conversation, acquainted with his Merit, grew very fond of him; freely giving her con­sent towards the obtaining his ador'd Cordelia. Whom he, with all love's Oratory, pursues; falls on his Knees, embraces hers, weeps, and talks till he forces a Confession; till she, blush­ing, acknowledges her Affection; owns she hath lov'd him from the first moment she saw him. The Transported Prince longs for the Con­summation of his desires, and presses with his utmost Rhetorick a speedy Marriage. Which is at length agreed to, and perform'd, in Sulpitia's Chappel, by the often-mention'd Friar, before Sulpitia, Aminda, and Castro.

None ever appear'd over-joy'd or fond, like this Amorous Prince, his [Page 70] doting still increas'd, every time he saw her, he seem'd captivated anew; and, as in a well drawn Piece, the longer we gaze, the more graces we espy; so her charms to the admiring Alphonsus were endless; yet still his interest bound him to keep his Qua­lity conceal'd being a secret, he durst not divulge to her. Thus privately they liv'd and enjoy'd themselves for two years, the Prince being often absent, and long; which he always said was occasion'd by his place at Court. Just as the first Year of Wedlock was expir'd, Cordelia Crown'd the ensuing, with the birth of a Son, to whom the pleased Prince gave his own Name Alphonsus. A continu'd series of uninterrupted Happiness attended these Ladies for the preceeding years; Sulpitia never parting from her Daughter, and Castro, the example of his Prince, Lov'd, Courted, and married Aminda; a Lady of a desirable Beauty, and agreeable Conversation. By the [Page 71] borrow'd name of Phillipo, he wedded her, and she still continu'd with her much Lov'd Cousin.

But Fortune now grew asham'd of longer confining such Illustrious Persons to so dull a Sphere, as the Country. For Alphonsus, coming to the Dukedome, by the death of Otho, after the first hurry of his affairs was over; dispatches Castro to fetch the beloved Cordelia, Sulpitia, and his own Wife Aminda, to Court. The Faithful Friar, no doubt would have attended them, and been sufficiently advanc'd but unkind Death prevented his preferment; he deceasing, to all their griefs, a little before. Castro ar­rives acquaints Cordelia with her Husbands desires, to see her, and Sulpitia at Ferrara; still concealing, by the Duke's Order, his Quality. The Ladies willingly embrace the offer, and assoon as possible, begin their journey; and in good time con­cluded it. He brings his fair Travel­lers to a House, near the Court, [Page 72] where, at night, the new Duke comes; leaving the Court privately, and going to them in his usual dress, so that they had not the least umbrage of suspition.

The only design the Duke had in this, was, the pleasure of surprizing Cordelia; which is thus effected. On the morrow, Alphonsus leaves them betimes on pretence of extraordinary business, but he tells them, to make amends for his absence, Don Phillipo, when they are dress'd, shall have them to Court, and show them the Duke's Palace; which they are much pleas'd with. They prepare for this fine sight, and Castro attends them. Through all those richly furnish'd Apartments, he conducts his wandring spectators; where they behold the Chairs of state, the Tables, Andirons, Pictures, Frames, Glass-Frames; all either Gold, or Silver. They admire this Magnificence, and also are astonish'd to see, with what respect, all that pass salute Castro. After they had [Page 73] tir'd themselves with viewing va­rious objects of Majestick Glorious Finery, he leads them to a Garden; where in a lovely Banqueting-House, a Breakfast is prepar'd of all manner of varieties, and delicate cool Wines; which, whilst they are entertain'd at, Cordelia discourses of the bravery they had seen; and smiling upon Castro, said, ‘I believe my husband, and you are Courtiers; but I begin to doubt yee for Politicians: for now you have discover'd to your Wife, and me, the gawdy splendor of a Court: suppose we should fall in love with it, and with reluctancy return to our Country habitations. We are prepar'd for that, answers Castro; your station, Madam, being to Reign here; nor will Aminda, I hope, dislike hers. I know not what you mean says Cordelia, with a surpriz'd look. I mean, he re­plies cunningly turning it; that where e'er Beauty, like yours, ap­pears, it, of necessity, must Reign, [Page 74] since all must quit their claims, for soveraignity, when you approach. So, Daughter, cries Sulpitia pleasant­ly, you believ'd Don Philippo a Courtier, and now I think he hath prov'd himself a great one, by his compliment.’ When their repast and discourse was ended, Castro begins a­gen to endeavour satisfying their un­wearied Curiosity, in showing them the delightful Gardens that belong to the Palace, which Italy can scarce equal; though Italy is the Garden of the World. He tells them, that he hath yet a sight which exceeds all they have seen; that is the Duke at Dinner. This they are wondrous desirous of, Cordelia grows very in­quisitive, what mighty affair detains her Husband, grieving much that he doth not participate in this Plea­sure, and Entertainment. Castro promis'd to satisfy her in that also, in a little time. When Dinner was near, he brings them to a Closet, where, unobserv'd, through a Win­dow, [Page 75] they might plainly see, all the Ceremony. After they had a while admir'd the melodious Musick, and stately order of the Preparations: the Duke appear'd inviron'd with Nobles, so that at first, they could not easily distinguish him.

But when they came to have their full views, each look'd amazedly on the other. At length, saith Sulpitia, either we are in one of those enchan­ted Castles, we read of in Romances, where all seen is Illusion, or that Per­son in the Duke's Chair is really my Son in Law Don Pedro. Did not I tell you, Madam, said Castro, smiling, and addressing to Cordelia, that I would show you your Husband presently? What does he mean, an­swers that fair one gravely, to dazle thus ones Eyes, with Pageant-Great­ness? Why doth he usurp the place of his Sovereign? It is no Usurpation, nor are you deceiv'd, replies Castro, for the same Prince that has prov'd an indulgent Husband under the [Page 76] borrow'd name of Pedro, no doubt will continue so; when he owns him­self to be Alphonsus, Duke of Ferrara, and Modena. Cordelia could not di­gest this unexpected scene of great­ness, without a visible alteration, both in her Countenance, and health; so that Castro was forc'd to Conduct her back to her Lodging. Sulpitia and Aminda accompany'd her. When the surprize was over, and they were all descanting on these proceedings; Aminda comes up very seriously to Don Castro; pray my dear, said she, what must I call you? for I hope you have follow'd my Lord Alphonsus's Example, and are some great person in disguise? This set them all a Laugh­ing; and Castro told her she would time enough know his Quality; his greatest happiness being to have so kind a wife as her self, and so good a Master as the Royal Alphonsus.

That Afternoon, several rich suits of Cloaths and Cabinets of Diamonds were brought to the young Dutchess. [Page 77] The next day, she was, with great Pomp, receiv'd at Court, and by Al­phonsus own'd, lov'd, carress'd be­yond measure. That great respect and kindness, the Duke always ho­nour'd Cordelia with, taught all the Court to do the same. And this Beautiful Lady was so fram'd, and compos'd for her greatness; that she became it to a Miracle. Young Al­phonsus was quickly sent for, and nurtur'd according to his Quality. Eighteen years Cordelia grac'd the Court of Ferrara, and blest the Arms of good Alphonsus. But then, to show us that Worldly happiness is sel­dom permanent, that Insatiate Ty­rant Death, whose inhumanity spares neither the Fair, the young, or brave, ravishes from the fond Alphonsus, this soft Wife. Which irreparable loss, it being impossible for time or nature to repay, the Duke mourns to that excessive rate, that the ensuing Year he also dyes.

Alphonsus, the only Son and Heir [Page 78] to this departed Hero; the person who hath occasion'd this relation, is Proclaim'd Duke of Ferrara, and Modena. He had not long been in possession of it: before Ferado, who was now grown a popular Man, and had a settl'd picque against the Royal Family, for the loss of Cordelia, (so implacable and immovable is the hatred which proceeds from love re­fus'd) starts a Question concerning Alphonsus's Legitimacy; and boldly affirms, the late Duke was never marry'd. He knew well, all the Witnesses were dead, except Aminda; and one Woman's word, would never convince a World; that is generally fonder of lies than Truth. This strange aspersion alarm'd the whole Court, and most of the Neighbouring Princes. In all Courts there are factious persons, & persons desirous of change; though they were sure 'twere for the worst. Many of these [...]oin with Don Ferado, and demand a clear proof of the Marriage, which Alphonsus, not [Page 79] being able to give, they appeal to Pope Ʋrban the Eighth; Who, willing to ingross the Soveraignty himself, de­clares against the present Duke; ex­pels him to retire to his ancient Dutchy of Modena; which their utmost malice could not pretend to deprive him of.

This is the Prince, who, remaining privately at Rome, to solicite his pre­sent Holyness for the regaining his right in Ferrara, has seen you: and left his heart and liberty at your Feet. His many applications to me, for the furtherance of his affairs, have given me opportunity to be throughly ac­quainted with him: and I have dis­cover'd such a Noble goodness in his temper that he does truly excel all others of his Sex. From him I had the foregoing story, which perhaps to you might sound Romantick, because I so punctually related each particular; but my hearing it often from this Prince Alphonsus, had deeply impress'd every circumstance in my memory. I would not undertake to be his [Page 80] Advocate, especially, my Dear to you, (went Olimpia on, with the kindest aspect in the world:) did I not know him well; and also know that my interest with his Holyness, is of that large extent, as to Re­establish this Prince, in the Throne of his Ancestors. But I am convinc'd, he is in love to that degree; that all the Kingdoms of the Earth can never make him happy, without your fa­vour.

The Trouble his Father hath in­volved him in, (answers Melora) by matching privately, and below his dignity, ought, in common Prudence, to deterr this Gentleman, from any such design. Oh, my fair one! (replies Olimpia) who can behold you and be deterr'd from loving, by the con­sideration of interest? But however repugnant it is to his interest (she pro­ceeded gravely) I am sure it is very conspicuous, it agrees with yours, to listen kindly to the proposals of a Prince, who offers his Heart and [Page 81] Crown, without any other conditions, than your acceptance of it. Yet with closest Secrecy, this must be manag'd: for many of the Italian Princes will be drawn to assist him, in hopes of his Matching into their Families. And I believe you your self would tax any person with egre­gious folly, that should refuse to ac­cept an inestimable present, because given in the dark: when afterwards they'd have privilege to make use of it before all the World.

A Scene of greatness strait appear'd to Melora; and she with the Eye of Fancy, beheld her self seated in a Palace, attended by persons, born above her. Women are generally ambitious, and opinionated of their own merit; and though Melora might justly boat she had one of the largest portions of Wit, and Discretion: yet she was a woman pertook of the frailty of her Sex; was willing to believe this fine story; and let these Glorious thoughts appear pleasing. [Page 82] Which Olimpia perceiving, augments these towring Joys, describing the pleasures of Pomp, and Splendor; extolling the happiness of being plac'd where Ten Thousand admiring Eyes would be fix'd upon her; all watching the Motion of hers; to fly at her commands. Thus she cunningly turns the gawdy side of greatness to this young Creature's view, hiding the thorns and fatal vicissitudes, which too too often attend power, had her Lover been Duke of Modena. But (alas!) Unhappy Beauty, thy Malicious Stars have pointed Thee a sad and gloomy Fate; which she is thus conducted to. O­limpia takes Melora to a fine village of hers, near Rome, after she had prevail'd with the deceiv'd Lady to see this pretended Prince. The Cardinal, whose lust gave him Ideas, that every moment, put him into raptures, comes, by Olimpia's ap­pointment, in the night, to this Country House, attended only by a [Page 83] young Gentleman, whose scanty fortunes the Cardinal had augmented, and thereby indear'd him to his ser­vice. This Person is acquainted with the whole design; which he brooks not well, being a Gentleman, and hating such dishonourable proceed­ings. But interest overcomes these Heroick sentiments; and Francisco (for that was his name) promises his utmost assistance. Antonio Barbarino is adorn'd with a World of finery to appear amiable; his Hatband is of Diamonds of almost an inestimable value, and every particular expresses as much magnificence, as possible. He keeps himself conceal'd, by O­limpia's advice, till next day; who thus contrives his appearance.

She takes this day to show Melora the fineries of the House, and Gardens. In the midst of the Garden, stood a Banqueting-House, painted by the most famous of that ingenious Art. One side was Ida's Plain, and Paris the loveliest youth, that pencil ever [Page 84] drew, standing with his sheephook, before three contending Goddesses. He had just presented Venus with the Apple; who, by her pleasing smiles, adds to the vast Beauty the Painter had given her. Then in Juno, Envy, and threatning was so plainly deline­ated, that you could scarce view her without fear. Pallas look'd with a noble scorn, as she knew her own Merit, and despis'd the Opinion of her Judge. When the Painter pro­pos'd this story to me, said Olimpia, I forbad him doing it; remembring in the Fable, the Goddesses appear'd naked. The Limner guess'd my scruple, and told me, I was mistaken in his design: for he would dress them all in Garbs, so becoming, that should sooner bribe a Judg, than naked Beauties. I think he hath been as good as his word, answers Melora, for that loose Sky-colour'd Robe of Juno's is admirable, nor is Venus's Crimson of less finery; it gives a Lustre to her Skin. In my fancy, replies O­limpia [Page 85] the silver Armour of Pallas, which reaches to her knees, and those shining Buskins, that discover her Graceful Legs, exceed far the other. But behold here, added Olimpia, tur­ning to the other side of the room; and give me your opinion of this.

It was the Fable of Iphis's mar­riage; who, by his Mother's Prayer, was Metamorphos'd into Man. First you beheld the Mother, devoutly kneeling; whilst in Iphis, you began to discover the effects of her Prayer. His Looks show'd amazement, and his lovely Hair turn'd upon one Cheek, in short Curls, the other hung down dishevel'd a little farther. He appear'd jocund; his Face Manly; with his fair Bride, and all the splendour of a solemn Nuptial. These excellent pieces were incompass'd with Festoons of Flowers, incomparably done. After Melora had sufficiently prais'd, and admir'd this surprizingly fine Painting; Olimpia desires her to sit down, in this delightful place, and [Page 86] requests her to sing the song, she lov'd; saying there was an excellent Eccho; which mightily helpt the voice. Melora, amongst her numerous per­fections, had this in the highest de­gree: for all the judicious that ever heard her, own'd her skill and sweet­ness unequal'd. The Cardinal was conducted by Beatrice, Olimpia's woman, to the door of the Room; where he stood. No Princess liv'd greater in Rome, than the Princess Olimpia, and the had several Persons of good Quality her Attendants: but this Beatrice suited best her incli­nation, and was her chiefest Favorite. When the Friendship first began between Olimpia and Melora, this subtile Woman grew very uneasy, fearing a Rival in her Lady's Heart. But when the Cruel Olimpia intrusted her with the whole matter, and she saw this height was only the Prologue to her ruine, the malicious Wretch was infinitely pleas'd; and the Car­dinal's Presents following, made her [Page 87] very assiduous in these wicked practi­ces. Melora, ignorant of any unseen hearer, immediately obey'd Olimpia's Commands; and, with a charming Air, sung the following words.

Just as she ended, the Cardinal steps forth; only bowing to Olimpia, whilst he eagerly addresses to Melora; and fixing his Eyes upon her, cries in a Passionate Tone; ‘Ah Madam! I was enough your slave before; and in my ravish'd fancy, call'd you all divine, but now I heard your Angelick Voice, I am convinc'd you came into the World some extraordi­nary way; and are really one of the bright Inhabitants of Heaven. There­fore, with Justice, you may despise the sighs of groveling Mortals.’ Me­lora was strangely surpriz'd at his ap­pearing without the least warning; and turning to Olimpia, her face being [Page 89] cover'd with blushes said; ‘This is unkind, dear Princess, to let a stranger be Witness of your Servants fail­ings, and unprepar'd receive such palpable flattery. Nay, Madam, re­turns Olimpia, bend all anger against the Prince, and I will join with you; for I think 'tis inexcusable in his Highness to surprize us thus without notice.’

‘All Messengers seem'd too slow for my impatiency, replies that Impostor, nor could my own feet, though wing'd with desire, and love, conduct me half so fast as my wishes, to throw my self before this ador'd Beauty. Cease Prince, in­terrupts Olimpia, for I read displea­sure in Melora's Eyes; this new strange Theme disturbs her. Di­vert us with the news of Rome; sure that great City cannot live a day without follies, ridiculous e­nough to make us laugh. If my Tongue must, (answers Barbarino) leave the dear delightful subject of [Page 90] my Life my Love; I hope you'll give my Eyes and sighs the liberty to speak the Language of my Heart. That we may venture to allow, I think, replies Melora; because wee can have the privilege, not to observe them, and only listen to your news; which we both expect (adds Olimpia.) The freshest; I know, (begins the Cardinal very gravely) is of a great judgment, that is lately fallen on a fair young Lady. This Lady had an humble servant, whom the World call'd very deserving, but the Cruel Maid thought otherwise; and, notwith­standing Days, and Nights, and Months, spent all in Sighs and Prayers and Tears; yet her obdurate Heart feels no compassion. Nothing the Amorous Youth neglected, ei­ther to say, or act, that might have gain'd a kinder doom, though all in vain; which when he plainly found, o'rewhelm'd with love, and deep despair, he languish'd a [Page 91] short time; then made his Ever­lasting Exit. Still the remorseless Maid was unconcern'd; only Civility and Honour obliged her to attend him to his Grave. And lest her Spectators should there censure her guilty of Barbarity, she cunningly conveys an Onion into her Hand­kerchief, to supply the defect of Natural Tears. But now observe the Justice of her Fate; for, from that moment, so violent a conflux of Rheum follow'd, that she, for ever weeps, spight of all the Physician's Art. And if in any Company where Mirth prevails, then the streams run down, enough to fright them with the apprehensions of a second Deluge.’ Is not this, Ladies, (concluded the Cardinal) a sufficient warning to deterr you from Cruelty? They both laugh'd at the Roman­tick News, and Melora said pleasant­ly, the greatest Miracle she found in the story, was, the Gallant dying for Love; that being, in these Ages, [Page 92] altogether unpractis'd, and out of fashion. In such Conversation they in secret pass'd their hours, whilst the Cardinal forgot not to improve them; but by a Thousand Glances, Sighs, and Whispers, told Melora, that he dy'd, unless she in gentle pity sav'd him. Such great Persons wan­ted nothing, that either Art or Na­ture could afford, for their Pleasure, and Diversion: What they had told Melora of the Duke's being incognito in Rome, took off her mistrust when she saw him cautious to appear be­fore any, but Olimpia her self, Bea­trice, and Francisco. Every thing contributed towards the deceiving this poor Lady; the general discourse of Rome; which was, of the Duke of Modena's pretensions to the Dukedom of Ferrara; and that Princes absence from his own Court, being often in the Courts of other Princes, solliciting Aid, in case the Pope deny'd him Ju­stice: But these many circumstances were needless; for though Melora [Page 93] had a Vivacity in her Wit, peculiar to her self; a Judgment perspicuous and clear; yet so cunningly had O­limpia, by her seeming Fondness, and artful Insinuations, wrought upon the goodness of her temper; that she believ'd whatever that false one af­firm'd, stedfastly, as an Article of her Faith.

After two days the Cardinal takes leave with all the passionate dearness Man can express; returns to Rome, whither the Ladies quickly follow: Olimpia still pressing her fair Favou­rite to be kind to this deserving Prince, as she always terms him.

Melora was now wholly in the Princess Olimpia's Palace, only going every day to visit her Father; and every Night the Love-sick Cardinal paid his devoir to her. Yet spight of all these constant Visits, and reitera­ted Oaths of continual Love; Melora appears but cold, and expresses her self with a World of caution and re­servation. This Torments the Amo­rous [Page 94] Priest beyond measure. Now, though Melora absolutely confided in Olimpia, her good Education had perfectly taught her to obey her Fa­ther's Will; and to undertake so great a Concern, without his Know­ledge, shock'd all her resolves, and dash'd her with a Thousand Fears. Olimpia strives her utmost to incou­rage the beauteous trembling Maid; and in perswasive Arguments lays down the inconveniency of acquaint­ing her, Father: for he being a Loyal Man, and in a publick station, would certainly discover it to the King his Master; which would at present ruine the Prince Alphonsus in all his designs. Melora listen'd to whatever Olimpia urg'd; gave obliging An­swers, but delay'd complying. No­thing was so hateful to the Cardinal and Olimpia, as this protracting time, because they lay liable to a hundred accidents that might betray them; by which the Cardinal would irrevo­cably lose his Fame; and, what [Page 95] was much dearer, Melora. Therefore the next time they are together, he pleads with all his Loves Eagerness and Oratory; tells his fair Mistress, his de­sires were grown to such a height of Violence, that without her consent to the fulfilling them, they would cer­tainly prey upon his Life, and from her Adorer he should become her Martyr. ‘Ah Madam! (went he on, sighing passionately, and grasp­ing her Knees) Why are you thus Cruel? Why do you force me to live in these Insupportable Agonies, when 'tis in your power to raise me to endless Worlds of Bliss? Is not the Appellation of Kind and Pitiful more pleasing to you, than the Sa­vage Names of Cruel and Rigorous? With what reason (reply'd that Charmer sweetly) My Lord, can you Complain, or ask me more? Have I not already broke the Sacred Laws of Duty, which I us'd to hold Inviolable, and receiv'd you here Clandestinely: heard all the stories [Page 96] of your Love, and only resolv'd to take such time as may confirm the Constancy and Faith, which you, with so much Rhetorick, have Vow'd.’

‘In that resolve you give me Death (said he, with a sad Air) and e'er my probation ends, you'll be convinc'd, by the sublimest Proof, that I am yours.’ When he said this, he takes his leave, and before he left the House, relates all this to Francisco; ordering him to stay, till Olimpia was at leisure to hear it; and send him her advice in these perplexities. Through the Gardens, and Walks of Donna Olimpia's Palace, the Cardinal always went home, only passing a narrow Lane, he came to a back door of his own, where a Servant con­stantly attended: One, who, many Years, had been acquainted with his Debauchees, and Night Rambles, though he was not trusted with the story of this Intrigue. Barbarino go­ing Melancholy through the before [Page 97] mention'd Lane was surpriz'd, not­withstanding the darkness of the Night, and lateness of the hour, to perceive the glittering of Swords; and stepping hastily to avoid them, one immediately rush'd upon him, and gave him a Wound in his Breast; at which the amaz'd Cardinal cry'd out, Villains! Assassinates! Hearing his Voice they fled; only saying, Damn it, we were mistaken in our Man.

'Twas very near the Cardinal's private Door, this accident happen'd, and the Servant that waited for him, having skill in Surgery, he trusted him to search the Wound; who as­sur'd the frighted Priest, that there was no danger; only the loss of Blood would, for some Days, confine him to his Bed, and Chamber. He then began to revive his Courage, and Commanded the Servant to say, his Illness proceeded from a violent bleeding at the Nose; which took him in the Night: this pass'd upon [Page 98] his Physicians; who only order'd him comfortable Cordials to renew his Spirits.

The next Morning, the Cardinal found himself at ease enough, to con­sider his Love affair, and accordingly dispatches Francisco, to acquaint O­limpia with his Misfortune; and to beg, her Almighty Wit would make some advantage of it with his Mi­stress. One would have thought, the Heavens sending the Mischief, de­sign'd another, on the Cardinal's Head, might have deterr'd them from pur­suing further the ruine of that soft In­nocent, the fair Melora; but they were harden'd, and Olimpia, resolving to fulfil the desires of the Friend of her darling Lust, Ambition, manag'd with Woman's Cunning, her de­sign.

Melora observ'd Olimpia Melan­choly; and her fondness and parti­cularity to her, laid aside; and for three days only Complacency, and cold Civility remain'd. This per­plex'd [Page 99] her strangely; fain she would have ask'd the reason; long'd to know the cause of the Duke's (as she thought him) absence; but Modesty, the Virgin's constant necessary useful Guest, witheld her Questions a while. At length, impatiency prevail'd, and she desir'd Beatrice to let her know, when the Princess Olimpia would be alone in her Closet. The same day, word was brought her she was so, and wish'd to see her. Melora attends her the very instant; and found that subtle Lady sitting upon a Couch, leaning her head upon her hand, with an unusual sadness in her Face. Assoon as Melora enter'd, she bid her sit down; then, fetching a deep Sigh, continu'd silent. The poor young Creature surpriz'd with this counter­feited sorrow, remain'd also dumb, for some time, till her Tears made way for her words. She implor'd O­limpia to acquaint her, if through any inadvertency, she had offended to that degree, as to lose the honour of [Page 100] her Friendship, and be banish'd that dear Bosom, where all her Happiness and Delight were Center'd; Adding, with a World of sweetness and real trouble, how willingly she would abate, participate; or, if possible, take off those griefs, she saw o'er­whelm her beloved Princess, might she but know the cause. Olimpia lift­ing up her head, answer'd very seri­ously; my Affliction will perhaps oc­casion your rejoycing; I mourn the Prince Alphonsus, whom as a Friend I lov'd. Your inclination caus'd him to be your aversion; and consequent­ly his Miseries will move no Pity; which made me forbear relating them.

Alas, Madam! (replies Melora) wherein has your Highness discover'd that aversion, you are pleas'd to charge me with? I have receiv'd the Prince's Address, with all the Com­placency imaginable, at any time, or any hour. If this is hatred, I am mistaken; and must beg directions, [Page 101] how to express my Esteem to my Lord Alphonsus; both as to his own merit, and what's yet more, a Person recommended by you, (en­ded she, bowing.)

With such a height of Passion, such an excess of tenderness (returns Olimpia) the Prince adores you, that your fatal Coldness hath de­stroy'd him. Signore Francisco acquaints me, that, ever since his last parting from you, he hath Languish'd of a Fever; which his Physicians say, is desperate; whilst he, Foe to himself, and Friend to his Disease, gives way to that, and slights all their Applications.

Let me dye (cry'd out Melora eagerly; frighted with the apprehen­sion of such a Person's Death) rather than have a guilt like this, imputed to me; Ah Madam! (went she on) if you have any sparks of that generous love remaining, which you bestow'd on this Ungrateful; teach me a way to expiate my Crime. I own what­e'er [Page 102] my inclination was, I err'd, to an extremity, in disobeying your Commands; and to attone, I'll Visit him, I'll write, do what my nature hath most abhorr'd; so my Princess will again receive me into favour.

Do nothing against stomach (An­swers Olimpia coldly) and though I know a line or two might save his Life, yet a dissembl'd kindness is but a Reprieve; and to relapse into de­spair, is irrecoverable, therefore I'll not ask it; 'tis to desire a present Cordial, that carries with it, a future Poison. When she had said this, she left Melora in the Closet, and went to Company, that stay'd to kiss her hand.

Nothing was more glorious, than the Friendship of Donna Olimpia; who enjoy'd it, participated of all the pleasures and grandeur of Rome. Then, to be a Princess! Attractions, which may excuse Melora, if she committed an indecency in writing [Page 103] to the pretended Duke. For after many struglings with her native reservedness, she resolv'd it, and wrote thus.

Olimpia in haste dispatch'd her Visitants, those of Ceremony, and [Page 104] those of Business. Coming back to the Closet, she found Melora reading; having left the Letter open upon the Table. Melora stood up as Olimpia came in, and begg'd she would please to peruse that she had written; say­ing, she was wholly ignorant of those sort of Letters, and humbly pray'd her approbation. When Olimpia had read it; she, smiling, said; you have plaid the pretty Sophister, my dear, and so kindly express'd your obliging sentiments of Friendship, that I know how to resent your Cruelty, in discovering so little Love to a Prince, who perhaps may want Life to receive it. Beatrice under­takes the conveyance, and with needful caution hath it deliver'd to the Cardinal; who began already to think of speedily leaving his Chamber, and this favour added to his health, and his desires. He, all night, con­trives the kindest Answer, words could frame, and the next Morning sends it to Olimpia; who, with her [Page 105] usual cunning, presented it; first bewailing his weakness, then won­dering at Love's Power, which had given strength to answer her Letter so quickly. Melora, blushing, took it; and to Olimpia read as follows.

How think you, Madam, cries Olimpia hastily; does he not write, as well as he speaks; I own him [Page 106] Excellent at both, Answers Melora; therefore should not I be guilty of Vanity, to imagine my self blest with perfections great enough, to Merit his endless Love?

Olimpia reply'd, in Compliments of her worth, and caress'd her with new Indearments. A few days after the Cardinal's Physicians advis'd him to the Country Air, for the perfect­ing his recovery; and he let his Friends know, that being weak, he desir'd privacy without Visiters, de­signing to spend this time at Olimpia's Villa, (attended only with Francisco) instead of his own; though the World was made believe he lay there retir'd.

Assoon as Olimpia understood the matter, according to the Cardinal's wishes, she asks Melora to leave Rome a second time with her; telling her also, that the Duke of Modena was advis'd to the Air for his Health; and she had given him an invitation to her Villa; where he might remain [Page 107] undiscover'd. I let you know this, said Olimpia; that you may not seem supriz'd or displeas'd at his coming to us. Melora receiv'd the News of his Company very agreeably; and they with much pleasure began their Journey. Soon after the Cardinal ar­rives, and 'twas then, and not till then, that Pity, Loves sure Forerun­ner, seiz'd the Compassionate Heart of that young soft Maid; when she beheld Antonio look as pale as Death, and tremble, as he mov'd, with weakness. This, she thought, Al­mighty Love had been the only cause of, and that the World would Tax her of Barbarity, should she refuse to apply Cordials of Kindness, to such a consuming Languishment. There­fore she receives him with smiles; and says obliging things, that beyond measure charm'd the Priest. They Supp'd together in Olimpia's Closet; and being all pleas'd, their Conver­sation was extraordinary. Barbarino had formerly been imploy'd in seve­ral [Page 108] Negotiations, to the Courts of Fo­reign Princes; he had good natural parts, and all the Acquirements of Learning, that great Men are able to receive. No wonder then his Com­pany was agreeable to Melora; who was ingenious, and therefore under­stood the wit he deliver'd in pleasant relations and discourse.

While they were at Supper, Bea­trice brought Olimpia word, that there was a Benedictine of the Neigh­bouring Monastery, waited to desire the honour of her Highnesses Presence at the Feast of their Patron; which was to be Celebrated on the Morrow. I shall incur your displeasure, said O­limpia smiling, my Lord Duke, if I take Melora with me; yet I would willingly have her see the Solemnity, because I believe it will be very fine. I shall mourn your Absence, replies the Cardinal, but should grieve more to hinder the fair Melora participating the pleasure of beholding the Cere­mony. We will endeavour to make [Page 109] my Lord amends, at our return, with a full relation of our Entertain­ment, said Melora.

A Description from so sweet an Oratrix will charm me far beyond the gaudy show, answers the Car­dinal. Thus they talk'd away the Evening; and the next Morning, the Ladies rose early, to prepare for the Festival. When they were drest, Barbarino was admitted to pay them a Visit in Olimpia's Chamber. Melora lookt surprizingly beautiful, and the Cardinal express'd his admiration, in lavish Commendations; seeming to come nearer to view her: he, in a moment, fix'd a Crociate of valuable Jewels upon her Breast. She went immediately to take them of; but Olimpia coming up forbade her; and she, blushing, let them remain.

That Night several Persons of Quality conducted the Princess Olim­pia, from the Monastery home. The Ladies were oblig'd to stay and en­tertain them, so that they could not [Page 110] see the Cardinal. The next day O­limpia resolv'd to have to her self; and gave her Servants order to say she was indispos'd, and would re­ceive no Visits. They chose a retir'd Grotto to spend the day in. This cool retreat was very delightful; for 'twas with wonderous pains cut in a Rock, the Lights were all cover'd with Vines; which look'd very a­greeable. One side of the Grotto was hang'd with Forest Tapestry, the other most artificially adorn'd with Moss-work, which glitter'd with shining Shells and Pebbles; whose Lustre equal Diamonds. The Couch and Canopy was green Florence Sar­senet; at the end, opposite to the Door, a full Curtain of the same hung down to the ground: along the side of the Rock that was covered with Moss, a small Rivulet ran, whose pleasing Murmur was able to inspire the most stupid, with tender Senti­ments. Whilst Olimpia said something to the Cardinal, Melora fixt her Eyes [Page 111] upon the purling Stream; whose transparent clearness show'd the bot­tom, stow'd with the Rock's Orna­ments, Shells, and Pebbles. The Car­dinal turning, observing her so in­tent, stoop'd nearer; and with an In­graving Pen, upon the Marble Pave­ment, wrote thus:

See, Madam! said Olimpia, when [Page 112] she had read 'em: the Prince's Passion penetrates the obdurate Marble; yet your harder heart still denies access.

Melora was amaz'd to behold the lines at her Feet; thinking they had still been discoursing. She had, with blushes, just perus'd what was writ­ten, when from behind the Curtain, they heard the agreeable charming found, both of Vocal, and Instru­mental Musick. Ha! cry'd Olimpia, seemingly surpriz'd, you mention'd the Watry Deity, and I believe he has sent his Mermaids, to entertain you. I rather suspect an Earthly Goddess, reply'd Melora, smilingly, looking upon Olimpia; and the best way to express our thanks for the fa­vour, is silence. Whilst the Italian songs, with the most exquisite Mu­sick, was perform'd, they din'd; and after that, the Princess Olimpia gave her Commands the Musick should retire. The Curtain was drawn up, and the delicate Organs discover'd; which, from the Water [Page 113] receiv'd their incomparable Musick; and all the glorious painted seats, which held the tuneful Masters, whom they had heard before.

In vain, cry'd Melora, in a plea­sing transport, we hunt the World for pleasures, when ransackt Italy, can never equal, what my charming Princess's Villa gives. Ay but, my Life, return'd the Cardinal, I expect the discharge of your Promise, in describing the Entertainment you re­ceiv'd Yesterday.

Indeed, went the fair one on, smiling, I think these Saints Festivals are fuller of diversion, than devotion. To see a fat Abbot walk in state, cover'd with Embroideries, and looking as great, as if the Triple Crown adorn'd his Head; and all their Ornaments set forth in the greatest Pomp and Lustre imagin­able; doth it not resemble Pride, and Vanity? Be cautious, my dear, interrupted Olimpia, lest you incline to the errour of the Hereticks; who [Page 114] care not how fine their Houses are, nor how plain their Churches; tacitely discovering they love, and esteem themselves, better then the Deity, they Worship.

I submit, said Melora, and will admire their glories. But to what end should I describe vast Banquets of Sweet-meats, and delightful Mu­sick; which is here every day excell'd. That only which deserves perpetual remembrance, was the Lovely Duke and Dutchess of Parma. Such a be­coming tenderness he express'd, such a sympathy of Souls there seem'd, as if one cou'd not do, what the other did not like. How can you praise, what you refuse to practice, cry'd the Cardinal in a Rapture; so would I gaze all day on those lov'd eyes; but then the Night; the Night; burning, raging, sighing, clasping! Oh forbear my Lord! (Olimpia stops him;) leave these strong extasies; till that happy Night arrives: see how Melora blushes. Indeed said the [Page 115] Cardinal, cooling himself with a sigh, I ought to have patience, since that Duke, you mention'd, waited long for one, less fair, and through many hazards, at length was blest.

Olimpia knew, Melora took delight in nothing more, then hearing the Histories of Persons, where the Ca­pricio's of Fortune had been most e­vident: and to oblige her, ask'd the Cardinal, if his Highness was acquainted with the particulars of their loves? He answer'd her that he could procure them a full relation, if they desir'd it; for Francisco was bred, from a Child, in the Duke of Parma's Court; & inform'd of each minute cir­cumstance. Melora express'd great joy at the proposal; and Francisco being call'd, the Cardinal commanded him to sit down, and to the Ladies relate the Adventures of Emilius, and Lovisa, Duke and Dutchess of Par­ma. Francisco, after a moment's recollection, with a submissive reve­rence, began thus.

THE HISTORY OF Emilius and Lovisa.

I Shall not attempt (most Illustri­ous Auditors) to describe the Persons of this Prince and Princess, because my words cannot reach the height of their Perfections; as your own Eyes may be witness; but must of necessity go so far back, as to take a view of the late Duke and Dutchess, Parents to this. He was a great Soul­dier, and a great Politician, which of consequence render'd him a great Man; yet of a humour so positive and absolute, that neither Sons nor Subjects durst ever contradict his Re­solution. Whilst the Dutchess was all [Page 117] sweetness and affability, as oft as pos­sible mitigating the sternness of her Lord, and obliging all the World with Offices of Kindness.

He had two Sons, one elder than the present Duke Emilius, over whom he exercis'd an Authority, wherein very little of the Father appear'd; whomsoever they favour'd he frown'd upon, always denying them whatever they coveted with eager­ness. Few therefore durst make their Court assiduously to the young Prin­ces, lest they incur'd the anger and jealousie of the Old Duke. Only Count Bileront broke all these Rules of Policy, and openly profest an in­tire Service, and humble unfeign'd Friendship for the Prince Emilius, with whom he had been nurtur'd. The Duke often storm'd at that, of­ten chid the Lovely Youths for their so strict amity; and often Comman­ded Bileront's Father to send him farther from Court. Yet all these shocks they stood; for Emilius, who [Page 118] had a large share of his Mother's sweet nature, drooped so when they went to part them, that before he reach'd at Manhood, they cou'd not do it, without visible danger to the Prince's Health. By that time Emili­us had past his Eighteenth Year, he grew quite tyr'd of the Court; the harshness of his Father's temper abridging him of all those Injoyments, whereunto his Inclinations led him. He sets all Engines at work to obtain leave, that he may join the Venetians, as a Noble Voluntier, and see a Cam­paign; hoping to raise his Reputati­on in the World, and quit, for some time, a place that disgusted him. Af­ter much opposition, Emilius accom­plish'd his desires; but the Old Duke not finding in his heart to prove too indulgent, orders Bileront to stay be­hind; and perceiving notwithstand­ing that faithful Youth, covertly pre­par'd to follow him, he without hearkening to the intreaties of his Friends, Imprison'd him under a [Page 119] strict Guard. If Emilius resented this ill, he was very likely to meet with the same treatment. So that being assur'd no other harm was design'd him but to hinder his Accompanying him; he smother'd his smarting griefs, and went on with his inten­tions. Several young Sparks, in whom the love of glory had kindled a Warlike Fire, forsook the soft pleasures of the Palace, and waited on the Prince. This Noble Cavalcade having left Parma, directed their course towards his Holiness's Galleys, where they design'd to imbark, after staying some time at the Port, till the Fleet were ready to sail. As the Prince, having all his things Em­bark'd, was walking on the shore, he felt somebody take him by the Cloak, and turning, he saw one in the garb of a Common Souldier; but looking more heedfully, Oh how pleas'd was he to behold his lov'd Bi­leront; such Joy fill'd their delighted Souls, there was no room for words. [Page 120] At length, a hundred Questions throng together, which as confusedly are answered. Bileront, whose sweet Eloquence cou'd move things almost inanimate (for next to that I account the stupid sort of Men) had with his Promises and Presents prevail'd upon a Centry to let him have his Cloaths, in which he drest himself, the Fellow putting on the young Lords, and over them his own Cloak, and thus they both escap'd. Now Emilius's wishes were compleat; and the faithful happy Friends went in all haste aboard. I will not trouble your Honours with a description of the War, only say of these, they were a second Pylades and Orestes; always fighting by each other, al­ways undertaking the greatest dan­gers; and always Crown'd with Glo­ry. The Campaign ended, they with several of the French Nobility, Vo­luntiers likewise, went to France; and in that Court spent their Win­ter. In the mean time, the Dutch­ess [Page 121] of Parma long'd to see her Darling Son; and having at length, obtain'd Bileront's Pardon, she writes earnest­ly to her dear Emilius, that he would return. He obeys his indulgent Mo­ther's reiterated desires, and again, with his Favorite Bileront, graces the Court of Parma. His Travails had extreamly added to his natural per­fections, and though he was not Heir Apparent, yet his eminent accom­plishments drew all admiring Eyes towards him. Nothing now was to be seen in the Palace, on the Dutch­esse's side, but Balls, Masquerades, and such other demonstrations of Royal Pleasures. At one of the Balls, a young Lady, having danc'd in a Persian Habit, with a particular mien and charming smoothness; Emilius ask'd who she was, saying, he had not observ'd her amongst the Beauteous Train before, though he thought she excell'd them all. He was straight inform'd her name was Lovisa, Daughter to Don Hen­rique, [Page 122] and Donna Elvira, who were, as he knew, both great Courtiers and had, Dying, left this their only Child, to the care of the Dutchess; that her Fortune was very opulent, and her Person very taking. For his not seeing her, the reason was, she had been some days in the Country, and return'd but the night before. This, adds the Prince's Informer, is an ac­count of the fair Lovisa, who is call'd the Dutchesse's Ward; and ador'd by all. Emilius, getting near her, told her in a whisper that she was unjust, her Beauty being enough to fix all Eyes upon her, she ought not to excel so transcendantly in Dancing too; but let some more indifferent do that, and obtain a glance. Lovisa, blushing at the Prince's praises, an­swer'd him; we must expect your Highness full of the French Gallantry, and whatever Object you are pleas'd to rally is oblig'd to bear it. That place was too publick, for a longer Conference, but the Prince was [Page 123] wonderfully pleas'd with her, and talk'd of nothing else all the night, to his dear Billeront. Soon after, he paid Lovisa a visit; and finding her Conversation as full of charms, as her lovely Face, he was never so well pleas'd, as when with her. His Mother the Dutchess, saw this growing Friendship, but hating no­thing more than venturing Emilius in another Campaign; and consider­ing Lovisa was a great Heiress, whose Ancestors sprung from a Branch of the Royal Family, he also being the second Son; should he fall in love with her, the match would not be so disproportionable. These reasons made the Dutchess not only connive at his often Visits; but also conceal them from the Duke. Lovisa's A­partment lying through the Dutch­esse's, the Duke thought he had been with his Mother, whilst he and Bileront spent their time more plea­santly.

They had form'd a Party for their [Page 124] particular Conversation, which they call'd the Friendly Society, and made several pretty Laws amongst them­selves, with suitable Penalties, if they infring'd them. One was, to communicate to all the Campany, every Letter they receiv'd, be it Love, or Gallantry. Nay if it was business, some Person was to inspect it cursorily over, and witness to the rest, that it afforded no diverson. Happy was he, that could partake the satisfaction of this ingenious com­pany; which was compos'd of the highest young Quality. Their dis­course was made up of pithy relations; or viewing the newest works of the writing Wits; Censuring, or ex­tolling those labours of the brain, according to their Merit. Emilius, coming one day, before the usual hour for their meeting, surpriz'd Lovisa alone, reading a Letter, which she blush'd at, and hastily put up, when the Prince came in. Ha, Ma­dam! cry'd he, eagerly running to­wards [Page 125] her, have I caught you break­ing one of our greatest Laws? She blushing still answer'd, 'twas busi­ness. This augmented the Prince's curiosity; and he said very gravely, you know, Madam, our Statutes are, that if Letters are full only of busi­ness, one is just to overlook that, and report it to the whole Body of our Society. Now I being here first, claim the privilege of seeing it, and satisfy­ing the rest. She insisted, 'twas in her power, to chuse the Person, she desir'd should see it; but finding the Prince really earnest, unwilling to dis­please him, she gave it him, which he read thus; (for said Francisco, I having the happiness to know each particular of this Intrigue, took Co­pies of all the Letters to help my Me­mory.)

The Prince sigh'd, and [...] as he read this Letter; and giving [...] [Page 127] Lovisa again, said, I don't like this Marrying, 'twill spoil our Society. I'll give my Vote, that it shall be High Treason, for any of our Ladies to Marry. Nay then, returns Lovisa, laughing, we shall have a very pret­ty Character Twenty Years hence, a Company of Old Ill-natur'd Maids; better forsake the World quite, and become holy Nuns. Well, answers the Prince, I find all my Joys are at an end. You must be in Love now, and we bear all those absences of Mind, so frequent in Lovers, Silent whole hours; or if you talk, Count Lodowick must be brought in, by head and shoulders, at every Paragraph. You were the glory of our little Select World: your Wit and Eloquence gave Life to all was said; now you forsake us, I'll forsake the rest, and leaving an insipid Court, i'th' Camp forget Lovisa; if that be possible; (ended he with a sigh.) My Lord, replies Lovisa, I have indeavour'd to be rude, and interrupt your High­ness; [Page 128] you talk, as if I was to be Marry'd to Morrow. The World (went she on, with a Majestick Air) knows little of Lovisa's Heart, if they imagine it so easily gain'd; and that but hearing of a Man, is likely to fall in love with me, I should begin first to be so with him. More of the ap­pointed Friends coming in, the Con­versation became general; yet still Emilius was harping on this (to him) ungrateful string, Count Lodowick's coming. He ask'd Lovisa, whether she thought she should fancy him, and what sort of Man she could like, begging her to express what Qualifi­cations she expected in the happy Slave, whom, amongst her numerous Adorers, she wou'd bless with her Smiles.

My Lord, said that charming Maid, were I to behold a Man Mas­culine, yet Beautiful, Great, yet truly Brave; A Prince whose Virtues, brighter than his Diadems, appear; one more glorious than boundless [Page 129] Fancy can to the thinking Mind de­paint; and, not convinc'd by signal proofs, his heart inclin'd, his passion forc't him to my feet: I might gaze on such a Master-piece; but my Eyes should let him no farther in: He ne­ver shou'd disturb my Mind. You may, reply'd the Prince, love where­soe'er you look; nor need to fear they'll not sigh for you; at least, if I may judge the Soul of others by my own. Lovisa took this for raillery, and pleasantly return'd, such Hearts as yours will be most glorious Trophies, and I shall grow exceeding proud, but that, to humble me, I know Prince Emilius's way, and my own Imperfections.

That night Bileront, whose Apart­ments joined the Prince's, heard him, after all was gone to rest, walking about his room. Fearing he was not well, he rose and went to him. Par­don, said Bileront, if I intrude, and fly uncall'd, to learn what disturbs my Lord. Oh my Friend! (Answers [Page 130] the Prince) I'm sick at heart, the Di­stemper revels there; and gives me pains that I ne'er felt before. Bileront, who was really frighted, began to call the Servants for the Physicians; when Emilius hastily stops him, say­ing, it lay not in the power of Art. None, none could heal his wounds, but the fair Causer. Then blushing, and hiding his Head in the Bosom of his dear Friend, he told him he lov'd the glory of her Sex, the sweet Lovisa. I mistrusted long ago (went on the Amorous Prince) but durst not exa­mine my heart on that point, till Ye­sterday discovering another like to possess her: love and despair at once seiz'd me; broke the soft Chains of sleep, and set me here upon the Rack. Bileront said all, excessive Friendship prompted, to calm the distemper'd Mind of his lov'd Ma­ster; but he, witty to torment him­self, study'd impossibilities that might arise, to bar his wishes, out of meer Chimera's: though indeed obstructi­ons [Page 131] there were enough. Thus spent the restless Prince the tedious Night. Next day, he long'd till the fatigue of Ceremonious Duty, business, all was o'er; that he might find his darling Mistress, where all his thoughts were fix'd. He saw her; thought her more charming than ever since to himself he had own'd he lov'd her. Then he gave no bounds to his admiring Eyes; but helping forward his disease set every thought at work; what Happiness, what Raptures she could give. When he came near her, tremblings and sighs turn'd him pale; then a rising heart cover'd his face with blushes. He try'd to tell his love in whispers, but his courage fail'd him, for he, who truly loves, beholds his Mistress stamp'd with such divinity as awes his presumption. Nor dares he trust his tongue, lest that too boldly shou'd offend; leaves to his Eyes the sad silent Tale; and hopes the Charmer will read it there. Lovisa, [Page 132] who thought the minds of others like her own, free and gay, was brisk as Air; and often chid the Prince for his unusual Melancholy; nor could she forbear asking Bileront if he knew the cause. He answer'd her ambgiuously; suppose she her self was, wou'd she promise a remedy? That's so unlikely, said she 'tis not worth my answering; for I never was chearfuller in my Life; and I hope my mirth is not so ridiculous, as to work just the contrary on the Prince. Bileront fear'd to say more; lest he shou'd incurr the danger of displeasing both.

A few days after, this expected Count Lodowick came, was very well receiv'd by the Duke, the Eldest Prince, and indeed all the Court, except Emilius; who notwithstand­ing his natural sweetness, could not forbear looking cold on this young Nobleman; whilst Lodowick's only care was to dress well, and make a Figure answerable to his Quality. [Page 133] Finding Lovisa the handsomest La­dy; he was most particular to her though he had a general complacency for all the young and fair. Mean time Emilius's melancholy so visibly increas'd that every body took notice of it. He complain'd to his faithful Bileront, that he thought Lovisa took more care in dressing, since the ar­rival of Lodowick; and he fancy'd she gave him favourable glances; then would he burst into a Passion, and ask that fond Friend, wherein Lodowick deserv'd more than he? Thus, this impatient Prince nurst up groundless terrours, till they rob'd his days of Joy, his Nights of rest. When Bileront could get leave to speak, he told the Prince, that for his part, he discover'd no such al­teration in the dress, or looks of Lovisa; then you talk (went he on) of her preferring Lodowick before you: when alass, she is wholly ignorant, knows not the vast honour her Eyes have won; think you, my Lord, [Page 134] being possest of your Illustrious Heart would not satisfy her Ambi­tion; and were she assur'd of it, I dare believe Lovisa wou'd preferr you in her esteem, not only to Lodo­wick but even to all the World. Yet still either a favourable opportunity was wanting, or his fears how Lovi­sa might receive a Declaration of Love prevented him; and poor E­milius languish'd on.

Bileront met, one day, Lovisa, in a private Garden, belonging to the Palace, in quest of a Favourite Fe­male Friend; who, she was told, was gone to walk there. Meeting Bileront, she ask'd him if he had seen her; Bileront had just left the Prince Emilius alone, in a Grotto; and straight resolv'd, without much con­sideration, to send his Mistress to him. Accordingly he directed this fair Lady thither; tells her very con­fidently, her Friend was there. The Prince started as she enter'd the Grot­to, and Lovisa leapt back, with the [Page 135] surprize; both blush'd at this unex­pected Rencounter; till Lovisa, ta­king it only for a trick of that young Lord; recollected her self, and smi­ling told Emilius; she wou'd be re­veng'd on Bileront; nay, said she, pleasantly, your Highness ought to join with me, since he occasion'd this interruption of your thoughts. Madam (return'd he bowing) you you might much more properly call it, an Elevation of thoughts, for I assure they were full of you, in Courts, in Camps, in Cells, in Grotto's. An­swer'd that fair one, in a pretty He­roick tone: Emilius is still the same; all Compliment; all Rhetorick. Yet not so to all, replies the Prince, looking passionately upon her, 'tis only Lovisa merits more, much more, then I can say were my tongue immortal and Tun'd to nought but praise. Ah! sit Lovisa, and hear the State of poor Emilius's Heart lest you find too late how fatally I was in earnest.

[Page 136] Lovisa still smiling, said; ‘Ha! it seems the Plot lyes deeper than I imagin'd. I am to believe your Highness is in love, am I not, to help the Jest?’ The Prince vex'd to see the real Language of his heart turn'd into raillery: threw himself at her feet; and spoke with a moving Air, thus. ‘If to have you the perpetual Image of my waking thoughts; or when I sleep the charming Vision of my Dreams: if it be greater pleasure to hide me from the inquiring World, that I may shut out all but you, to fancy joys in you beyond the Crowns the united Universe cou'd give: to draw it Hell without you: to sigh, and wish, and tremble, when I hear you named; if this be love, I'm sure I am in love.’

Lovisa rising, and viewing the kneeling Prince, with a becoming Majesty, said, ‘Remember, Sir, as you are born a Prince, so I descend from the same Line; my Soul as [Page 137] great as yours; therefore, if you vainly think, depending on your Birth, the conquest easie; and I with open Arms must receive your offer'd love: I say you are much deceiv'd; for whilst there are Monasteries, or distant Kingdoms, to the Earth's Verge I'll fly, rather then meet with Arrogancy, instead of that respect, which humble Love Cre­ates. Am I arrogant? (reply'd the passionate Prince) when prostrate at your feet I Lye? Carry these dying Eyes a look of pride? Blasted be the Honours of my Birth unless it helps me forward in my Love! And for yours to me, you are a Queen, a Goddess.’ Rise, my Lord, Lovisa interrupts him; I have heard enough. This is a strange Theme; forget it Prince; indulge not such desires, destructive to your Peace, and never like to be fulfill'd. 'Were I, said the Prince (as he lead her out of the Grove) ‘so wretched; convinc'd that destiny must attend me; Life [Page 138] so, tormenting I wou'd not bear too, long.’ They had walk'd but a few paces, when they met Bileront, and the Lady Lovisa wanted, whom Bi­leront had entertain'd, that she might not disturb Emilius. The Count soon read in both their Faces, the Minutes had not been spent in common talk. Many Weeks this Amorous Prince employ'd in trying to perswade Lo­visa, that he lov'd her above all Earthly things; yet had obtain'd no more than a bare permission to tell her this, whenever opportunity fa­vour'd.

The Court was, all this while, ig­norant of the Amour; they knew there was a Cabal of Wits, and thought Emilius only went often for the sake of the Conversation. Love's an unexhausted Spring; and still hath something more to say; nor cou'd the Prince be satisfy'd with short Dis­courses, stollen at Windows, or got some moments, before other Com­pany came. He long'd for whole [Page 139] hours, and fancy'd, if he had time enough, he might move her heart to pity. To that end, he sent Bileront (whom Lovisa had given him leave to make his Confident) with this Letter (said Francisco, pulling out the Copy:)

[Page 140] Lovisa was hard to be prevail'd on, for this private interview; but the faithful Count pleaded, with so much Zeal, for his Amorous Friend, that the fair one almost compell'd, yielded; and gave Emilius leave, after his for­mal good night, to return with Bile­ront a back way; into her Closet. Lovisa also brought the Partner of her heart, a dear lov'd Friend. When the Prince came, the Lady and Bile­ront retir'd to the farther end of the Closet. Cou'd any Man win a heart only with the silent Language of the Eyes, sure 'twas Emilius; for, in his, Lovisa might plainly read Sparkling Joy, for the permission she had given him to see her; yet intermix'd with so much awe, and fear; that the charming confusion show'd, her love had taught him, to forget he e'er was born a Prince. And Ambition's Les­sons prompted him no farther, than to become her Slave. His words were soft as flakes of falling Snow, his person lovely; who then can [Page 141] blame that charming Maid, if she forgot her rigour, and heard, with pleasure. He kneel'd, and snatch'd her beauteous hand, and printed these his Vows. ‘He said, he lov'd her more, much more than Life. Oh! (went he on) were all the pleasures of my past Years cramm'd into one happy hour, 'twould not reach the least part of the Raptures, this blest Moment gives; this dear important Now. If then to have but one Minute, when I dare call you Mine, fills my Heart with such Content; what would a Week, what would a Year, an Age? Oh I fear the Cordial wou'd prove too strong; and I shou'd dye with Joy. These Imaginary Visions (returns Lovisa gravely) exceed Love's real Joys. Love, like a Course Picture set in an advantageous light, at di­stance we admire, and gaze with wonder, but when nearer to our view, a hundred unthought of faults appear; and the imperfect [Page 142] daubing's seen. Ah! No; there's nothing but perfection here, cry'd he transported, and grasping her hand) I long, (said he, looking earnestly on her) to break Conditi­ons. I promis'd not to ask a look or word of pity, yet my Soul is on the Rack, to know how your heart is towards me. If constant love can ever gain admittance there; if you can ever feel a warmth; I do not hope that it will burn and rage like mine. I must not, dare not hear you (Lovisa stops him) yet I am well; but who knows not, 'tis dangerous, Prince, listening to words like these. Why (said Emilius in a moving tone;) where lies the dan­ger? Heaven grant they prove in­fectious; and you Catch but the same pleasing Fever possesses me. If I shou'd (returns Lovisa blush­ing) if I shou'd (not that I do in­cline my Ear, to the soft story of your Love) place you first in my esteem, and suffer my Virgin [Page 143] thoughts sometimes to be employ'd on you; and after this, an offer'd Princess (state interest) takes you from me: where shou'd I hide my blushing face? For then, not An­gels Eloquence shou'd e'er perswade me to behold false men again. E­milius answer'd with Vehemence, By all my hopes, were there an Em­press, who brought the conquer'd World her dower; and beautiful as painted Deity; me she wou'd not move. You do not know Emi­lius, nor Punishments, nor Pleasures prevail, when I am resolv'd.’ Lovisa wou'd hear no more, nor cou'd she force him from her, till he obtain'd a Promise, in a little time, to receive the same favour, such another Audi­ence; and that procur'd another. In short, the Prince, a thousand ways, so tenderly express'd his Love, that Lovisa was content he shou'd disco­ver his Passion was not disagreeable, that her Sentiments were kind; though Nicety deny'd her words to express it.

[Page 144]Mean time, Count Lodowick laid close Siege; the Dutchess thought it a good Match; her Uncle press'd her hard on his behalf; but she was deaf to all; nor had scarce Patience to obey the Dutchess, in letting him see her; Yet this disturb'd Emilius; he hated, Lodowick shou'd view her, with such greedy Eyes; or have the privilege to Visit her alone. As he was one Night in Lovisa's Closet, complaining of this, that fair one chid him, and said, ‘She fear'd he was naturally Jealous; since he saw Lo­dowick was her aversion, and that all she did was by compulsion, yet still he was displeas'd. 'Tis that com­pulsion, answer'd the Prince, with a sigh, I fear; if you should be forc'd to Marry him (Heaven avert that thought!) what would then become of wretched me? No, No, My Lord (return'd Lovisa) though I am not a Man, yet I am Mistress of such resolutions, that I'll never Marry Lodowick.’ There is one way [Page 145] (said the Prince kneeling, and turn­ing pale, for fear of Angring her) one way secures my fears, and makes me blest above all humane kind. What's that, says Lovisa, surpris'd? I dare not tell you'll promise not (returns the Prince) un­less you'll promise not to be displeas'd, nor think that I presum'd too far, and make too bold a Suit, incourag'd by the favours I to your pity owe. Since I know, said Lovisa, (with a re­serv'd look) Prince Emilius will not ask, but what's within the strictest Rules of Honour; I give you free li­berty to speak. Emilius trembled as he spoke, and clasping her lov'd Knees, ‘Wou'd you, said he, but let the Priest before these two (pointing to the aforemention'd Lady and Billeront, who were in the Clo­set) join our hands, knit that Sa­cred Knot, which only Death un­ties; then all my fears wou'd be re­mov'd. Know you the raging tem­per of the Duke (saith Lovisa, rai­sing him) and ask you this without [Page 146] his consent, or knowledge? No, let it suffice, I ne'er will be anothers; and let us wait till fate will smile, and Crown our Wishes without danger.’

‘Then my fair Life will venture nothing on the score of Love, when I'd forego a Crown for her (said he passionately) Oh! satisfy my fears; give me but the Marriage Vow; I'll beg no more: At this awful di­stance still remain; nor offer at the Crown of all my Joys, your Bed, till the Fate, you speak of, smiles; till there's not the least shadow of a danger. Lovisa told him, she durst not resolve on a thing of such a Consequence, lest he, or she, or both hereafter should repent; but against the next meeting she would consider, and bad him rest assur'd, all Lodowick's Efforts were vain.’ A few days after this there happen'd a sad accident which alter'd the face of all things, in that Court; the Eldest Prince of Parma dyed suddenly, of an [Page 147] Imposthume. You may imagine the fright and confusion the Court was in; and that decency confin'd Emili­us to his Closet; yet in the midst of his Grief, he was not unmindful of his Love; but sent Bileront, with a Letter, which contain'd these words.

A short Postscript beg'd a line to bless his Solitude: She taking her Pen, while Bileront staid, wrote thus:

The Prince was tenderly touch'd with the kind Doubts of his Beloved, and in a short time visited her, re­newed his ardent Vows of Constancy, and Endless Faith. Whilst Lodowick, whose Glass told him he was not Un­handsome; who Danc'd well, Drest well, had all the Perfections of a Young, Empty, Airy Courtier; and Master of a vast Estate; raged to be Repuls'd in his first Amour. One day he grew so importunate to know the Cause of her Aversion; that she re­sented it; and told him sharply, he [Page 149] was Troublesome; and were it not for the Commands of those, whom Reverence taught her to Obey; she had, long e'er that, forbid him her sight. He Answer'd warmly, with an Air too haughty for a Lover: I see too well your scorn; but I fain would find (what 'tis said, we can't in Wo­man) a Reason for't. Is your heart made of that impenetrable Mould, that Sighs and Prayers are vain Bat­teries; or doth some hidden happy Youth rob me of my desir'd Prize? She blusht at that, and he observ'd it. Ah! 'tis so; (went he on) your conscious Blushes reveal it. If I blush (return'd she, with a look full of An­ger and Disdain) 'tis at your Rude­ness. Go— You are Insolent! Durst your conceal'd Lover call me so (said he, throughly nettl'd;) I cou'd An­swer him. As he spoke the last words Emilius enter'd, and hearing 'em so loud, he stopt. When Lodowick turn'd to go away, Emilius came up to him, and looking fiercely on him, [Page 150] said, ‘Is this like a Man of Honour, to be Noisy in a Ladies Chamber! I say 'tis Insolent, and Brutal.— Now your Answer you threaten'd— Not to my Country's Heir (return'd he, Bowing) nor dare I contend for a Jewel, my Prince lays Claim to.’ Soon as he had said this, he went out. ‘Ah! what have you done? (Cry'd Lovisa, looking with a Melancholy sweetness on him) this flies like Lightening, through the Court, and I must never see you more! Never see me more (answer'd he eagerly) Oh! I must ever see you; nor can it be conceal'd! My Eyes, my Tongue betray it. How often, un­awares, I start; mistaking every Name for yours! My longing looks devour your Charms; my Sighs re­double at your sight; and every Motion shows the Fires of my Soul! Oh! I'll cast me at my Obdurate Father's Feet; nor leave his Sacred Knee, 'till he has given you to my Wishes. Flatter not your self with [Page 151] vain Idea's (said she, sadly;) The Duke, I know, will never yield; and my Foreboding Heart whis­pers, this is the last time we e'er shall meet in Peace.’

Am I thus Blest (cry'd the Tran­sported Prince) to perceive such a concern at the detested Thoughts of Parting! My, once severe, but now more Charming Fair! What shall I say, or how Express my Joys! Lo­visa, who had hastily discover'd more of her Heart, than she design'd; felt her lovely Face glow with Blushes; and walking from the Prince, a great Glass more plainly show'd her this disorder. Emilius following, smil'd to see the becoming Confusion that Excellent Maid was in. And forget­ting that it was the publick Room of State, and the hour of Visiting; Caught her hand, and kist it with a happy Lover's Ardency; whilst two or three Ladies enter'd. The equal surprize of that Amorous Pair, con­firm'd it to be more than a common [Page 152] piece of Gallantry. However the Ladies, out of Respect, took no notice of it there; but once re­mov'd, the Blaze was set abroad which Lodowick began; and it was grown the only News the Court was full of. Every Body had got the sto­ry, Prince Emilius Ador'd Lovisa; and happy was she could first Com­municate it to her Friend. The Duke was last inform'd, because all lov'd the Prince, and fear'd his being dis­pleas'd. At length an old Courtier, one who had liv'd even past the re­membrance of his Youth, thought this Match inconvenient, and poli­tickly resolv'd to tell him. He heard the Relation with a fierceness beyond that which his own rugged nature gave. ‘Unthinking, Unambitious Boy! said he (just as the other finisht) have I, for this, with pains obtain'd to bless his Nuptial Bed with Isabella, the wealthy Princess of Mantua; and doth the idle Slave to his Passi­ons, worship the fading Beauties of a [Page 153] Bauble; whilst the choisest Jewel of a Crown is offer'd?’ With this, he flew to the Apartment of the Dutchess. His Eyes carried Rage, that every cringing Courtier shrunk into a Corner; and durst not meet their Fury. The mild, and ever gen­tle Dutchess, trembled at his sight, be­fore she heard the story. When with Frowns ushering in his words, he thus began: ‘You, Madam, I sup­pose, have fondl'd up your Son to this, like a true Mother; but un­like my Wife indulg'd his humours, 'till inevitable ruine has got within his grasp. Nor wou'd you yet cry hold! rather than your Child shou'd grow uneasy, give it the Poyson. I thought your Son haunted your A­partments not to learn the Rudi­ments of Honour; they are seldom to be found amongst the Women! Alas, my Lord! (interrupts him the Affrighted Dutchess) I know not what you mean! No, no; (went he on) you have not conniv'd, nay, [Page 154] perhaps, desir'd that Rebellious Boy Emilius, to make Love to your fair Favourite Lovisa! But, mark me, Madam! For by Heaven I swear, let this be remedy'd, or you will find the consequence will give you cause to tremble! I know the Maid is Virtuous (said that good Lady, with all imaginable Mildness;) her Birth is Noble, since her Blood is mixt with yours: but, that my Son, or Loves, or Courts her, witness the Heaven you swore by, I know not. My Blood! (replies he, all in­rag'd) the stream has run too far; and all that's Royal is lost! But were she my Brother's Daughter, and a Bar to my designs made me retrench my words, or promise gi­ven: Cloyster, or Death shou'd force the stubborn Girl; and set the way clear before me. Therefore I charge you, School your Son, and dispose of her; else I, who have been the Partner of your Bed these Thirty Years, will ever after prove [Page 155] a Stranger and a Foe!’ This said, he left the weeping Dutchess.

Poor Emilius was just going to his Mother, there to open all his heart; and beg her kind Assistance to mollify his Father. He sent Bileront before humbly to pray the Dutchess; she wou'd, in her Cabinet, hear him on a subject, that was to him important. Bileront streight return'd, and told the expecting Prince, the Duke was gone thither with an angry Brow. Emilius fear'd the worst, and staid conceal'd till the Duke return'd; then going to the Dutchess, in her melting Eyes, he reads his Fate; and stood a while immoveable. That sweet Prin­cess no sooner beheld her Son look so pale, and deeply sad, but her Tears increas'd. For the Duke had rightly charg'd her in that particular: She excelling most Mothers in Fondness. The Prince first broke silence; and respectfully askt her, if he might know what his Father had done, to cause those Sorrows? First Answer [Page 156] me (says the Mourning Dutchess) are you so Unhappy to love Lovisa? Pardon me, my Mother (said Emi­lius in a moving tone) nor call me Unhappy, in loving, and being be­lov'd, by that Virtuous, all-deserving, Noblest Maid! This Declaration touched the Dutchess nearly; and she, word for word, told that des­pairing Prince, what his Incensed Fa­ther had sworn. ‘Therefore (added that Wise, yet tender Mother) quit thou thy unauspicious Love, before the threatn'd storm comes on: it hangs just breaking o'er our Heads; and if thou persist, falls upon all. Quit my Love! (answers the Prince passionately) Ah! Madam! E'er you resolve to be obey'd, please to hear, how great a Villain you wou'd make your then abject Son! Lovisa, most perfect of her Sex, by nature reserv'd and cold, unapt to Love; One, who lays not out her wondrous stock of Charms, to catch at Hearts; but declines [Page 157] her modest Eyes; nor Triumphs, nor rejoices in her Conquests. This I saw, and lov'd her for't; pursu'd her with a Passion violent and un­feign'd: I sigh'd, I kneel'd, I pray'd; nay, quite Unmann'd, I even Wept before her. She saw, I joy'd in nothing but her sight: My alter'd Face show'd the pangs, my aching heart indur'd. Mov'd at last, she kindly heal'd my Suffering with gentle pity. And shall I quit the dear relenting Saint? I, who drew her to love's bewitching Mischiefs, against her Inclinations, almost for­cing her tender heart, guarded with an aversion to Mankind, now shall I quit her? Oh! never! sooner I'd quit my Birthright, turn Lunatick, Naked travail the inhospitable World; feel first the distracting grief needs must seize my Dear one, shou'd I prove so basely Wicked to forsake her? Leave me (said that tormented Mother) for this but in­creases the Woe, that my heart is [Page 158] already too full of.’ The Dutchess seeing the Prince thus obstinate, re­solves to try a gentler subject. He be­ing gone, she sent a Page of Honour, to call Lovisa to her. That Noble Maid had heard nothing of these Di­sturbances; and readily obey'd; en­tering the Cabinet with a chearful Countenance. But when she saw the Dutchesses sorrow, her heart sunk downwards, and she appear'd just such another Statue, as the Unfortu­nate Emilius did before. ‘Come near, my Charming Charge (said the Disconsolate Dutchess;) thy dying Mother left thee to my Care. Have I not been careful of thee? Speak boldly, Lovisa, and accuse me if I utter any untruth! Royal Madam (answer'd the kneeling fair) were I to recount the Favours you have done, and I receiv'd, long hours wou'd unheeded pass; and yet the obliging story not half be finished. Here, near your own Apartments, Lodg'd, Honour'd, Lov'd, and [Page 159] smil'd upon, as if I had been your Daughter. Rise (reply'd the Dutch­ess) and if your Soul is grateful, now's the time that you, by one great Act, may Cancel all these Ob­ligations, and leave me eternally your Debtor. Then conclude it done (return'd Lovisa) were it to Sacri­fice the quiet of my future days, I'd live my self in Torment to give my Princess Ease. My Son — Nay blush not my Lovisa, I know it all, nor, were I disposer of his Fate, wou'd hinder the Alliance. Thy Beauty, and Brighter Virtue, de­serves a Crown; deserves Emilius: But, Oh! his Father, whose Rage like Madness, curst with Power, knows no Bounds; whilst the poor Youth fixt to thy Charms, and fond to Death of Thee, never will Obey. Think then the end of this Rebelli­on's Murder; thy ravag'd Country's Bowels torn; Thou the fatal Hellen that sets the World on Fire. Reply not (went the Dutchess on) I know [Page 160] you did not foresee all this, when first Emilius, with a Lover's Eager­ness, breathed his warm sighs a­round you, woed to the sweets of Love—Thou Weepst, Lovisa, and I pity thee; I my self have felt thy Sorrows; torn from my Virgin Wishes; Compell'd by Parents to wed this Duke; I took my reason to aid, and time o'ercame it; so may you, if you will hotly strive. Instruct me, Madam, (all drown'd in tears, Lovisa cry'd) Instruct me, Madam, for I am at a loss. The Heart of my Emilius is Heroick (said the Dutchess) and force is lost up­on him: 'tis you only have Power to charm him to Obedience. Take then your choice, be greater than a Soveraign Princess; Rule your Pas­sions, let your looks deny what's acting in your heart; and tell Emi­lius, that your alter'd Soul abhors his Love; else unite with my Un­happy Son, and meet destructive ruine both. Lovisa wiping her fair [Page 161] Eyes, and looking as if she cou'd accuse the cruel Powers: No — the Prince shall not for me be ruin'd; at least I'll do my best, he shan't (said she.) To morrow, with your Highnesses leave, I'll see him; and after that, I hope, you'll have no just cause to blame me. Go, my best Girl, (return'd the Dutch­ess) and as an earnest of thy truth, see not my Son to night; I know he'll long to tell thee all his Woes, but listen not to the sad story, 'twill melt thy best resolve, and leave thee Spiritless.’ Lovisa took her leave, and promis'd the Dutchess what she desir'd. At the usual hour, Distress'd Emilius sent Count Bileront the well known way to gain admittance to his Beloved; but was surpriz'd when he brought him back word, she was not to be seen; not well, and gone to Bed. Not well; and gone to Bed (repeated the Prince) return, my Friend, and tell her I have Business of Importance. Oh! she has heard [Page 162] the Unlucky Story; and now, in Anger will not see me! Tell her I am Innocent; tell her I cannot live beneath my Griefs, unless the dear sight of her support me. To please the Prince, that faithful Friend went, and came again with the same An­swer. The Prince was vex'd, only he comforted himself, that, if she wou'd not see him privately, he be­fore the World, resolv'd to profess his Endless Love. Next day, as he and Bileront were walking in the pri­vate Grove, his surprize was aug­mented, when Lovisa's Page accosted them, and said his Lady desir'd in­stantly to speak with them both. As they cross'd the Court which leads to Lovisa's Lodgings, the Prince ob­serv'd her Coach and Attendance stand ready. His Heart misgave him, though he knew not why. When they came up, they found her sitting in her Closet, with her fair Friend, who was always her lov'd Compa­nion; both dress'd in Habits for a [Page 163] Journey. Lovisa's Eyes were full of Majesty and Resolution. Love, over­aw'd durst not peep, nor show a beam of pity. ‘I sent for you (began the Life of all Emilius's Joys, in a tone far different from the usual sweetness:) I sent for you here be­fore these two the constant Witnes­ses of all our Follies past; to give you back your Vows, to free you from the luckless Chains you chose. Recal your ill-plac'd Love, the hasty errour of your Youth, and think of it no more.’ Emilius view'd her with a piercing air, and falling at her feet; the posture his humble Love had often us'd him to: ‘In vain, said he, in vain you give me back, what I can never take. What have I done? Why am I doubly punish'd, with my Father's frowns, and yours? When I, but in thought, consent to what he offers, may some God to you reveal that thought; and may you then for ever, justly look as cruelly as now. I stand prepar'd [Page 164] (said Lovisa) for all that you can say, foreseeing the horrid ills that may accrew, if we should follow the blind track, rash, inconsiderate Love wou'd lead us. Therefore, obey your Father, Espouse the Prin­cess Isabella — Ha! (begun the Prince) I beg you — interrupt me not (went she on) If you'll do this, I instantly will go and remain with my Uncle, Don Alvarez, till this discourse, which buzzes thus in every busy Mouth, is hush'd. I'll still preserve you in my heart; I'll see you when I may with honour; and my Friendship shall excel vul­gar Love — Yet I have not done (she perceiving him go to speak) if you agree not to what I've said, at least consent; then I, this very moment, will drive directly to St. Clare, the next adjacent Monastery, be straight immur'd, Probation year and all; nor will I ever hear, see, or, if possible, think of Emilius more. Do not hope Prayers or [Page 165] Tears can stir me — May Poverty, Diseases, loss of Fame attend me, if one jot I vary or change from what I've vow'd! This is not sure, the ever gentle Goddess, I thus long have Worshipt (said the Prince with Eyes all languishing) some Tygress hath usurpt the Face of my Adora­ble; and form'd those cruel words, I last have heard!’ Lovisa rising, and making a sign to the other Lady, who was to go with her, to be ready, hastily catching hold of her Gown, ‘Lovisa, (says he) my Life! See, Bi­leront! See! How have I Dreamt! not worth a Look! a Sigh, a part­ing Word to think upon! Ah, Prince! (return'd that Self-con­straining Maid) shou'd I give the Deluge way, it would o'erwhelm me! Go, inexorable, go; (said the Prince, letting loose his hold) my Death I'm sure you'll bear as Un­concern'd as this! For I feel greater Pangs, than bitterest Death could bring; though drest in new inven­ted [Page 166] Tortures; exceeding all the old. Oh! Wrong me not (said she passionately) to that degree! Be­lievest thou I am unconcern'd? Oh! No! I share thy Agony, my Dear; my lov'd Emilius! Take from my Arms, the first, the last Embrace, that e'er you'll receive from your Lovisa!’ He claspt her to his heart, and wou'd have spoke, but stifling Joys o'ercame, and left him almost Breathless on her Bosom: When, she, fearing her Virgin Modesty had yielded too far, work'd by the Prin­ce's Sorrows, and her Love; start­ed from his Arms; and, swift as an Arrow, pass'd the Chambers towards the Coach. Scarce cou'd Bileront, and 'the Lady o'ertake her.

Thus Lovisa left the Court of Par­ma, and went directly towards the Palace of her Uncle Don Alvarez, which was many Leagues from thence. When Bileront had put her into the Coach, he return'd to the Prince; who, like one stupify'd, [Page 167] leant against a Cabinet. Bileront rous'd him, and begg'd he'd go; be­cause the Servants wou'd observe him. He, by his Friend's perswasion, almost insensibly remov'd from her Closet to his own; then throwing himself upon the Floor, he said all a violent despair cou'd prompt. ‘Prin­ces harder brook to have their wishes crost than other Men; their Birth, their Education flatter 'em; the World was made for them. Emi­milius was young, his desires fierce, his Mistress fair; and, what pierc'd deepest, willing, on Honourable Terms, to grant the long'd for Bliss.’ The old Duke, who thought a great point gain'd in Lovisa's being remov'd; left him to himself a while, in hopes he'd Conquer these Relu­ctancies, and prove Obedient: but he, wholly given up to Melancholy, found the Passionate Thoughts, that possess'd his Love sick Mind, too en­tertaining to be dismiss'd. His Cabi­net and Closet-walks, where none [Page 168] but Faithful Bileront gain'd admit­tance, took up most of his hours. When he was forc'd to appear, his Eyes carry'd the marks of his discon­tent; his words were few, and spo­ken, as if his Mind was still on some­thing else.

The Duke perceiving Emilius in­dulg'd his Passion, and yielded to his Bonds, instead of strugling to get loose, sent for him, and beginning mildly said, ‘I well hop'd, my Son, that before this, reduc'd by reason, you wou'd have acknowledg'd your Failings; rendr'd me just Gratitude, in a thankful Obedience. — Open your blinded Eyes, and view the dazling glory of an Illustrious Birth, and Royal Fortune. Is a subject to be prefer'd to Her? Far be it from me (reply'd the Prince, respectful­ly) to derogate from the Princess of Mantua: She may be, for ought I know, a Miracle. Wou'd my Royal Father permit me not to injoy my Wishes, that were too mighty for [Page 169] my hopes; only leave me but free from others, as I am debarr'd from her I love: That's the humble All I ask!’

This was not what the Duke ex­pected; and as it was constraint on him, to make use of Mildness, like a Bow bent backwards, he impetu­ously returns to Rage. ‘Says he (looking sternly) Am I to be thus dallyed with, Foolish Boy? Pre­pare to Execute what I Command, with readiness; lest my Resent­ment, great as thy Folly, reach thee! An Extraordinary Ambassa­dour is now dispatching, with my last Orders for the Court of Mantua; I'll send the Articles to be by you perus'd, and expect your Letters; Letters fit for Emilius to write, and Isabella to receive. 'Command my Life, (Answers that Afflicted Prince, kneeling) and without a murmur, I'll Obey. Alas! Sir, I respect the Princess Isabella more than you; I wou'd not betray her to Faithless [Page 170] Arms, where she must ever meet with Coldness, Neglect, nay Ha­tred, instead of Conjugal Affection. Thou stubborn Fool (retorts the Duke, in a furious tone) born for my Curse, and thy own Undoing!— but I shall find a way, at least, to Plague thee, if thou darst refuse the offer'd Blessing. By Heaven! — I'll have thy Mistress Poyson'd, or else try'd for a Witch, and so Con­demn'd! Her Sorceries have ruin'd thee! Dost thou not fear me! As I am a Man, (reply'd the Prince, ri­sing and looking with a becoming Bravery) and (what'd yet more) your Son; my Soul has still a stran­ger been to fear! heap tortures on my disobedient Head! Cast me from your sight, and Throne: nought that's Unmanly; nought that's Se­ditious shall appear in all my Suf­ferings. With Patience, I'll renounce all the glorious Honours that my Birth provides; forsaking all at your Command: all but my Unhappy [Page 171] Love; whom I am sure, what e'er you have said, you will not wrong. Princes shou'd not extend their Power to hurt the Innocent, or force their Laws Interpreters to find out Crimes where there are none; and punish where they shou'd reward! Go from my sight (cries the Angry Duke!) Blot and Contagion of my Blood! — And if thou dost not Re­pent, and with my Will comply; unheard of Curses o'er take you! — You, and your dear Destruction, Lovisa!’

The Lords, that saw the Prince pass through the Anti-Chambers, from his Father, perceiv'd additional Vexations in his Face. Many, who lov'd him, wou'd have follow'd; but he forbad them all, and enter'd his Cabinet alone.

Bileront no sooner heard of his new Discontents; but making use of what the Prince's Favour had al­low'd, a Key he had of the Closet; without Commission ventur'd to di­sturb [Page 172] him. Good Heavens! what sorrows touch'd that Compassionate Lord; when he beheld the same Hero, whom he had seen foremost Charge the Turkish Troops, and last Retreat; now extended on the ground; giving way to Griefs scarce fit to be recited of the great Emilius! See here (say'd he, casting his sad Eyes on Bileront) the destin'd Bride­groom! the destin'd slave! the Peo­ple's Property! Who for their pre­tended Interest, and a cruel Father's Arbitrary Will, must be, for ever, join'd to what he hates; and lose the Brightest Blessing, the softest Good, that e'er Adorn'd the World! Many, and tender were the Complaints E­milius pour'd into the Bosom of his lov'd Friend; who comforted him with all the sweetness faithful Friend­ship cou'd Inspire.

Next day, the Duke sent the Ar­ticles of Marriage to his Son; with Command that he shou'd examine them, and return his Answer. But [Page 173] Emilius absolutely refus'd to look upon 'em. This gave fresh Rage to the already Incens'd Duke; and he resolv'd the Dutchess shou'd not lose her share of the vexation. Again he storms at her; reiterates the cruel Vows of deep Revenge; whilst that Distress'd Lady seeks to her lov'd Son in vain; who only Answers her In­treaties with far fetch'd Sighs, and looks of wild despair. She writes to Lovisa; and conjures her to study some means to oblige Emilius to yield.

The retir'd Lovisa, who possess'd her fill of Melancholy (though her Indulgent Uncle, fond as a Father, study'd to divert her) receiv'd this Letter, as the extended Malice of her Fate, that knew no end. And, far from joying at the Prince's Con­stancy, wept at the Mischiefs her resistless Eyes had caus'd. Lovisa knew Emilius was not naturally stub­born or Disobedient; therefore in the movingest terms her Soul cou'd di­ctate; [Page 174] (her desire and wishes for his real Good o'ercoming Love) she writ to him.

The Prince might more properly be said to be Immur'd, than Retir'd. For he permitted none to see him, ex­cept Bileront, and Servants, just ne­cessary to wait on him. The Dutch­ess first receiv'd Lovisa's Letter; and having perus'd it was pleas'd. She Seal'd it again, and gave it Bileront to deliver.

When Emilius saw Lovisa's hand, he kiss'd it eagerly; and transported, cry'd, ‘What Summons hath my Goddess sent? Has she kindly re­vers'd my Doom; and given me leave to share her Banishment? Oh! Bileront (went he on, his Eyes sparkling with the same Passion, his heart was full of) Methinks I cou'd do wonders for my Love, wou'd she consent! With her, fly the ri­ [...]urs of an Inexorable Father! Fly Ungrateful Parma! And in some peaceful Corner of the Globe, fix my [Page 175] unimitable Fair; whilst for the loss of Crowns, Glory, Ambition, All, bewitching, dear, delightful Love makes up, and far excels.’ He open'd the Letter, and Bileront saw his Coun­tenance alter, as he read it; that short Beam of Joy which so lately shone through his Face, Eclips'd with blacker Clouds of sadness, than before. ‘Read, my Lord, said the Prince, for sure my Eyes, only us'd to sorrow, transform the words of Kindness into Cruelty; even from her.’

After Bileront had ended the Let­ter, the Prince remain'd half an hour silent; then rising hastily from the Couch, where he had thrown him­self, he took his Pen and wrote; and giving it to his Favourite, bid him carry it to the Dutchess; saying, he suppos'd Lovisa's Letter came by her Approbation; and he hop'd she wou'd like the Answer. Bileront did as Com­manded, and the Dutchess found these words.

Think you my Son is real in this, said the Dutchess; I know not, Ma­dam, (answer'd that young Lord) Indeed, in my Opinion, his looks discover a new Resolution. The Dutchess dispatch'd away her Letter; and straight put the Duke upon send­ing the Articles again to the Prince; [Page 178] which he did; and Emilius imme­diately sign'd them; and said his Let­ters to the Princess, shou'd be ready, in a day or two. He appear'd pub­lickly, look'd pleasantly; and all, except Bileront, thought the Altera­tion unfeign'd. The eyes of Friend­ship, next to Love, are the most Pry­ing. Bileront alone observ'd his stolen Sighs; and those Absences of Mind, which so oft possess'd him. And meeting him opportunely, he with a concern'd obliging Air, began. ‘What Breach of Faith have I been guilty of; wherein offended, that my Lov'd Royal Master hides from me his Soul; conceals from me, as well as all the World, the Griefs that Prey upon his Noble Heart! Griefs (re­ply'd the Prince Ironically) I've none; Am I not to Marry the In­fanta! There, Beauty, Wealth and Merit join to Bless my future Reign. Ah! Prince (return'd Bileront) why will you use your Faithful servant thus? I wou'd not press, nor wish [Page 179] to know your secret thoughts, but only in hopes to assist, to serve you. Be satisfy'd (say'd the Prince, going towards some Company, he saw:) I conceal nothing from you, or if I do; 'tis because I'll not In­volve my Friend in the inevitable Woes, ordain'd for me.’ Bileront, cou'd not answer then; but he re­solv'd to Watch him. That night Letters for Isabella were to be deli­ver'd to the Duke; on the Pretext of writing them, Emilius dismiss'd his Attendance; and shutting him­self up in his Closet, said, when his writing was over, he'd sleep the re­maining part of the Night, upon his Couch. Bileront, who heard these Orders, hid himself behind a loose piece of hanging, till the ser­vants were all gone. Then steal­ing along, he softly Unlock'd the Closet Door. The Prince was wri­ting, though not to Isabella; he heard Bileront stir and turning with a fu­rious Aspect, ask'd who was there! [Page 180] That Faithful Lord, affrighted to see his Prince look so stern, cast himself at his Feet; and, with Tears, im­plor'd he might share his Fate. For (said he) I'm sure you have deter­min'd to abandon Parma, rather than your Fair Mistress. The Prince cou'd not but be sensibly touch'd to see the sincere Affection of the Count; and Raising him, said with a sigh, why wilt thou not with Fortune, leave the Wretched lost Emilius? I am a Barque, that's Bound for sure De­struction! All near must share the Tempest; and meet the Face of horrid Ruine! Did I like a Coward, (Answer'd Bileront) start from your side in War; that I am now Dis­carded? No, No! (return'd E­milius) nor did I then Deny thy Go­ing. Alas, Alas! It is not now the Field of Honour, Emilius seeks! Lethargick Love hath seiz'd my Soul; and in a Cell I mean to Dream away my Life! Endeavour not di­swading me (went he on) showing [Page 181] him a Cordelier's Habit; near these, the only Robes, that I shall ever wear, a Dagger lies; if I'm preven­ted, that sends me to a long Eter­nal Sleep! Therefore, if, out of Zeal to my advantage, as thou think'st it, this gets air, before I am past their reach, they take me dead, my Bile­ront, unalterable truth is in my words; thou may'st believe me. ‘I do believe (said that Troubl'd Con­fident;) and only beg to partici­pate. I can brook the solitude of a Cell, as well as my dear Lord; nay the Court wou'd seem to me a De­sart, were you absent. No; by our past Friendship, I conjure you, stay (returns the Prince) on that condition, I'll, to you alone, unfold what I've design'd. I'm inform'd, near the Palace of Don Alvarez, there stands a Monastery of the Cordelier's, thither I direct my steps; speak once to my Lovisa; then leaving Parma, Imbarque for France; and in some Cloyster, I best shall like, [Page 182] end my wretched Days. I tell you this (continu'd he, with a resolv'd Countenance) and you know, what I have sworn, if you discover it. I am not us'd to faulter or break my word, therefore, Dear Bileront, now retire. I'll send you word of my abode in France; and shall accept a Visit kindly.’ Bileront saw it then in vain to diswade him, and having learnt where he went, design­ing to follow him, said nothing against it; only ask'd him, how he thought to get admittance amongst the Fathers. That Contrivance is Comical enough (returns the Prince; forcing a smile) for I have here (showing him a Letter) with my own Hand and Signet, recommended my self, as a Fryar of my Acquaintance. I have also a Compound to turn my Complexion Yellow; and a Powder to black my Eye-brows. All is ready; the Letter for the Duke my Father, and the Dutchess; whose troubles for this concern me nearest. Once [Page 183] more, my Faithful Friend, Farewel, said he, Embracing Bileront; who unwillingly left him; satisfy'd in no­thing, but his design to see him again before he parted from the Monastery of the Cordeliers. He gone, the Prince, about three a Clock in the Morning, taking the Habit with him, lest any of the Centry, seeing him like a Cordelier, shou'd give Information, when the hunt was made for him. He pass'd unobserv'd; or if any did see him, he was so us'd to walk ear­ly, and alone, that there was no no­tice taken of it. The first Thicket he reach'd, he pull'd off his own Upper Cloaths, and put on the Vestments of a Fryar, and tying a stone to his Coat, threw it into an adjacent River. You know, my Illustrious Auditors, (said Francisco) Emilius is a very Fair Man, his Eyes sweet, and his Hair very light; to alter which, he took his Compound, and washing his Face, and delicate Hands in it; appear'd just of a Sun-burnt Yellow. Then [Page 184] blacking his Eyebrows, he lookt so chang'd, his most intimate Friends cou'd not have known him. He had put up a considerable quantity of Gold; so, the first conveniency of ri­ding he met with, he made use of; and pass'd securely; not so much as hearing any inquiry made after him. Being arriv'd at the Cloyster, and showing Prince Emilius's Letter, the good Fathers receiv'd him with infi­nite Civility. They observ'd him Me­lancholy, and unwilling to speak; and, out of Respect; askt him few Questions. He saw the Turrets of Don Alvarez's Palace; and after a repast had refresht him, he cou'd not forbear asking one of the Fathers to walk. He chose to go that way; and when near the House, the Palpitation of his Heart inform'd him how Dear Lovisa was. He ask'd the Father, who that Palace belong'd to; and being an­swer'd, as he expected, to Don Alva­rez: I was told (said he) Don Alva­rez was your Neighbour, and have a [Page 185] Message from the Prince to him, which I design to Morrow to deliver. We have a nearer way than this (said the Fryar) which leads us from our Orchard-Walls, through his Groves of Oranges and Jessamin, to his door. This pleas'd the Prince, and he soon retir'd; all Night revolving in his Love-possess'd Mind, how he shou'd speak with Lovisa alone. He, at length, concludes to deliver a Letter, as from Emilius to Alvarez; wherein the Prince shou'd desire him to let the Cordelier speak alone with Lovisa. Wisht Morning being come, our Royal Cordelier rose, and being by one of the Society directed, entred those Fragrant Groves: whose sweets, wafted by the early breeze, wou'd have Banquetted Senses, less imploy'd; but Emilius thought on nothing but Lovisa. When he was got pretty near the Gates of the House, he heard a Clock strike Four; which as it were awak'd him out of his Contemplati­on; and made him consider, how [Page 186] improper a time it was, to disturb a Nobleman's Family. This thought turn'd him again into the Grove, and seeking out of the direct path, some Grotto suitable to his Melancholy, he observ'd a part of the Grove in­clos'd; which lookt extream shady; he, without much trouble, got over this Inclosure, and found the thick gloomy shade, dark as he cou'd wish. Vast aged Trees form'd the grand Walk; whose high meeting tops, and strait Trunks, lookt Majestick; and a Myrtle Hedge grew thick and even about their Roots, which added to the Beauty of the Place. Behind this Hedge, upon high Grass, Emilius threw himself along. His Anxious Thoughts, those usual Torments, a while imploy'd him; till Nature's Reliever, soft refreshing sleep, the effect of restless Nights, seiz'd him. This prov'd the very walk Lovisa lov'd; nor had the Prince repos'd long, before the Voice of that perpe­tual Object of his Soul wak'd him. [Page 187] He found 'twas she, and her Com­panion: Love made him curious to listen if their discourse related to him; and concealing himself, he heard the Lady, that was with her say, When, Madam, will these De­structive Griefs leave your disconso­late hours. You shun the fond Indear­ments of your Uncle, that you may take your fill alone of heart-breaking sorrow: Your Eyes have lost their wonted Vigour; and your lovely Cheeks, like gather'd Roses, Fade; and in their prime, forsake their Na­tive Lustre. You promis'd, when the Prince obeyed his Father, and instead of burning Love, embrac'd cool Friendship: You wou'd mourn no more. His Letter assures you this is done; yet I behold no alteration. Still the days are tedious, and the Nights are worse. When (I beg to know!) will your Woes have End? ‘With my Life (answer'd that Sigh­ing Afflicted Fair.) Though, wit­ness ye Powers (said she, looking [Page 188] up;) who, with ease can view the inmost Recesses of my Soul; and plainly see what's Acted there: Wit­ness, I say, if I not rejoice, that Prince Emilius to Duty, and to Rea­son yields; quitting the Weight, the Burthen insupportable of Blind im­petuous Passion; that sinks Lovisa down to Ruine. Mutual Love cre­ates a pleasing Habitude of Joy; wherein the Mind transcendently is Blest: and which Time, that with Oblivion buries all things, can scarce blot out. 'Twas not with ease the Usurper got Possession here (went she on; pointing to her Heart) nor will he be with ease dislodg'd. All the Sighs and Tears it cost Emilius to gain this Virgin Heart, to bind it in the Inchanting Chains of Tyran­nick Love; I must, with Interest, pay back, e'er I can set the Throb­bing Prisoner free. Perhaps i' th' Conflict too the Rebel, ingag'd too far, may break. I have also a part of Falshood to Act: Think'st thou [Page 189] continu'd she, looking on her Com­panion;) I design never to see Emi­lius more? No, no: spight of the Promises, wherewith I've flatter'd him; soon as he is happy in the Arms of Isabella; the Cloyster, to which I've only seem'd averse, hides me for ever.’ The Prince, who cou'd no longer bear his Mistress shou'd think him guilty of breaking Vows, he left a Crown to keep, met her at the end of the walk, and fall­ing at her Feet, he Embrac'd her Knees, and said, ‘If Lovisa never became a Recluse, till Emilius is happy in the Arms of Isabella, the Church will lose its Fairest Votary.’ Who can express the surprize of Lovi­sa and the other Lady! The Voice was the Prince's, but the Face, the Habit, contradicted that thought. ‘Hea­vens! (cry'd Lovisa, in raising him) it cannot be Prince Emilius! Why shou'd my Life (said he; looking passionately on her) wonder at the Metamorphosis? Was this the [Page 190] hardest Task my cruel Love injoin'd; My Fate revers'd, I shou'd only talk of Joys and Blessings. Ah! Prince, (said Lovisa in a moving tone and air) was this well done? Didst thou fear I shou'd too soon forget thee. Cruel Man, thus to in­terrupt the Peace I am striving for! Go to the Royal Nuptials, thy Fate prepares; and leave me! Leave me Emilius, to my Belov'd, and chosen Solitude. I do design to leave thee, (reply'd the Prince,) Thou Dear, thou only Charmer! Excellent Wo­man! The First, the Last, that e'er possest Emilius's Heart! I'm for ever going; push me not from thee, with precipitated haste; Let me but gaze a moment, grasp thy lov'd hand, and bear it to my trembling Lips; print my last Kisses there: I'll then pursue what, sure as Death and Fate, I have resolv'd. What, dear Bewitching Talker, (returns Lovisa, her Eyes swimming in Love and Tears) What hast thou resolv'd? [Page 191] Even in these very Weeds to be for ever shrowded (said Emilius) and far, far hence removed; at once forsaking, what to Death I loath; and what more than Life I lov'd! This must not be (Lovisa interrupts him): Rob not the World, and your Unhappy Country, of Virtues, which as they are Exemplary, shou'd be Conspicuous: that the Great Exam­ple may incourage a degenerate Age; and make the Subject blush at Vices which his Prince abhors. Ah! Do not vainly wast the last, and only precious moments of my Life (cry'd Emilius.) Death, or a Cell, I've swore, by all that's Sacred! There­fore no more, my Love; look on me, as a Wretch that's dying, as one Condemn'd; without the pos­sibility of a Reprieve; with gentle pity sooth the rugged'st blow of Fate, Eternal Parting. And for the Ease of my divided Heart, which with unbated Passion still will heave and swell, and pant at thought of [Page 192] thee, give me thy Promise to keep thy Faith inviolate. When, I, low as the Dust, shall grovel in my di­stant humble Cell; let me hug this thought; not Crowns, nor Youth, or Beauty, tempts Lovisa to enter­tain another Love; and blot the lost Emilius from her constant Mind. Is this all, thou dear Deserver (said Lovisa, looking on him with the kindest aspect in the World?) Ah! poor return for so much worth; for so much Love, I'd be lavish in my Protestations, were there need; but sure Emilius neither knows himself, nor me, when he requires one. You are for a Cell, and where, think you, I am to be dispos'd? Not in a Court, I'll promise ye! Distant, in­deed, our Cells will be; but the thinking Mind can travail, in one moment, many Leagues. I'll beg of Heaven, it may be no Offence to dedicate, each Day, some lov'd pe­culiar hours to thee. I'll think of every tender word, and look, and [Page 193] Blush, as it were Acting o'er again. This shall be the Banquet of my Mind, all Times, besides those De­voted to my Sighs, and Sadness! Oh! unequal'd Charmer (answer'd the Transported Prince) why dost thou talk thus? Why did I beg for Kindness, when my foolish nature cannot bear it! That I cou'd now, this instant, fall a Victim at thy Feet; and thereby Eternalize the greatest Flame, that e'er possest the Heart of Man! But I will live; and suffer for thee! Yes, my Fair Saint! Judge thou thy self, if 'tis not grea­ter Pain to live than dye; to live without the Wretched'st last Com­fort, Hope; to rave; to love like me; even to Madness Love. And in all these heights, to leave Thee! Parted by Seas, and Wilds, and Alps, and what's yet a greater Bar, a Father's Curse! Thou Cold Be­numming Hand of all-destroying Death, seize me. Embalm'd by my Lovisa's Tears! At her Feet Expi­ring [Page 194] is a quick Conveyance to a qui­et Grave; a Blessing I wou'd court with the same Eagerness, as others shun approaching Fate.’ His looks, which the very Image and Impress of unartificial sorrow bore, gave terror to his words, and wou'd have pierc't Souls more insensible than Lovisa's, or her fair Friend's. That Friend, a sor­rowful Spectator of this dismal Meet­ing, told Lovisa she heard the Gates open; and believ'd it was for Don Al­varez, who was coming to seek her. Lovisa Conducted Emilius away, to avoid her Uncle, out of this Inner Grove. At parting, Grief grew too big for Words: A strict Embrace, and mingl'd Tears, conclude the cruel Se­paration. Not that Lovisa fear'd Don Alvarez's knowing the Prince in his Disguise: only the mutual Trouble, and Confusion they were in, was too visible, and of necessity must have been perceiv'd. This occasion'd her to hasten him away, before her Un­cle reacht the Place.

[Page 195]Disconsolate Emilius return'd to the Monastery, inwardly bewailing his Condition; esteeming himself the most deplorable of human kind. His Body yielded beneath the Fatigues of these perplexing Inquietudes; so that he was taken very ill. The careful Fryars did their best to comfort, and refresh him. He desir'd to be left alone to his Repose; though, in rea­lity, 'twas only to enjoy the Melan­choly Cogitation, his disappointed Love suggested.

In the Evening, one came and told him, a Gentleman inquir'd for the Cordelier, that came the night before. This put the Prince upon his Guard; he bid 'em Conduct the Stranger to him; and contriv'd his Fatal Dagger in a readiness, to give him liberty, if they offer'd to seize him. But he found those Thoughts needless, when he saw Bileront enter. Emilius, with a sad Air, turn'd from him; and said, Why dost thou follow me? Thy of­ficious Love is grown troublesome of [Page 196] late. Condemn me not, till you have heard what I have to say (reply'd Bileront:) ‘Alas! there's an altera­tion of a fatal wondrous sort, since your Departure. Our Duke—Cruel though he be (interrupted Emi­lius) Heaven preserve him ever from approaching Danger’ — The Prince silent, Bileront reassumed his Discourse. ‘The Morning your High­ness left the Court, the Duke pre­par'd to hunt, and inquiring for you, was told, that out of respect to the Princess Isabella, with your own hand, you had been most part of the night writing. This pleas' him, and he said, you shou'd not be di­sturb'd. He had not rode far, before his Horse unfortunately threw him, and he receiv'd a dangerous wound in his Head. He was brought back to the Palace, just as the Dutchess was inform'd of your being gone. This Completion of Misfortunes o'er-whelm'd her. The Duke fain­ted several times at the dressing of [Page 197] his hurt; yet knows not of your Absence; though, when he cou'd for his intolerable pain speak, he has often ask'd for you.’ Emilius lookt earnestly in Bileront's Face; trying to discover whether this sad Narra­tion was Truth. Bileront perceiving his Doubts, with earnest Asseverati­ons confirm'd what he had said, and convinc'd the Prince. He also told him, how he had contriv'd to leave some Servants, with Cloaths for him, and directed him the way to enter the place privately; and get shifted without discovery. Emilius, though indispos'd, prepar'd to see his Dying Father; his Nature was Tender; and notwithstanding Almighty Love, this sad accident toucht him nearly. Yet wou'd he not forget his Mourn­ing Fair, but contriv'd a Letter, which being of necessity to be sent by one of the Cordelier's, he wou'd not use his own hand or name, but de­sir'd Bileront to write the following words.

Emilius gave a Fryar this Letter, and charg'd him to deliver it that Night. Then he took his leave of those Hospitable Fathers; saying, he was sent for in great haste, to Court; and promis'd that he wou'd acquaint the Prince, how Courteous, upon his Account, they had been. Emilius fancy'd his Deportment so odd in the Convent, that their Cu­riosity might prompt them to open [Page 199] the Letter; which caus'd him to have it writ so ambiguously. But they, without the least thought of such rudeness, accomplisht his de­sires.

Lovisa had, the remainder of that Day, been discoursing with her Un­cle of her resolution to enter the Nun­nery of St. Clare. That good Man us'd all the Arguments, a tender Af­fection cou'd Inspire, against it. Told her, that being Childless, he had de­sign'd her for his Heir; which, said he, added to your own Fortune, will, as to Estate, render you a Match for any Prince in Christendom. And Beauty, Virtue, or whatever Graces else adorn your Sex, the World, that is, the Happy World which knows you, with Justice, owns you, in Per­fection, Mistress of.

Alvarez said this, and a thousand more kind things, to no purpose. Gratitude and Love possest her Noble Soul; nor cou'd she in honour act less; when brave Emilius set the [Page 200] great Example. The Arrival of the Cordelier, with the Letter of Bileront, surpriz'd her extreamly; and for the time desir'd, she remain'd in won­drous Expectation; framing many Conjectures wide of the matter.

Prince Emilius and Bileront reacht the Court, just as the old Duke had been in another swooning Fit. Emi­lius went directly to the Dutchess; who almost Distracted with her Un­expressible Sorrow, beheld him as a Vision. After the Dutchess had chid him for his Disobedience; she, in Mourning Terms of real Concern, re­lated the Misfortune and Danger his Father lay under; adding, that he had been, that Day, so earnest to see him; that they were forc'd to own his Absence. Which News the Duke receiv'd with less Passion than was expected. The next Interval, when his fainting Spirits were a little re­triev'd, Emilius enter'd his Chamber, and going towards the Bed, he kneel'd. Silence and a sadness un­feign'd [Page 201] stampt his Face, with hum­ble Duty; and pleaded more in his Excuse, than if he had offer'd at ex­tenuating words. The Duke beheld him, but with no signs of Rage, and with a weak Voice, said, ‘Emilius, I know my past Severity, rough U­sage, and my positive Commands, thy tender Nature cou'd not kindly brook. Believe me, Son, 'twas well meant; I wou'd have form'd thee, Youth, a perfect Souldier; but thy Mother's softness hangs about thy Soul; and she hath stampt thee all a Lover. And since I'm going to the Land of Peace; I will not ruffle the Calmness I've so late obtain'd, in strugling with Desires violent as yours. With my Blessing Possess the Mistress, you with such an Eager­ness have Lov'd; and do not hate the Memory of your Departing Fa­ther, who only for your Interest, oppos'd this Passion: too great, it seems, to be remov'd. Oh! Hea­vens! (cries the poor Prince, o'er­come [Page 202] with Filial Sorrow) must I ne'er aim at Joys sincere! Live, my dear Father, live; though to conti­nue Cruel, divided ever from my Unhappy Fair, I fancy I cou'd bear it now! No more, no more, (the Duke stops him) on this Theme! Come nearer, receive and remem­ber the last Instructions of thy Dy­ing Father.’ The Prince, being sea­ted by him, he gave him such Poli­tick Rules, as he, by long Practice had found most useful; the constant observing of which, has inlarg'd his Dominions, and augmented his Power.

That Night the Duke Expir'd, E­milius was immediately Proclaim'd, according to his Right, Successor. The Young Duke manag'd his Af­fairs with a most uncommon Pru­dence; being Affectionately Dutiful to his Weeping Mother; and obli­ging all whom his Father had lov'd, and favour'd. Lovisa was, by his Order, acquainted with all these Par­ticulars; [Page 203] yet so fearful was he of committing any undecency, that he deny'd himself the satisfaction of see­ing her, for three Months. The de­light of reciprocal Love, being the highest Abstract of Joy, he justly judg'd it improper to possess at a time, which in Duty, he ought to de­dicate wholly to Affliction.

All the Court look'd on Lovisa, as a Person ordain'd for their Dutch­ess; and already gave her a profound Respect. Don Alvarez, who lov'd her entirely, was so pleas'd with her Exalted Fortune, that he settl'd all his Lands and Lordships on her, after his Decease. This render'd it Policy as well as Pleasure, for the Duke to Espouse her; the Estate being too Opulent for a Subject, without dan­ger, to injoy. The Dutchess Dowager prevails with Lovisa to return to Court, and the time of strict Mourn­ing being over Emilius constantly Visits her; his Love, if possible, still seeming to Increase. At length, the [Page 204] Nuptials are concluded; and with great Solemnity perform'd. Billeront deservedly remaining his dearest end­less Favourite.

I think, I safely may affirm (added Francisco) Prince Emilius a happy Man. His publick Affairs are Pros­perous, his Beauteous Dutchess Fruit­ful in Issue, as well as Charms; in­dearingly kind to him; and naturally good to all. Whatever progress he undertakes, she, by his desire, still accompany's him, except to the Camp; where he hath done won­ders, since his Accession to the Throne. Demonstrating that a per­fect Lover may be a compleat Soul­dier.

Thus ends Francisco; By the Com­mands of your Highness (bowing to Olympia:) I have, to the utmost of my knowledge, discover'd each par­ticular relating to the Loves of that Incomparable Pair.

The Ladies were liberal in their thanks to Francisco; and infinitely [Page 205] pleas'd with the Narration; especi­ally Melora; her Sentiments were Delicate; and by a Sympathetic Power, the Misfortunes or Blessings of others sensibly mov'd her Passions. This the Cardinal observes, and im­proves by a thousand new Protestati­ons of everlasting Fidelity. Melora was so full of the foregoing History, she did not seem to listen much to the Cardinal's Complements. Olympia took notice of it, and said ‘My Dear, you are mightily delighted with Lovisa; but I don't perceive you intend to follow her Example: She did not maintain her rigour half so long. True (added Barberino) E­milius, in all his Sufferings, had the rich Cordial of Lovisa's Love for his support; but I pay all my Vows to an obdurate Rock; to a fair Marble Statue; Deaf to my Prayers, and with my Sighs unmov'd. I thought reply'd Melora, (Blushing and look­ing on Olympia) my Royal Gover­ness wou'd have chid me, as disco­vering [Page 206] my Weakness too far: and I assure you, my Lord (went she on smiling) you cannot oblige me more than in comparing me to Rocks and Marbles, and such impenetra­ble stuff: for I have a great vanity to be thought Inexorable.’ Melora deliver'd this with an unusual chear­ful air; infinitely charming the amorous Priest. He snatcht her lovely Hand, and moulding it with burning Kisses, cry'd passionately, this warm softness is, I'm sure, no Kin to Mar­ble.

Unavoidable Business call'd Olym­pia next Day to the Court of Rome. For this Politick Niece of the Pope's was as busy in the Ecclesiastical Af­fairs, as any Favourite Nephew, be­fore, or since. Most part of the last Night at the Villa, they spent in wo­ing Melora, that the next Journey to this convenient Solitude shou'd com­plete the Happyness of the pretended Prince Alphonsus. Reiterated Prayers prevail'd; and that Fair Sacrifice, by [Page 207] her sweet blushing silence, gives con­sent. Transported with their Fatal Success, they all return to Rome; the Ladies by themselves, and the Car­dinal another way.

Fate, as if not fully resolv'd to de­stroy such Perfection and Innocence as sweet Melora's, made offers at a Discovery; offers only they prov'd, and the black contrivance went on. The first Prospect of undeceiving her, was Francisco's falling in love with her. His being privy to the Design, gave him often Opportunities of her Conversation. And you may as well suppose it easy to dwell in Flames and not be scorch'd; as to be often near Melora, hear her talk, and view her Charms, yet feel no warmth. Stifl'd Fire can never be long con­ceal'd; much less the Hottest Flame, Smother'd Love. Cunning Olympia catcht his unwary Eyes Rivetted to her fair Face; observ'd his frequent Sighs, his Tremblings, and his change of Colour, when she talk'd to him, [Page 208] or he, by accident, was near. This in the first beginnings of his Love, Olym­pia informs the Cardinal. He consi­der'd it as dangerous, and being send­ing dispatches into Spain, makes him the Chief Commissioner, and hurries him away; giving him no opportu­nity again to see Melora.

Francisco guess'd the Cause of this new Employ, and was upon the rack. He knew shou'd he disobey, or give Melora caution of her approaching Ruine; if there were Daggers or Poy­sons to be bought in Rome, his Life must satisfy the revengeful Cardinal. Then, he justly thought Melora's hate would fall on him, as well as all the rest of her Deceivers. He vainly hop'd, diversity of bus'ness wou'd efface her Charming Image from his Breast. He knew his Fortunes de­stroy'd for ever, shou'd he forsake a Prince Cardinal, whose Power was so vast to raise him. Yet against these, gentle Compassion, increas'd by Love, pleaded strongly; and always whis­per'd [Page 209] him to save such Matchless In­nocence. But e'er he had determin'd, the Impatient Cardinal forces him on Board. When Melora ask'd for him, Barberino told her he was gone to Modena, by his Order. Olympia now began to press her earnestly, for this design'd Journey to the Villa. Melora knew what they expected from her there; and her Virgin Fears repre­senting Marriage, without her Fa­ther's Knowledge, terrible still, caus'd her to put it off, delaying with many excuses. Olympia had procur'd a Priest, she having a hundred of them at her service; Preferment lying so greatly in her Power. The Priest knew not the bottom of the design; was only told it was two Friends of Donna Olympia's, who desir'd to be Marry'd privately.

Whilst things remain'd thus, with no other stop, but Melora's delays; she happen'd, passing through her Father's Hall, to drop a Letter of the Cardinal's; which her Father, fol­lowing [Page 210] her, took up, and read these words.

The Embassadour strait calls for his Daughter, and showing the Pa­per in his Hand, ask'd her from whom that Piece of Gallantry came? It is observable that Women are so ingenious and quick at nothing, as the Affairs of Love. And the most ignorant and illiterate, commonly have cunning enough to manage an Intrigue. I believe, the Reason is, Love being the most agreeable Passion [Page 211] of their Minds, employs every Fa­culty of their Soul readily; no won­der then Melora was so quick at an excuse. For she, without any hesita­tion, answers her Father, it was a Letter of her own composing, and design'd for Olympia. He suddenly returns upon her, but how comes it then in a Man's hand? I have it al­ways drawn over by one of her Pa­ges (replies Melora, without any vi­sible discomposure) to divert her the more. Though this sounded a little strangely, yet so unblemish'd was the Carriage and Conversation of this Young Lady, that her Father gave her back the Letter, without the least mistrust. Glad was Melora thus easily to recover it, and going to O­lympia acquaints her with the story. Who, thereupon presses her again for the Marriage; assuring her that the Duke's Bus'ness went on success­fully; and that she wou'd quickly be Proclaim'd Dutchess of Ferrara and Modena; will you then (adds she [Page 212] earnestly) neglect the opportunity of this proffer'd Glory; and by back­wardness delay time, till some sini­ster accident occur, that may frustrate all our designs? These Arguments, deliver'd by so faithful a Friend, as Melora took Olympia to be; mov'd her to yield.

This joyful News is communica­ted to the Cardinal, who came that Night, and expresses his transports by a thousand Extravagancies of Fond­ness. Now the third Journey is made to the Villa, where these Un­happy Nuptials are Celebrated; at which Hymen ought to have hid his Face; and only Portentous Omens ap­pear'd.

Melora's Genius still whispers she has done ill; which foreboding Thoughts take from her Eyes their chearful Lu­stre. Innumerable were their Prayers before they cou'd obtain a full Con­summation: at length powerful im­portunity overcomes; and the Car­dinal has sacrific'd to his Lust Na­ture's [Page 213] Master-piece. Who, if her Fate had equall'd her Beauty, and other rare Indowments, might justly have expected in reality, as much Greatness, as Olympia only flatter'd her with.

Six Months this Insatiate Priest Revels on that Luxurious Banquet, Blooming Youth, and yielding Beau­ty. By which time his fierce desires begin to cool in that certain Cure for Love full Enjoyment. Then he, with vexation reflects on the almost unac­countable sums, this short-liv'd Plea­sure hath cost him; besides Melora's Pregnancy; which, spight of their utmost indeavours, wou'd, in a short time, appear; adds infinitely to his Terrors. These Thoughts take from his Conversation that Vivacity and Livelyness which before made it plea­sing. Melora quickly perceives this alteration; and sensibly resents it. Her demeanour was replete with Duty and Love; nor can she but with in­expressible regret, indure this cold [Page 214] return. He excuses it with the cross­ness of his Affairs; which Melora in part believes: for by the publick Di­scourse at her Father's, she under­stands the real Duke of Modena was near a Rupture, with the Pope; and that a War was like to follow. She represents this to Olympia; who puts her off with fair words only.

Whilst these unhappy things were Acted in and near Rome, the fore­mention'd Francisco, whose Soul was agitated with a hundred different Re­solutions, arrives in Spain. But nei­ther the Sea, nor distant Climates, can Efface Melora from his Memory. Slight Wounds, Absence and Time may heal, but this Charming Beauty gives no such; and his pains aug­ment. Then he Curses his Cowar­dise, and calls himself a thousand Villains, for leaving the Lady ex­pos'd; first to the Lust, and then the Cruelty of the Cardinal. For he knew Antonio's Temper too well, to doubt Barbarity would follow his satiated [Page 215] Love. These Apprehensions distract him to that degree, that he resolves to leave unfinish'd all his Bus'ness, and return disguis'd to Rome; and rescue, if possible, the Guiltless Maid from the Jaws of Ruine.

Pursuant to this design, he imme­diately goes on Board; but is unfor­tunately, by contrary Winds, kept on the Seas, till the time is Elaps'd for his doing any service to Melora. At length, he lands, comes to Rome in the Habit of a Pilgrim; discolour­ing his Face to that degree, that 'twas impossible any Body shou'd know him. He rejoices in his safe Arrival at Rome; and vainly hopes, some­thing hath hitherto disappointed the Cardinal's Consummating his Wishes. Then Love presents him, with the false flattering Joy (it being natural for that Passion to deceive us:) that he, saving Melora from the dire Fate that hung over her; she might, in recompense give him leave to own his Flame. Not then considering, [Page 216] that, when Melora was convinc'd of the Treachery design'd against her, she must needs detest every Instru­ment of the Treason. Now the diffi­culty that remain'd, was the getting an Opportunity to speak with Melora, she being perpetually almost at Olym­pia's, where he not daring to venture, was in a great Perplexity. He lurks in the Evening near Olympia's House; discovers the Cardinal go in, by an usual door of the Garden, and resolv'd to watch his return; but was amaz'd to find it not till the Morning's ap­proach. Then his fears began to in­form him, all help was past; how­ever delays must certainly make it so. Therefore he designs the next time Olympia went to the Pope's Palace, to ask boldly for Melora, and trust to his Disguise. But he was prevented in this, by seeing Melora take Coach in the Afternoon, accompany'd only by Olympia's Woman; and inquiring whither the Coach was going, he was inform'd to Olympia's Villa. He [Page 217] immediately follows them; and the next day, with a Key he had pre­serv'd, got into the Garden; hoping he might find Melora there; if he did not, he knew his Habit would pro­tect him from Violence, shou'd any of the Family see him. But here his Wishes were answer'd; for e'er he had searcht far, he beheld that sweet Lady lying on a Bed of Grass, near a Fountain, whose murmurs joining with her own Sorrows, had lull'd her into a slumber. For sorrowful he perceiv'd she had been, by the rich dew which wet her Handker­chief, and yet hung upon her fair Cheeks. He cou'd scarce view this Mourning Fair, without joining in the Womanish Grief. After he had gaz'd, and sigh'd, and talkt things, sad as despair cou'd utter; he spies her Table-Book open; where some­thing seem'd to have been just writ­ten. Taking it up, finds these lines.

Alas! Unhappy Beauty, said he, with a sigh: (as he had done reading) if thou art already sad, how wilt thou mourn with endless Wailings, when the bottom of thy Fate is known! all the woful truth discover'd. This, Francisco, Transported with his Pas­sion, [Page 219] spoke so loud, that he wak'd the sleeping Fair; who seeing a Man so near her, starts up and cry'd, who art thou, that thus rudely pressest on my solitude, and disturb'st my quiet Moments? A Wretch (he answer'd, putting one Knee to the ground) that's born to Curse himself; nay worse, one whom you are bound to Curse, with direst Imprecations pursue, nor ever mention, but when an Invective of the bitter sort must follow. Sure (replies Melora calmly) you take me for some other Person, since I dare boldly say, my Conscience, my Soul's faithful Register, does not accuse me with so much Injustice, as ever to have an Inclination to Curse a Stranger, much less one who bears the Religi­ous Show; which I, in all Persons, venerate. Is this Voice wholly a Stranger to you (he return'd passio­nately.) Oh that it were; or that the Name of Francisco had been blotted with Eternal Oblivion, rather than have reacht the Ears of the Ador'd [Page 220] Melora! Or that an avenging Bolt had struck me to the Center, before I had been made the detested Instru­ment of deceiving you! Why do you perplex me thus with Riddles, (says Melora; the Blood beginning to for­sake her Cheeks) if you are Francisco, my Lord's Chief Favourite, whom he sent to Modena: what means this Ha­bit? And why this strange Address? Your Lord (answers this feign'd Pil­grim hastily)—then all my fears are true; and you must prepare to hear a story, at which my Bleeding Heart sinks down, and my faultring Tongue almost denies me power to relate. What does Alphonsus then design to abandon me? (interrupts the fearful Creature, falling upon a Bank, her trembling Knees not being able to support her:) has he cruelly resolv'd (went she on, all in Tears) to deny his Marriage, and expose me, and his Off-spring to endless Infamy? Oh! haste! Deliver me from these Fears; or see me dead! And is (said [Page 221] she, before he cou'd speak) Olympia join'd with him, in my undoing? Why do you not answer me, and ease my Throbbing Heart? If the Duke and she are both false to Love, and Sacred Friendship, pronounce my Doom, at once; let me not linger long in Torments. Since Providence has Ordain'd you so unkind a Fate (replies Francisco) take to you, Ma­dam, the resolution, your Innocence affords: Let your Injuries disrobe your Soul of Tenderness: Arm your self with a noble scorn; and make your just Resentments overcome your Sorrows. Oh! Do not pause (cries that weeping Fair) go on; though it give me Death. Heaven is my Wit­ness (says he, still delaying) I wou'd not undeceive you, so sad's the task, did not I fear a farther Mischief. But, to prevent that, know, Madam, your Husband is not Alphonsus, nor Duke of Modena; but Antonio Barbarino, the Pope's Nephew. He assumes most unjustly, the Title of Cardinal Pa­tron; [Page 222] when in reality he is a De­stroyer of his Country, and an utter Enemy to all Goodness. As Francisco was about to proceed, he perceiv'd a deadly paleness to o'erspread Melora's Beauties; and after some Efforts of strugling Nature, she fell into a Swoon. Never any perplexity equall'd this poor Lover's; he was unwilling to call any of the House to her assist­ance, because he had not finish'd his Discovery; nor given her a Caution of Barbarino's Cruelty. He runs to the Fountain, sprinkles some of it's Waters on her Face, bows her Body gently forwards; at last she revives. Casting her lovely Eyes, o'erwhelm'd with Sorrows, upon him, she said with a Sigh: ‘Ah! Cruel Man! why have you brought me back to this detested Light; which, I must never more view with Chearful­ness! Yet, how know I (adds she, recollecting her self:) but you may be an Impostor, and forge this Story, to abuse my Friend, and [Page 223] Lord. On that condition I wou'd part with my right hand replies this guilty Informer: No, Madam; what I averr, is too sad a Truth: Antonio is the Man: I can bring you, where you shall see him in his Scarlet Robes going to the Consistory. Be­hold here (went he on, pulling Pa­pers out of his Pocket) Dispatches written with his own hand; which, I believe you know. Melora cou'd not but own she did; having re­ceiv'd a hundred Billets-Doux's, in the same Character. Fly then Madam, (proceeds Francisco) from this most abhor'd of Men, and Basest of Wo­men, whose degenerate Souls cou'd Betray such Matchless Virtue, to Un­parallel'd Ruine. I am certain their wicked designs will not end thus. For when the Cardinal who knows not to put a true Estimate on Beauty, has satiated his Luxurious Ap­petite: your Death (Ah dismal Thought! cries he, in a Tone wholly Passionate) your Death will follow: [Page 224] I have heard them so resolve. Whither shall I fly (replies the Dis­consolate Lady) with this Guilty Load! Not to my Incens'd Father; he will upbraid me with my Diso­bedience, and say, my Punishment is a just Reward for my crime. Oh! Heavens! (say'd she) may I not murmur, may I not Complain: that these Probations are too severe for my Frailer Sex to bear! Consider, Madam, (replies the truly Afflicted Francisco) Parents are Indulgent; and when he shall hear the Truth; which I will also, with my Life at­test; your Innocency, and Nature pleading in your behalf; will force him to receive you with Paternal Tenderness: Therefore hasten from this Dissolute Priest; whose many Lusts and Impieties to relate, wou'd die your cheeks in a modest Crimson: La Cecca Buffona was once his Mi­stress, and Glory'd in her shame. Then to a Courtesan, who dwelt in the Julian-street, he gave, to [Page 225] satisfy his Lust but once, a Thousand Crowns: not to mention the more than Brutal Passion he hath oft had for his own Sex.’

‘My Soul sickens at these Black Relations; (say'd Melora) and Un­born Innocence Dy's in my Womb.’ As she was speaking; a Page enters the Garden, and tells her Donna O­limpia was just Arriv'd; at which Melora, composing her self as much as possibly she cou'd, prepares to go and receive her. But first she desires Francisco to make her Father's House his Sanctuary; and tells him she will Escape thither, if by none of their stratagems prevented, the next Day; adding, that till she came, he shou'd not mention any thing of these Un­happy Circumstances. ‘I will, in every particular, obey you, (an­swers that Dejected Man) but e'er I go, I wou'd, on my Knees, im­plore what will, in you, be an Act of Mercy, almost above a Mortal; and bring to my despairing Soul, the [Page 226] only Balsam, that can heal it's ran­corous Wounds, and deter my Des­perate Hand, from Committing on my Body the Violence, my Guilty Thoughts suggest: I mean, Forgive­ness. Madam, if from your fair Mouth I hear my Pardon Seal'd, I shall embolden'd grow, and look towards Heaven for Mercy; else, I must sink to the dismal Grave, co­ver'd o'er with trembling horror, and never hope with Joy to rise.’

‘Bear Witness Heaven (replies that lovely Creature; her intermingling Tears almost hindering her Speech) I forgive you, and may that bound­less store, from whence Eternal Mercy flows, forgive you too! Yet give me leave, Francisco to add, it was unkind, mighty unkind, thus to betray a harmless Maid; who never so much as in thought har­bour'd a wrong to you. 'Twas Bar­barous; — 'twas something worse than I can give a name to (replies her Idolater, almost-raving).’ Melora [Page 227] interrupts him, and Commands him to rise, and fly to his intended refuge: saying, she knew Olympia wou'd im­mediately be there. He obeys, and departs with the saddest aspect in the World. Assoon as Olympia had con­vers'd with Melora, she discover'd the pressure upon her Spirits; and plainly saw she put a great constraint upon her self, to appear chearful. At first Olympia imputed it only to the Cardinal's Absence, and told her, in a gay strain, she must not be so fond; but however to satisfy her longing, the Duke would be there that Night. Will he, Madam, (Answers the o­ther, with an Air of scorn) and when shall we injoy this glorious Splendor, my dazl'd Eyes have but in Fancy seen? Methinks I wish my Lord wou'd quit his pretensions to Ferrara, and be content with Modena; that will satisfy my Ambition. Melora de­liver'd this in a tone so different from that she us'd to discourse of his Af­fairs in, that the cunning Olympia [Page 228] fixing her Eyes upon her, immedi­ately guess'd, she had some Informa­tion of the Deceit; and making her a slight Answer, goes to inquire who had been there; and understands by the Page that went into the Garden, a Pilgrim was seen talking with her. Whilst she was busy'd in this Exa­mination, her Woman brings her word the Cardinal was in her Closet, and desir'd to speak with her before he saw Melora. Olympia flies to him, but e'er she cou'd deliver her News, Barbarino greets her with this: ‘Ma­dam (says he) I have this day had Intelligence from Spain, that Fran­cisco has quitted the Negotiation, I imploy'd him in there, in a disguise.’ Nay then the Riddle's Explain'd, re­plies Olympia, and relates all the fore­going Passages. Upon this, they both agree to send a couple of Trusty Ser­vants in search of this Feign'd Pil­grim; who should seize him, and lay him fast; rightly conjecturing his design was to publish their Crime. [Page 229] These Fellows o'ertake the wretched Man, before he was got half way to Rome; his Afflictions hindering his swift travelling: They straight bind, gag, and hall him back to Olympia's; where he is committed close Prisoner to a remote Chamber. Now these two wicked ones, the Cardinal and Olympia, begin to consult farther, and take Melora into their Consideration. After a thousand Arguments and Rea­sons urg'd backwards and forwards, her doom is seal'd.

Thus this Lovely Rose, the won­derful excess of extravagant Nature, whose blooming sweetness wou'd have given years of Rapture, to an honest, honourable Husband: is now, by the very Possessor, Condemn'd to Fade, and wither in the Thoughtless Dust. Nor cou'd her Pregnancy, even by him (which wou'd have made Barbarians to have Melted;) move this Inhuman Cardinal. No; his Re­putation is concern'd, and she must dy. That ensuing Night accordingly [Page 230] Olympia deliver'd to this most Cruel Man a Powder, whose fatal Power wou'd, in Twelve hours time, cer­tainly dissolve that well appointed Union of the Soul and Body. At Sup­per they conclude to give it her in a Glass of Wine and Water; they three always eating in Olympia's Clo­set, without Attendance, except Bea­trice, because the pretended Duke was not to be seen by the Servants.

Full of these Hellish Resolutions Olympia goes to seek the intended Vi­ctim; finds her in her Closet de­voutly kneeling, directing her Pious Prayers to a place, where Persons guilty of Olympia's Crimes, must ne­ver enter. A sight, one wou'd have thought, shou'd have struck that Bar­barous Woman with remorse. But she, unmov'd, proceeds, and with a seeming chearfulness, asks Melora to go with her to the Duke. This dis­consolate Lady's Face was deckt in Sorrow's chiefest Robes; yet, through all that Clouded Sadness, such a [Page 231] World of Beauty shone, as wou'd have turn'd a Tyrant's Rage; dis­arm'd the Fury of Irrational Crea­tures; and preserv'd her in the very Paws of Lyons. But the Bloody Bar­barino views her with relentless Eyes; and with his own hand presents her the poisonous Draught, which the trembling Lady drinks: For every thing she fear'd; yet hop'd they were ignorant of her Information. Now, the Plot for the Cardinal's re­moval to Rome must be Executed. To that end Olympia's Woman brings her a Pacquet, saying a Gentleman, in great haste, had just brought it. In this Pacquet, there is a Letter direct­ed to the Duke of Modena; which he reads with show of great concern, and tells the Ladies he must needs leave them instantly, and post back to Rome. Poor Melora inwardly rejoi­ces at his design; having resolv'd to deny him her Bed, which she fear'd might betray her knowledge of their Treachery. He takes his leave with [Page 232] seeming Reluctancy, and returns to Rome, jocund that his Lust is satis­fy'd, and his Crime like to remain un­discover'd. Melora retires to her Chamber betimes; designing to make her Escape early the next Morning; and then thinking her self out of dan­ger, she resolves to leave a Letter, that shall accuse Olympia of that per­fidious dealing she hath us'd towards her. She writes the following Let­ter, and lays it upon her Table in the Closet; and intends to leave, the next day, the Key in the Door.

The next Morning Olympia goes into her Chamber, and finds the young Creature, according to her wish, dead; she makes a dismal [Page 234] Outcry; and having drawn all the House about her, Counterfeits Sor­rows almost to a Frenzy. The Mar­quess of Cour, her Father, is immedi­ately sent for; to whom she continues her Grief at such an immoderate rate, that he is forc'd to neglect his own Sorrows, and turn Comforter. Soon after is Melora's private Interment; where the poor Embassador left all his Joys; Mourning to that Excess, as wou'd have mov'd a heart of stone. She being his only Daughter, and a Person of that Beauty and Parts, I must leave Indulgent Fathers to judge the Sorrows I cannot describe.

Now the Cardinal's next Business is to dispose of Francisco, which he does to the Galleys; where he may tell his despair, and prate of Barbari­no's Cruelty, to the Winds and Seas for they assoon will hear him, as his Robust Companions. The unusual Toils, and the intolerable Bastinado's which the Cardinal orders to be gi­ven him, quickly end his days.

[Page 235]Yet these dark Practises are doom'd to be brought to light, and that by one of the Actors, Olympia's Woman Beatrice; who taking some deep dis­gust, flies to the Embassador, and re­lates to that Disconsolate Father, each particular of this sad story. The un­happy Marquess then remembers a hundred circumstances, that convince him of the dismal Truth. He imme­diately Petitions the Pope, lays open plainly the Fact, brings the Maid to attest it; but all in vain. Antonio and Olympia are Persons too Great, for him to obtain Justice against, in the Court of Rome. So that he is forc'd to leave the last mention'd to the Ter­rors of her own Conscience for her Punishment, and enter himself a Soul­dier in the Duke of Parma's Army; who then made War against the House of the Barbarino's; to be re­veng'd of the first. But Heaven's Vengeance slept not long; the Suc­ceeding Pope Banishing Olympia to Orvieto, a City Twenty Leagues [Page 236] from Rome; where she dy'd miser­ably of the Plague, abandon'd even by her own Domesticks; and the Cardinal soon after, loaded with Di­seases, and Infamy, sunk to the Grave; by all unpity'd.

Thus, Ladies, you are brought to the deplorable end of the Beauteous Melora. And as her Misfortunes must raise Compassion in the tender Bosoms of the Young and Fair; so they may stand a lasting Caution to beware the Insinuations of the design­ing part of your own Sex; who hav­ing themselves lost that inestimable and never to be recover'd Jewel, Reputation: endeavour to destroy Blooming Innocence. Beauty, as we may call it, is but the Paint of Nature; which, though it outlast the Lilly and the Rose; yet, sure as they, must Fade: whilst a Fra­grant Fame never dies. Melora can­not justly be taxed with any Miscar­riage, but venturing to Act weighty things, without her Father's Know­ledge [Page 237] Yet her hard Fate may fright all from Entertaining Motions of a Marriage, how specious soever they appear; till they have taken the Ad­vice and Consent of those, whom God and Nature have appointed their Governors and Directors.