ARIANA  
ARIANA 
 IN TWO PARTS Translated out of French and prsented to my Lo: Chamber Sold by Tho: Walkley at ye flying horse near york House  
Melintus  
Ariana   depiction of Melintus and Ariana   

ARIANA.  
IN Two Parts.  
AS IT WAS TRANSLATED OUT OF THE FRENCH, and presented to my LORD CHAMBERLAINE.   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON: Printed by John Haviland, for Thomas Walkley. 1636.   

To the LADIES.  
Fair sex, to whom Nature hath given what she had most rich and lovely, spring of most agreeable delights, that hold in your fair hands the Empire of the Universe, since you command over men, and distribute to them at your pleasures, either good or bad fortune; 'tis to you alone I present this work; I address it to the most delicate objects of the earth; and as you are that which most pleases in the world, so is it you also I desire most to please. If the very power of love depends not but on yours, whatsoever appertains to it, owes no homage but to you; and these adventures that are effects of Lady's beauty, are not to be offered but to those that may produce the like. I hope there is not one amongst you that will not find here how to pass away some hours with pleasure. The severest will not be offended that this book speaks to them of love, and will not fear, as they read it, to tell themselves that they would be loath to hear from the mouths of men. Those that suffer only to be loved without loving, and will have much respect and ceremony, shall here find such Lovers as they desire: And those that are softer, and who to ease the flames of their servants are willing to take a part of them, shall have some satisfaction to see their own passions here authorised by examples. But because amongst those that love, there are some constant, and some wanderers, and this book altogether takes part with the first, I should fear lest the other side might not take offence to see their humour ill entreated, if I did not give them reasons to defend themselves against those that are alleged in this work. The most severest Judges would find it a hard matter to resolve which is more commendable, either to know how to keep a passion in spite of fortunes traverses, or to change it to good purpose. It is indeed a very glorious thing to make an invincible love appear, that fears neither heaven nor earth, that is the stronger for very opposition, and that would not be shaken by the ruin of the whole world. Such affections as these cannot be so perfect, but that they are founded upon virtue; and reason having bred them, they must of necessity last always, it being impossible that what was once reason, should be so no more. There is none but must confess this kind of loving admirable, but it is as rare withal. The most part of loves grow of light causes, a little charm surprises the eyes, and takes from them the knowledge of many defects. Constancy in these affections in without doubt more vicious than change; and very often they call inconstancy, that which in effect is but a judicious retreat. Change is sometimes a virtue more strong, and more courageous than Constancy itself. 'Tis by it one tames a passion of many years, and repairs all the disorder that was in the soul. Men that have always more cause to love, fall least into inconstancy; and Ladies that find in us so many defaults, do oftentimes by reason, & by a generous striving, that they are thought to do but out of weakness. The law that forbids change, is only more rigorous for us: for it seems we are obliged to suffer to the very extremity, rather than be unfaithful; and women are excusable for changing the least unquietness love gives them. Constancy is a quality too serious, and too melancholic, for so agreeable and delightful a sex. That which destroys beauty, aught to be detested amongst you, as much as old age or sickness. This same Constancy would appear valiant in you, and capable to support vexations, at the charge of your richest treasures. 'Tis she that extinguishes that lively brightness of the eyes, that effaces the colour, that ruins the good look; and that to gain you the glory of loving well, makes you lose the other of being loved. Lightness hath much more jollity and charms; and if by some cruel accident in love there must happen one of these two changes, either of the wit, or of the beauty, you may very well be pardoned, if you chose that which preserves the thing in the world you account dearest. And these are the reasons the inconstant may allege; they that follow the laws of fidelity shall find enough in the book to answer them. I counsel every one of you to continue in the opinion that is most conformable to her humour; and demand of you this grace only, that those that are pleased to be unfaithful, blame not the austere fidelities they shall find here described, and that those that love constancy, accuse not the inconstant. But I stay you, while peradventure you are impatient to entertain Ariana. I leave you then with her; and yet before quitting of you, I must advertise you that she is something bashful, because she hath always been shut up, and never yet seen the world; and that if you desire her entertainment should divert you, you must not address you to her altogether, to learn her adventures. She could not then tell which of you to satisfy, and in the tumult would lose many of her graces. Take her each of you apart into some retired place, and then giving her attention and silence, she will freely recount to you all her life, and tell the very lest of her thoughts. She cannot love noise, or assemblies, since repose and solitude gave birth to her.   

ARIANA.  
THE FIRST PART.  

Room began to resent with grief the violences and furies of Nero, after having suffered with patience the first debauches of his youth: and the people that was proud with the spoils of all the world, groaned under the cruelties of that Prince; when Fortune was pleased to bring forth accidents to cross the most virtuous affections of the earth, and suffered that the Cirque, where Combats were made only for pomp and recreation, should be watered with blood by a detestable treason. But that baseness could not have its full effect, and was not left unrevenged, for that by a prosperous foresight of heaven, those who were appointed to assault, were prevented by a terror, which taking from them their courage and judgement, preserved the lives of those that were ordained to destruction. Two young Sicilians going by night through the City, one of them carried by love, the other out of complaisance only for his friend, and passing near the Cirque with four or five of their train, after they had made a noise with their swords upon some design they had, were set upon by a troop of men at Arms, whose disorder made them rather seem persons affrighted, than resolute for the lives of those strangers: Nevertheless, their number was such, that had it not been for the extreme valour they encountered, they would soon have made themselves free passage: But they that were assailed, being ignorant of their purpose, showed such dexterity and valour, that after a great fight, the other party was constrained to say, It was the Emperor.  
At that name the strangers gave the day over, when they had done a thousand actions too brave to have had no other light but the Moons; and let their enemies retire: But they remained so charged with wounds, that one of them fell down presently in a swoon for loss of blood, and the other going to help his friend, was surprised with a like faintness.  
Their servants, who melted into tears to see their valiant Masters in that extremity, were preparing to lift them up from the place to carry them to their houses, when two Ladies richly clothed, and whose beauty received a lustre from the Torches that two young boys carried before them, came thither with their servants to learn the cause of the noise they had heard before their lodging; but seeing those that lay along upon the place, and knowing them to be the brave Melintus, and the generous Palamedes; the love Emilia had to Melintus put her into an extreme sorrow to see him for her occasion in so deplorable an estate; and Camilla gave some tears to Palamedes misfortune, of whom she knew she was so passionately loved.  
These two Sisters after they had a long time expressed their grief, caused the bodies to be carried home to their house, to make trial of remedies that might make them come to themselves again, and put them in several places into beds becoming the richesse and luxuriousness of that age.  
And there Melintus by the assistance of Emilia returning as it were from a profound sleep, and at last opening his eyes, asked where Palamede was. Emilia that knew well their friendship, told him he was not far off, and that he was hurt as well as himself; but if it pleased the gods, they were both in no great danger. Then he entreated Emilia that she would let him go see him: But she would in no wise suffer him, because he might not yet rise for his wounds; and was satisfied in this to assure him that he was in the next Chamber in as great need of rest as he. Leave me then, said he, to my rest, I pray you; and not able to endure the sight of her, he turned himself to the other side of the bed.  
Emilia being gone, he began thus to complain to himself: Ah, Palamed, what faults do I incur by your friendship, against the pureness of my love! Was not my feigning to love Emilia, at your request, insupportable enough to me, but it must still draw on more disasters! What couldst thou expect but vengeance from the gods, after thou hadst so often betrayed my soul, forcing my words to be contrary to all my thoughts? In stead of ordering all that is in me by a common consent to adore but one thing, I have permitted a division within myself, my mouth and actions sacrificing to false Deities, while my thoughts adored but one most pure and holy one. But for all this could I deny Palamede any thing? or could my love refuse to be forced thus for his sake, that was Author of it? And when he desired my help, should I have alleged the severity of our Laws, to brand myself with ingratitude? Alas! how hard is it to live exempt from blame; and how oft for satisfying one duty, do men quit the consideration of another? At least thou my Soul wilt witness for me, and thou Divinity that art present to my remembrance, that if my words have given a respect to any other thing, my thoughts have still disavowed them, and despised such subjects unworthy of their consideration, and far differing from the perfect cause of my affection.  
He stayed himself some while upon that conceit that gave him comfort: then seeing in how many places he was hurt, he continued thus thinking: Must the wounds of that true affection I labour under be invisible, while for a disguised love, I bear so true and visible hurts? hurts sometimes marks of glory, but to me shameful; how shall I conceal you from my offended love? Fortune that my constancy despised, hath not lost the occasion at what time my actions might well be blamed for infidelity: and after she had graven on me by these wounds the eternal remembrance of that same encounter, in spite of my designs hath brought me to these beds I so carefully avoided. But, Fortune do what thou canst, thou shalt never make my soul consent to lose the quality of loving well. I am revenged of thee by despising thy favours so desired of others: one while thou presentest me them under the charms of sweetness and facility: another while thou leadest me to them by the force of thy inevitable accidents, for to ruin in me a perfection that scorns thy Empire: And I have nothing to oppose them with, but the memory of the beauty I love, for to render all their devices unprofitable. No, no, deceiver, never hope to have me forsake this constancy thou art enemy to; thou mayst well make my affection unfortunate, but thou shalt never be able to make it decline so much as one degree from that height it hath attained.  
Such different thoughts tormented or comforted his Spirit as it received each kind of them, and entertained him till the next day, when he found himself constrained to keep his bed because of his wounds, although there was none of them mortal. But Palamede was a great while longer without showing any sign of life, but that his heart did yet beat: Nevertheless, by force of medicines they made his sight return at last, and his wounds being searched were found very dangerous.  
These two friends had a great estimation at Rome for their Nobility accompanied with many admirable qualities, and acquired the friendship of all that loved virtue, since their honest desire to see the seat of the Empire had caused them to follow an Embassy which the Syracusians sent to Nero, to be eased of certain new impositions. They had made themselves recommendable in that employment, and gained the glory to be accounted the most accomplished men in the world, but yet by differing qualities; Melintus that had a wise, and perfectly discreet spirit, was the more reserved, and more opportunely manifested his natural virtues, and those Sciences he had learned: But Palamede was the prompter and more undertaking, yet with such grace, that for the most part his designs ended in a prosperous and glorious issue.  
They were both of them exceedingly fair and handsome: Melintus was the higher, and of a freer making; his hair, which he wore long & curled, was something brown, and beside he had certain Charms in his face, with such a pleasing Majesty, that made him loved and respected of all that beheld him. Palamede was flaxen haired, his face and body of more fullness, with a fashion always cheerly▪ and who seemed but seldom to entertain his mind with care or troubles.  
Otho a Knight of Rome, that was afterwards Emperor, was at that time the most powerful in credit with Nero, and he above all others esteemed their friendship, and had favoured the beginning of their reputation at Rome by making it appear that they were the two famous Sycilians of whom there was ever report made in the news that came thither of the victories of Corbulo, Lieutenant of the Emperor, against the Parthians; under whose conduct they had given proofs of a most excellent valour. Many times were they the first that mounted at assaults, and leapt down together from the top of walls into besieged Towns, to show the way to the Soldiers: many times were they the cause of winning battles, by opening the thickest Squadrons with furious blows of their Javelins and Swords which nothing was able to resist: In such sort that they were endeared to all Gentlemen, and admired by the people, being known to be of the most ancient houses of Greece, adorned with many rare qualities, and amongst the rest with a valour that did alike render them lovely and redoubted.  
But Fortune jealous of a virtue so high that she feared it might sometime have the mastery of her, was pleased to cross their lives by her most cruel rancontres; for not content to have reduced them so near their end, she provoked the fury of Nero against them, and made him resolve to send to kill them in their lodging, so to revenge himself for the accident happened to him the night before. They scarce began to open their eyes to see the day light, when some came to advertise Melintus of that cruel purpose, which would give them no long time to enjoy their life. But all was concealed from Palamede, who was in a state sufficiently miserable, without adding to it the fear of that evil that must presently give him so unfortunate a cure. Melintus knew besides that the night combat happened by an Ambuscado that was laid for them by Nero himself under the direction of Marcellin, and that the Emperor had been hurt in the hand, and Marcellin in the arm.  
This man was one of the chiefest Ministers of the passions of that young Prince, whose love to Camilla, and jealousy of Palamede, made him attempt the dispatch of him and Melintus, and so give pastime to Nero, who was delighted to walk up and down by night, fight with, and killing all he met. Marcellin having failed that first bout, and seeing the Emperor animated to revenge himself of his wound, suffered not his rage to be cooled, but resolved on this, that a Tribune by night should go with guards to massacre them in Maximus his house, whither they thought them retired, because that was the place where they lived.  
This news that might have daunted the boldest spirits, wrought no astonishment in Melintus, who being too courageous to fear death, prepared himself to receive it, being uncapable for his wounds either to resist, or fly: for although the Emperor at that time knew not where they were, yet that must needs quickly come to his knowledge. That heap of deadly mishaps filled the house with sorrow: some were dumb with amazement, others desperate to see their loss inevitable: Emilia and Camilla would not be comforted, and could not dissemble before all to express the excess of their grief. Only Melintus continued invincible against so many misfortunes, admired of by all that saw him so well prepared to suffer without dread the blows of Fortune.  
Arcas, Melintus slave, who never forsook his Master from his youth, and had always been a witness of his extreme virtue, and valiant actions, seemed to have drawn profit from so fair an example, for he was very courageous, and had form in him so great an affection towards Melintus, that nothing could parallel the care he had to his service.  
This slave could not consider the constant face of his Master, and the extremity of his misery, but that his heart overpressed must needs send forth tears into his eyes. In the end, inspired by some God, or carried away by his own courage, he was bold to propose, that if the place where they were could be for a while concealed, he would assure their lives, and that no more search should be made for them. They would know of him what means he had invented; but he bade them only be careful of that he had declared, and they should presently know the effect of his resolution. He went instantly out of Emilia's house, towards Maximus his, having along with him another slave only that belonged to Palamede, called Nisus, whom he was assured was as affectionate as he for the safety of his Master. When they were come thither, and shut close within Melintus and Palamed's Chamber, Arcas says to him; Nisus, I have made choice of thee to assist me in the design I have thought on for the saving our Master's lives: I am resolved to dye for Melintus, and if thou hast courage enough, thou shalt dye too for Palamede. Nisus without being amazed, asked him what was to be done? Arcas answers, We will each of us take a suit of clothes of theirs, and for fear we be discovered by those that shall come from Nero, we will have Helmets on our heads, and we'll arm ourselves with swords and poniard as of set purpose either to defend ourselves, or else to fallen our lives dear, when they shall enter the Chamber: after we have resisted a while, we may disfigure our face with blows of our poniard as we receive our deaths, and so soul it with blood and wounds, that we shall be taken for our Masters, and so appease the Emperor's vengeance, who will no more think of the matter. Nisus standing mute, and musing on the order of this invention, Arcas believed he had not resolution enough for so brave a deed, and said to him; What, Nisus, doubtst thou to dye for a cause that shall make us the fairest examples of courage and fidelity in the world? Hadst thou rather live in the basest condition of men, than die as the most renowned of the age? having so virtuous and valiant Masters, have we not so much learned as to do an action wherein they may be imitated by us? Nisus interrupted him, saying, Arcas leave off persuading me, I am as resolute to dye as you. In vain have I expressed so continued affection to Palamede, if I should not show it now in the most important occasion of his life: thou shalt see with what joy I will entertain death: and my soul should go her way with more content, if before her depart, she might know that our Masters were in safety. The gods, replied Arcas, will do the rest, let but us do our duty: we cannot but dye well satisfied; for if they be to dye, our surviving them would be impossible; and if we preserve them, what glory will it be, to be commended by them as long as they live? Nisus, let us do a deed in our life time that hath nothing of the slave in it, and declare that fortune at the least hath not taken from us the liberty of dying.  
Hereupon the two faithful servants embraced one another, and being provided of clothes, helms and swords, they resolved to attend death in that Chamber where they should be sought for.  
Though the night was not yet very near, yet for all that their courage abated not, but entertaining themselves with the admirable parts of their Masters, they were the more animated to dye for them, and conceived their end glorious. At the length the house was encompassed with Soldiers, the Tribune enters with fifty of the Emperor's guard, and speaks to Maximus, who told them, the two Sicilian friends were not in his house, yet for all that he obeyed the Commission for breaking open the Chambers. Into Melintus his they enter, and find the two slaves, worthy eternal memory, each of them with a sword and a poniard, and their helmets on, whom they took to be Melintus and Palamede, that resolved to dye, their Arms in their hands. The Tribune that came in but with three soldiers only, seeing that he was stayed by them; What, says he, dare you resist Nero? But they answering nothing, set upon them, and showed themselves along time worthy servants of so valiant Masters: Nevertheless, their design being to dye, and not to defend themselves, they gave them no more blows but what they judged sufficient to make their dissimulation the more probable. The Roman soldiers who increased in number, and wanted neither Art nor Courage, had easily the better of them; and in the end Nisus being borne to the ground by many strokes, and making as though he opposed himself to those that were assaulting Arcas, to represent the dearness of their Masters, gave himself three or four blows with his poniard on the face, not being perceived. In the mean while they heard a voice crying from without, to save their lives, and that Nero commanded it. That cry stayed the Soldiers, and presently Otho entering the Chamber, made himself known, and said, he brought the grace that the Emperor gave them. He embraced Arcas in Melintus clothes, and rejoiced he had escaped that danger: But at the same time Nisus died, which made him extremely sorrowful that he came no sooner: Arcas prayed him to cause the Soldiers retire, that they might speak in secret together; and when they were alone, he puts off his head-piece, which surprised Otho in a great amazement▪ but he soon eased him of it, by declaring who he was, and the plot that he had laid with Nisus. Otho admiring such resolution, gave a thousand praises to so great loyalty, and made as many wishes that the soul of Nisus might meet with a place worthy of so brave an action. After care had been taken of Nisus his body, he prayed Arcas to carry him where Melintus was, and that he would wear the same clothes still. So they went presently out of the house, but in stead of re-assuring those of Emilia's house, they put them all into a terror at their first entry, for that Otho brought a great train with him, and they were taken to be Nero's Soldiers that had found where the two friends were; yet after that Otho and Arcas had declared themselves, the trouble was a little appeased till they had spoken with Melintus. Otho first of all presented to him Arcas, and seeing him in a wonder to behold him in that attire, he made a relation to him of his generous resolution that was admired of all. Then Melintus bade him come near his bed, and embraced him a good while, the poor slave not being able to pronounce one word, so much joy had he, rather to see his Master out of danger, than that he himself was left alive. After that, Otho told how happily he came to understand towards night the command that was given out against them by the instigation of Marcelline, without his knowledge, as he was also ignorant of the night combat: and how he had presently gone to Nero, and represented to him the merits of those he would destroy: that he had known them well to be more discreet than to have offended his Majesty: that Marcelline was to be suspected that perhaps for some difference betwixt them▪ had designed their destruction; and that he was more in fault than they to make the Emperor serve his passions, without dreaming that the glory of so great a Prince might be stained with the reproach of having put so valiant men to death. That in the end having caused the command to be revoked, he would come thither himself in haste for fear the execution should have been too sudden. He told him next the grief he had at his first coming into the Chamber, to see one of them already dead upon the place: after that his mistake, going to embrace Arcas for Melintus: yet he vowed withal, that his action deserved well other respects. Melintus after he had given him thanks for all the cares he was beholding to him for, enfranchised Arcas in his presence, and promised him greater rewards at his return into Sicily. That change of accidents set joy into the place of preceding apprehensions, Otho having assured him, that as long as he should have any power, they should live securely at Rome. Melintus obliged by so great favours, being more satisfied for his friend's safety than his own, testified by the most affectionate words he could make choice of, in what sort he had gained them to himself. Otho that was of the most noble and courteous among the Romans, made an honest reply to his civilities, and for fear of troubling him any more, because he spoke with pain, took leave of him, without seeing Palamede, who was in no state to be visited.  
When he was gone away, Melintus impatient of seeing his friend, and telling him all had passed, rose up, did Emilia what she could to hinder him, who very carefully assisted: but being in the Chamber▪ he was forbid to speak with him by the advice of the Surgeons, signifying what danger he was in. Melintus began inwardly to curse those unfortunate women that lost him so dear a person, and with grief beheld the fair Camilla near his bed, who spared no pains to ease him: But yet Palamede drawing the Curtain perceived Melintus, and desired him to come near; afterwards entreating Camilla to leave them alone together, she withdrew herself: Then Melintus being set, with a very feeble voice he spoke thus: I was never able to think I could apprehend death, yet never was there any man more loath to dye than I: I find that I am far off from the best father, and the sweetest sister in the world, and I dye for a cause that will ever be disapproved of my dear Melintus. It is the greatest displeasure that can accompany me to my grave, that I followed not the counsel of so virtuous a friend, but constrained his prudence to obey the transports of my youthful fancies. If the gods are resolved rather to take my life from me, than make me wise by these accidents, I submit to their justice, praying them to give you another friend as affectionate, but more moderate than I: Yet if your friendship cannot easily change the subject of it, I have another myself whom I may well call more deserving than I: I leave behind me a sister whom I desire you to love, if already, as I believe, you have not esteemed her worthy your affection. I know your merits be above hers, but yet I am assured, she will never give herself to any man of less worth than you. This consolation I shall have at least after my death, when I shall know that with the goods I am to leave her, she is to possess the greatest I was able to procure. The first words of Palamede had possessed with sadness the soul of Melintus, and his eyes with tears; but the last surprised him with astonishment; not thinking that Palamede had ever had knowledge of the secret love he had to the fair Ariana his sister, and not willing to avow it, seeing she herself would not have it discovered at all to any, he contented himself to give him this answer.  
It were not possible for me to have more joy, receiving so dear witnesses of your friendship, if the occasion thereof were not so unfortunate: But I cannot choose but give you thanks for the first, and regret the other: and I will yet hope, that the gods will not so soon separate us; but that the occasion of my discontent shall cease, and I long time enjoy the affection of so perfect a friend. If the estate wherein you are, suffered me to accuse you, I might complain of you for believing that I could ever blame your actions: If at any time I have disliked them, it was rather because my humour was contrary to them than my reason. Cure yourself only, and imagine not of giving me any person that may hold your place. I would not conceive the like thought of you, that after me you could love any thing. Melintus concealed so violent and respectful a passion for Ariana. that he durst not pronounce her name, nor speak one word of her, and so left off his discourse. Palamede when he had stayed a while, said to him, And what say you to my sister? This, replied Melintus, is a matter that I find so far above my merits, that I cannot thin●e upon it without presumption; and besides that, Aristides your father hath his designs more high in all reason; wherefore I content myself to honour her with all the respect I may. Palamede would have answered this, but Melintus told him, that he could no longer endure to hear him speak with so much pain, and desired he would remit that discourse to another time, and rest himself for fear of some greater danger. I will make but one request to you, said Palamede, to send into Sicily as speedily as you can to my father: it may be I shall be alive yet some days, in which time he may be here with my sister, or at least render me the last duties of a friend, if my death prevent their arrive: I have no greater wish than this, that I may see them before I die. Melintus took that occasion to leave him, after telling him that he went instantly to dispatch one of his men; and that he hoped for all that, when they should be come to Rome, they would have more cause to rejoice for his cure, than to mourn his loss. Then studying how he should write for putting Aristides and Ariana into too much fear, he determined to dissemble his grief as much as might be, and wrote these Letters.  
Melintus to Aristides.  
I Was not able to refuse Palamede this service he desired of me, to advertise you of some wounds he received in a combat, and to beseech you by the affection you bear him, to come to Rome to him with his sister. The fear he hath to dye without seeing you, was stronger than all the prayers I could make, that he would not give you so much apprehension and pain. But in satisfying of his desire, diminish your own fears, and believe that your son defying all remedies, will not be beholding for his cure, but to your sight.  
He put this other apart to be delivered in secret to Ariana.  
Melintus to Ariana.  
IT is with sorrow that I make you understand news that will a little trouble your mind: Nevertheless when you shall know that the brother that is so dear to you fears to dye for any wounds, and desires to see you, think not this misfortune so near; but rather that your happy destiny hath brought forth this accident, to have the fairest person of the earth appear in the chief City of the world. You are not to think it strange that he will have you gain this glory with the prejudice of a little fear: you shall there find men to whom love cannot be favourable far off from Syracuse, and that wait but for your presence to cure them. In the mean time I mistrust no ill fortune, nor can I judge the cause ill, that shall produce so fair an effect, as the happiness to see you.  
Melintus that had not yet dared to make a full discovery of his passion to the fair Ariana, had taken this liberty to write to her since his depart from Syracuse, and for this reason was he permitted to do it, because Palamede was over negligent, and that she might hear often from them: so as he spoke but insensibly of his affection to her, intermingling covertly that which nearest touched him in the things that passed, without giving her any cause to accuse him of unadvisedness. And she herself was very well pleased to receive testimonies of his passion without the engaging of her honour, by feigning ignorance of his design: and so they did both deceive one another willingly, if we may call deceit, the secret knowledge they mutually gave of a virtuous and inviolable affection.  
After Melintus had closed these Letters, he gave them into the hand of Arcas his faithful Freeman; and instructing him what was to be done, gave him charge to make all haste, to report Palamedes disaster in such a sort, that they might not be too much affrighted, and to say, that he would have written himself but for a hurt in his hand: then he went back again to his friend, and dispatched this bearer in his presence to let him see how he obeyed his request, and to give him this content at least.  
Marcellin that had always before made esteem of Palamede and Melintus because of their merits, and had not declared himself against them, his jealousy having not yet burst forth, full of despite that they had twice escaped the death he had prepared them, and not thinking that he was known the Author of those treacheries, counterfeited himself to be fallen sick, and sent to know how they did, and that he was in pain till he heard from them. When he had learned that his chiefest enemy was in the worst condition, he sent him an ointment as an excellent remedy for his wounds▪ but Melintus having received it, would not have his friend make trial of the Drug, coming from a place so suspect. The fair Camilla sent for a Dog that they presently struck with a knife, than she made the Ointment be applied to the wound, and four hours after the Dog was found dead, this composition having envenomed the sore, and penetrated in a small time to the very heart.  
The knowledge of this treason made Marcellin be as much hated of Camilla, as he had before time been loved; and when he came to see her after his sickness, she showed such displeasure at him, that he well perceived he was lost with her. Melintus afflicted with his friends evil, though it was not then judged mortal, and seeing himself constrained to feign a passion for a Lady he loved not, passed a very troublesome life in that house. Emilia that could not believe these coldnesses and distastes of his proceeded from the small affection he had to her, but rather imputed the cause of them, one while to the misfortune had arrived to them, another to his desire of being revenged on Marcellin, never ceased rendering him her most passionate cares. One day when he was in bed, she said to him; Melintus, It grieves me to see you so sad in a place where it is desired you should be most content. Madam, answered he, the greatest discontent I have, is, to put you to so much trouble, and I could wish you would be pleased to remit the pains you take to them that serve us, so I should be eased of the half of my evil. No, no, Melintus, replied she, hide not yourself from me, this is not the cause of your grief, for if you love me, you desire to be loved of me; and you cannot receive at this time other testimonies of this, than my assistance, so as my pains must rather be agreeable than troublesome to you. But in good truth, dream you not of revenging you on Marcellin for the villainies by which he pursues the life of Palamede? Melintus, who was glad to conceal the principal subject of his sorrow, was very well pleased at her abuse, and that he might entertain her still in it, he says, Madam, 'Tis true, his treasons possess me with horror and fear, for I see that he will not leave practising against us, and it will be more difficult for us to warrant ourselves from a coward and traitor, than an open and valiant enemy. Leave that care to me, answered she, we must by little and little banish him our company, and afterwards we shall know how to preserve ourselves from his designs: my sister already hates him, and this have I gained of her, representing to her how much this fellow is to be detested. There is no doubt, replied he, but his company is very dangerous, and that sometime or other, those that are of so mischievous a disposition will make others that converse with them partakers of the miseries of their own lives.  
I begin, though late, said Emilia, to see the truth of this you say; for I took him for a man capable of doing a mischief, yet seeing he did us so many good offices, I could not believe he would attempt any thing that might occasion our displeasure. I will not, proceeded she, reproach you with the service I did you in the person of Palamede, making him accepted with my sister: yet I must needs let you see what affection I bear you, and what power I have with her, by estranging Marcellin from her heart, to whom we cannot deny, but we had singular obligations. Whereof, if you have leisure, I will make a short relation to you. Melintus who was well content to let her have the talk, desired her to take the pains, and she replied thus:  
Three years ago my sister and I married on one day two Knights of Rome, my sister Decius, and I Antonine: But scarce had six months passed, but Decius quitting the affection he had to my sister, fell in love with me, at least he would make me believe so: I discreetly resisted him, because I would not have his intention come to my husbands or my sister's knowledge for endangering the friendship that was amongst us, and I hoped also that he would retire himself from it of his own accord. This mildness made him believe that in the end I would let myself be gained, and that nothing retained me but the affection I had to my husband. On the other side, judging of others by himself, he thought Antonine was in love with my sister, and was again loved of her, because they entertained one another familiarly enough without any great occasion; whereupon he conceived so furious a jealousy, that he resolved to make them both away, this rage of his being useful also for the love he made to me, for he pretended to marry me after he had dispatched those two persons. One day when we dined with him, I was amazed to be held back by him, taking me by the arm, as I was going to eat of a dish of meat whereof there was but little in it, and well seasoned to appearance, he feigning to remember me of something he had to say to me, entertained me till Antonine and Camilla had eaten the most of that was in the dish, than he made it be taken away. At that time I perceived nothing at all, but presently after dinner, my sister's young stomach began to work, and was strong enough to expel the poison she vomited. Antonine that was more in years, and had eaten the most of it, finding in like manner some gripings, did what he could to cast out that he had taken in, but he could never do it whatsoever remedies were given him, and died the day after. The crime and designs of Decius being apparent enough, you may conceive how I was transported to lose a husband I honoured, and with what fury I attempted to revenge me on him: and he above all this would have had me attributed his action to the excess of love he had to me, and that I was beholding to him for it. But this mad man being not yet satisfied, but desirous to have my sister dye what ever happened, I could then devise of nothing but the preserving of her life by taking her home to me, where I was resolved to live free without ever marrying again. In that time Marcellin fell in love with Camilla with so violent passions, that there was nothing he would not have enterprised for her sake: and seeing us ever in tears, my sister and I, she because Decius sought by all means to put her to death, and I for the loss I endured; he took in hand to revenge us both, and to free us for ever from so cruel an enemy. A little while after we understood that Decius had been slain in the Appian highways, and Marcellin confessed to us he had caused it to be done for our sakes, which gave me a great satisfaction, and brought so much ease to my sister, that for recompense she dissembled not to give herself to him. Since that there hath been no kind of assistances wherewith he hath not pleasured us, and for which we account ourselves much obliged to him. But to his misfortune went she on smiling, Melintus is come from Syracuse, who furnished with merits that cannot be refused any thing, hath made me endeavour to pull out of my sister's affection a man that she was much engaged to, and to set Palamede there in his place. I tell you not these things, to let you see that you are beholding to me, nor yet to entreat you to pardon Marcellin in consideration of us, but that it may appear to you, that having had so much power over my sister, as to put that person so far out of her heart, I may be able also to put him as far out of her sight.  
Melintus who heard this discourse with much attention, and in the mean time gave his censure to himself of the lives of these women that had caused all those tragedies; not believing that all such jealousies happened without cause; and knowing that women that live with honour, have not such disordered fortunes, dissembled nevertheless those thoughts, to give her this answer: Madam, you always give me so great testimonies of your friendship, that I shall remember them every day of my life: but it is not reasonable that for our occasion you should be ingrate towards Marcelline: I had rather for your sakes pardon him, than you should detest him for mine; one fear have I only, knowing Marcelline, by your discourse, to be a man of blood, that we be not forced to go from Rome, or deprived of your sight to avoid the effects of his hate, and you may judge how unpleasing these two things will be to us. Melintus, said Emilia, do not think of leaving us: I had rather lose Marcelline for ever, than the sight of you one moment. It may be, replied Melintus, Camilla had not the same desire. Assure yourself, said she, that she for the most part does what I persuade her to. Madam, answered Melintus, what ever we do, it will be the most expedient to dissemble on your part, as well as ours, and in the mean time to keep us to our guards. I beseech you therefore, continued he, to entreat Camilla, that she would not use him so hardly, for making him declare against us, and then we must needs depart this City where he is too powerful, and lose you for ever. Emilia taking him by the hand, answered, we will do all you desire, do you but something in our favour, and love us but as much as we desire to be loved of you. Madam, replied he, it is impossible for me to love you more than I do, and this I call the gods to witness, that know the secret of my soul. I will believe this, said she, for my own satisfaction; then she left him to go tell her sister what they had devised together, to keep them a longwhile with them.  
Melintus seeing himself alone, began to entertain his thoughts thus: Fair Ariana, what would you say if you were present? Would you accuse me for feigning an affection to Emilia? or would you rather pity me for the constraint I endure? To accuse me would be but injustice in you, for dissimulation is here too necessary: and why should you refuse me your pity, knowing that I suffer so much pain, but for loving you well? But seeing she is not present, how unnecessary are these discourses? This fair creature is now in Sicily, who knows not my griefs; or if she imagines I am not exempt from them for her love, she thinks I am not vexed but with the cares of absence, not being able to fancy this cruel burden that is come upon me. Yet for all this why should she not know my troubles? If I love her, is she not in my soul? and if she be there, is she not witness of all the torments that accrue to me, for not failing of my fidelity to her? This beauty that always forbade me to discover my passion to her, doth not for all that despise it; but desirous to judge with more certainty of it, she hath lodged herself in my very soul, where finding she was loved with so much ardency, and adored with so much respect, she leaves not that place, but beholds with joy the crosses which afflict me, as faithful proofs of my love, and her deserts. What consolation could I have, if my memory did not let me see as oft as I please, this divine image, without which my life would be insupportable? Upon this meditation he rested him, and shutting his eyes, to have Ariana's beauties the better represented to him, with all the graces and lights that accompanied them in his imagination, in this pleasing trance he made these Verses:  

REmembrance dear as my desire,  
Sweet entertainment of my fire,  
Do not confine me to this place:  
But for thee, surely life had left me  
Even from the time I left that face,  
Which of my liberties bereft me.  
Grief for an absence importunate,  
Horror of being unfortunate,  
That intercepts all hope of ever her espying  
My violent desires, where no effects are gained,  
My cares, my furies bar my life to be sustained;  
But thy lovely object doth forbid me dying,   

Dress thyself then with all thy charms,  
And glister in thy fairest Arms,  
Happy subject of my torment:  
Reign alone within my memory,  
And sustain my day's extent  
For my love only and thy glory.  
Divinest imge of my fair one,  
A trusty consort, and rare one.  
Who still to follow me had dreaded no distress;  
Who tak'st not in disdain my lot of misery,  
Cast from thy splendour but one beam to comfort me,  
And dissipate the cares that vex my quietness,   

Then my Soul in part relieved  
Of the evils she was grieved,  
Shall live content with thy decree:  
Thou shalt be securely feared,  
And in a place pure like to thee,  
Please thyself to be adored.  
I perceive my cloud to separate,  
Already, this same heavenly portrait  
Dispels my troubles with her Soveraigne-ruling eye;  
Shall I e'er well endure the brightness of her light?  
Now I see her, now she comes entirely to my sight,  
As fair as Phoebus seems within the elearest sky.   

Victorious of all my pains,  
Heavenly Beauty that ordains  
Such happiness for all my woe,  
Now that such a rare delight  
Makes me forget all my sorrow,  
Let nothing take thee from my sight.  
I care not much in this content  
Though they prepare me punishment,   

Although they do conspire beside my life to take:  
Full of repose, my thoughts I'll have in order placed,  
While they consider thee, and hold thee still embraced,  
Since that's the only good my passion can partake.   
While Melintus was carried away with the sweetness of his imaginations, Emilia was come to her sister into Palamedes Chamber, and had interrupted a discourse that was very agreeable to them: Camilla already overcome with the love and good grace of Palamede, and finding moreover that she was transported with pity to see him so ill for hersake, had thus addressed herself to him: Palamede, what thing can be capable at this time to give satisfaction to your mind, and comfort to your griefs? Your presence, says he, Madam, which causes in me these two effects: for although Fortune hath handled me cruelly enough, I know not how to be angry with her, in what case soever she hath led me hither to give me the happiness of seeing you at all times. But I would not, answered she, have you buy my favours at this price often, for then my good will would be far more cruel than all the rigours you could receive: Well, see what it is you desire of me: your affection, says he, which I demand but of grace, though it may seem I have purchased it with my blood. You should not be here, replies she, if this affection were not yours already: but I will assure you beside by an oath I make you, to banish from me what ever you would have me, to love but you only. Palamede willing to thank her, took her hand, and lift up his head from the bolster in pain to kiss it. Camilla making as though she would have placed him right again as he was, for fear he might take harm, came near him with her head, and kissed him; and because that, at the same time he gave a strain that made him feel a shooting in all his wounds; Oh gods, said he, what envious Daemon thus intermingles pain with joy? Then Camilla bowed down, and kissing him again, said; I will not have you be the last in pain. Madam, says he, I am ashamed to let you go all the way, but if I were cured, you should not thus prevent me. We must, says she, take pity of the sick, and do for them what they would willingly do themselves in another season. Madam, answers he, if it please you sometimes to take this pains for me, I promise to return you four times as much when I am in health. I will not engage you, replies she, in so great debts, that you shall never be able afterwards to pay me. I swear to you, says he, that as soon as I am well, these scores shall the first be acquitted. Emilia surprised them in this loving entertainment, and after some common discourse, she advertised them what Melintus and she had consulted of concerning Marcelline: but just as they were speaking together, there came a messenger to Palamede from his father with these Letters.  
Aristides to Palamede.  
MY Son, I doubt not but Rome hath wonders enough to stay you there all your life: but consider that you have a father that loves you, and would be glad to see you again; and a sister whose marriage is but now resolved on with Amyntas, and who waits but your return to deliberate upon the happiness and repose of her life: leave therefore all things, for our sakes, and come home to enjoy our friendship, if it be still at least dear to you.  
Ariana that loved Melintus, though she would not he should know it, had foreseen that this Letter might produce great perturbations in his mind; and therefore she accompanied it with this other which she wrote to her brother, knowing well, he would not fail to show him either of them. Palamede, when he had read the first, opened his sister's Letter, which was thus:  
Ariana to Palamede.  
MY dear Brother; you will much wonder that my designs should be differing from my fathers: but I will tell you thus much, that you need not hasten your return for the news he sends you: for I attend you but for this, to declare that I will never marry Amintas for some reasons I shall let you know hereafter. It is therefore in your choice to come, or not to come, as it will be one day in mine to determine with whom I am to live.  
Palamede was of opinion that the reasons of his sister, which made her assume this liberty of speech, and leave her accustomed modesty, must needs be important. Then he sent for Melintus to communicate the Letters with him. And he presently rose from his bed, and came to him; and the sisters leaving them alone, Melintus took the letters out of Palamedes hand, and could not choose but change colour sometimes as he read them: which Palamede observed well enough, but knowing he desired to keep secret his affection, he was well content to favour this discretion of his, since he loved to live after that fashion and so was resolved never to inquire for any knowledge in that matter, but at what time Melintus should think it seasonable; so much respect had he to this virtuous friend of his: When he perceived he had done reading, that he might keep him from suspecting of his regarding of any thing, he prevented him thus: The letters you sent them since the dispatch of these▪ will make our excuses, if we should so suddenly go to them. The excuses, answered Melintus, are very lawful, but yet they will not be very acceptable to them; and now I find you past all danger, I repent me, that I obeyed you, and gave them so much fear. My sister, replies Palamede, will not be angry, that I have given her this occasion to see Italy: but that they may find us both in good estate, return you to your bed again, for I am sure you have need of rest, for the pains you have taken for me.  
Melintus went back again to his Chamber, where being alone he thanked Ariana in his mind, for the care she had taken to send this letter to secure him from fear, well perceiving it was rather addressed to him than to her brother: and judging more to his own advantage of the state of his loves, than he durst have hoped heretofore, he was resolved to endure patiently the constraints wherein he found himself obliged to Emilia: and his wounds being closed up ag●●ne, he employed all his time with his friend. Wherein he was so careful, that Palamede with the help of the Ladies was in case to be able to lift himself up, though it were still not without much pain.   

ARIANA. The Second Book.  
WHen Melintus was most comforted for the health his friend recovered, he was himself surprised with a fever. The loss of blood he had sustained, the watchings, and labour he had endured during the extremity of Palamedes sickness, had so weakened him, with the cares he was tormented with, that his body was not able to resist so much pain. This accident renewed Emilia's fears for his life, and she blamed herself for suffering him to be so carefully diligent about Palamede: Nevertheless, with the remedies they applied, that Fever was not very violent.  
It was at that time that news was brought them, how Aristides and the fair Ariana were arrived, and died for impatience of seeing them. Palamede could hardly yet go, but was made to be carried to Melintus bed, and was desirous his father should find him up, to remove fear from him at this first interview; yet for all this, he was very sorry the lot was fallen upon his friend at that time. Emilia was sitting upon the bed, little thinking that Melintus at that occasion saw her but with regret in the place, and Camilla was entertaining Palamede, when Aristides came in, followed with the fair Ariana.  
After he had embraced his son, and expressed to him the joy he conceived to find him a great deal better than he looked for, Ariana took off the veil that hid her face, and discovered such beauties that she dazzled all those that beheld her. She had a sweet Majesty, that filled men's minds with admiration and astonishment: her complexion was delicate, and of a bright whiteness: her eyes sent forth a lively and delicious light, and conspired with the pleasing features of her face to compose a charm to amuse reason with pleasure, while they took her captive. It seemed the centre of her fair cheeks was red by the nearness to the fire of her eyes, or else that the blood was retired into so small a space, to offend as little as might be the purity of her whiteness: her hair was flaxen, and curled into rings, her shape slender, and her fashion grave and modest: and withal, her clothes after the Sicilian fashion did so well accompany all these graces, that there was not any one, but was ravished in seeing her. She was followed by a young Gentlewoman called Epicharis, that waited on her, whose beauty had been considered, but for Ariana's, and who had sometime been loved of Palamede.  
This view caused very different effects in the place, for it possessed Palamede with joy to see his dear sister: Melintus with admiration, and at the same instant with shame to be found among those Ladies, who though handsome, were most unworthy, as he thought them, of his love: and he feared that Ariana gave a judgement of him, which would greatly wrong the opinion she had conceived of him. Emilia and Camilla considered her rather with the eyes of envy, than admiration; but Camilla having no cause to be jealous of her, because she possessed her brother, gave up that pain wholly to Emilia, who failed not to mark the changes of Melintus and Ariana, and from thence gathered consequences which ruined her dearest hopes.  
Ariana herself was not able to hinder the appearance of the trouble her thoughts had brought her to, if she had not been assisted by the occasion of going to kiss her brother, by whom she stayed the longer, to have her redness past, whilst her father was speaking to Melintus: after that, being re-assured as much as was necessary, when Aristides had taken his son apart to entertain him, she addressed herself to the sick man, who at her approach felt the motions of a thousand differing passions. She thanked him for the cares he had taken for her brother, and prayed him to suffer, that she might give him the like assistances, for to satisfy so many obligations. Fair Ariana, said Melintus, you are borne to command, and not to serve: your presence is sufficient in a place to drive away from it all kinds of evil: and since your arrive I find myself so eased, that I hope I shall not be any longer trouble some to these Ladies I have received so many good offices from. Although all these words were so many deadly blows to the designs of Emilia, yet she would needs mingle herself at this discourse, and answer him, That persons of their worth could never be importune: that there was much more appearance, that he should be weary in being with her: that she well saw Ariana came to deprive them of that they had so carefully conserved: But yet in what place soever they were, they should never meet with hearts so affectionate to their service. These last words she pronounced with some trouble, which obliged Melintus to say to her; Be sure, Madam, you have not so ill an opinion of us, to believe one may so easily escape out of your hands. Then seeing she stood mute, as full of astonishment, and to give her respite to come to herself again, he pursues; I am assured that Ariana, acknowledging here so much brights, and beauties, and seeing us on all sides encompassed with fires, must of necessity fear for our sakes, judging well how difficult it is to avoid the fair desires you give birth to, and all those torments that accompany them. Besides, the evil that retains us in this place, is the least of these we are sensible of: you would not be so diligent in curing that you are the cause of, and is the greatest: But for all that, I will not use reproaches against persons we are so beholding to: it shall suffice me to tell you, that you are too assured of our engagement, seeing that beside what we owe your merits, fortune was willing to bind us for ever to you for so many careful assistances.  
These words restored a little the spirit of Emilia; and Melintus thought it sitting so to dissemble, for not provoking her, and give themselves means to retire from them: withal, he spoke those words in such a fashion, that Ariana knew it was but feigned, for if the discourse had been true, he would not so confidently have uttered it before her: Nevertheless she could not but fear, and was preparing herself to hear Emilia's answer at the very time that Aristides that was speaking to Palamede on the other side, interrupted them as he returned to them.  
This good father was very joyful to see his son out of danger; but yet he was not over-well pleased to find him in that place with voluptuous and magnificent women: though being discreet and of a good nature, he made no appearance of it; and after he had enquired of his son the cause that brought him to that house, he advertised him to go out as soon as he could from the place where he had been so troublesome; than not to seem uncivil, he turned ●owards Camilla and Emilia, to witness to them how he had a heart that acknowledged the favours he had received from them in the person of his son. Ariana left him her place, and went to find her dear brother, whom she desired passionately to have alone, to know all that had ha●ned to them during their voyage. Palamede seeing that Melintus was preparing to make the same rehearsal to Aristides, said to his sister, that if she desired to know all the particulars of it, it were necessary for them to withdraw into the next Chamber, because he could learn her many things that Melintus his discretion would not permit him to tell, especially before those Ladies who made up a great part of their adventures. And beside, he was not willing that Epicharis should be present, for fear she might hear of his infidelities: and when they were alone together, he began thus:  

History of Palamede, Melintus, Emilia, and Camilla.  
Dear sister, my humour being so welknown to you, I believe you are all in a readiness to understand many follies, when you desire to know what my life has been, since I left Sicily. And sometimes as I am considering upon my unruly dispositions, I thank the gods for having given me a sister, whose virtue oftentimes reclaims me by her example, and a friend whose good counsels correct my evil inclinations, and are remedies for those errors my proneness makes me incur: I will tell you therefore that from Syracuse to Rome no very remarkable thing arrived to us: nevertheless we wanted not recreation; for the pleasant wit of Melintus produced such merry occurrences, that our Ambassadors themselves could not live without us, and having had experience of his vivacity and prudence, and some freedom in me, they deliberated of nothing, without communicating it to us. So we came into this City, where Melintus delayed not long to be made known, and to gain us the friendship of those that held an estimation of honour and good birth. By little and little we put ourselves into the knowledge of the most powerful men, of whom there were but few that were not pleased to be visited by us; yea, many times they came to seek us out for to go together to the public exercises, and to enjoy our conversation: wherein I admired the force of Melintus worth, that made homage to be given it in an age so corrupted.  
I vow to you, that the stately glory and magnificence of Rome began to dazzle me: I despised our Towns, and the rarest things I had ever seen in Greece or Asia: I found nothing so majestical as the Emperor's Court, nothing so grave as that August Senate, nothing so pompous as the Roman Ladies, which appeared to me so many Princesses: In the end I forgot all that ever I had heretofore accounted wonderful, to tie myself to these rich objects, and admire them: but in stead of abasing me by the consideration of their greatness, my courage was bold to advance itself close to them, and to pretend to make me considerable even with the most illustrious.  
Melintus regarded all these things with another eye, and in stead of advancing himself to them by admiration and astonishment, he abased them under him, yet not by too severe a wisdom, but by a wholesome knowledge of the vanity of these grandeurs, which he could make no esteem of, but when they served for ornaments to virtue.  
You know that my heart cannot long time endure without passion, and having left with the air of my Country, the affections also I had there, I thought the time long, till I were already engaged in the search of some one of those great Ladies, with whom I promised myself more felicity than the gods themselves taste of.  
One day when they carried us to the Theatre to see the spectacles, I happened to be very near to two Ladies, whose beauty presently drew my eyes that way, and they were so fastened on that consideration, that Melintus being aware of my great attention, passed his hand before my sight, and said to me laughing; You are seeking to have yourself hurt, believe me, and retire yourself. I was at that time engaged in the choice I was to make of one of these two, and that surprise did something divert me from my thoughts, though not from my design; I confessed to him that I found them very handsome, and that I would be very desirous to be able to come near to them; but the press was so great about them, that that was impossible for me. They were set upon rich seats, having cushions under their arms, and under their feet; and that delicateness pleased me infinitely: they that were about them did their duties with such respect to them, that this very honour added yet much more to the estimation I began to have of them. She that was nearest me seemed to have more sweetness, and more familiarly to treat those that spoke to her: The other appeared more severe, and of an humour to usurp a great Empire over them that sought to serve her. For me that desire not to employ so many days in the pursuit, and when the quality of these Ladies, and the quantity of suitors persuaded that I should but lose my labour, I was resolved for her I found most easy, and that seemed also to have something in her more agreeable. I enquired after their names, and learned how they were called Emilia and Camilla, two sisters, widows, whose beauties were of a very high estimation at Rome; the one of them, which was Emilia, had not any favourite in appearance, using contemptuously all her lovers, and governing herself with much discretion: and the other that was nearest, called Camilla, amongst those that served her, had the rumour to be entirely possessed by Marcellin, one most powerful near the Emperor.  
The authority of this rival a little amazed me, but yet it made me not discouraged, but contrary I believed I might more easily obtain a good that was granted to another: and when I was at my lodging, I began to muse and walk about a great pace: Melintus, that had observed how I had stayed myself long upon Camilla's face, set him also to walk up and down, and muse as I did, and after many turns he came near me, and said, Hide not from me your thoughts, and I will tell you mine: Never, said I to him, have I concealed any thing from you. I will tell you then, says he, that within these three or four hours I am extremely in love. And so am I also, answered I. Can that be possible, replies he? But may I tell you the subject of my affection? As freely, said I to him, as I shall tell you mine: I love, says he, one of those Ladies that sat near us at the Theatre: I answered him, and so do I; but which of them pleases you best? She that shall please you least, said he to me. But I assured him that I would always receive law from him, so far was I from prescribing him any thing. I will tell you then, continued he, that I love Camilla. I said to him, a little astonished, and I also; then recomforting me, I added, but for a small matter you shall give me at my return, I quit her to you, upon condition you will assist me to gain Emilia. And I, says he to me laughing, give you both of them for the interest I pretend in them. Then, coming to myself, and knowing he would mock me, I said to him, that he would think himself wronged to have these Dames accounted worthy of him: But for my part I was not so delicate, and would ever seek out pleasures proportionable to my humour, and my power. I fear me, said he, lest your humour carries you to a place where your power shall not be received: then seriously he represented to me the troublesome encounters I should meet with in that pursuit, that same Lady being prepossessed, and that rival too powerful, and already in possession: but these difficulties rather increased my desire, than his reasons diminished it.  
Therefore I studied the means to have entrance into her house, and that was not very hard for me, for the two sisters refused not persons of honest quality the access to it, and so by the intercession of one of our friends, we were soon received with honour. Melintus was not there any long time, but be made himself be known for a most complete Gentleman, and beloved, as in all other places he frequents.  
I never envied at the esteem was made of him, but yet I was angry that he that had the least design was best entertained: yet my free humour was not very disagreeable to Camilla: She loved to laugh, and I am none of the saddest: she was delighted to hear me play on the Harp, and many times mingled her voice with my sounds, which thing got me a little familiarity with her. When I would have opened the matter of my affection to her, she received at first my words as coming from courtesy that obliged me to express the particular estimation I had of her: but because I would not leave her in that opinion, and desired she might be assured of the violence of my passion, I said to her, Madam, you have not a beauty that will be loved only for good fashion sake. I beseech you to believe for a truth, that as you are the fairest, so I am the most passionate of the world, and that no consideration shall ever hinder me to dye at your service. Camilla seeing she was to answer these speeches otherwise than she had done the other, said coldly to me, that it was but a very little while that she knew me, to be assured of my humour: and that she would teach me hers, which was to know well how to punish those that abused her freedom, and take away the favours she had granted them, when they began to seek for other favours they ought not to pretend to. These words which I understood not, a little amazed me, nevertheless I said to her presently; And my humour also, Madam, shall be, never to love any but you, what ever rigour it shall please you to declare. The coming in of Marcelin broke off that discourse, yet as she rose up she said beside to me; If you be wise you will change your speech and design, and so left me as much confounded as I had been all my life time.  
A little after I went out, leaving Marcelin with Camilla, and Melintus with Emilia. She, as you have seen, exceeds not her sister in beauty, but much in wit, and knowledge how to get credit and authority over them that ordinarily see her, and Camilla too leaves herself wholly to be governed by her.  
Melintus in the evening returning home where I was, found me studying the ways to gain the good graces of Emilia, so to attain those of her sisters, and casting upon a thousand fancies, one while on the condition of my fortune which I found so broken down; another while on the means of relieving it. Seeing me so sad and pensive, he came to tell me, little dreaming of my displeasure, that he began to be of this mind, that one could not be happy without loving. I said to him, that this happiness is often mixed with bitterness: for all that, says he, I see you so well pleased, and pass such sweet hours with Camilla; but to me that can find here no beauty to please me, entertainments of women are but punishments. Then I looked upon him, and seeing he could not hinder himself from laughing, I cried out, Ha! Melintus, mock not at the afflicted: is this the care you ought to have of helping me, and one of the effects of that friendship you promised me, for to please yourself in augmenting my grief? This is not my aim, says he to me, to torment you, but to make you know, that you are to follow my advice another time. I confessed to him that I had been faulty, but since I was entered into that straight, I must either pass through it, or dye. And what help, says Melintus to me? Yourself, answered I If this means, says he to me, be as profitable to you, as it is sure, I account you already very happy: you are but to propose that you desire I should do. Feign yourself, says I to him, to be in love with Emilia, and having acquired her good graces, oblige her to give me part in her sisters. Do you believe, says he, that I can do that with Emilia, which you cannot with Camilla? or that I may obtain by a feigned, that which you cannot by a real affection? Do but try to love her, said I, in deed, and you will take pleasure to serve my turn and your own also. He answered me, if I be as unfortunate as you, who shall comfort us then? I am assured, said I, you will not be so, for already Emilia admires the good qualities are in you, and will without doubt joyfully receive the offer of your service. I did never, says he, observe any thing in me that might give me this presumption, yet I confess that I cannot esteem of that is in her, nor love a thing that has so many faults, as there are in those kind of women that give entertainment to all comers, and whose vanity, avariciousnesse, and impudence are insufferable: well for all that, after I had let him speak many things against these women, I knew so well to work the forcing of his humour for my sake, that in the end he promised me to feign a loving of her, since nothing but his pains remained to serve me, without out fear to engage himself, and assured me that he would employ all the advantages he could have, to favour my purposes, not willing to pretend any other favour for his services.  
It cannot be, Ariana interrupted him, but Melintus is a despiser of women, to have had so much trouble to be resolved of sacrificing some hours for your contentment. It is not, replied Palamede, that he despises them: for he never is wanting to give that honour and esteem that is due to those he sees, but I believe that to this day he has not found any thing that deserves to be perfectly loved of him, and that a virtuous man as he is, is not pleased to speak one thing, and mean another: and in that very thing I was assured of the friendship he bore to me: for against his own mind he so counterfeited to give himself to Emilia, that I thought he had been in love indeed. It may be, replied Ariana, the counterfeiting turned into earnest, and this disdainful man finding facility and sweetness would not contemn that good fortune was presented to him. You shall hear, continues Palamede, in what sort he used his advantages.  
Emilia until then had made nothing appear to all her lovers, but contempt, and indifferency, yea some had she handled with so much cruelty, that despair had reduced them to extreme resolutions: for there is no doubt but she hath charms unavoidable to any other but Melintus, and is skilled in the managing of wits with so much dexterity, that she acquires an absolute command over all that approach her: among the rest she was more continually served by one called Trebacius Captain of the Emperor's guard, who for all the passionate duties a lover could perform, had proved all the rigours that a Mistress could inflict: But that woman that had brought forth so much love without receiving any, did at this time take, without giving any.  
At first meeting she received with joy Melintus offers, as a conquest she had desired, having then no other plot, but to keep that acquisition, yea she dissembled not to glory of it, and to signify her contentment to her other lovers, the more to provoke them: she used them with more cruelty and contempt than ever, in such sort that Trebacius not able to endure such sensible objects of ill entreaty and jealousy, was in the end forced to resolve with himself never to see her more. But love that would be revenged of all her disdains, made her observe so many perfections in Melintus, and sweetness in his conversation, that she began to feel cares, and unquietness when he was absent, and motions of joy (which were not ordinary with her) when she saw him. She would have rejected those torments, which were not known to her but by the complaints of them she had made suffer so much, but it was impossible for her; and in the end she was brought to that pass, to comfort herself in this belief that Melintus felt no less torment for her.  
Melintus soon perceived the effect as well of his words, as of his duties, and thought it fit for the good ordering of this advantage that he must feign not to seek out of discretion what he shunned out of design. He gave me advice of all; and we had so ordered the matter, that for not provoking of Marcelin, I was not before him to express any purpose for Camilla, but rather to make him believe that we had too much respect to him for to enterprise upon his loves. This assurance we gave him, and some good offices we did him, gained us entirely his friendship, even so far, that he made report of us to the Emperor, and made him desirous to see us.  
Then lived I happy enough, because Melintus willing to avoid the occasions of being alone with Emilia, that he might not have cause to press her, had found out a device to deliver himself out of that pain, and give me much commodity and content. For having observed that Marcelin made himself a state's man, and would seem able to speak upon any kind of subject, yet and sought his entertainment, to make it appear that he loved no company to that of the learned, at what time Melintus saw him most busy about Camilla, he entered in his discourse with Emilia upon subjects that were very high; and Marcelin lest he might seem to recoil for ignorance, left Camilla to join himself to those discourses which Melintus knew how to prolong, and then to begin others, wherein Marcelin was so far engaged, that he lost the remembrance of Camilla, and so left me the place free; while Melintus also delivered himself from the discourses he had been obliged to hold with Emilia altogether contrary to his thoughts.  
Since the cruel answer Camilla gave me, I dared not take up that language any more, fearing I might wholly ruin myself; only I rendered her little devoires and complaisances, staying till Melintus might oblige Emilia to speak something in my favour: in the end was this occasion presented.  
Marcelin had spoken of us to the Emperor, and amongst other of Melintus qualities, had commended him for making excellent Greek verses, and had said of me that I could play on the Harp; nay more, that therein we had been Victors in Greece at the Olympic games: these were then the dearest pastimes of that Prince, to compose and repeat verses upon the Theatre, and to play and sing in presence of the people, to the envy of those that were acquainted with such exercises. Melintus and I having saluted Nero, he commanded us to prepare our seluès two days after to ascend the Treatre with him, and dispute the prizes appointed for the conquerors.  
It was against his will that Melintus resolved to obey, and appear in an action so little becoming the greatness of his courage: But yet though it were some shame to see so great a Prince so passionately to seek for honours so vain, and so unworthy of his Majesty; when I saw myself upon the Theatre proudly clothed, with the chiefest men of the earth, upon cloth of gold and purple; the Emperor's guards about us, and an infinite number of people shouting with acclamations and applauses, my heart conceived joys my mouth is not able to express. Only I will tell you that Melintus appeared in his rang attired like Orpheus, when he went to hell to demand Eurydice, and repeated that Elegant Poem you have sometimes heard him speak of, with which he so ravished the people's ears, that the end of his repetition was followed with a thousand acclamations of applause.  
I was disguised into Apollo, and had a laurel near me to represent him when Daphne whom he pursued was changed into that tree, and accommodating my voice to the Music of my Harp, I sung these verses.  

LOvely daughter of Peneus,  
That hadst compelled me to thy lure,  
And is thy life departed from us,  
Into this wood a tree t'endure!   

Alas for to avoid my love,  
Thou many cries to heaven didst send:  
Thy voice hath moved the gods above;  
A God could never make thee bend.   

Less quick I wished thee to be;  
Heavens smiling when I prayed,  
immovable by rendering thee,  
More than I desired, have stayed.   

Thy running did me much importune,  
Thou wert in dread of my embrace;  
And our desires by this thy fortune,  
Were heard, and turned to our disgrace.   

O Daphne! what funest desire  
Hath made thee thus the light despise?  
Sweet Daphne, or to life retire,  
Or else restore my liberties.   

Why do I tempt a thing impossible,  
I lose my words that lost my way:  
If when a Nymph she was insensible,  
These branches hear not what I say.   

Let thy leaves be green for ever  
Laurel of my ill glorious:  
Let them always my head cover,  
And front of the victorious.   
Camilla and Emilia were not very far off us, and I was more pleased that Camilla approved, with a nod of her head, that I had sung, than with some clapping of hands that followed in my favour. When all had been presented in their turns, and they were to judge of the prizes, Nero was proclaimed Conqueror: Yet the second honours were adjudged to us. Melintus received a crown of gold enriched with diamonds and pearls; and I a Harp adorned with a thousand Emeralds, upon whose top is a Lion's head with open jaws, and the tongue that comes out of them made of an entire ruby. I wonder, said Ariana, justice should be given to strangers, when in appearance it was not well kept in the person of Nero. If the Judges, replies Palamede, were not so just as they should have been, the Emperor himself corrected their judgement, which thing got him less envy, and Melintus the more glory, for having received the crown of laurel, he put it upon Melintus head, and to testify the pleasure he had taken in hearing him recite, he offered him any suit he would make. Melintus, after he had thanked him for so many favours without much considering on the matter demanded of him, as you have heard, the exemption of customs for the City of Syracuse. Nero admiring his generosity for preferring the good of his country to his particular advantage, granted him his request, with other privileges for our City, and gave him many presents beside; and more than that, he gave us the title of Citizens of Rome, with all the honour he was able to favour us with.  
This Prince hath good intermissions, and sometimes does actions worthy of his greatness, but they are presently darkened by a number of prodigious crimes, wherewith he nothing fears to stain the honour of his Majesty: and very often he pleases himself, to exercise the greatest cruelties upon those he hath made most of, as but lately his Mother, Burrus, and many others serve for examples, and we ourselves a few days since were very near running the like fortune. But let us leave these troublesome thoughts, to pursue the happy adventures arrived to us in this famous journey.  
When Palamede would have gone forward with his discourse, Ariana and he heard a noise in Melintus chamber, as it had been of many persons coming to visit him. By and by they were asked for, because it was Otho that came to take leave of them, going to make a great voyage. And already was he speaking to Melintus in secret, and Palamede being admitted, he learned them these sad news, that he was in disgrace with Nero, that the Emperor was in love with Sabina his wife, and would have her wholly to himself, and for that cause sent him to the farthest of all Spain to govern Lusitania: That it much grieved him to leave them to the mercy of Marcelin, whose favour augmenting with the spoils of his, it was to be feared they fell not into his power: But that they might securely serve themselves of those friends were left them in Rome, who were not unknown to them. Melintus deplored his misfortune, and expressed to him how great a part they took in his disgrace, that deprived them of a friend so earnest for their safety. But he was constrained to give over that speech, because Otho regarding nothing was said to him, was so attentive in considering Ariana's marvellous beauty, that nothing could divert him. Palamede said to him, she you look on is my sister, who is come hither from Sicily with my father, having understood my sickness. Otho for all that, ceased not to study, having his eyes continually fixed upon Ariana; then all on the sudden they saw him blush; and a little after that blood which had dispearced itself upon his cheeks was forced to run towards his heart, that would have been gone to hinder his departing, & left his face without colour. Otho finding himself to faint, prayed Palamede to carry him into his chamber, and that they might be there alone. As soon as they were entered, he let himself fall backward upon the bed. Palamede asked him what he ailed, but he could not answer. What effect more sudden and more rare could an excellent beauty produce? But it ought not to be found so strange, considering the divine aspects of Ariana, working on a subject nourished up in delights, and capable to receive easily those strong impressions. Otho in the end after a great sigh, said to Palamede: Ah! dear friend how dangerous was the sight of your sister to me, and what troubles hath she made me in so little a time. I did at first meeting receive this sight with so much liking, as it had been a remedy happily sent from heaven against the displeasures I endured: Me thought I entreated that fair face to bring forth a passion in me, that might dispel the cares of my disgrace, and the cruel regret for Sabina's loss: But wretched exchange, and cure that brings me death! I lost all in one day, my delights, my honours and the most aspiring hopes of the earth, and having found a subject to be admired that might restore to me a thousand times more goods, that I must lose it again in an instant. I came hither, having my foul troubled with griefs, and found that they were dissipated by the joy that happened to me for the birth of so fair an affection: but presently the consideration of my depart within an hour came to attach this new love, and ordained it either to dye, or to be the most unfortunate that ever entered into a heart: for to make it dye, I cannot so much as will the destruction of it: and to conserve it, I know not so strongly how to consent to my own misery, as to keep a remembrance that would be the more cruel to me in my exile, the more amiable it appeared. And these are the contrary thoughts, Palamede, that assaulted me all at once with such fury, that they caused the disorder you saw me in: Excuse, I pray you, my transportation: I believe that this day some star casts upon me his most malignant influences.  
Palamede knew not what to say to him upon so strange an accident: he would have condoled his misfortune, had not the cause and remedy so nearly touched him: To offer him his sister, she was not in his disposing: and to promise him assistance near her, if he had had the will to it, the time was too short for hope to get any advantage by it. In the end he resolved with himself to make no overture to him, but to expect it from him, and asked him what he desired he should do to serve him. No, no, Palamede, answered Otho, be not you in pain to help me. I wish to your sister the greatest felicity of the world, so far am I from willing to make her a companion of my misery: I am a miserable banished man, the hatred of heaven, and castaway of the earth, which scarce affords me one of her extremities to be sustained in: no other comfort have I desired of you, than that I received in telling you the extremity of my misery, which never shall be heard spoken of by any besides you. Adieu, dear Palamede, enjoy a better fortune: I demand you no other favour but to show me the way to get out of this lodging without passing by the Chamber where she is that I have seen too much for my repose. I should fear lest the sight of me might not offend the happiness of so many graces, by the contagion of my mishaps: or else lest her regards which are more cruel to me, might not make my evil incurable by new hurts. I will hope that the remembrance of that I have seen but one moment, may in time be effaced; and I perceive well that I should make it immortal, if I suffered it to acquire more strength. He besought him after that to make his excuses to Melintus for going his way without seeing him. Palamede protested to him, that he lamented his torment, and that he was willing to ease him with the loss of his blood, in satisfaction for so many favours wherewith he had obliged them. Otho gave him thanks for his good will, and having learned a secret back way out, took leave of him, to carry with him into Spain a memory of Ariana, which both made the way irksome to him, and a great part of his staying there also; but in the end, his far remove, time, and his ambition more than all things, cured that wound with much ado, so powerfully does a rare beauty imprint her marks upon a soul that is noble and delicate. Palamede being returned to Melintus, made relation to him of the occasion of Otho's trouble, discourses, and resolution. Melintus in his heart was not offended for his remove, seeing himself freed from a rival too puissant, although he had sorrow to lose a friend so affectionate, and that had heretofore so much credit: Nevertheless he dissembled what he thought, to wonder at so sudden an affection: then after he had said, how it was not needful to make that accident at all be known, Aristides, Emilia, and Camilla came near, to whom Melintus conceived he might discover Otho's disgrace, seeing it was already divulged at Rome: Every one bemoaned him, because he had many excellent qualities, and among the rest, a liberality without example.  
Palamede took his sister again to tell her what had come to pass, at that time he saw the rest engaged in that discourse, and having led her into the other chamber, he made her blush when he acquainted her with the sudden love of Otho, which matter being not fitting for her to hear continued, she to break it off, obliged him to finish the history he had bogun, whereof she was impatient till she had learned the end. He consented to what she desired, and thus reassumed his discourse.  
I believe we were interrupted, when I was telling you, how we went out of the Theatre, where we had gotten honour enough, if it were honourable at all there to appear. After we had left the Emperor, we were accompanied to our houses by our friends, and a part of the people: but it was a very long while to me, ere I was rid of so much company, to go see Camilla. We feigned to be weary of the tumult and crowd, which made them all take leave of us; and instantly I prayed Melintus to go along with me to the sisters. They were then alone, for Marcelin had waited upon Nero to the Palace; and at our coming, come, says Emilia, let us go receive these Conquerors with the honour is due to them. Melintus putting one knee to the ground, said to her; We come to present these Conquests at your feet, seeing that we hold them of you. Yet did not I, replies Emilia, compose the verses you recited; and for me, says Camilla, I cannot play on the Harp. The love, said I to her, we have for you, is so powerful, that it made us vanquish all that is in Rome. It was sufficient, added Melintus, that you favourably looked upon us, because fortune can refuse nothing to them that have that happiness. The pleasing Camilla replied with her accustomed mirth, If our eyes obtained this victory, I find them to be excellent Poets, and good players on the Harp. I said to her, they are far more cunning than we, for they can make themselves be loved, which we have not been able to do yet. This is a difference, said Emilia, we must end in particular, and drawing Melintus apart, left me with the fair Camilla.  
When we were set, I was a little astonished, not daring yet to speak freely of my affection to her: Nevertheless swollen with the good fortune of my victory, and seeing her look with a very cheerful countenance, I said to her, that there was no contentment that was not accompanied with displeasure, and at that very time we are accounted most happy, we have often most occasion to complain of Fortune. It is true, answered Camilla, but what cause have you to speak this? Because, said I the people to day thought me well pleased, and I find before you my condition very miserable. If that be so, replies she you are to avoid my presence with great care, and seek for public assemblies where Fortune is so favourable to you. But, said I to her, if I cannot wish for happiness without you, it would be but an untoward way to be happy, to fly from you. If you seek, said she, this good, to be esteemed of as much as 'tis possible for a person of your merit to be, you ought not to think yourself miserable with me. The merit, continued I, is not great, when it cannot prevail to make me beloved. Your merit, said she, is powerful enough, since it makes itself beloved of me. And my person? said I then. I esteem it, answered she. Nothing else, replied I. I honour it, added she. Oh the gods, cried I out, what of honour, what of esteem, and no love! I know not, said she, what you speak of. Of a thing, answered I, you are not ignorant of, seeing you have learned it me so well. 'Tis then, says she, a want of will. Wherefore, went I on, will a person of such perfection have this want? ha, well, says she, I will have a will for you. But, answered I, I would have a good one. And I will give you, says she, an ill one. I replied, Would you then be so cruel? Will you, continued she, that we fall to an agreement? This, said I, is the favour I demand. Let us part, says she, equally, you shall have an indifferent one. I expected some more favourable answer, and replied to her, that I would not have a thing she was so free of to all the world. Had you rather, says she, have particular evils, than common goods? I assured her, that I desired neither one, nor other: Nevertheless, answered she, you are to choose: and I said to her, I had rather leave you both of them. I will, said she, prevent you, and so she left me, going away towards Emilia, who being angry because she interrupted her discourse with Melintus, asked her why she had quitted me. Camilla answered her in laughing, and walking up and down the chamber, he is a man that pretends to more than one victory in a day.  
I could not tell then whether I should account myself happy, or unhappy, having taken hold on no word that were to my advantage, and yet she spoke all these things with a pleasantness, which gave me cause to hope well: and I would have gone to entreat Emilia that she would be Judge of our difference, when Marcelin came in to break our discourse. We gave place to him, and after some speaking of what had been done that day, I left him with Camilla, and making show as if I would have busied myself in the mean time upon something, I took a Harp, and sung these verses, which I made heretofore when I loved Epicharis.  

WHat grace hath she in refusing!  
How are her rigours favourable?  
And how her eyes by despising,  
Produce such torments desirable:  
If ever those fair ravishers  
Would change their disdains to pleasures,  
What fortune would surmount my glory?  
Since being now so full of rigour,  
I scarcely think that in all story  
There is found a happier lover.   

Be gone, Despairs, at my command,  
Spiteful enemies of my fire,  
Give place, and leave t' a gentler hand  
The ruling of my soul's Empire.  
Fair eyes I like your tyranny,  
'Tis to you I yield me only;  
I fear no more your sweet despites,  
Since this you learned me I retain  
To recompense as great delights,  
The cruelties of your disdain.   

Great God whom all Lovers adore,  
How are thy goods unlimited?  
Since being pleased, or punished,  
They love thee ne'er the less, nor more:  
But though my heart well pleased is,  
And seems t'enjoy a perfect bliss,  
Yet Love be not thou weary, or leave  
The favourizing my desire,  
If ills with graces I receive,  
What would my pleasures then require?   
Camilla perceived well they were addressed to her: yet seeing she was too much employed with Marcelin, I set by the harp; and Melintus longing to tell me what he had done for me, advertised me to go out. I took leave therefore with satisfaction sufficient, for that I had made my entrance with Camilla: but the condition of my affairs was yet in better terms on the other side; for being retired at home, Melintus told me, how Emilia began to speak thus to him: What think you of your fortune to day? That it is favourable, said he, in what least concerns me, and contrary in what I most desire. And what can Melintus wish for, replied Emilia, that he may not obtain with those advantages he is possessed of? The honour of your good graces, said he, which I seek for with such passion. I will not, said she, have it my fault, that this day be not entirely happy to you, for I give you that place in my soul which you can desire there. I receive, said he, this favour, with the submissions I am bound to, acknowledging myself unworthy of it, and make an oath upon this fair hand, never to abuse it. Are you content, replied she, with me? More, answers Melintus, than I could ever have hoped. But I am not, said she, satisfied with the present I have made you, but in imitation of the Emperor's magnificence, and acknowledgement to your deserts, that are better known to me, than to him, I make offer to you also of what ever shall please you to desire of me, my honour reserved. Melintus feigning a joy unhoped for, said to her; Seeing it pleases you to grant me so much grace, I accept it, and to make it appear that I perfectly love what I have undertaken to serve, I ask you no other favour, but to order the matter so, that Palamedes service may be accepted of Camilla, afterwards I may think of making myself happy. I believe, said Emilia, that this day you have forgot yourself, to consider the contentment of others: but seeing this is your request, you shall see in what fashion I will employ me with her: yet for all that, I will not have this be to you in stead of any obligation. Melintus thanked her for this assurance, and represented her with the pain I was in, and the need I had of her succour, when Camilla forsaking me, went to break off their entertainment.  
Dear sister, you may imagine, how well pleased I was at these news: for knowing that Emilia desired to give greater proofs of her love to Melintus, I assured myself she would let her sister be quiet, until she had given her good words for me: and I was not deceived with this hope: for I perceived, Camilla began to make more esteem of me; beside, to believe these assurances I gave her of my love, and to oblige me by her answers, and in the end to express an affection to me: nay one day she told me I had a good friend of her sister. You know me too well, to think I would lose these advantages: so I urged her in such wise, that by little and little she engaged herself to me, allowing me little favours, whose permission made me an easy way for greater; In such sort, that serving myself with the occasion, one day as I found her upon a bed. Ariana, blushing, interrupted him, and said, hold you there, brother, I fear you will tell me things I would not hear. Then said Palamede to her, Sister, I find it very pleasant, you should fear to hear tell of my good fortunes, and be in no apprehension by and by to understand the misery came upon us. I shall ever be glad, said she, to know that all good fortune attends you, but you ought to be silent in these particulars. Palamede replied, how he was not altogether ignorant how it became him to speak to her; and that he was very sorry nothing had passed that might have obliged him to conceal it, for that having found her upon that same bed, he could never obtain any thing of her, with all his labour and entreaties, whereof he would make no relation, because she was not pleased with it: then he went on; I vow, I have not retention enough, long time to conceal a good fortune. I began to be weary of my discretion that bound me to dissemble before the meanest of that house: besides me thinks it were to show one's self unthankful to fortune, not to publish her benefits, and if I were governed by my own humour, she should never have cause to complain of me, because I would always make her favours greater by my repetition of them, to confess myself the more beholding to her. Nevertheless being to follow the advice of Melintus, and commands of Camilla, who feared to have our intelligence known to Marcelin, because he held her in an Imperious way, I was some while surmounting myself, and admiring the discretion I observed: But in the end seeing that a chambermaid named Cyane was for the most part about us, and made me lose the good hours I had passed with more freedom, but for her, I resolved with myself to gain her, to the end, that if she were an ordinary witness, she might also be a complice. I kept me close from Melintus to practise this maid, which I have since repented sufficiently, because without doubt, he had let me seen the misery I went to engage me in. So I made her some presents, whereby I thought her wholly mine, and discovered to her the good will her Mistress bore me. She feigned to understand this news with content, and promised me her service in what ever I could desire of her. See how capable we are to forget ourselves: for thinking her more useful to me than any body, I retired more in her confidence, than in Melintus his himself, and told her all had passed with Camilla and I, whereof Marcelin failed not to be advertised, as we came afterwards to know. I perceived well he did no more salute me with that freedom he was wont, but judging no other cause of it but his inequal humour, I omitted not to pursue my fortune and designs. Hitherto had Camilla entertained me with hopes, and Melintus had avoided the too-great expressions of Emilia's love: But one morning when we were all four of us alone together, my impatience prevailed with me to conjure Camilla, by my most ardent affections to grant me a favour, which she from day to day deferred. Dare you, says she, demand so unreasonable a thing, in the presence of my sister and Melintus? I am assured, said I to her, she is of opinion, that a thing promised must be paid; and Melintus desirous of the same favour with her, without question will be of my mind: I was willing thus to engage him against his will, because I knew Camilla would never make me happy, but after his sister's example. Those words obliged Melintus to signify the same desire to Emilia, and the repulse she gave, was rather an occasion to him to seek to vanquish her, than to lose all hope. We left off speaking Camilla and I, to see what they would resolve on, and referred to them the cause of all four, attending eagerly the success of their dispute: and for all I perceived him to plead but coldly, I would not be persuaded but he would carry it. Yet seeing that Emilia would not wholly agree to a thing Camilla had altogether refused, I considered there was need of some painstaking on my part, and so in the end I obtained this of her, to refer herself to her sister's judgement. I well perceive, says Emilia, 'tis a hard matter to put you off: but that we may be assured whether you shall persist in the same resolution, we give you the rest of the day for term, and at midnight you shall come hither all alone by a door I shall cause to be kept open: if then you shall give us assurance of the same desires, we will give you that we shall resolve on for your advantage. That favourable decree confirmed by the consent of the fair Camilla, was entertained of me with exceeding joy, and of Melintus with thanks for us both. Ariana taking the word from him, said to her brother, I doubt not, but in his mind he was glad this good fortune offered itself, without costing him the least unquietness. Whether he were scornful, or no, replied Palamede, you shall know by the sequel: then he went on.  
After many thanks we took our leaves of them, but before our going out I advertised Cyane of our appointment, that she might take care for our entrance, never dreaming that in one instant I lost what we had obtained with so much labour, and words. The remnant of that day me thought hours never passed away so slowly, so impatient was I, and seeing Melintus pensive on the other side, I asked him whether he thought not long till the night came, as well as I. We are meditating, answers he, upon very differing matters. I asked him the cause; Because, says he, that you would already be at the place of assignation, and I am thinking what to do, not to come there at all. I found him very disdainful to shun that that others would with so many vows desire; he confessed to me, he was of a contrary humour, and that he could not resolve to go to Emilia: This resolution put me into a great wonder, and I began to curse that coldness and continency that so crossed my happiness: for having had good success but by his means, without him I would promise myself nothing: Nevertheless seeing that surprise had taken my speech from me, with a fashion more remiss he spoke to me thus: I believe you desire not to compel me to that I am most sensible of; also it is not reason I deprive you of a benefit I have gained you with so much ado, and you so ardently desire: A means must be invented to content us both. And what means, said I, for my part, I cannot expect any fortune, if I be not assisted by you: for think you that Emilia will suffer her sister to favour me, when she sees herself despised of you? If your passion, says he to me, blinded you not, you would consider how I would not propose to find out a remedy that I had not thought on: do but hear at least, if that I have devised be not possible. We will go at the hour assigned with some of our men, and counterfeiting a rancounter at the door, we will take our swords in our hands one against another; and after having made some noise with our weapons, I will retire myself with the rest, as if I were pursued, and you shall enter alone into the house, making as if you thought me to be there already: then a while after I will send to tell you, that you be not in pain for me, that I was relieved by some of my friends with whom I was, and who would not suffer me to come. And to what end, said I, is all this labour? for me I had much rather come to receive the kindnesses of a fair Lady. So should I, says he to me, if I were Palamede: but since I am Melintus, suffer me to live after my own fashion. I find, said I, that it is but an ill means of secret entry into an house, to go make an uproar at the gate. Nay contrary, said Melintus, if there be any spy there, he will fly away for fear; and nothing will stay in the street, so I find, it needs not be despaired, that a man may enter into a lodging by this means: But, said I to him, this will be always to begin again: think you every night to use the same disguise? It is well, says he, your foresight goes so far: Cannot you tell how to keep that to yourself, which I shall once have acquired you? Consider only for the present, and I shall advise for us both for the time to come: Time will afford us counsel. I agreed at last to what he would.  
But consider, my Sister, how virtue, and good counsels are accompanied with prosperity; if it had not been for this humour and resolution in Melintus, we had been utterly lost, and yet we failed not to run into a very great danger. That same Cyane having been acquainted with the hour of our coming, presently advertised Marcelin of it, who provoked by jealousy and desire of revenge, resolved our death, and would serve himself with the presence of the Emperor to cover his assassinate. In the evening being at supper with Nero, seeing that Prince somewhat inflamed with wine, and singing some verses he had made, he said all aloud that some days ago, he was not able to endure the insolence and ingratitude of that Sicilian, who mocked at the Emperor's verses, and every where vaunted his own, for all acknowledgement of so many favours he had received of him. Nero incensed at these words, for there was nothing that so sensible pricked him as to be slighted in a thing where he affected the greatest glory: In what places, says he, does this companion thus use me? I heard him also, answered Marcelin, but two days since when he spoke of this matter with a strange impudence at a Lady's house, that every night entertain's him. Can we not, said Nero, entrap this same gallant? This very night, replies he, it will be very easy to be done: we need but go to wait for him, and hide us some where there about, you may punish him your fill for the crime he commits every day against the honour of your Majesty. This was instantly resolved on, and Nero with those of his ordinary troup, went to put himself in ambush at a place whither he was conducted by Marcelin, and stayed for us with a purpose to sacrifice us to his vengeance.  
We failed not to come at the hour, and presently, as we had ordered the matter together, we began to draw our swords, in making a noise, and to cry, kill, kill, the murderers. Nero and the rest thinking they had been discovered, and fearing to be all massacred in their Ambuscado, if they issued not out, showed themselves, and came to us, but so much astonished, as we were surprised, not looking that our play should be turned into so true a combat: We omitted not to receive them with much assurance, and hurt many of them: Nevertheless because their number was the greater, we received many wounds, which made us resolve to sell our lives dear: but they considering we were desperate, were in the end forced to cry out to us, It was the Emperor. Then we drew ourselves further off to let them pass, yet after they had retired themselves, I fell down all along, being no longer sustained by the heat of the fight, and having four great wounds, out of which I lost all my blood. Melintus came to help me, but, for all he was not so much hurt, he could not but fall in a swoone also upon my body. In this state were we found by these Ladies, who came out to see that which had passed before their house, and who were greatly astonished to see us handled on that fashion: Then they caused us to be brought hither to succour us with the affection they have made demonstration to us; where being in despair of my life, I was willing to see my father and you before I died: But the gods have showed me more favours than my indiscreet youth deserved, and have spared my life it may be to serve you, and that dear Melintus to whom I have so many obligations, whose sickness that now keeps him in his bed, was not caused but by the daily cares he took for me during mine.  
Ariana fully pleased to have learned the extreme fidelity of Melintus, dissembled that joy to answer her brother. It is true that in all that you have told me, he hath witnessed a most perfect friendship to you, which obliged us to eternal acknowledgements. And I would have the occasion one day presented to acquit us of them: then she spoke on; But to leave this business of Melintus, you have not told me, how you came to know it was Cyane that discovered all to Marcelin. This is the thing, replied Palamede, I forgot to speak of: We knew it was he assisted by Nero, that made the Ambuscado for us, and chiefly we gathered his ill will by an ointment he sent me, which was poison, and then when we were in pain to discover from whence he could have notice of our appointment by night, I went to aver before Melintus and Camilla, that I had communicated it to Cyane, Camilla crying out then, told me, we need not any more inquire for the original of this disaster: that this maid was wholly Marcelin's; and causing her to be corrected, because she was now too much enraged for all Marcelin's treasons, she made her in the end confess her villainy. I make no report to you of the resolution of our faithful slaves, in pursuing the design Nero had taken to put us to death, because you have heard that of Arcas; It remains only that I tell you how Marcelin two or three days since he was wholly cured, came to visitus, and show us much affection, to remove the opinion we might have of him. But Camilla could not forbear to give him so strange a reception, that he began to suspect the cause of that usage.  
I perceive, replied Ariana, that by the special favour of the gods, you have been able to escape out of that adventure, for in that sort your destruction was plotted; I tremble still to imagine how it was possible for you to avoid it: Nevertheless you are not yet out of danger, having always for enemies the Emperor and Marcelin whose revenge is unsatisfied, and whose fury shall be increased by the cares Camilla has expressed to have of you. The gods, said Palamede, that have hitherto preserved us, will not abandon us: yet we are not to sleep, but employ the wisdom of yours and Melintus counsels to advise of the means that may for ever secure us from those miseries that threaten us. I believe, said Ariana, that a speedy retreat to Syracuse will be the most expedient; this is that makes me wish the perfect cure of both of you, that we may enjoy together the repose and sweetness of our Country, and fly from a City where vice and insolence reign with such authority.    

ARIANA. The third Book.  
WHile they were entertaining themselves thus, Melintus satisfied what he could the desire Aristides had to hear of all had passed, and employed the greatest cunning of his discretion to find out causes of their misfortune, and conceal the true and principal occasions of every thing that had happened; many times when he was not well prepared to answer all the good old man's questions, he feigned a difficulty of speech by reason of his sickness, to have leisure to consider: But when he had scaped that passage, and came to report Palamede's extreme sickness that his wounds caused, and all the accidents that had put him into such fear, he forgot not so much as one point thereof, that he might spend the time in that discourse, and deliver himself from demands he was in trouble to satisfy.  
Emilia and Camilla sometimes laughed, seeing in what fashion he disguised the truth, and did oft divert the matter of the discourse to aid him. Aristides was not so simple to be content with every thing they told; nevertheless he believed part of it, and well knew how to excuse the rest. In the end, Palamede and Ariana came back again into that Chamber, and the day being near spent, Aristides and she took leave of all, with a promise to return the next day to see them: They retired them to Maximus his house, their ancient host, with whom Palamede and Melintus had been ever bold since they came to Rome: when they were gone, Emilia and Camilla entered upon a discourse of Ariana's perfections with great admiration; Palamede confessing himself very proud in having so complete a sister. Melintus spoke but coldly of her, but Emilia observed a great deal of constraint in all he said, and was persuaded, that if he might freely have spoken of her, not any in the company would have done it more to her advantage. The evening passed away in those discourses; and when Melintus found himself alone, calling for those fair objects Ariana's presence had renewed in him, he began thus to be entertained with himself: Ah! divine Ariana, how dear is thy sight to me, and how every time I see thee, dost thou appear with new perfections? It seems you came hither to my reproach, that my soul conceived not perfectly enough of you before, and that you will form in it a new Idea more fair yet than that I have cherished, beauties that shall never find your equals, can I sufficiently affect you? nay rather can you be more affected? No, considering the love I have for you cannot be greater than it is; but why so, seeing I feel it to be every day augmented by the new graces which are continually bred in you? Oh! the sight that so ravishes me! Ah Ariana, how the glittering of your beauty replenishes my soul with light, and how receiving you is my imagination possessed with joys! But confess too, dear Idea, that thou art received into a very pure place, and regard with how much ardour and respect thou art there adored.  
These sweet thoughts hindered him pleasingly from sleeping all night, he was vexed at nothing but that he was found in that house, whereupon he would fain have satisfied Ariana's mind. The day after, she came in the morning with the maid she loved so well, called Epicharis, having left her father at home to repose him after the wearisomeness of his journey. When she knew her brother was not yet awake, she went into Melintus chamber, who received her with great joy and respect, and Epicharis being away, when she was set down ready to speak to him, and inquire of the state of his sickness, he prevented her thus. I am much confounded for this honour you do me, Madam, but yet I am more ashamed to see you in a place where virtue never entered but in your attendance. Never will I, answered she, be of this belief, seeing you yourself are come hither before me. Ah! Madam, replies he, fly from this house too unworthy to be honoured by your footsteps: if I have ever been so happy to be approved by you for any quality, I must needs lose that esteem being found where I am: and I conjure you not to profane yourself by the conversation of these Ladies that are so far from the honour of your life. I know well, answers she, what occasion hath brought you hither against your will, and so far is it from giving me cause to blame you, as I shall therefore admire your virtue while I live. When I see you among ill company, I should still believe it was but to correct them by your example, and not to imitate them; I am assured how much your honour is dear to you, and am to thank you for having care of mine, whereof I would not fear to give you the direction, if I doubted of my own. He replied, To doubt of your wisdom, Madam, never did so criminal a conceit enter into my heart: That were to call in question the thing in the world I have the most perfect knowledge of: But pardon me, if I desire to see you be gone from a place which even my honour cannot endure, but with horror, and where my indisposition retains me with so much violence. The rules they here follow are so contrary to those you observe, that I can express no contentment in the place, but in compelling my mouth to contradict all my thoughts. Melintus, said Ariana, I would from this very hour follow your advice, if it were not yet a greater offence to forsake my brother, and that man that never yet forsook him. Palamede, replied Melintus, is out of danger, and may go home to you, and since your arrive I find myself too in estate to be able to be carried thither; but I beseech you to retire you from hence, and to receive this prayer I make you for the greatest service I shall ever be able to give.  
Strange effects of a virtuous passion! Melintus in stead of favouring the presence of his fair Ariana, could not endure to see her in a place where he himself would not have been: his pure and perfect love taking offence at the least approach of things vicious: and he did even seem to foresee the mischief that was to come upon them by the stay she made in that lodging, because that Marcelin came to visit Melintus, and entered into his chamber, when Ariana and he were speaking together. This sight surprised them both, but much more Melintus to see a person he had so much cause to hate: for Ariana not knowing him, thought only Melintus had reason to wish her far from thence, since the entrance to that house was permitted to all persons, and this man might give a strange censure of her: Nevertheless Melintus dissembling, received him with a countenance open enough, and Marcelin after he had enquired of his health, began to regard Ariana with eyes of wonder and surprise: But she, to avoid this curious viewing, and the birth of some desires in him, made as if, for civilities sake, that they might be free together, she left them, and went into Palamed's chamber, then presently she went out of the house, after she had desired him to return that very day home to his fathers, where she went to retire her. Marcelin failed not to demand of Melintus, who that handsome stranger was: to which he was obliged to answer, that she was Palamed's sister, that was come with her father from Sicily, upon the report of her brother's sickness, and was to return speedily thither again finding him whole. I did not believe, says he, that your Sicilian women had been so fair, you would but wrong yourselves to come to seek beauty at Rome. Things, answered Melintus, that come from a far off, or that are sought in a far country, seem ever the fairest: for as for me, I would quit all Sicilians for one Roman Lady: And I, replies he, all the women of Rome for this Sicilian. That discourse pleased not very well Melintus, and he would have been glad to have been at Syracuse with Ariana, for that he suspected lest Marcelin losing Camilla's favour might not make his addresses to her, and give them many crosses that way. And so had he purposed; but that which confirmed Melintus in that apprehension was, because Marcelin, impatient to see again at leisure her that had so well touched him with love, in so little a time, stayed not long to counterfeit a desire to go see Palamede, and parted from Melintus to go into the other chamber, where he found her no more, so as he was forced to entertain her brother, thinking he might have need of his help, to see and be well received by her; but they had strange plots, one upon the other. That entertainment was not of continuance, because when there is question of feigning, the discourses are not long-breathed, each fearing to discover himself, and so the time passed away the greatest part of it in silence.  
As soon as ever Melintus could come to speak to Palamede, he counselled him to go out of that lodging, that very day, and told him, he had perceived the displeasure Aristides took for finding them there, that it were better he went his way alone, than stay for him: that they were to tell the Ladies, how Aristides weary of the journey, was fallen sick: for him, that he would follow him the day after, and so they ought to retire one by one, for fear the depart of them both might not at one time too much surprise them. Palamede resisted some time this advice, for the passion he had to Camilla, whose sight he enjoyed with such commodity: Nevertheless it became him to give place to that friends counsel he had too much neglected to his loss; and this resolution taken, they were to take leave of the sisters.  
Emilia, that had never observed in Melintus any strong passion, whatever favour she had expressed to him, began to be in doubt of the cause of his coldness to her since the arrive of Ariana. This stately woman who all her life time saw herself adored, without having ever any love, died for despite to find herself slighted; and when she heard the news of his retreat, at first she gently replied to the courteous words of Melintus, but to his replies, she used reproaches, and from reproaches she entered into fury. That rage broke all the chains of discretion and modesty. What, said she, after I had disdained the most powerful men at Rome, am I brought to this pass, to become suppliant to a stranger, and a man unknown? This ingrateful man, this Traitor, after receiving so much honour at my house, after having been drawn by me out of the hands of death, dares yet forsake me, and refuse a few days at my entreaty.  
Melintus, to stop the current of those words, said to her; Madam, I am neither traitor, nor ungrate, I have lost neither the respect I owe you, nor the passion I had for you: it needs not to employ entreaties where you may command; and that which makes me be accused for disacknowledgement, is that, should rather let you see how well I can acknowledge the cares it pleased you to take of me, since I desire to free you of them. Will you reduce me to that, never to be able to satisfy the obligations I have to you, by never ending my importunities? and that I suffer all my life to be served by you, without a power to do you service? Believe you that when I am at home I shall have the less affection to you? and, will you not so much as permit that I put myself in the way to render you my duties? Although I honour your favours extremely, the excess of them begins to be weighty upon me, seeing I no more obtain them by my services. Madam, if you have hitherto taken pleasure to express so good▪ will to me, envy me not, at my turn, the contentment of offering you my cares, and obliging you by my submissions to continue this affection to me. I believe that to a person of courage, there is no punishment comparable to this, without ceasing to receive, and never give; and this is that you would have me eternally endure. Emilia something stayed by these speeches, steadfastly regarding him said; How happy should I be, Melintus, if you were true: but I fear this fair language proceeds not from the heart, too much order has it to express a passion: and you seem rather to affect to speak well, than to love well: 'tis no matter, I will believe you so you will grant me yet two days more stay, during which you may find yourself in better health. Melintus not willing to put her into desperation, answered her, that she might dispose not only of two days, but all those of his life, without ask him leave. So they were at accord together. And Camilla much better assured of Palamede's affection, not being made to oblige her by any compulsion, suffered him to go his way, well knowing she should ere long see him again.  
The displeasure this stay brought to Melintus, came from hence, that he saw himself deprived, in that time, of seeing Ariana, and knowing Palamede would not fail to report to her the cause that retained him, he would write this Letter to her:  
Melintus to Ariana.  
'tIs not my sickness now, that retains me here, but another's, that is more insupportable to me than my own, rather out of despite than pity I have of it. 'Tis a cruel thing, to be unfortunate by too much good fortune, and not to be able to escape out of that is in my own power. I believe I am destined to contemn all my time the good things are offered me, and to consume myself by desiring those I cannot possess. When Fortune uses me the most cruelly, she makes me become cruel too: then ordains a punishment for my disdains, in stead of rewarding them being so just. But since she is blind, I appeal from her to your judgement, and ask of you not that which I refuse to take of others, that were too great presumption, but that I even refuse them, which is a little compassion, though it may seem I am unworthy of it, in that I deny to give it.  
Melintus gave this Letter in Tables to Arcas, his faithful Freeman, to whom alone was the secret passion of his master disclosed, who would not hide himself from him in many things he had occasion to employ him. This good servant the day after that Palamede was returned to Maximus, with his father, took the occasion to go see how he did from Melintus, and gave his letter secretly to Ariana, who received with it so much content, that after she had read it, she promised to give him an answer.  
Never had she done him that favour, but having lately had intelligence of so many virtues, and merits, by her brother's report; of the contempt he had made of one of the fairest Ladies of Rome, for not giving offence to her love: of the honours he had acquired for himself, and benefits he had procured for his Country, with the respectful cares he had witnessed for her, at the last visit; she could not any longer time refuse him that grace. But going to write, she was prevented by Marcelin, who feigned to make a visit to Palamede, which courtesy obliged her to entertain him while her brother came where they were: she knew well he sought to fall upon some words of affection; but she was wary so finely to avoid his discourse by turning it to some other purpose, that he perceived it would be a hard matter for him to enter in discourse with her upon the subject of his passion: in such fashion, that Palamede being come, she left him without having at all advanced, but that he had signified his desire only: after that shutting herself up, she wrote, and came to give her tablets to Arcas, who rejoicing to bear to his Master so dear a pledge, flew till he came to Emilia's, and Melintus receiving them with excess of contentment read therein these words:  
Ariana to Melintus.  
I Have a great desire to let you know, that I am sensible of your pain, and to comfort you beside with this, that there is the like prepared for me. The visit I received of Marcelin, makes me see that I shall be importuned also, as well as you are: but the severity of my sex will easily know how to put off that, which the honour of yours hardly permits you to refuse. Consider that the courtesy which were in me a crime, is necessary in you: and that at least you are to come out by an honest composition. But because dissimulation hath put you to all this pain, it must also draw you out of it, and you are permitted to give for your ransom as many assurances of love, as you shall think convenient. In the mean time, be confident, that when the desires of Ladies are so earnestly addressed to you, there is nothing which your own may not attain.  
Those fair Characters were kissed a hundred times by Melintus: and although he received no very open expressions of affection, he did not give over the good assurance of it, knowing how dear those few words had cost Ariana which she had added in the end of the letter. He was therefore resolved to follow her counsel, and afterwards ceased not to let Emilia see how much his affection was augmented by the daily cares she had taken for him; and that he desired nothing so much, as to be in perfect health, that by his services he might recompense a part of so great pains. In conclusion, he was so cunning at dissembling, that she believed him, and two days after she suffered him to be gone, upon condition he would often come to see her. But when he was with Aristides, he saw himself reduced to feign of another nature; for in stead of counterfeiting an extreme passion, which it behoved him to do at Emilia's, having none at all, here was he forced with much care to hide that he had indeed, for Ariana. His discretion was very great, but the pain this constraint put him to, was not less. Only he eased his griefs by some Verses he let Ariana see, such as these are:  

MY eyes, retain with care so fair a flame as this,  
Whereof by fond regards you would deprived have been:  
Think of retiring all those lovely fires within,  
That none of them escape, no not a spark amiss.   

What? do you weep, my eyes, to hear a law so cruel?  
Why should you be seeking for misfortunes evident?  
Those fires though fair indeed, were not for that less ardent:  
The sight of them was pleasing, but the taking mortal.   

Hide, Hide, unfortunate, what ever you have ta'en:  
Redoubt as well the anger, as the fierce disdain  
Of those fair eyes that may correct your insolence.  
But is not this beside to complain wrong fully?  
When those you have robbed intent to force you only  
Closely to keep your thefts for all their vengeance?   
Alas, said he to himself, how is't possible this fire should continue thus always? and not only not come forth, but not so much as be ever seen? Yet she forbids me this; but to what purpose do I so respectfully obey the laws of that defence: for if she loves me, why does she let me suffer so much? and if she loves me not, why will I not comfort myself at least by expressing the evil I endure? But again, if I love her, how should I disobey her? Durst I oppose myself to her desires? Or having acquainted me once what her will is, can I make a doubt whether I am to follow it? it may be she mean's to prove by so cruel a constraint, the extremity of her power, and my affection: should I cowardly lose so fair an occasion, to make the greatness of my love appear to her? No, no, let us suffer, my soul; let us burn, my heart; and hold our sufferings well rewarded, because she ordain's them us. It is enough, that she knows the cruelty of our pains, and knowing them, she will know also to acknowledge them. But while he fortified himself with resolutions, his fire seemed to increase, in emulation, to ruin them, and this combat being within him, he felt the whole torment of it: Nevertheless loving equally his love and his discretion, he laboured to make them both friends, to dwell together peaceably within him, and not that one should be constrained to give place to the other: his love impetuous and boiling never ceased to agitate him, and at some time he addressed these verses to it.  

APpease thyself, my flame, and cease thy sore complaint,  
That I conceal thee in my bosom with such care:  
Canst thou be ignorant, what my intentions are?  
'Tis that I love thee dear, not for thy constraint.   

The eyes whose rigour do forbid thy being seen,  
Are those that gave to thee thy being heretofore:  
Thou art not to refuse this duty to their lore:  
Obey them, without words, that have thy authors been.   

Alas! in vain I pray to this rebellious flame,  
That still my loving torment more doth amplify  
For having to her father a severe fair eye,  
To be fair and cruel too she will get a name.   
Ariana saw all those verses, and acknowledged the height both of his passion, and of his constraint; but she thought it was not yet time to give comfort either to one, or other, by avowing she would love none but him. She waited the change that was to be in their fortunes, at their return in Sicily, and in the mean time favoured Melintus in whatsoever honesty might permit her. They would gladly have been gone for Sicily, but Palamede could not yet abide travelling, for a great hurt in his thigh that was not well healed; and Melintus was all that while forced to keep his bed, waiting for a perfect cure in Palamede, for fear of being obliged to wait upon Emilia, who never gave over sending to hear from him.  
This feigning gave him the commodity to entertain Ariana, for she assisted him very carefully, yet so much respect had he to her, that there was nothing but his eyes that durst make love to her, and of every thing else they communicated one to another with much confidence. One morning she came to him, and bringing a little table book with her, she prayed him to read what was written in it, where he saw these words.  
Marcelin to Ariana.  
Fair Ariana, since your eyes forbid me speaking, pardon me if I have recourse to this means, to make you know the affection which your perfections have brought forth. If you be come hither, to begin the acquisition of all the hearts of the Empire, I bless the fortune that hath made me the first of your conquests; and ranging me without reluctancy under your obedience, I will be bold to hope for some part in the honour of your good graces, if they may be aspired to by services eternal, and a passion infinite.  
These letters said Melintus, put us to no pain, in guessing to whom they are addressed, nor who sends them: but, Madam, added he who gave you them. Epicharis, said Ariana, found them on my table as I was rising, without being closed, for fear, I believe, that I should leave them in the same state. But what would you advise me to do? Madam? said Melintus, your heart is free, you may dispose of it as you please. you may be deceived for all that, answered she, but this is not the thing I ask you; what shall I do with these tables? if you desire, says he, to answer them, you need but efface the wax, and then write what you please. You laugh at me, replies she, and by whom shall I send them, when I know not who brought them. You are but to put them says he, in the same place, and who ever laid them there, will know where to take them again well enough. And what if I will, replied Ariana, that they be never more spoke on? You may, said he, cast them into the fire. I am very glad, says she, they have been condemned by your mouth, and at the same time threw them in.  
Melintus considering this action, said to her well enough satisfied, if he means to write often to you, he must make great provision of tablets. It will be as necessary for him, answered she, to be provided of patience, but if he be opiniated, I shall not be without trouble neither: Yet our depart shall quickly deliver us of all. Palamede thereupon coming in, and seeing the tables burning, asked his sister why they were thrown into the fire: She a little surprised, said she would no more make use of them. Is it long since you have used, said he, such things? since I came to Rome, answered she. Ha! sister, cried he out, why are you so secret to me? you had them but this morning: and if I had been willing, you had never seen them at all. Ariana blushing told him, I protest that if I had been able, I had hid them from myself, and I thought not they had come to your knowledge: if there had been fire in my chamber, I had not burnt them in this, where I found, that Melintus was not so curious as you, for he never enquired as you have done, what the matter was. But continued she, can you tell who brought me them? No, said he, but going into your chamber, while you were yet sleeping, I saw them upon your table, and put them as they were, since they were not directed to me. I find you, says she, very discreet: but you had done well to have kept me from the sight of them. See, replied Palamede, if I be not good to a man that has done me so much ill, but I am assured, you will do him no great good. I wish only, said she, for his punishment, that he may love me all his life, as much as I shall detest him for your sake.  
In the mean time, Melintus made himself very ignorant of those tables; and in the end asked them what it was. 'tis a letter, replies she, Marcelin made me receive by I know not what means, look if it be not directed to a good place, for a very favourable reception. His desert, says Melintus, is very considerable, but his misfortune is extreme to fall into your hands, to revenge us of his. Aristides coming into the chamber, broke off this discourse, and Ariana leaving them, went out of the house, to the next temple, covered, as she was accustomed, with a great veil that hindered her from being seen at all, being not desirous to make herself known at Rome, for the small time she had to stay there.  
Marcelin that set a spy to watch her going out, failed not to follow her, and approaching to her, when she seemed most attentive at her prayers, said: The gods grant to your desires as much happiness, as you may give me. She as in amazement, lift up her scarf to see who spoke to her, and let him see her extreme beauty; but armed with so much severity, that the sight infinitely astonished him, and he received from her eyes an answer more cruel than her mouth had been possibly able to make him. That usage made him see, that she was not accustomed to suffer such words: and he believed, that the fair stranger would never satisfy his love, if he sought not out honester means to possess her.  
There remained a scruple in the soul of Ariana, for having entered Emilia's house: She thought herself profaned, and that her honour might be stained with that reproach. Every hour, the discourse Melintus had with her to make her get out of that place, came into her mind, & seemed to accuse her, so as she was resolved to be purified in Diana's temple. That very day she spoke of it to the priestesse, who was called Virginia, and told the cause she had for it. Virginia promised her the chamber of purifications for the day after, but the next day she put her off to the eighth day, telling her for excuse, that some Roman Ladies, whom she could not refuse, were to be purified during that time. Ariana was forced to have patience till then, and when the eight days were passed, she was received into that chamber with Epicharis only to wait on her. This place was as it were a second temple added to the first, but yet lesser, and of a round figure, whose roof was big enough, and that without appeared to end in a vault; but within at that time a heaven represented hid the arches of the vaulting.  
Ariana brought in by the priest, was amazed to see so much riches in the place. The hangings were, the ground of gold, and the figures imbrodery of silk. In the midst of the chamber was a bed, whose valences were of purple embroidered with gold; of a most rich work, and the curtains of a carnation stuff with little flowers of gold. Near the bed was a cistern of white marble next to the wall, out of which came two great pipes of gold, that were to open and shut, from the one of which was drawn hot water, and from the other cold. On one side of the chamber was a buffet charged with little vessels of gold, and with great ones of the same, enriched with diamonds, rubies, and Emeralds: on the other side was a table covered with a tapestry of the stuff the bed was on, suited with moveables of the same, and upon it a great looking glass with a border of the most curious goldsmith's work that was in Rome. On the side of the cistern, was a table charged with vessel of Crystal and Agath, filled with sweet waters of all sorts, with basons of the same, and great store of linen clothes to serve against coming forth of the bath: the paving of the chamber was of quarries of marble, and porphry of several fashions.  
Ariana after having admired these sumptuous things, and been instructed by Virginia about the ceremonies she was to observe, was left alone with Epicharis. Presently she put off her clothes, in saying the prayers that were appointed her, and when she had nothing on but her smock with a cloak that covered her, she drew near to the cistern, and from thence took water three times, which she sprinkled about the chamber, than she discovered her foot and leg naked, which she put into the water of the bath. Then was seen to be disputed the whiteness of that fair leg, with the whiteness of the marble: but the vivacity which animated so delicate a flesh, soon gave the victory to her, and the marble seemed to grow pale for being overcome. Ariana had hid within the water that fair foot, whose little shape possessed such perfection, and all her leg too; but presently she drew them out, feeling the water cold, and restored again to the day that chief workmanship of nature: Then having made the water lukewarm by means of the pipes, so as she might put herself therein with assurance, she took off her smock in fear, as much ashamed to be naked, as if so many inanimate things had had eyes, and going to put herself into the cistern, by chance she cast her eye upon the great glass, and was at first in a wonder, thinking she saw there a picture of Diana going into the bath, which she had not before regarded: but as soon perceiving her error, she was astonished to see herself of so perfect a handsomeness. For whether she considered her face, or beauty, pleasingness that charms hearts, and sweet Majesty had spent all their riches upon her; or whether she looked upon the just length of that neck of snow, the handsome proportion of it, and of those two divine globes which seemed to be swelled with nothing but pride to be so perfect, or whether she stayed to see the beauty of her arms, and delicate hands, or the rest of her body so well proportioned, whose universal whiteness dazzled her very eyes, her mind equally satisfied could not judge which part might give precedency to the other. She was some while overjoyed to see herself so admirable, but suddenly a shame came upon her, and accused her for commending herself so; then the consideration of that fair body, where she found nothing amiss, made her again confident that she was the handsomest woman in the world: and presently her modesty withdrew her from so many pleasures, causing her to blush, so that she was not able to resolve of any thing for the several motions of her mind. Happy those mortal eyes, that with her see so many marvels, and which are the longer blessed, by these uncertainties of Ariana. The love of herself and her modesty were a long time disputing together, as she stood before that mirror, having already one foot upon the cistern, and holding but with one arm the robe that before covered her: but at length not able to determine if she were fuller of satisfaction than shame, she went into the water, and there drowned all these differences.  
When she was at repose, discoursing with Epicharis of the rarities they saw, she was in a strange wonder, that the windows began to be more obscure, as if the heaven were prepared for a storm: and suddenly they perceived to fall upon them a sweet rain of perfumed waters. The admiration that surprised them, of an effect so strange in a place that was covered, was followed with a far greater, when all at a time they saw the heaven, which was represented over their heads, to open, and fill the Chamber full of lights. By and by they heard a sweet consort of voices that sang Diana's praises, and after them, they saw Diana herself by little and little to descend, having her hair trussed up like a huntress, a half Moon of Diamonds on her forehead, a robe of Azure girt under her bosom, that covered her but to the knees, her legs and arms naked, her feet covered with guilt buskins, her quiver in a scarf, and bow in her hand: when she was at ground, the music ceased, and the Goddess approaching to Ariana that was confounded with amazement, held her this discourse: Fair Ariana, your devotion is infinitely pleasing to me; I commend the pureness of your soul, that could not endure a simple reproach might fall on you, though in itself excusable. And this also is my will, that those that adore me, be not only Virgins in deed and thought, but that their virtue be also above the aspersions of calumny. Nevertheless I forbid you so austere a vow; you are borne to be a wife, and in that estate I shall ever love you, and make you happy, since I do as much affect chaste marriages, as the vows of perpetual virginity. I have chosen you a husband, that shall put you into the greatest felicity the world can give, I will have you love him, if you mean to make yourself worthy the favours I am to do you. Farewell my dear loved Ariana, I go to send you messengers, that shall prepare you, not to oppose my desires. In saying these last words she kissed her on the forehead, and presently remounted up to the same heaven she came from.  
Ariana was so troubled at these miracles, that she could not answer so much as one word, the presence of a Divinity so great, her advice, and promises, with the belief she had the goddess spoke of Melintus, possessed her soul, and kept it from being at rest. Epicharis was standing in another place, far off Diana, out of respect, all in admiration, and immovable. The heaven closed, having received Diana, but opened again for the descent of six little flying Cupids, who being sustained in the air, shot their arrows into the bath, and the arrows entering into the water, set it on fire, and made light flames come out of it. This fire frighted Ariana a little, but was no way offensive, and a while after the Cupids flew back again into heaven. Then began the heavenly music again, singing the good fortune of Ariana, to be so favoured of the Goddess: And presently Diana came down the second time, bearing a man that had the appearance of a god, all glittering in gold and precious stones. She came near again to Ariana, and said, Virtuous Ariana, see here the husband I present you with; I know the greatness of your mind and wisdom: you can never satisfy the generosity which the nobleness of your blood gives you, but by the great honours and riches he is possessed of, nor see your own virtue contented, but by that which shall accompany him all his life long: Receive him from my hand, and be assured that in obeying me, you shall in like manner enjoy the greatest good fortune that hath been ever tasted upon earth. Ariana filled with a new amazement, and seeing a goddess whose brightness and discourse confounded her senses, never thought how she was naked before a man: but when her sight was more confirmed, and she knew him to be Marcelin, she then recovered her senses, and having no respect to the Goddess, she came out of the water, putting about her a great linen cloth, and all wet as she was hid herself in the bed, so inwrapping her about, that she could neither be seen nor touched. Diana ascended again into heaven, and left that which remained, to be finished by Marcelin, who careful of Ariana's health, before he spoke any thing to her, would have Epicharis dry her, and while she was busy at that office, he aboorded his Mistress with these words: Why hide you yourself from me, divine Ariana? I am not so terrible: None in the world besides you flies from me; I have Nobility and honours. Do not despise me, fair Ariana, you see that men and the gods conspire to make me powerful and happy. I am loved not only of the Emperor, but of the Divinity also you adore; how shall you dare hereafter to address your prayers to her, if you refuse obedience to her pleasure? You know in what sort she approves the violent passion wherewith I love you: Abate, oh cruel one, the cruelty of your heart, and render you, if not to the entreaties of men, yet at least to the counsel of the gods: can you think to do amiss, following their advice, and hope to live content upon the earth by not following them? The more Marcelin continued his discourse, the more did she hide her in the bed: but he seeing his speeches were to no purpose, went on speaking for all that: Alas! Ariana, I will not take advantage from the succour of the gods, but be beholding for all my fortune to your favour alone: give me but some hope to assuage the ardent affection that torments me. After that, laying him down upon the bed, as dying for love, he said, Help me, fair Ariana, and give me my life: I die to see you so hard-hearted, and am brought to this point, but for adoring you with too much respect. But Ariana deaf to all those supplications, constrained him in the end to cry out, O gods! Oh Cupid's! aid me, and suffer me not to dye of the wound you yourselves have given me. Then the heaven opened again, and the six Cupids descended, and three of them stayed to hold Epicharis, while the other three flew upon the bed, going to uncover Ariana, and give her up to the power of Marcelin. This fair creature had no recourse but to her shriekings. Ah! ye gods, said she, are you accessary to such a wickedness? she defended herself as well as she might from Marcelins' attempts, labouring to tear his very face: but her forces had been all in vain, the Cupids holding already her arms, had it not been for Virginia●… help, who opened the Chamber door, and came in with some other Maids that had heard the voice of Ariana and Epicharis crying out for help. She ran instantly towards Marcelin, and stopping him, said, Ha! the gods, what fury is this? Is this the oath you swore to me? Go, out from hence, profane man, I renounce your friendship for ever. Marcelin answered the Priestesse: My design being lawful, and favoured of the gods, the effects of it could not be criminal: but since you are a hindrance to me, let me return to the gods, that shall revenge my cause, and in spite of you give me Ariana. Then he went up again into the heaven, which opened as before time, and closed again. In the mean time Ariana that thought she had been divinely succoured, as she was before divinely surprised, knew not what Deity to thank, nor what to detest, seeing that Diana herself was a complice of the misery she was upon the point to suffer: and all in confusion, she let herself be dressed by Epicharis, and those Maids whom she conceived to be so many Nymphs, and made them many excuses for enduring the honour they did her. In the end she gave them thanks for their help: and still full of disorder, shame, and despite, she went out of the Temple to be in safety at Maximus house, where she presently told her adventure to her brother and Melintus. Every one made thereupon differing judgements: Ariana was so prepossessed with those deities and lights, that one while she feared she had offended Diana, another while she was fully resolved not to obey her at all. Epicharis persuaded them, that Diana and all the marvels of heaven did never appear more visibly to any, than they had done to them. Palamede believed they had not invented all those particulars, and was amazed with them, at a thing so extraordinary. But Melintus that was of a more piercing wit, and could not imagine Diana was so careful in Marcelins affairs, that was a Traitor, and assassinate, desired them to believe, this was not the time of seeing deities upon earth any more, and that there was some cozenage secretly practised in it. Ariana resisted his reasons a good while, saying she was neither asleep then, nor Epicharis; and that it was impossible any artifice could be able to sustain in the Air, without any supportation, a Diana and the Cupids: Nevertheless she wavered between the assurance she had in her eyes, and the doubt Melintus considerations brought her to: but some days after she was fully persuaded of the truth. It was found out that Virginia was sister to Marcelin, who being unable to approve either his wicked desires, or his design to marry Ariana, though she were very nobly borne, to the end he might at Rome match himself into a Patrician family; and knowing the distaste this fair Maid had to her brother, was resolved one day, as she saw her in the Temple, to discover the whole plot of Marcelin to her, that on her side she might find out some means to put him off his enterprise. She confessed to her, that the first time they spoke together, Marcelin was in the Temple, and that when she was gone out, he came to know of her what Ariana had to say to her, which she presently declared to him; whereupon he mused sometime, than he desired her to suffer him to see her in the bath: that, at first motion she told him it could not be done; but being overcome by his entreaties and importunities, she had in the end promised him: and the day after Marcelin having studied upon that occasion, came to find her, and proposed how Ariana might be deceived, by representing a false deity, that should persuade her to love him. Virginia said, that at the beginning she approved not this device, being unwilling the Temple should be profaned by a fraud: but that he was so skilful in conjuring her by representing to her, to what extremity his passion was reduced, as at last she permitted him to make ready all his engines: and how to give him time she had remitted Ariana to the eight day after. Then she told her, how her brother had dressed the Chamber with the riches that were his own, and chosen an excellent Engineer to set up stately theatres, and make all manner of representations, and they together had consulted to take in the vault of that little Temple, and make a heaven of it; that within it they had set a music with store of Torches which made that light, and that the darkness was caused by means of certain clothes they had hung before the windows, to make the place afterwards more lightsome by the torches. That the Diana was the most fair and famous Comedian that was at that time in Rome; the children were also accustomed to the theatres, and had their shafts rubbed with a composition that kindled in water: that all this descended and ascended by means of little wire threads untwist and strong, that were tied to their scarves as it were invisibly. Ariana was full of wonder to hear of a deceit so well carried; but she was as full of shame when Virginia confessed that Marcelin saw her when she went into the bath through holes he had made about the pipes of the cistern, and that she herself had been curious to see so many beauties which she protested she had never seen the like. After that she assured her, that if she had thought her brother would have used violence, the entrance into the temple had never been permitted for his inventions. Whereupon she asked her pardon, for having exposed her to that danger, being overreach by the prayers and assurances her brother gave her. Ariana answered her, that she wondered not if she had done some thing in favour of the friendship she had to her brother, and pressed by his importunities: that she had a great obligation to her for quitting the interests of a person so near, to have care of hers, and for discovering this trick, that might have kept her in error and trouble all her life. They parted asunder after some other discourse, and Ariana went out of the temple with an oath never more to seek to purify herself in Rome, where chastity was subject to be corrupted by so many artifices. She confessed to Melintus, he had reason to suspect some cozenage, and after she had made this relation, which he himself found strange, they gave their judgement how they were to distrust that man, who would never rest there, since he sought out such rare and powerful practices.  
In the mean time Marcelin perceiving his designs, either discovered, or at least made unuseful, was resolved to demand Ariana in marriage of Aristides, being in no hope otherwise to assuage his passion. He communicated his purpose to Martian his father, and told him she was daughter to Aristides one of the chiefest men in Siracuse, niece to Dicearchus, who was the most powerful in that City, and had no children, and that they both drew their pedigree from one of the most noble houses in all Greece. His father would have put him off this, because she was a stranger, but he could not do it, what ever remonstrances he made him of the injury he did himself, that might pretend to any of the nobiest maids in Rome. In the end Martian that was already accustomed to endure all the vicious passions of his son, because he was of use to maintain him with Nero, could well be pleased with this, that was an honest one, and consent to that he desired. With this permission Marcelin addressed himself to Maximus, having thought him fit to manage the affairs, and declared his design to him, backed with his father's consent, and entreated him to make the proposition of it to Aristides, of whom he hoped to be received with contentment, being the son of a Senator, if he could resolve to leave his daughter at Rome, or else dwell there himself, and in that case, that he would obtain for him the quality of a Citizen of Rome, that Palamede had obtained already: that if he had any familiarity with Ariana, he besought him also earnestly to dispose her to wish him well. Maximus considering of the quality of Marcelin, his credit and authority about the Emperor, thought he might gain a great support to himself, if he were able to do him any good office, and finding this proposition honest, promised him all the assistance he could expect.  
That very day he moved it to Aristides, who at the first could not consent to quit his daughter: Nevertheless the greatness of that party dazzling his judgement, he began a little to give way to the reasons of Maximus, and at last promised to communicate the business with his son and daughter▪ and that very hour he wrote of it into Sicily to his brother Dicearchus. Maximus finding he was so fairly forward, advertised Marcelin of it, who seeing that his good fortune partly depended on the good will of Ariana, failed not to appear at the Temple proudly clothed with a great train, to make her see what honour she should be mistress of, if she consented to his desire, and omitted not to make great expressions of his respect to her, serving himself at the same time, for diverse ends, both with pomp, and with humility.  
On another side Aristides having made overture of it, to his children, Ariana was in a great wonder to hear him mention it as a thing he desired: Yet she continued mute to her father's reasons, and left the taking of her part to her brother, who not enduring to have any thing more spoken concerning a man he had so much cause to abhor, and his sister also for his sake, was forced to say, he believed not that so good a father would marry his sister to a man that had twice attempted upon his life: that he could no longer hold from confessing to him, that it was Marcelin that would have murdered him with a troop of men, from which the gods only preserved him: that after that, feigning to send him an ointment for his wounds, he had sent him poison, not ever thinking he was advertised, that he had been the head of those that had assaulted him by night: that he had been constrained to dissemble that treason, especially knowing that the Emperor was of the party. But what cause said Aristides, had he to wish you so much evil? only for a false report, answered Palamede. Aristides remained very much astonished at these news, and found himself in a great straight, seeing that if he had a desire to make that match, it would be very hard for him to satisfy his son's spirit, and if he would be excused for it to Maximus, he could not tell him the true reasons; having himself approved Palamed's dissimulation of the injury offered him by Marcelin, for fear of making him an open enemy, and drawing upon himself the displeasure of the Emperor. So as he told his children, that the matter well deserved to be thought of at more leisure. Ariana when she saw she was strengthened by Palamede, prayed her father she might not be brought to that pass, to live with one that had spilt the blood of her brother, and had been branded with so cowardly a treachery, as to venture his poisoning too. If this you allege, said Aristides, be true, never will I bring so much misery upon my house. But take heed Palamede, that the fear of leaving your sister here, makes you coin these things, for I should never pardon you while I live if it were so. He is a party more exalted than we could ever have hoped for, and that shall place your sister in an illustrious rank, in the glory whereof you are to participate. It is not fitting, little considerations should turn you of this happiness, since it so fairly presents itself; we may very well quit all we have in Sicily, to dwell here in a fortune that may be envied of all our countrymen. Father, said Palamede, I am not an enemy to the honour and advancement of our house. I disguise not any thing to you; Melintus has been too true a witness of what I tell you, and can certify the truth: Aristides promised them to examine at leisure all those reasons, and to consider what was to be done for their common good: in the mean time he bade them think also upon the advantages that offered themselves, and not to neglect them. Palamede presently acquainted Melintus with this discourse, and professed to him, he would oppose that marriage as much as it were possible: Melintus set him on that way as much as he could, and spoke of it to Ariana to know her resolution: but she assured him she would sooner marry with death. Nevertheless, she was greatly troubled, when her father said to her, that her brother's reasons ought not to remove them from accepting such a party, that he knew but by light reports, that it was he that would have murdered him, and that it might be some one that wished him ill, had sent that same poison under Marcelin's name: That there was no appearance he should be author of that villainy, having been twice to visit him since, with sufficient testimonies of affection: and if that were so, that the greatest enemies might become friends; and that the design he had for her, as without all doubt it had extinguished his hatred, so ought it to make that of Palamede die also. Ariana saw well he was fully resolved for that marriage, and that it would be very difficult to divert him from it, which she took so impatiently, that she cursed without ceasing her voyage to Rome: Nevertheless, she never dared to contradict her father openly; but then when he commanded her to look kindly upon Marcelin in what place soever she met him, she began to despair, not knowing how she might avoid that misfortune, because she could not express her averseness to Marcelin, Aristides ever accompanying her to the temple to see what reception she gave him. Melintus' trouble was no less, not knowing what remedy to find out, and if his wit furnished him of any one, he could not make it prosper, but that his passion should break out. Palamede seemed the most offended, and more openly expressed his displeasure. Ariana knew well enough, her father would not compel her, if she declared her mind absolutely to him; but her modesty would not permit her so much liberty.  
At length Dice●rchus letters came, who being naturally ambitious, and desiring to get himself support in Rome, entreated his brother not to let scape so great a good fortune, and no more to think of Diocles' riches, whose son he had destined his daughter to; since the least quality of a Roman Senator was of greater consideration than all the means of the most puissant man in a province. Aristides heartened by this counsel, commanded Ariana to prepare her to receive Marcelin the day after. This news so struck her, that she betook her to her bed, and the paleness of her face soon showed what compulsion she resented. Aristides wondering at her sickness, she told him it was no great matter, and besought him he would defer but one day this interview: which he granted her, and in the mean time ceased not to be with her to encourage her with reasons, and make her consent to the match. But the morning after, considering on the ways to divert Marcelin, and finding none other but to let him know her distaste, she bethought her of this subtlety. Epicharis whom she had about her, was a young maid about her age, that was very faithful to her of a gentile spirit, and who being acquainted with her mistress' displeasures, would have willingly comforted her with the loss of her own life. Thou knowest, says Ariana to her, how it is impossible for me to tell my mind to Marcelin, for that my father will ever be a witness of the usage I give him. I prithee, whilst Aristides shall be about my bed, put on my ordinary gown, and covering thee with the great scarf I use to wear, go thy ways to the Temple, where Marcelin will not fail to come to thee: thou mayst tell him in a low voice, counterfeiting mine, that he loses all hope of marrying me, that I will rather choose to dye, what ever guise I make before my father, and if of his own accord he will retire him from his suit, without bringing me to the extremity, I shall have a great obligation to him for it. Epicharis very glad to serve Ariana, promised to obey her, and after she had disguised herself, went to the Temple, where she miss not to speak with Marcelin: and at her return finding Ariana impatient to know what had passed, she told her he had been abused very pleasantly: Nevertheless, her discourse having amazed him, he had not omitted to ask her leave to come to see her at home, as it was appointed; after that he would consider on the means to obey her, if her rigour should continue. She prepared her therefore against that day, and in the mean time the thoughts in that house were very diverse. Melintus and Palamede meditated upon cruel tragedies, rather than they would consent this wretched man should enjoy Ariana. Maximus never ceased representing the grandeurs of the house of Martian, the favour of Marcelin with Nero, and within his mind conceived fair hopes for the good office he rendered him. Aristides believed already he saw his daughter wife to a Roman Senator, equalling the pomp and glory of the chiefest of the Empire. But Ariana would not let herself be won by these vanities, and more prized the least of Melintus qualities, than all those honours that were accompanied with so many miseries: she therefore dreamed only of the means that were capable to break off this blow. At last the day came that Marcelin was to come to the house, where Maximus did what he could to receive a person of so great worth, and prepared the rest to give him the honours were worthy his order. They dined altogether with much silence, every one meditating apart the designs he had in his mind; then they returned into the Chamber where they must receive this lover. Aristides a while entertained his daughter with the discourses she was to make him, wherein she was not resolute to satisfy him altogether: then he gave Maximus his place to set upon her with the same persuasions, and went to find Palamede to dispose him to show a well pleased countenance. They were all thus busied, attending Marcelin that was something tedious. Palamede said it became the Roman gravity to be waited for. Some hours pass away more; at last, Maximus impatient that he came not, sent to Martian's house; who sent word, that he had not seen his son since the day before, and that he was in pain for him. Aristides begins to wonder at this humour in Marcelin, to neglect a thing he had before so much sought for. Yet for all that they could hear no news of him; every one thereupon gave his different opinion: but not one of them could guess the cause of that action. Marcelin's people appeared to be in great trouble for him, and one of them said, that the night before he had accompanied him very near to the Tiber, that there he had commanded him to return home, and how he knew not but he might be drowned in the darkness of the night. His father's fear thereupon increased, and all the day after past also, and no body could learn what should be become of him. Aristides had a suspicion that his son willing to hinder the marriage, and revenge himself, had handled him the night passed in the same manner he had been used by him when he was left for dead, and made him be cast into the Tiber: yet he durst not signify to him any thing of this surmise.  
About the evening Melintus, Palamede, Ariana, and Epicharis being together, and not knowing to what they might impute the cause of Marcelin's absence; What may we think, said Ariana, is become of him? For me, says Melintus, I think in what place soever he be, he burns for love of Ariana. It suffices me, says Palamede, he be drowned. It seems, replied Ariana, you know something of the matter? have you indeed served him as he would have served you? They protested both, they had not imagined to do him any harm. 'tis true, says Palamede, that before he had married you, some thing like this might have befallen him; but I thought not it had been time yet for that. Ariana added, let him be drowned, or burned, or let the earth have swallowed him, it little concerns me, provided he appears no more. Epicharis having some while harkened to them, could not refrain from telling them; I am assured I can guess better than you all three. And what thinkst thou, said Ariana, is become of him? I imagine, answered she, that he is neither burned, nor swallowed up, nor drowned: but that at this present he is dying for hunger. Ariana thinking she had but jested; and whereupon ground you, says she, that belief? rather call it, says she, assurance: If you will give him any thing to eat, I will bring you to the place where he has as much need of it, as ever he had in his life. Ariana urged her to tell her what she knew. I fear, says she, you three will be more gentle than I: for I have condemned him to dye, and if I discover to you in what manner, it may be you will preserve his life, to destroy afterwards your own. That made them the more eager to know what she could say of the matter: and they so pressed her, that at length she told them: You know that at the end of the garden of this house, in a place remote enough, there stands a little lodge near to the gate opens upon the Tiber. Marcelin waits for Ariana in that place since before yesternight, and I can assure you, that never lover was so impatient of seeing his Mistress. They were so astonished at this news, that some while they spoke not a word: But Ariana desirous to know how she had been able to draw him to that place; You know, said Epicharis, you commanded me to go to the Temple in your habit and veil, which I did; and Marcelin scarce daring to come near me, I lift up my veil a little, so as he could not see me, and made him a sign with my hand to come to me; but in stead of saying to him that you commanded me to say, I began thus, speaking very low: Marcelin, hitherto I have professed to you nothing but coldness, not but that I acknowledged the honour you do me, but in satisfaction to a brother that cannot love you, and will never give his consent I be yours: wherefore I will make to appear the affection I bear you; and you shall express yours to me, if this night you come alone to our house by the gate that looks to the Tiber; there you shall receive assurances of what I would do for you; and I will make my brother resolve to consent to my desire, when I shall let him see that you are already my husband. Marcelin gave me a thousand thanks for so many graces, and promised me not to fail coming thither at the hour I had appointed him. I came back from the Temple, and would not tell you what I had done; yea, I feared me lest he might doubt some malice, and not come; but at night stealing from you, I went to stay for him at that same gate, where I missed not to find him; and after I had let him in, I told him, I had charge from Ariana to put him into that lodge, while her father, and the rest were asleep, where I so well shut him up, that he never got out since: beside I took the key of the garden for fear any one going by that way should hear him cry out, and I had resolved to let him die there for hunger to make him pay for the conzening villainous tricks he had wrought in the temple, and deliver you out of all pain, which I think you are to resolve on too; for this man will be a cause of a thousand misfortunes to you in the end, and you may revenge you all three of the mischiefs he hath done you, it will be easy for us afterwards to cast him into the Tiber, and never shall any one know who it was that used him so, if some of us do not discover it. They were amazed at her invention, admiring her boldness, and the simplicity of Marcelin, but at length they perceived too much rigour. Now said Epicharis, you may do with him what you please; I have done the service which I ought to my mistress, and to you, and at the least, I have broken that blow you so much apprehended. Then they were in a great trouble to let Marcelin get out, and withal to content him, being not willing to have him lost, and fearing also his fury, when he should have escaped. I perceive well, said Epicharis, I must save you from the danger I have put you to, and take all the envy upon myself, seeing you are pleased he should live. Let me go then I will make up the matter well enough, and make him suspect no body but myself, and never vex you more. Melintus was of opinion they should leave to her the ordering of the business; because she was of a most advised wit, and she went that very hour to the lodge where having opened the door to Marcelin, and then conducted him out of the house all pale and feeble for his fastings, holding the gate half open, she said to him, know that it is Ariana that gives you your life, and that it is I alone that resolved to take it from you, for all the trouble you have put her to by your wooing. She was determined rather to dye, than marry you, and I had much rather you should have died, than she: for it was I that spoke to you under the veil without her knowledge of it and gave you the appointment to which you so easily rendered yourself: my purpose was never to have fetched you from hence: but when I made her acquainted with my plot, she was willing to pardon you, upon charge you would never more importune her; which you are to do, if you love your life: for assure you self, I shall want neither invention nor courage to destroy you, if you chance ever more to torment her. Marcelin full of wonder and weakness, having let her speak a while, failed not to enter into a fury against this maid, and would willingly have torn out her eyes, and life also, if he had had more strength to shuffe open the door: but she shut it with violence, leaving him without all in a rage, and came to advertise Ariana what she had done; that she should never have any displeasure on that side; and that all the hate was fallen upon her, which she very little regarded. Palamede and Melintus saw well they were warranted from the search of Marcelin, but not yet from his fury, suspecting well he was gone out from thence with as great a desire of revenge, as hunger. Nevertheless the present mischief, being avoided, they ought to keep themselves to their guards for the time to come. The day after they knew he was returned to his house; but when he was asked what voyage he had made in three days space, he answered nothing, so much ashamed was he to have been so cruelly deceived by a wench. Aristides nor Maximus heard not a word more from him, for all his wits were employed in meditating what sudden and cruel vengeance, he might take of all those strangers, before they returned into Sicily.   

ARIANA. The fourth Book.  
EMilia overcome with affliction for not seeing Melintus any more, and knowing his sickness was but a pretext for not visiting her, began to have a sense of her misfortune, and that he had not enterprised his suit to her, but in favour of the search of Palamede: her affection ungratefully acknowledged, her beauty contemned, so many commendable qualities neglected, and all her careful assistances quite forgot, assailed her spirit with so much anguish, despite and shame, that she was not able to make resistance to them. The feigned sickness of Melintus caused in her a true one, and the news came to Maximus his house, that she was at the extremity, and a few days after that she was dead. Palamede would have gone to visit Camilla to comfort her, but that Melintus, who was in sorrow for this accident, diverted him, for fear he should engage himself again with her, and so bring a stay to the design they had of departing, and he promised him to satisfy this duty to Camilla for them both some days after.  
But as they did innocently bring misfortune upon others, so were others prepared to make their innocency most unfortunate. Marcelin not willing to let them be gone without causing them to feel the effects of his rage, began to vaunt before Nero the beauty of Ariana, and spoke so many marvels of it, that he produced in him a desire to see her; then having let him know she was of an humour too retentive to give up herself to the Emperor, and serve his pleasures: on the other side that she never went abroad, and how it would be a hard matter to take her away, he made him the more desirous by these difficulties to have the possession of this fair creature: but when he told him she was sister to Palamede, and that they were logded together with Melintus, the Emperor remembers him of the cause he had to be revenged of those two friends, for the offence he thought he had taken of Melintus, and the wound he had the night of the combat, the mark whereof was yet to be seen upon his hand. Marcelin seeing the Prince in those ressentments, told him, how he had found out an excellent means to revenge him on Melintus and Palamede, and to have Ariana to the bargain. He added that they were that very night to set fire on all sides of the house they were in, and when they should think of escaping, without dreaming of any thing besides saving them from the flame, it would be easy to put them to the sword in the tumult, and to ravish Ariana. Nero that affected nothing so much as such furious inventions, entertained this with joy, and commended Marcelin highly for it, who that very hour took the charge to dispose his men about the house, that not one of them might escape. This resolution was very funest to the City of Rome: for the night being come, when he thought every one was drowned in sleep, he himself holding a Torch in his hand, set it under Maximus door, and gave example to the rest to do the like every where else. Presently the fire kindled with such violence at that house, and in order at the other houses of the street, that he believed never any of them could get out from thence, but that they should be all burned. And indeed when they awaked, all the Chambers were of a smoke; all that they were to do, was to get out with their clothes, which they hastily took, and saved themselves in the garden, expecting the remedy that might be given to this accident. Palamede and Melintus took care to lead Aristides and the fair Ariana; who in this fray let Melintus see beauties which his imagination could never have so perfectly represented to him. The little Damis, a young slave of Maximus, came to advertise his Master that was in their company, that looking out at a window he had perceived a man that held a Torch in his hand, and set fire to one side of the house: that made them doubt of Treason; and they had besides greater assurance of it, when upon the Tiber's side they heard two slaves of Maximus crying out as they were killed, who were gone out to fetch water at the River. Melintus and Palamede issued out to succour them, but they were assaulted by ten or twelve Soldiers, with such fury, that the best course they could take, was to retire into the house again, defending themselves as they went▪ Melintus thought there was none but Marcelin could be Author of so fearful a villainy: and could not tell what they should resolve on, seeing they were environed with fires on all sides, and a certain death, whether they stayed there, or whether they went out: He looked upon Ariana, the tears in his eyes, and struck with grief that so excellent a beauty should dye so cruel a death, came sadly to her, and said; Madam, into what misery are we brought? and how have the heavens permitted, that all the furies together should come to assail us, to make our loss inevitable? Is it possible that I cannot by some enterprise, or yet by my own ruin preserve your life? And can I not have at least this joy in dying, to see you out of danger? Melintus, answered she, do not hope from me either counsel or consolation: this accident so troubles me, that it leaves me nothing but tears and plaints; but if it be true that Marcelin be chief of this conspiracy, I had much rather dye with you, than survive and fall into his hands. Seeing the gods have suffered this misfortune to come to pass, I beseech them it may have his full course, rather than that I be reserved to live after you, to be exposed to the insolence of these desperate people. Madam, replied he, I cannot believe we are ordained to an end so miserable; and though the fire on all sides seems to shut up the passage to all hope, the way of heaven, from whence succours may be sent us, is yet free. Let us yet hope, Madam, and moderate your weep and complaints; whilst I go to see by what means we may be saved, and whether some god may not inspire me what we are to do in this extremity. She answered him not but with a sigh, and Melintus having kissed her hand, left her, hiding his tears as well as he could, than he looked round on all sides, and after having searched in vain a thousand inventions in his wits, at last passing by the Stable, he advised with himself to get up upon the strongest and fleetest of his horses. He advertised also Palamede and the rest to take what horses there were, and after having covered Ariana's head with a cloth, for fear the fire might offend her, he lift her gently into his arms, and making the gates be opened, took his sword in his hand. Then putting spurs to his horse, he went furiously away, and after he had struck off the arm of a Soldier that would have got hold of his bridle, he saved himself by running, carrying away his dear Ariana through the thickest of armed men, and flames that already devoured the neighbour houses. Marcelin seeing Melintus pass that held Ariana, and that he was not able to stay him, although he had cast himself in the way before him, and encouraged the rest to kill him, was now in despair seeing himself on foot not able to overtake him: and as he returned, he saw Palamede his principal enemy, who after Melintus example would have got away, carrying his father with him; but they so closed themselves together to hinder him, that Palamede seeing how it was impossible for him to force them, being loaden with his father's heavy body, entered in again and gave Aristides to Hermes, one of his men; then having carefully recommended to Arcas the safety of Epicharis▪ he gave them charge to follow him as soon as he should have made a passage with his sword. He took a buckler, and going out again, set upon the boldest of them that would have stayed him, and charged them with such fury, that with two blows he gave, he struck down two of them at his feet; the rest sustained him with much resolution, and he had much ado to ward all their blows; but in the end mingling him amongst them, he put them in such disorder, as he gave time to Hermes to get away and save Aristides; Arcas did likewise bear away Epicharis, and the others taking the rest of the horses, saved with them that that was most precious. Palamede seeing they were far enough off now, dispatched him of his enemies, and went away in a gallop after them.  
Marcelin enraged to see his wicked designs thus ruined, struck his own men also, accusing them of cowardice, and seeing a slave of Aristides passing, that went away later than the rest, getting at last a horse with much ado, he gave him a blow on the head with his sword, & laid him dead upon the place. Then mounting a horseback upon his own horse, he pursues those that saved themselves, and gave order to his companions to find horses, and come presently after him to aid him.  
Melintus finding no security in the City which he saw all on fire, and full of his enemies, was got out of the ports, and when he was in plain Champion, he could not complain at this accident that gave him the favour of daring to embrace his fair Ariana, who did as sweetly cleave close to him for fear of falling. She was become so dazzled with the swiftness of the course, that Melintus after he had put his sword into the scabbard, and taken away the cloth that covered her head, found her seeming to have lost all remembrance; but considering how this happened but by astonishment, and seeing her fair neck bare, because the handkerchief that covered it was fallen by the violent motion, he used nothing to make her come again to herself, besides sweet and chaste kisses which he gave, one while to this admirable neck, another to her divine eyes, and sweet mouth. He was transported in these pleasures then full of respect, he accused himself of rashness, to steal the favours which at another time he would scarce presume to conceive a desire of: and presently before he could resolve whether he had done amiss or no, carried away by the power of those admirable objects, he kissed them again with so much ravishment, that in this estate the loss of his judgement excused the loss of his respect, and his senses busied about so pleasing a fault, mocked at his reason, whose severity also being charmed gave consent to their thefts, and refused not to take part in their delights.  
Ariana after a great sigh at last opening her eyes, with one look only banished all the liberties of Melintus, and remitted in place of them a respect as great as ever: then she said to him; Alas, Melintus, where are we? We are, answers he, in safety: I am only in pain for Aristides and Palamede, and but that I am afraid to forsake you, I would return to help them. As he was thus speaking he perceived by the light of the moon and flames, a man running after him whom he took to be one of their troop. So as alighting from his horse, and setting upon the green grass the sweet charge he carried, he prayed her to rest her, while the rest of the company were come together. They began to behold that great City on fire, and to be amazed at the accident, when seeing to approach him that followed them, Melintus knew him to be Marcelin: suddenly getting up a horseback for fear of being surprised which his enemy. Ah traitor! says he, darest thou at length alone assault me? Marcelin not answering him at all, came strait towards him, and gave him a blow with his sword; Melintus avoided it, giving spurs to his horse, and soon gaining the crupper, thought to have struck his sword into the very reins of Marcelin, but it broke having met with arms under his casack. I was in a great wonder, said he then, at thy valour, but this shall not hinder, but thou shalt pay for thy treacheries: and seeing that Marcelin could not manage his horse after his mind, he set foot to ground, and at the same instant leaping up behind him got hold of his arms with one of his, and with the other was going to strike into his head, that which was left of his sword: But Marcelin striving hard, Melintus was forced to let himself slide down in pulling him backward, and having laid him along upon the ground, snatched from him his sword: He was about to kill him, but at the very instant he heard Ariana crying out to him for help.  
This sweet Lady had seen the beginning of that combat, being but in a desperate condition, yet although she judged that if Marcelin remained conqueror, she should fall into his hands, nevertheless being confident in Melintus valour, she could not resolve of going far away. But when she saw his sword broke, she fell down in a son, and was no sooner come to herself again, but she saw she was in the arms of a soldier that was alighted from his horse to carry her away. Then was it that she called Melintus, and this name that demanded succours was at the same time succourable; for that Melintus looking where she was, saw behind him two men a horseback that were about to kill him. He lift up himself suddenly and sustained the first with Marcelin's sword in one hand, and the rest of his own in the other.  
Never had man so much choler and grief together. He desired to defend him from these, and at the same time to help Ariana; but seeing he could not save her, but by the death of those that set upon him, he gave one of them such a blow, that if he had not been armed, he had divided his shoulder from the body; and yet the sword entered a good way into the coat of arms. The second came up to him, and thought to have stabbed him into the belly, but Melintuus defended it with the guard he had in his left hand, and at the same time gave him a blow under the cuirass, which made him fall dead from his horse. He that had been first struck by him, set on him behind, and Melintus was not so skilful, but that he was a little hurt in the shoulder; but in turning about, he gave a reverse blow upon the horse's head, and making him caper, he took his time, and thrust his sword under the thigh of this last man, and plunged it even into his bowels: This wretch falling backward broke his neck, and the fall stopped his breath which now on all sides dropped away with his blood.  
Melintus seeing himself freed of these two men, and having about him none but Marcelin living, which had much ado to return from the dazzling of his fall, left off finishing his death, to run towards Ariana, who had till then hindered by a thousand devices, this soldier from setting her upon his horse to carry her away. Melintus cried out to him afar off, Insolent fellow, wilt thou let alone that Lady thou art unworthy to touch? But he seeing him coming, and willing to prevent him, left Ariana to get up a horseback, and presently setting spurs pricked towards him thinking to overthrow him. Melintus lightly turned him aside, and as he passed struck him on the left arm with so great a wound, that he filled with blood all the place where about he ran.  
At the same time Marcelin recovering force and courage, lift himself up, and taking one of the dead men's swords, came to second him that Melintus hard hurt, and rather filled with rage, than resolution rashed him upon him. Melintus husbanding the forces and advantage he had, after warding of two or three blows, gave him one in the thigh, and went to redouble it, when he that had been hurt, came to put himself between for the safety of his Master's life: but he paid his own for it, receiving the blow which Melintus struck so deep in that he closed up his sword within his arms. This man dying let go the reins of his horse that ran away, & Melintus unwilling to let his sword go so follows him, and at last drew it out with pain, and with that violence, and the amazedness wherein he was, he fell backwards.  
In the mean time Marcelin that felt his strength diminish, seeing Ariana standing still, and troubled with so many fears, went towards her, his sword in his hand for to kill her, to the end that if he died, another should not enjoy his loves. The coming of this furious man, and brightness of the sword awakened the lost senses of Ariana, and gave her wings to run to Melintus, whom she called to her aid, and it was just then he was fallen, and Marcelin was in good hope to vanquish him yet, thinking he was hurt: Nevertheless, Melintus prepared himself getting up, and then they began the combat hand to hand, and more equal, though Marcelin were armed, because the blood that ran out of his wound lessened that advantage.  
Until than Melintus had not fought but for saving his own life, but now he revenged the injuries of Ariana, and that desire encouraging him, with the presence of his fair Mistress, he made account he should soon see an end of that adventure: so having warded some thrusts of Marcelins, he with one blow from all the force he had, overthrew him, and therewith cleft his head. Another Soldier came on running in all speed, and Melintus wearied with so many travels, thought this combat would never have end, and he should have enough to do to defend him from all those that came so thick upon him; yet he was resolved to stay for him; but this last man seeing his courage, and so many dead about him, ran away as fast as he came, and at the same time freed Melintus of so many troubles, and Ariana of all her apprehensions. Melintus would no more strike Marcelin, seeing he made no sign of life, and giving the gods thanks for this victory, wiped Marcelins' sword, and taking the scabbard, wore it by his side.  
Then Ariana breathing at her ease, considered Melintus, and admired him, that after having run so many dangers, and acquired so much glory, he appeared with a confidence so modest, and a face untroubled for any amazement. But all on the sudden she saw him grow pale, and fearing he might have some deadly hurt, for he was covered all over with blood, she held him up, and asked him if he felt no wound about him. Madam, says he, fear not for seeing me all bloody, it is not mine, but the blood of my enemies; yet for all this, as he was speaking he found himself to faint, and with Ariana's help he laid him softly down upon the ground.  
The blood that ran from Melintus shoulder, made the blood retire out of the cheeks of Ariana, who full of fear and care, presently undressed him in that place, and found a wound that for the smallness of it cast out blood sufficient: she tore her handkerchief, and with much ado stayed the course of it; then she so bound it up, as there was no more cause to fear.  
While she was busy at this sad duty, which Melintus with all respect received at her hands, they heard the noise of horses, and turning their heads, saw ten or twelve horsemen coming still towards them. Melintus without being astonished, said to her; Madam, leave this unprofitable care, and whereof I am unworthy; I see there is no remedy but I must dye, but yet I will that it be in defending you to the last breath. Only, Madam, remember yourself. There his speech failed him, not knowing how he might discover himself. Ariana lively touched at so respectuous a passion, and unable to resist so sensible strokes of misfortune, fainted for grief, and after she had said, Ah Melintus▪ lost both her speech and sight.  
This desolate lover thinking to give her his last kiss, approached his mouth to Ariana's, then recollecting all the force and resolution was remaining in him, left her in that miserable estate, to get up on horseback, which he did, though with pain, and possessed with confusion and despair, went on with his sword in his hand, to seek out a certain death amongst those that came near him. His arrive no whit troubled them, and Melintus seeing they made not so much as appearance of defending themselves, stayed him a while, and regarding them with less trouble, perceived it was Aristides, Palamede, and the rest of their troop,  
The joy that came all at once to possess his soul, had a great strife at the entry, with all the afflictions that had taken place in it before: nevertheless, it had the mastery of them, and making him taste the sweetnesses of it, gave him the liberty to embrace Palamede, to whom he told his error and resolution. Then they ran towards Ariana, who of herself returning out of her swooning, at the same time saw her griefs fading away at a sight so pleasing.  
After the common rejoicing for being so happily found one of another, Palamede was wondering to see all those dead men with their Arms, and Marcelin himself in the number. Ariana made him a relation of the extreme valour of Melintus, that had slain them all with admirable strength and dexterity; and when they had given deserved commendations to the courage of Melintus, they were all of a mind, how it was a just punishment of the gods, that Marcelin should come so hastily to seek out his own destruction.  
Aristides that knew not the cause of his rage, could not imagine what had provoked him to all those villainies; and turning him towards the City that seemed all over on a flame, ceased not bewailing this desolation, that appeared yet more fearful in the horror of the night. But they thought it not safe for them to stay in that place, but get the next Forest, for fear they were taken for murderers: that in some desert place they might pass away all the day, for fear of being pursued, and there expect the next night to gain the port of Ostia, and from thence set sail for Sicily. They used the horses of these dead men, and on one of them they set Aristides and Ariana, and they had gone about three miles' journey, whilst Melintus and Ariana were informed what valour Palamede had shown, in favouring the going out of his father and the rest; and the day approaching, they entered into the Forest, where getting into a place far out of the way and obscure, they resolved there to pass away the day.  
Melintus, Palamede, and the rest accommodated certain places with cloaks and boughs to rest in, and day light giving means to Ariana to consider the company one by one, she perceived Epicharis had a●l her hair burned, which for all she was sorry for, yet she could not choose but laugh at it. Epicharis was easily comforted, being glad the misfortune went no further than that loss, and thereupon every one began to tell his adventure. They found but one man missing that Marcelin had killed: then they provided for their necessities, and sent a slave to the port to stay a vessel for them, and Arcas with another to the next village to buy meat.  
About midday Melintus and Palamede advised to go see the paths of the Forest, that they might with ease find the way to make their retreat by night, and not be troubled with a continual error; because the Moon was to rise but late. Arcas, that never had forsaken his Master, followed him, that they might the better together observe the turnings of ways, and remember them: But when they had gone through all, and were out of the wood, they spied a troop of horsemen that were coming to them, and returning again to Rome. They were forced to put themselves again into the entrance of the wood to let them pass away, and not be seen of them; and when they were very near, they heard one of them saying loud enough; It must needs be we have not taken the way they are in, for we had by this heard news of them: He that killed Marcelin and the rest is a man remarkable enough, and has the woman with him we are to bring to the Emperor, and when I would have revenged the death of Marcelin and my companions, three or four men joined themselves to him, so I was fain to save myself.  
This man spoke too clear to make any doubt in Melintus if it were he they sought or no. We are lost, says Palamede, it they find us. Melintus made a sign to him to make no noise, and let them pass: But Palamede's horse unfortunately took him to neighing, and some of this troop willing to know what it meant, advanced them, and seeing they were three men a horseback that would save themselves at their coming, they called up their companions to pursue them.  
Melintus in despair for being discovered, and brought to flying, said to Palamede they were to go a way quite contrary to that wherein Aristides and Ariana were, because she it was they sought. Their horses were better than those that followed them, so as they were soon far off them: but the others being in great number, divided into diverse troops to enclose them, if they meant not to come out of the wood, and they were not deceived, for that these friends encountering a way that separated into two branches, Melintus and Arcas by chance took one path in running away, and Palamede another, who thinking very soon to rejoin him with Melintus, was surprised by four or five soldiers that cut off his way from him; and after having sustained his first fury, put him out of all hope of escaping their hands. Melintus that was out of all peril, hearing the noise afar off, doubted of his friend's mischance, and resolved to go help him, commanded Arcas to save himself while he went to him, and to go advertise Aristides and Ariana that it was she they sought for, and that they should have a care not to go from the place they were in, but when the night came on▪ and then he charged him especially if he should hear no news from them, to conduct them out of the wood by the ways they had marked out, and from thence strait to the port, and to embark with them as soon as possible might be for Sicily. Master, said Arcas, command me not to leave you, I cannot obey you with so much cowardness. Arcas, answered Melintus, assure thyself, thou canst not do me a greater service than this I desire of thee: if we return not to them within a while, thou shalt tell them, how we were stayed by these soldiers that took us to deliver us into the hands of Justice, from which our innocence shall well know how to preserve us: and above all, abandon not Ariana. Adieu, my dear Arcas, said he, embracing him; then he galloped away towards the side where he had heard the noise.  
This poor servant could not find in his heart to quit his Master, and followed him still, but Melintus turning his head and perceiving him, cried to him; Art thou well advised, Arcas, how thou givest me my death? and if thou followest me any more, I shall not live an hour longer. Arcas was thus constrained, the tears in his eyes, to leave his Master, who presently arrived at the place where Palamede was environed with five or six horsemen, that cried out to him to render himself, after seeing two of their comerades lying dead upon the place by his hand. Palamede had put him into the thickest strength of the wood, where he could not be taken behind, and defended himself before with much courage. Melintus perceiving him in that danger, took his sword in his hand, and entering in amongst them, joined to his friend, after having struck off the shoulder of a soldier that hindered his approach to him: Palamede seeing himself enforced by this succours, doubled his blows, and Melintus having hurt two of them to death, and not thinking the rest were able to resist them, had hope to be soon dispatched of them, had it not been for the arrive often or twelve Soldiers that came to encompass th●m on all sides.  
Their forces diminished, and their enemies increased, for the number of those they had killed, was soon repaired by those that came in still upon them: Nevertheless the great courage of Melintus suffered him not to despair, and being animated with a just choler, he struck one down at his feet with a reverse blow he gave him on the midst of his body, under the arm he had lift up to strike him: from thence pursuing the first he met, he cloven his forehead, and the blood that ran from him in abundance upon his eyes, blinded him, and put him out of this combat. Palamede called up his forces, for to second Melintus, and seeing a Soldier that with both hands had taken his sword to cleave his head, he prevented him, and with one blow struck off his hands and sword that went in vain to strike the ground. This man carried away by his horse, and having nothing more left him to hold the bridle, was presently thrown down, and falling upon his face, found those hands he wanted to save him. Melintus on the other side seeing two of their enemies that most pressed him, went between them both, and lifting up his arm to give him a full blow that was on his left hand, and seeing him in defence, altered his design, and letting go a strong backblow cloven the head of him that was on his right hand, with one stroke having sent fear to the one of them, and death to the other. He that expected the blow shut his eyes, and put his sword before his head, and his horse carrying him away at the same time he could not see a bough of a tree that overthrew him: nevertheless getting up again, and seeing Melintus returning to him, he pierced his sword into the flanks of his horse, and laid him dead on the ground. Palamede would have helped him, but at the same time a Soldier seeing what had happened to Melintus, killed his horse inlike manner, having thought it the only way to end the fight: all they could do was to keep themselves from being pressed down under the fall, and to disengage themselves that they might fight it out on foot: but what ever vaillance was in them, the others had soon trodden upon them with their horses, but that two came in crying, they should not kill them, and that they were to be carried prisoners to Rome. This command stayed the fury of all those men that were animated for revenge, and made Melintus and Palamede resolve to yield themselves.  
In the mean time Arcas went to bring Aristides the sad news of the misfortune of his son and Melintus. Aristides set himself to weeping and bewailing: but Ariana fell down for grief into the arms ofher dear Epicharis, and when this desolate company had made a thousand complaints for being reduced to hide themselves in stead of succouring them; in the end, some were set to keep sentinel. Aristides weary of travail, overcome with sorrow, and having had no repose the night before▪ fell asleep: but Ariana that had taken a little sleep in the morning within that wood, and that had other cares upon her, retiring her to the place where Melintus had himself fitted her with branches, she laid her down upon Epicharis knees, and melting into tears, could not receive any consolation.  
This maid accused her of too great weakness, and prayed her to take some rest: but she said to her; Cease, my dear maid, to comfort me: if thou knewest the losses I sustain, thou wouldst complain as much as I do my misfortune. There is yet no cause, says Epicharis, to despair. Arcas hath told you, how they desired not to have their lives, but would only take them prisoners. And dost thou think, said Ariana, they would not revenge the deaths of them they killed in their own defence? and then a torrent of tears stopped her speech. I know well, said Epicharis, that you love nothing in the world so much as that brother. Thou knowest that, interrupted she, but thou art ignorant how dear the other person is to me that I lose with him; and this double loss makes that I cannot have tears sufficient to represent to thee my sorrow. Epicharis a little a mazed, let her weep some time, then replied thus: Madam, in your affliction I have a certain kind of joy, to learn the truth of a thing which I have all my life passionately desired: for I ever thought, that nothing but you was worthy of Melintus, and that Melintus only was worthy of you. The gods without doubt will favour so discreet and virtuous a friendship, and not permit you be long time separated. Alas! Epicharis, said Ariana, what miseries do I foresee if once I return without him into Sicily; and yet he ordains me this, desiring rather to dye, than see me in the hands of these in famous ravishers: for assure thyself, Epicharis, never was there an affection so perfect, or so full of respect, as this he hath to me. He has ever had so much fear of displeasing me, knowing how I have in horror all those fooleries of love, that unless the gods had produced in me an affection like unto his, that gave him leave to express something of it to me, I should scarce have had any knowledge thereof yet. And I do not know also, whether he would be pleased with me for discovering so much of it to thee as I have done. Madam▪ answered Epicharis, you know what fidelity I have vowed to you: it would be an injury to the passion I have for you, to conceal your secrets from me, knowing how much I desire to serve you, and ease your troubles: I believe he would not be sorry for my knowing it, if he knew the desire I had to see you both happy together. Dear Epicharis, replies Ariana, knowing our humours, dost thou believe ever any enjoyed a like felicity, if this might come to pass? But thou knowest to whom I am destined by my father, and this last disaster is of that nature, that I can hardly hope ever again to see alive, either him, or my dear brother. Ariana ever renewing her weeping; and Epicharis knowing how her sorrow was diverted, when she spoke of the affection of Melintus, said to her, Madam, the gods will preserve for you this lovely Melintus, and since they have given him you will not suffer any dispositions of the earth contrary to their will. Live at more repose, and be confident in their goodness: in the mean time because you cannot sleep, I shall take it for a great favour, if you please to take the pain to tell me, how you came to know the beginning of this affection. I will then, said Ariana, spend in so dear an entertainment what remains of the day, before we are to part: and having taken care that no body might overhear them, after she had wiped her eyes, she spoke thus.  

History of Melintus and Ariana.  
I Will believe what I sometimes have heard the wisest say, that the gods have established certain Genies to rule the order of all things, who being just and good, suffer not craft and oppression long to triumph over innocency; and bring to light the most concealed secrets, to give in the end to nobility and virtue the honours and recompenses they deserve: I believe also, they have given to every one of us in particular other Genies, that inspire us with secret knowledge of the qualities we are to acquire, and make us conceive desires whereof we know not the cause, to guide us to the possession of that which is most honest and most profitable for us.  
Thou wilt find these very true observations, by that I shall tell thee of the strange fortune of Melintus, of the perfections he has been careful to get, and of the esteem we had each of other, even before ever we saw one another: for you must know, that I knew him not before he went from Siracuse to Athens for to learn all the sciences and exercises fitting for a person of his condition. In all which he was so prosperous, that they that returned from Greece spoke of nothing but his perfections, and the facility he had to have good success in what ever he undertook. One day my brother in his letters gave me notice of the friendship they had made sure to one another, with so many advantageous words for Melintus, and expressions of joy for himself, that I thought Melintus must be something above the common sort, since my brother that was none of the least esteemed, conceived to have gained so great a good fortune in his affection. I signified to him by my answer the part I took in his contentment, and beside that the profit I should have by it, by hearing news of him at Telephus house that was father to Melintus, when he were careless of writing. Palamede showed him this letter, and he approved it, for a certain thing he said pleased him, and afterwards in those he writ to Telephus he always mentioned something concerning Palamede and me: so as when ever I was in pain for the health of my brother, I sent to Telephus, that made no difficulty to let me see the whole letters of Melintus: But I protest to you, I saw there a fashion of writing so sweet, and a respect he gave Telephus so great, and yet mixed with an honest boldness, that I had a great desire to be acquainted with him one day. On the other side I wrote to Palamede with more care; that if it happened he showed my letters to Melintus, he might have a more favourable opinion of me. I was not mistaken, for after that, he expressed to me, when he had seen what I had writ, and known me by some relation my brother made him, what great desire he had to accomplish the time that was prescribed him by Telephus, that he might come home into Sicily, and see me.  
During that time there passed occasions that augmented still the esteem we began to have each of other, for he went away with the honour of horse razes at the Olympic games, and the glory of making the best verses, as my brother also had the prize of the Harp: So happily that they made our City glorious above all the towns that sent to those games the excellentest men they had for all exercises. On the other side a prize having been propounded at Siracuse for the fairest woman, in the favour of whom most lovers would present themselves, and recite verses: all the women that pretended to beauty in the City dressed up themselves to appear that day on the theatres, and dispute this victory: but I despising it, or else having no hope to carry it, shut up myself in the house, what ever they could do to persuade me to go thither: nevertheless some that recited, having complained at the absence of their Mistress, and named me, the Judges (without seeing me) adjudged the crown of flowers that was the prize, to be given me, and brought it to my lodging, when I was very far off from that enterprise. Melintus having learned by the letter my father wrote to Palamede the glory I had obtained, after the contempt I made of it, conceived yet a greater estimation of me, and had no other thought now but to be soon at Siracuse. At length Palamede sent us word, he prepared to come home with Melintus: but I must tell thee, I did prepare myself with a far greater care to receive them.  
Nevertheless the encounter they made of Corbulo that was going against the Parthians, greatly stayed this return; but it as much avanced and rendered glorious the reputation of Melintus, who following him into Asia with my brother, did so memorable actions in that expedition, that there was no other talk but of Melintus valour: which increased marvellously that opinion I had of him, and made me judge that there was some sympathy between his courage and mine.  
When occasions were wanting to give other proofs of their valour, they parted from Asia, and landing in Sicily, gave advice of their return, for to be received as victors at the Olympic games, according to the purpose the Siracusians had for them: but they had since added many other victories with much more danger and glory, which ought to make their reception still more honourable.  
The news was received of all with a great joy, but of me with surprise, considering I should see Melintus, whom I made so great account of by reason of his renown. There was beaten down a pane of a wall, according to the custom in all countries, to receive them that have gained the honour of the Olympic games: and I said, that since the sieges they had been at, they were not used to enter into Cities but by breaches, not by the gates of them.  
Every thing was in a readiness to receive them, and those of the City were of opinion to go out to meet them, and in exchange to render them the honour they had gained to their country. I was chosen to give them the City's presents; to Melintus a white horse, and a sword hanging in a Carnation scarf embroidered with silver; and to my brother a Cassock of a most rich work, with a quiver garnished with gilded shafts, and a bow of the same.  
They had been advertized of the reception was to be given them: so as Melintus and my brother still clothed after the Greek fashion, appeared mounted on fair horses in the head of those of their train, and some other of their friends, that had gone out before us. I was upon a pled nag that had a white foot-cloth, I myself was also clothed in white, with my hair hanging down crowned with a garland of flowers, and went by my uncle Dicearchus side, that was the chief of those of the town: The horse destined to Melintus was lead near me by two footmen, that held him on both sides with great cords of purple colour that served for reins; then followed another man that carried the sword and scarf; those that held the casack, the bow, and the quiver, went in their order, and after them an infinite number of people.  
At our meeting Melintus alighted from his horse; Dicearchus did the like: presently two men help me also to descend; and Melintus having saluted us, I prepared myself to speak to him: but I was so troubled to see the person whose knowledge I had desired, go with such a grace, and so full of justre, and honour, that I had much ado to reassure myself. I know not if he were deceived in what he had fancied in him concerning me: yet he has sworn to me since, that he was never so taken, as when he saw me in the height of all this preparation and train. I thanked them in the name of all the people for the honours they had procured to their Country, in acknowledgement of which I prayed them to accept these presents; and then was given me one of the strings that were in stead of reins to the horse, which I presented to Melintus: but when I took the Sword and Scarf I had charge to put upon him, I do not think that in all my life I ever blushed so much, or was seized with so strange a trembling: And I was very glad of passing towards my brother, to put me in countenance again, by making him the present was ordained him. I well remember that Melintus spoke to me to give me thanks for the honour they did him: but I took no heed to what he said, so confounded was I; and if I had been to reply, I must have stood mute: He told me since, his answer was, that his Country which had given him birth, might attribute to herself as her own, all that ever he should be able to do, and that he was a debtor to her for all the glory of it; nevertheless he received these presents, not as recompenses, but as new obligations; as for Palamede, I cannot call to mind in what manner he thanked me. After that, I was set a horseback again by Melintus, who presently mounted upon that horse I had given him, and ever accompanied me, in managing him with a great grace.  
I ceased not admiring every thing he did, and I well perceived he was not without trouble for his part: for he looked upon me sometimes with an eye that showed astonishment, and a passion new coming on, but so modestly, that there was none but myself that could observe it. We arrived in this manner at Syracuse, and he waited on me to my lodging, where he left me with Palamede and Dicearchus: his friends with the rest of the people brought him to Telephus house.  
All the night long I let my imagination wander upon every thing I had seen perfect in Melintus. That sweet and assured face, that free making, the grace and comeliness in all his actions, and his fashion of speech so full of mildness and vivacity, made me avow that I had never seen any thing so amiable: but as I was concluding something to his advantage, and was surprised in that conceit, the disadinfull humour that is natural to me, filled me with shame, and fortified me against all that merit. Then seeing how my father inclined to marry me to Amintas, son of Diocles, the richest in Syracuse, and that Melintus possessed not so great an estate as was in our house, my stomach could not then consent for his sake I should suffer so much unquietness in my mind.  
Diocles coming to be rich in a little time, as the rumour went then, by the acquisition he had made of the goods of certain banished men, was willing to stay himself upon the authority Dicearchus had in the City: but my uncle opposed it, because Diocles had ever been of a faction contrary to his; nevertheless Aristides did what he possibly could to persuade his brother, seeing nothing more advantageous for me in Syracuse.  
It was at that time thou wert given me by Dicearchus, who having bought thee very young upon the Sea coast, had bred thee still in hope that his wife Acidalia might have children, that thou mightst serve for company and entertainment too: but Acidalia being dead, he was resolved to give thee to me, perceiving I had inclination to love thee. I shall never forget, interrupted Epicharis, that happy change of my condition; for I may well say that I began but to live since I was at your service, which I would prefer to the most exalted estate that were upon earth: for I never had but vexation with Dicearchus and his wife, though they brought me up with much care and honour: but since I came to you, my life is become as happy as I could have desired. I know well, replies Ariana, what contentment thou enjoyest, being certain of my love to thee: but give me leave to go on, and thou shalt see if I be not as much assured in thine. Then she continues.  
Melintus fearing to seem impatient, was four or five days without seeing me, except one time at the Temple: but Palamede going to visit him, as he did often, Melintus entreated him to bring him to our house, and present him to me. He had then an esteem of me great enough, and I also thought there was not in the world a spirit more sublimed than his: in such sort that we were both fearful at this meeting; and for the good opinion that each had of themselves, we desired also both of us to make ourselves be feared. After I understood he was come in, I collected all the confidence I had, and Palamede bringing him to salute me, says to me; Sister, see here a man that as well deserves you should receive him in private, as you have done in public, and whom you must love, if you love me, for we are both but one and the same thing. I answered him: Brother, I shall never be wanting to honour that which you love; and if I esteemed not Melintus qualities, I should fear singularity, and to be left alone of my party. Madam, said Melintus then, if you should be alone in making small account of me, your party should at the least be the most just, if not the greatest. Melintus, says my brother interrupting him, let us not lose time in telling what your worth is; my sister knows it, by the report I have made of it to her, and by your own reputation. She must of necessity confess, there is not a man upon earth more accomplished than you; but confess you too, that I have a sister very lovely. Brother, says I to him, speak not of me, we may have better entertainment: beside, how would you have Melintus give a judgement of that he has yet no knowledge of? Thereupon I invited him to sit down; and Melintus replies; Madam, I already knew the beauty of your mind, by the letters Palamede received from you, and since that of the face is known as soon as it is seen, suffer me to judge of you at this very hour, and that I tell you, that fame which is accustomed to increase the desert of every thing it would commend, hath been constrained to diminish yours, being impossible to be published according to the greatness of it. I answered him, I pray you leave there your praises, which civility obliges to give, rather than truth: I did not think you could have resolved to flatter any body, such an opinion had I conceived of your virtue. Praises, replies he, are not flatteries, but when they are spent upon subjects unworthy of them: but virtue itself refuses them not for her recompense. It is true, says I to him, but they that know their own wants, as I do, aught to take praises as reproaches for not having those qualities are attributed to them; and there are no people love them, like those that believe they deserve them, which ●s a vanity in supportable. He knew by this I endured not commendations, and that he must treat with me otherwise than with many other women: which I observed by the amazement appeared in him; and because, changing the tune of his voice, he said to me; Pardon me, Madam, if I must still commend you, when I shall tell you, it is a mark of great virtue, not to be able to endure to be commended: and they that have a soul well ordered blush ordinarily at it, which restifies a kind of anger, and that one takes offence. Neither had I ever attempted to judge of you, if Palamede had not obliged me to confess that you were very lovely. My brother then mingled his wild discourse to ours, and said, That after he had a long time harkened to us, he found my humour was very contrary to that of all the women he had practised with; and that the belief of Melintus was very differing from his also, for he thought he could not do a greater pleasure to women, than to tell them they are perfectly handsome: that he never attained to their good graces but by this entry; and how after he had been willing to persuade them that they had no defect, in the end he was so persuaded himself, and found them more lovely. 'tis true, answers Melintus, that many times one prospers that way, for that commonly there is some fault; and this fashion is not to overcome, but to let one's self be vanquished on either side: and this is rather out of weakness to be engaged one to other, than by dexterity to engage that which one loves. It matters not, said my brother, provided one be content. Be assured, replied Melintus, that you never obtained a favour by those means, but that you found some remarkable defect in her you sued to, by which she let herself be caught. 'tis true, answered my brother, but never would there be aconquest, if the defect were not found: and I love those of that sort much better than those whom severity makes inaccessible. They are more proper for you, said Melintus, for the favours you desire of them, but confess if in your judgement you do not more esteem the other. There is no doubt, answers my brother, but I give them over, because they esteem not me sufficiently. I gave ear to this their discourse, and was very glad that Melintus approved modesty, and expressed with such a grace, and virtuous conceits, the same thoughts I had. The rest of the day passed away in such discourses as these, whereby I was persuaded that the spirit of Melintus had a great sympathy with mine, and he considered also in what manner he was to demean himself with me, and that there was no hope I could be gained by flatteries.  
After this visit he quite altered his discourse; for instead of speaking to me either of my beauty, or his love, he seemed very far from all passion, and all our entertainments were concerning the passions of others, wherein we observed a thousand faults, and as many poorenesses of spirit: and insensibly we taught one another, how we were to be according to our own desire, both to love perfectly, and make us worthy to be loved. In the end it seemed that speaking of others, we spoke thus to one another: Since you have such thoughts as these, I can love you well so. He durst never tell me he loved me, but his actions sufficiently did it; and then when he thought no body saw him but I, his cares to please me were too intelligible. See how strange our humours are, a thousand services he rendered me were very agreeable; yet for all that I should be offended at the least expression of love he made me by his mouth, and forbade him my sight. So as he was forced to discover himself by other means were pleasing enough to me, as by many verses he gave me, a part whereof I would repeat to thee, if my affliction permitted me to think of such gentillesses. But I must needs at least tell thee the encounter I made of a lover very differing in all manner of qualities; 'twas of the proud Garamant; of whom thou hast heard told pleasant tales enough, but yet never camest to know what passed betwixt us, because the affair was kept secret. He had his original from Africa, and for this that we knew not his extraction, he laboured to make great additions thereby touching his birth; and upon that ground he would not believe there was any body in all Sicily that durst dispute pedigree with him: nay, he maintained the excellency of his arrogant humour with certain reasons, whereby he would prove, that one could not have a good spirit, unless he had as much pride as he. I was importuned with his visits; nevertheless being acquainted with his proud and ridiculous humour, he sometimes served to make me laugh, and I did often please myself in mocking at him, feigning that I believed his vanities. He chose thought I made a very great estimation of him, and that I believed the greatest honour could arrive to me, were, to see myself loved by a man of that importance.  
One day when I was alone, he came to see me, and not willing to lose the opportunity of speaking to me, he told me in a cold fashion, that he had news to let me know, which would not be unacceptable. I desired him to tell me it. 'Tis this, says he, that I have quite broke with Aspasia (that was one of the handsomest in Syracuse.) And wherein, says I to him, may this business concern me? Because, answers he, there was nothing but the trust I had in her that hindered me giving myself to you. And this was the news that must be so welcome to me. Is it possible, said Epicharis interrupting her, the man could be so impertinent? Wonder not at that, replied Ariana, hear only that remains; then she went on; I was willing to entertain him in this vain humour, as I had accustomed, and told him; Truly, you could not have brought me a more agreeable news, if it were to be believed; but I dare not hope you are minded to do me so much honour, acknowledging myself unworthy of it. No, continued he, I will have you believe it, although your modesty makes some difficulty, and I hope our intelligence shall prove most perfect: for as I make myself as contrary as may be to the humour of those cowards that lose the advantages of our sex, submitting themselves to Ladies by a thousand flatteries; so I perceive not in you the arrogancy of these disdainful women, that acknowledge not the defects of their sex; and by this I find that our judgements are equally disabused of those ordinary errors, and are firm in the true opinions that each of us both aught to have of himself. I smiled, looking on him, and wondered to what end this poor wretch lost himself in his vain rave. He contrarily believed that I laughed for excess of joy, that he would take the pains to love me, and had this foolish conceit that the more he lessened me, the more I thought myself beholding to him. At last, because I would see to what point his presumption would attain, I told him, that since it was his will to make me so happy, I entreated him to instruct me how I might please him by living with him, to the end I might never be wanting in the respect was due to the greatness of his merit. My minion (said he taking me by the hand, and thinking to oblige me much by this kind word) only love me, and consider what my worth may be, and then you shall ever give me honour enough; as for my friendship you may be assured of it, as long as you shall live after this fashion; I will not abuse you with a thousand oaths, as others do, or with crouchings that were unworthy of myself: you see how I am not disguised, but what I speak must of necessity be that I think. Herein he had very good reason. There are many, said he, that esteem that pride, which is in effect but a good spirit, and a wholesome knowledge of ones self: 'tis a sign a man feels a want in himself, when he does abase him out of complaisance: and amongst men, that which they call courtesy and honesty, I call cowardliness and baseness: It is to testify that one cannot subfist by himself, when he goes about seeking the good will and sustentation of others. It seems you would be obliged to them for letting you alone in quiet, and submitting to their mercy, you held not your own life but at their favour.  
I made as if I approved all he said, and admired the good apprehensions he had of all things. For me, goes he forward, I am determined to despise all the world, as though I defied every one to hurt me, and were assured against so many persons by my own strength alone: It seems that I oppose myself alone to all the world together, and finding how those that approach me come with respect and silence; I am pleased in myself to see how I thus triumph over all, and that my only countenance makes me so dreadful. He made me a thousand such like discourses, but the estate I am in that cannot suffer fooleries, will not permit me to repeat them, no nor so much as to remember them. I confess to thee, Epicharis, I had a great delight with myself at so strange a folly, but I wanted a third person to laugh with, and mock him, and it was an extreme displeasure to me to be alone at this fine entertainment; I did nothing but fix my eyes upon him, not willing to spend a reply, either to disabuse him, or to consent any more to his discourse. I began to be weary of him, and had in the end shamefully sent him packing, but that for my quietness, Melintus and my brother came in: then I could not contain myself, but as soon as they were set, I conceived indeed an enterprise too bold for my wit to seem capable of. I would impart to them Garamant's entertainment, without naming him in his own presence, for my own ease and his confusion: and I said to them, I was in great impatience till I saw you, to tell the great good fortune is happened to me. Melintus asked me what it was. 'tis this, say I, that I have got a servant I am infinitely proud of. He expressed to me how he rejoiced at it for my sake, and enquired if he might not by any means know his name. This is the thing, said I to him, I cannot learn you: but I will tell you truly in what sort he made me offer of his service. Then I began to report as faithfully as I could Garamant's discourses, remarking all his sottishness and impertinencies: whereupon he blushed, and he grew pale and I died with laughing to see how he knew not what posture to put himself in. Melintus and my brother could not believe there had been so great extravagancy of brain, and at every word demanded if that were possible. I was willing to tell them at large all the excellent reasonings of Garamont, and reserve nothing, so much recreated was I in the story of it; and every fondness of his wanted not the qualification of titles it deserved, and they were so many sensible blows to this honest man that was present, and that suffered himself to be thus pricked, and never cried out. At last Melintus asked me, if I had not invented so pleasant a business. I told him, for to possess the other with desperation, and make them understand of whom I had spoken. Garamant shall witness for me, if I say any thing but what is true. Then they well conceived, that it was his entertainment I had made the relation of, for as they looked upon him, they saw in what sort he was abashed, and beside they were acquainted with his humour. Garamant seeing he was discovered and enforced to speak, knew not what party to take, whether he ought to be offended for their mocking him, or whether he were to maintain that which had thus declared his affection: his cowardness not permitting, the first, he was resolved for the second, because he might then speak in a third person, and he said how he found not so much to be blamed as they did, in the proceeding of that man, and that if every man governed himself so, the Ladies would be constrained to banish this great severity they observe, and confess that they have a great obligation to the men for loving them. Melintus then began to speak finding himself offended in my person, and to sustain my cause, asked him whereupon he grounded this vanity: upon this, says he, that for one advantage women have above us, which is beauty, men have a thousand above them, which are yet of a far greater consequence: as the height of courage, prudence, force and address of the body, with an infinite number of others. Melintus answered him; Although we had these advantages, I find them very poor ones, since we are to submit them all to the power of their beauty: but we are very far from having them, for a Lady shows more courage in the conservation of her honour, and more prudence in the carriage of herself, than we are able to do in any action: they have more hard trials to endure than we, and more consequences to foresee. They are incessantly to be upon their guard, and yet that in so great a circumspection, there appear no constraint, and whether this be done with pain, or with facility, they are to be commended either for their great carefulness, or else for their great quickness of wit. We on the contrary let scape a thousand speeches, and do a thousand actions, that would be as many crimes to Ladies, which witnesses in them a nature much more perfect than ours, and a greater purity of virtue, wherein the least fault would make a great spot. There remains nothing in us but the strength of the body, which is but a very poor advantage to prevail with: as if the Lion were to be more esteemed than a man, because he is stronger. Wit ever triumphs over force. The strongest people of the world are not the most renowned: the greeks and the Romans have always vanquished the Barbarians that surpassed them in strength of body. Besides there is not a man so powerful, but a Lady rules him: there needs but a look or a word, and we are struck down, and then we must come to prayers and submissions, which is an infallible mark of their advantage; for he that sues to another, without doubt finds himself the weakest. Garamant says to him, you would allege far differing reasons against them, if Ariana were not present, and it grieves me to see we are so poor spirited to employ the same force of wit we excel them in, to make them believe they excel us. Nay contrary, replied Melintus, if Ariana were not here, I would not content myself with reasons, which I use for her satisfaction, and not yours; but the respect of her keeps me from letting you see how far I disesteem you, for contesting this cause so to no purpose in her presence. Melintus' modesty suffered him not to make any more quarrelling with him before me, for fear of giving me offence; but my brother could not endure this fool in my chamber, and told him, You take upon you too much interest in this cause, not to be that very impertinent and ridiculous fellow that made her all those discourses; I counsel you to get you gone quickly hence, if you have not a mind to see yourself punished in her sight for your impudent follies. He was thus forced to go his way, mocked of all, with the greatest shame a man could possibly receive: and the arrogant fellow was such a coward, that he never durst return a word, only he bit some speeches between his teeth we could not understand.  
We did nothing but laugh at him the rest of the day, but at night there had like to have happened a great misfortune for it; for Melintus going from our house very late with my brother, to go lie together, as many times they used to do, they were set upon by twelve or fifteen men, against whom they so valiantly defended them, being both a horseback, that after they had killed four of them, the rest were put to flight. The dead men were the day after known for soldiers of Toxaris that was Provost of Syracuse, and an intimate friend of Garamant. This Toxaris had seemed to be a lover of Ergina, Melintus sister, but he was expelled the house of Telephus by Melintus, especially because he could not endure him for the robberies he did himself, in stead of hindering others from committing them. Nevertheless, they could neither accuse Toxaris nor Garamant for this attempt against my brothers and Melintus life, for there was not left life enough in the men that remained upon the place, to get the truth out of them.  
Two days after, Melintus and my brother received a challenge from these two friends, who to revenge them for the affront they had received, would join their quarrels together; and they knew they attended them alone out of the Town, in a place whither a young boy, that brought the paper, was to conduct them. Melintus mistrusted some treachery, and could not believe that such cowards as they were, were minded to fight with them so freely, and without advantage: and yet that they might not seem to recoil, they resolved to go thither with a design to guard themselves from foul play. This boy leads them out of the City towards certain hollow places, whence stones were digged, and showed them from a hill Toxaris and Garamant all alone, in a place where there was no cause to fear there were any men hidden, for it was in a plain piece of ground, and they might easily mark every thing that was far off round about it. The youth said to them, that now they saw them, he had no more to do with them, and retired himself. Melintus advancing himself a horseback as he was, to go right to them, saw the ordinary way to be crossed with trees and stones, and that there was but one path to pass by, that was very near to a quarry of stone: he was in a wonder at that, but Palamede without any more consideration, thrust forward his horse towards the path, and Melintus was strangely taken to see him all at once sink, as if the earth had swallowed him, and nothing more appeared to his sight but a great open gulf, into which Palamede was fallen with his horse. Instantly Melintus ran to the descent of the quarry, for one might freely go there being on horseback; and seeing four soldiers that went to cut my brother's throat, he ran to them, his sword in his hand, and by his cries made them turn towards him, whilst my brother came out of the dazelling of his fall, which by good fortune did him no very great hurt, and got quit of his horse that was dead of it. Already had Melintus struck down two of them at his feet, and incensed with fury to see so great treason, took him to the two other, when Toxaris and Garamant arrived, that made him turn face towards them, and at the same time my brother found himself ready to set upon the two soldiers that remained. I cannot relate all the particulars of that combat, for they are both of them too modest to have recited what proofs of their valour they gave: only I can tell thee that my brother having defeated those soldiers, and Melintus pierced the two Traitors with many wounds, they constrained them at last to take flight. Melintus would not pursue them for leaving my brother that was afoot; and seeing one of those four soldiers that still breathed, he made him confess that all the night they had prepared that hole with hurdles that were not underpropt but with little sticks, and that they had covered them over with earth, so as the trap could not be discerned: that after that they had broken the ordinary way, to oblige them to pass by that corner. Melintus thanking the gods for having delivered them from that Ambush, took up my brother behind him, and leaving this wretch to breathe his last, they returned into the City. My brother was a while to be cured of a hurt he took of his fall, and since that we heard no news of Garamant or Toxaris, but that one told us they were gone to a Country house, where they hardly scaped dying of their wounds. Palamede made me the relation of all had passed: and yet he signified how Melintus was not willing it should be known, for fear the cause thereof should withal come to light and I am sure his greatest fear was, lest I should be comprehended in the discourse, well knowing how averse I was to be mingled in the City news.  
It came to pass a while after that Diocles reviving his suit for his son, oneday Palamede came to tell me in Melintus presence, that he thought my uncle Dicearchus would at last agree to the marriage of me and Amyntas. This news put me to blushing, and made Melintus mute for a time: yet not willing my brother saw his amazedness, he told me, that he thought Amyntas very happy: then he asked me, if I were well acquainted with him: I answered him, how I never desired to inquire after him: being resolved to shut my eyes, and take what husband should be given me. Palamede, that had a mind to laugh, told me, you may by night well take him so, your eyes closed, but I can tell you that by day he shall put you to no fear. Melintus that would nor contradict him, says to me, that without doubt he was a very honest man: Nevertheless, this discourse being ended, he went out, as I guessed, very much troubled: and since that, he was a good while without seeing me. I concealed not my wondering at it from my brother, and he told me, he had not seen him neither since I did; but that he had heard say how Telephus and Diocles that were so great friends were lately fallen out, and it might be Telephus had forbidden Melintus to come to our house, because of the suit Diocles made for me with his son: yet to inquire further into the truth, he went to see him. About night my brother came to tell me, that Melintus had been stayed at home with a Fever, and for no other cause beside. I presently imagined his sickness proceeded from nothing but the resolution I had expressed to him for this match, for else he would have sent to advertise my brother of it. Some days passed on still, in which Palamede told me that he was better: and one afternoon he came to our house, where he found no body but my brother and I; Palamede having some urgent appointment, left us alone together, and then entering into discourse with Melintus, he answered me but with certain words that well showed the pressures of his spirit. I told him, without doubt something troubled him. Madam, says he to me, I confess there is some confusion in my mind which I cannot be rid of, but in telling you the cause of it; and yet there is something that forbids me also the discovery of it to you. I was somewhat amazed, thinking he would have declared his love to me: for without all question I had then banished him my sight for ever: nevertheless I said thus to him; 'tis with you to judge whether you ought to tell it me, or not; you know my humour, and your own discretion. I added these last words, to take from him the boldness of discovering himself; then he answered me; I am constrained, Madam, to tell it you, though peradventure, as much honour as you have done me, as much reason may you have to wish evil to me. I was more afraid now than before, and angry that he went about to oblige me never to see him more; which made me say to him; Melintus, do not then put any thing to the hazard, but let us remain in the state we are in. He was well aware of my fear, but yet he continues speaking thus; I will now make an expression to you, Madam, how much I honour you, for I am going to put my life into your hands, and after you shall know what I have to tell you, you may make me happy, or destroy me when you please. I thought he had a plot to put me thus into pain, and I would have wished he had not entered into our house that day. I reparted to him, Melintus, I pray you tell me nothing, lest it may cause some mischief to you, by this permission I may grant you. Then to settle me, he said with a countenance more assured, I am certain, Madam, I shall not do amiss in telling you it; nay, you will confess, that I was bound to it, and I will believe for my part, that you will do me no harm, although I give you power enough: I know myself too well, and you also, to be ignorant of that that might displease you. Upon this assurance I permitted him to speak, and he began thus; Madam, I believed I had a father, but now I have none; or if I have one, I know not in what part of the world he is at this time. Alas! says I to him, what's become of Telephus? Madam, goes he on, he is well, but listen, if it please you, to what I have to tell you. He has had sometime a difference with Diocles, wherein he was not satisfied, and yesterday when he went to his house to obtain more reason at his hands, he came back in a great chafe, and taking me apart said to me; Melintus, I must of necessity reveal to you the greatest secret that concerns me, and yourself too: I will never quit the affection I have to you since you came into the world, but it is time that I quit the name of your father, to discover your birth to you. Those words, said he, much amazed me, but for my assurance, he replied; Courage, Melintus, I bring you no illnewes; only hear with patience my discourse: then he continues.  
Know that upon the end of the reign of Claudius the Emperor, all the world being at peace, the Siracusians enjoyed a full liberty: Nevertheless Hermocrates and Dicearchus had the greatest authority in the City, being both of them equal in power, and antiquity of their Noble families: Hermocrates was descended of Pyrrhus' King of the Epirotes, that drew his original from Achilles: for they say, that this Prince after many victories, having also conquered Sicily, fell in love at Siracuse with Coronis the only daughter of Parmenides, that came of the blood of the ancient Kings of Sicily, who having understood that Antigone was dead, gave leave that Pyrrhus being a widower, should secretly marry his daughter, until he were returned out of Italy, because he would not have it known she was his wife, for leaving her to the mercy of many enemies he left behind him in Sicily. But whilst he gained battles against the Romans, he lost Sicily, whither he could not afterwards return; and having been forced after some losses to retire himself out of Italy, he attempted other conquests, and was slain.  
Coronis had a son by Pyrrhus, but Parmenides durst not let him be known, because the Siracusians had rebelled against Pyrrhus, and chosen another King. He took upon him no other care the rest of his days with Corenis, than to breed this son, by putting him in mind of his royal birth; and this Prince being come to age, was content to live a private life, because of the power of the Romans, to whom his father had been so dangerous an enemy: and he would not so much as speak to his brothers, fearing they might doubt his birth: Nevertheless in the wars he did very brave actions; and his descendants, of whom was Hermocrates, have all of them been inspired with a greatness of courage worthy of that divine blood they came of.  
Dicearchus on the other side was of the ancient race of that great Timeleon of Corinth, that had in times past settled his dwelling at Siracuse with his wife and children, whom he brought from Corinth, after he had expelled all the Tyrants out of Sicily, and defeated the power of the Carthaginians in many battles.  
Dicearchus therefore and Hermocrates in all resolutions for the public were ever of contrary opinions, and had their factions apart. Dicearchus was of a turbulent disposition (pardon me, says he, Madam, if I use the same terms Telephus used) and spared for no policy to maintain himself, and exceed Hermocrates in credit. Hermocrates was more moderate, and more trusted in his approved honesty, and the glory he had gained by his actions of war under Germanicus, affecting no other advantage in the City, but what his predecessors had acquired for him. But Dicearchus jealous of the reputation he had, and not able to endure an equal, studied the means to ruin him. One day having got together what arms he could find, he made them be carried by night over the walls into Hermocrates garden, and disposed in ranks, as if they were to serve upon an occasion. That same night he advertised the chief of the City, that Hermocrates had some attempt. They purposed to enter his house betimes in the morning, to see what was done there, where having found all those arms, they attached him, and carried him into the fortress, than they held a counsel, to resolve what they were to do with him. The greater part knew well it was but a plot of Dicearchus, there being no colour, that one private man should make himself a tyrant of so great a City, that was at that time under the government of Claudius, who reigned in the greatest strength and tranquillity of the Roman Emperor. The people that loved Hermocrates began to mutiny against his accusers; which Dicearchus perceiving, he was of opinion to send the knowledge of that supposed crime to the governor of the province: but the Siracusians would never suffer that, for fear injustice might be offered Hermocrates; and alleging the privileges they had maintained, to be Judges in such affairs, they would themselves take knowledge of the cause: Nevertheless not daring absolutely to absolve him, lest Dicearchus might complain of them to the governor, they assembled in the afternoon, and were content to banish him for five years according to their ancient law of Petalisme, that was made against such as affected tyranny. Dicearchus not willing to provoke the people, made as if he were satisfied to see him absent; and fifteen days after Hermocrates was forced to depart the City with Enphrosine his wife, that was near her time of delivery, and certain of his friends, in which number was Diocles and I, says Telephus, to go to Lylibeum, and from thence to embark for Carthage. I have heard say indeed, says I to Melintus interrupting him, that Diocles and Telephus were of a contrary party to my uncle Dicearchus. So goes the report, says he and then replied; Telephus added, how Hermocrates left his country he had so loved, with tears in his eyes: and carrying away with him the best of his moveables, bequeathed the administration of all the goods he had in Sicily, to Diocles, and suffering him to go but one days journey with him, they parted: but Telephus willing to accompany him as far as Lylibeum, about evening Euphrosyne fell into her pains of childbirth, and was at night brought to bed of a son, which about the place of his heart, was found to have the mark of another heart.  
Hermocrates sent with joy the news to Diocles, and withal advertised him of this mark; and not willing afterwards to expose this infant to the incommodities of the sea, prayed me, says Telephus, to carry him back to Siracuse, and bring him up as my own, staying till the end of his banishment; beside he said, he was very glad he was borne in Sicily, and should there also be bred. I accepted, continues Telephus, this entreaty with joy. O gods, says I, interrupting Melintus, what great suspicions do you put into me, concerning Diocles, Telephus, and yourself; and what a change of things are these news likely to breed. Madam, says Melintus, you are not much amiss, than he goes on. Telephus told me, that after he had stayed some time at Lylibeum, while Euphrosyne might endure the sea, he took this little infant, and returned to Siraouse, where finding his wife Hyperia that in like manner was delivered, but of a dead child, he supposed this in the stead, for fear he might dye with grief, when her loss were told her; which thing she soon believed, and they named him together Melintus. At that word, Ah the gods! Melintus, cried I out, can it be possible? Madam, says Melintus, I wonder not at your surprise, because mine was far greater than when Telephus pronounced this name to me; and added: Since that, my wife hath always bred you as her own son, and yourself can tell also, if I have spared any thing to have you be instructed in what ever might adorn your birth. And what is become of Hermocrates, says Melintus? Since his embarking, answered Telephus, we have heard no news of him, nor did he then land at Carthage; and now Diocles thinking him dead, and not knowing what you are, hath usurped all your estate. I did often tell him, how he ought not to make any such pretence, and yet never letting him know who you were. And now a few days ago, seeing how by means of his riches, he sought Dicearchus' niece for his son, I went to advise him, not to dispose of any thing to the prejudice of Hermocrates and his son that was living: but he did but mock me, and demanded if I pretended not a part in that estate, for the acquaintance I had of it: that he would keep it well all to himself, and that I should not be credited, though I had a mind to reveal any thing. I went away, said Telephus, calling him a dishonest man, and assuring him the truth would come to light. To day, having heard how he advanced his affairs continually, and taking no care of that I had told him, I returned to him, and prayed him to believe, I was no liar, and that he would repent him of branding himself with so great an infidelity. He continued his mockeries with so much pride and scorn, that I was resolved to discover to you your fortune, that together we might advise of the means how to oppose the enterprises of this man, and the designs he hath to retain what belongs to you. I was, said Melintus, so confounded at so many strange accidents that I was uncapable of considering what counsel were best to be taken. Nevertheless I told him, that if these things were true, I should never want a heart to challenge my right; that he would give me some time to ●●●sider thereupon, for it was to be proceeded in with as much prudence as resolution. Having approved my advice, said Melintus, I told him, I would never leave calling him my father, and honouring him as if he were so, for the great obligations I had to him; and he did also confirm to me all the assurances I could desire of his friendship; swearing to me, that if I could have no reason of Diocles, he would not fail to divide his estate between his daughter and me, as before I believed he would do: nevertheless, that with the care we were to use in the business, he hoped the gods would do me justice. By this, continueth he, Madam, you see how I was obliged to advertise you of what I have been told. I hope I have not offended you, unless it were in speaking of Dicearchus in the terms were used by Telephus. And you see how I put my life into your hands: for if Dicearchus comes to know that I am the son of him he loved not, it may be he will seek my ruin; but you may dispose of me as you please. On the other side, if I be to declare myself, I make me enemy not only to Dicearchus, but Diocles also, and all those of their party: but I will not fear any of these difficulties, if you shall think it fitting I declare myself. Hormocrates son, of whom we have heard the people speak with so much sorrow, and appear to be descended of that illustrious blood of Pyrrhus, and Achilles: and yet before I express my resolution to Telephus, I desired to make a suit to you, that I might know your purpose: for if you intent to marry Amyntas, never shall any besides you hear more of my fortune: the estate I leave to him, will be but the meanest loss I shall make in his prosperity. I demand your counsel therefore, Madam, in what I am to do, and beseech you to let me know what you resolve concerning that marriage, I promise you to satisfy what command you shall ordain me, although it were a forbidding me to live any longer. Epicharis, continued Ariana, I swear to thee I was confounded with astonishment and joy, to see him advanced to a condition higher than I could have believed; but withal I admired his generosity, with the love and respect he had to me, and said to him, Melintus, if I find you true, you may assure yourself, I will never marry an usurper of your estate: Live in as great assurance as ever; Dicearchus shall bear you no ill will, for that knowledge I shall give him concerning you. I am too much obliged to your freedom, to hurt you: I am but troubled with you, for the fashion you are to use in behaving you in the midst of so many enemies. Madam, says he, that's the least care I have, seeing you so favourably entertain my secret, and I hope it shall be one day so well confirmed to you, that you will not repent you to have done so many favours to a person of my condition. Melintus, says I to him, the knowledge you give me of your illustrious birth, adds very little to the esteem I had of you already: and you express so much confidence in me, as I am thereby obliged from henceforth to have as much interest as you yourself in all that may concern you: especially I wish you to resolve of nothing without me, concerning the carriage of yourself, so much part will I take in all thing shall arrive to you. He was so transported for this testimony of affection, that he took the boldness to kiss my hand in stead of thanking me; that was the first favour he obtained of me, and the only I have since that permitted him: then we advised to let some time pass, during which many things might be cleared. To assure him, I swore to him, that I would never marry Amyntas; and in the mean time we found it very expedient that Telephus should not discover him, and that he should make what friends he could to strengthen himself, which would be no difficult matter. Above all, that he sought the people's good will (wherein a few days since he had a very favourable occasion, having obtained of the Emperor the exemption of Tributes) and that when all things were prepared, they might accuse Diocles, and verify the birth by those witnesses Telephus should bring; then to demand of him the evidences of the goods he had usurped, which would be impossible for him to show. He protested he would follow my counsel, and gave me such passionate thanks for the care I took of his fortune, that it was impossible for me to resist so much affection; and from that time, without ever making love one to another, we were assured that there was not so perfect a one as ours. We thought it best, not to let Palamede know any thing, because of his too forward nature, that would with all violence declare himself for Melintus against Diocles, which we judged unnecessary: Melintus made Telephus consent, not to discover him yet, and told him he was assured, that Palamede knew well how to hinder his sister's marriage: for me, I let Amyntas know that I was not resolved to marry yet this year, and that he should take heed he made no propositions thereof before; wherein he promised to obey me. Afterwards the occasion being presented of the Ambassage to Rome from Syracuse, Palamede had a mind to that voyage and I made Melintus resolve to accompany him, upon the assurance I gave him privately, that in his absence there should pass nothing to his prejudice: beside, I told him, he might find occasion to serve his Country, and get a reputation with the Ambassadors by his counsels and interpositions. In all which thou hast heard what good success befell him, and what honours he had received at his return into Sicily, if fortune at this present had not been so contrary to him.  
Thou seest then, Epicharis, whether I trust thee or no, in revealing to thee the secret of Melintus, and mine; but I desire the gods would send him no other misfortune, but that I fear might happen to him by thy indiscretion. Epicharis had been so attentive to all this discourse, and so ravished with hearing so many strange passages, that she seemed to have lost the use of her speech: but then she began to say, Madam, I think I never received so much contentment as in hearing your discourse, as well for having understood so pleasing relations, as for the confidence you have in me. I assure myself, that such fair fortunes as yours, and such virtuous affections, shall not have so unfortunate an end, as that you fear: and the honour you do me, obliges me to undertake any thing that may conduce to yours and Melintus service. Alas! Epicharis, replied Ariana, I can hardly ever expect to see him in a place where I may resolve of any thing to his advantage, or where thou mightst be able to serve us. Madam, says Epicharis, raising up herself, I beseech you to suffer, that this very hour I may express the passion I have for you. What canst thou do, answers Ariana? He has left you, says she, Arcas, and given him charge not to abandon you: Give me him in exchange, and give me leave to stay in this Country to learn what may become of them, to assist them, and send you news of them. How, says Ariana, canst thou be able to do any thing, being but a wench, and besides that, all alone in the Country? Madam, replied she, the disgrace that fell to me by the burning of my hair, shall much advantage my design. I will disguise myself in a boy, and this night 'twill be easy for me to escape from you in the wood, when you are upon parting. Epicharis, said Ariana, thou art too courageous; I fear thy labour will be but unprofitable, and in the mean time I shall be deprived of thy company and consolations. Madam, says she, I have taken this resolution, and should remain here against your will, if you would not think it fitting: but I beseech you to give your consent. Ariana at last accorded to that device, and seeing there yet remained day enough, before they could depart, they fell both of them asleep.    

ARIANA. The fifth Book.  
ARistides not knowing the design of Epicharis, after he had slept a while, considered upon all the resolutions were to be taken in this disaster: one while he would have returned to Rome, to defend his son's cause, if he were in the hands of Justice, and to move compassion both with the Judges and the Emperor. On the other side, he would not carry his daughter thither, nor yet let her go alone into Sicily, seeing Nero had such desires to her. At last, knowing it was necessary for him to follow Arcas his advice, and to go out of Italy, where they should not fail to be always pursued, he could not be comforted for abandoning his son in so great a hazard of his life: and yet he determined to leave some one in the Country, that might advise of means to assist Melintus and him, and keep them from any misfortune. He found none so fit for this, as Arcas, and entreated him to take the employment on him: but he assured him, he had no greater desire than to do this service, but that he had obliged himself to Palamede by an oath, not to forsake them till they were in Sicily; and therefore this commission must be given to another. Aristides chose out the most advised of his servants, that was called Hermes, and having instructed him concerning the ways he was to take, in case they were retained by order of justice, he gave him as much money as he could spare: and when the night came, they prepared to depart. Ariana in like manner gave in secret to Epicharis some jewels she had, to serve her turn when she might have need of money: and all of them taking their journey in the byways of the Forest, under the conduct of Arcas that had taken view of the passages of it, in a little time they soon found themselves in the Champagne, from whence they began to see and smell the smoke of the City that still burnt. In the midst of this horror, they gave not over travelling on towards Ostia, and a while after Aristides coming near his daughter, and missing Epicharis, asked her where she was. Ariana answered him, she thought she followed them: they sought for her amongst the company, and not finding her at all, Aristides imagined she loved Hermes, and leaving the company had escaped to follow him. Ariana said, she had not that opinion of Epicharis, but that she was wandered about the wood, and making as though she were in gteat trouble for her, she desired they might go back again to seek her. Aristides being in a rage, swore he would leave her since she might easily have followed the company, if she had would; and what ever displeasure Ariana showed, he would no longer delay the time, for this maid. Some returned the way they had come, but not having found her, they did all continue their journey together. Being happily arrived at Ostia, they saw a man that brought news, how two Sicilians were taken, and accused for setting Rome on fire, and that they were now prisoners; This a little eased their minds, to know they were living: and yet they left not to have many fears for them; but hoping in their innocency, and not able then to give them any other remedy, they imbarcked in the ship that had been stayed for them, recommending Palamede and Melintus to the gods, and passing the strait betwixt Reggium and Messina, that separates Sicily from Italy, landed safely at Syracuse.  
When they were seen to arrive without Palamede and Melintus, and their misfortune was known, there was a public mourning for it, for they were both of them very well loved of the people: and the consideration of Dicearchus, Aristides and Telephus, with the good will that all in particular bare to these two friends, made the chief men of the City resolve to send in their favour an Embassy express to Nero and the Senate, to make a representation of their innocence, and obtain favour at their hands, endeavouring to restore to Melintus the benefit they had received from him when he procured the exemptions. Dicearchus desired to be chief of these Ambassadors, and they hastened away because there was no time to lose; but when they had passed to Reggium to go by land to Rome, they met there with Hermes that told them these deadly news; how Palamede and Melintus having been examined a few days since, and seeing how they were ready to be condemned by the express commandment of Nero, were willing to prevent a shameful death, and had cast themselves down into the Tiber from the top of the tower where they were prisoners. This assurance he gave them, turned their journey back again, and repassing to Messina, they arrived by the same way they came, at Syracuse, where they possessed all with sadness and confusion.  
Aristides tore his hair, and accused himself for having abandoned his son: and his grief was such, that a very little while after it brought him to his grave. Dicearchus' resented this calamity in losing the dearest hopes of his house. Telephus was touched with as great an affliction for Melintus, as if he had been his own son, but nothing was able to equal Ariana's grief; who under the pretext of her brother's death, lamented besides the death of Melintus with the bitterest tears that love ever caused to be shed: so as all places echoed with her plaints. Alas, said she, now is the time I am certain of my misery. Miserable Rome, that servest for a monument to my dearest pledges, and must thou again triumph over us? and must the injustice that reigns with thee bring to ruin so virtuous an innocency? O gods ay how long will you suffer this cruel tyranny? why swallow not you up that wicked nation? or why these latter days did you not let them be devoured in the flames they had prepared for us, for to punish them by their own villainy? Alas! there was left enough of that wretched people to destroy the goodliest friendship that ever was. Dear brother, I shall never see you more, and not seeing you, I shall never more see what I held most dear in the world. Woeful voyage, disastrous counsel I gave my brother, to go see a City that subsists not, but for the ruin of all things: for since the time he came near it, what a train of miseries have we had experience of? and what blind fury lead us one after another, to go seek out misfortunes at their fountain, and the place where vice and crimes are reigning with so much power and insolency? at least, when I was there arrived, just heavens, why did you not let me perish in the fire with them, without making me survive the sole person of the world that made my life happy to me, and desirable?  
This fair Lady dissembled not such griefs as these in all companies, because the cause of them was attributed to the great dearness that was betwixt her brother and her: but her greatest sorrow was, for not having any body to comfort her, and discover her most secret griefs to. She enjoyed not now Epicharis, nor her sweet consolation: yet she had a little hope left still, as long as she heard not the certainty of their death from the mouth of that wench. She enquired privately of Hermes, if he had not seen her, and he told her, how he had helped to disguise her, that they both went into Rome together, that he had counselled her to go find out Maximus, and the rest of the friends Melintus and Palamede had, and since that he had heard no news of her; and this put her into more trouble for Epicharis, whose adventure had been thus.  
Before Aristides and Ariana were gone out of the wood, she had acquainted Hermes with her purpose, for being well assured of him, to the end he might wait for her at the same place, when she should have withdrawn herself from the rest, foreseeing what need she might have of him, both for getting out of the forest, as to get clothes, and advise together of the means how to help Palamede and Melintus: she absented herself a little from the troop, after she had kissed her dear Mistress, and embraced her: then she went to find Hermes, that cut the rest of her hair for her, and in the morning when they were at the woods end, she bethought her to send him to buy her clothes at Rome, and learn what they said there. She stayed a long time for him, and to the middle of the day, for it was four miles' journey from thence: in the end he returned, and brought her clothes, which she fitted, and dressed herself in as well as she could, and hid her own. He told her, the brute ran, they had taken two strangers, that were accused for having set Rome on fire: they imagined it was Palamede and Melintus, and the same hour mounted a horseback, and went forward on the way. Epicharis arriving at Rome, was forced to stay at the gates, for the multitude of those that came out, all in tears and lamentations for their losses: Nevertheless taking resolution, she entered amongst the confusion of so many wretched persons, some carrying what they were able to save, others mourning their children and kindred burnt, and some there were in the company also, that bore away what they had pillaged in that disorder, and all was full of cries and tumult. It was no hard matter for her to go unknown in that trouble: she desired Hermes to lead her horse to be set up somewhere, then advised him to go to Maximus his and their Master's friends to set them in employment for their deliverance. As for her, enquiring after the prison, she went to see it, and about evening she saw coming out of it an old man with a youth, and she knew they were the Jailer and his son. She followed them, to see whither they went, and what they sought, then as the night approached, she discerned them to enter under Livia's porch, where there were great store of people walking. This good man was speaking to his son, as if he had his mind very fixed upon what he said, and the son staying to see some controversy, as the town was then full of contention, Epicharis perceived the Jailer went on his way, and ceased not his discourse, thinking he still spoke to his son, 〈◊〉 much did his business possess him. She subtly joined her to him, and going the same pace, heard all the old man spoke, who not thinking he had any other by his side, but his son, said in continuing his discourse: Thou mayst well consider, that the men they brought us yesterday, seem to be persons of quality, that we are carefully to look to. We cannot both of us provide all things; I have need of one to call them up, and to lie in their chamber. I will see, if the man I was told would sell himself at the entry of Isis' Temple, be fit for my turn, and will give himself at a cheap rate. Epicharis had much ado to hold from laughing at the Jaylers' mistake, and was glad to know his design, then seeing his son coming, she got away from him, without being perceived, because of the darkness; and ran in all haste to the entry of the Temple, where she found a young man sitting, whom she asked if he were to sell himself: he confessed to her, that he was there for that purpose; she quickly agreed with him on the price, and giving him a piece of money, said to him, go thy ways, and stay for me near Minerva's Temple, from thence I will bring thee to my Master's house: He went his way well satisfied, and presently came the Jailer, with his son, who finding Epicharis set, disguised into a man, asked her if she were the man that would sell himself. Epicharis told him, she waited there for no other occasion. They looked well upon her, and finding her according to their mind, began to cheapen her, and although they offered but little, she agreed to it, upon condition she might redeem herself for the same sum. That was taken very reasonable, and the Jailor willing to give her the money, she prayed him to keep it, because she had no where to put it. The good man, pleased at her freeness, brought her to the prison, and by the way instructed her of all she had to do: wherein she promised to serve him faithfully; and she called herself Eurylas.  
They entered about the time Melintus and Palamedes supper was carrying in, and presently they gave Eurylas a plate to serve with, who coming into the chamber, and getting near Palamede, trod upon his foot, for fear he should be surprised in seeing her; then he did as much to Melintus. They suspected, advice was given them of something, but they knew her not for all that; therefore she reserved the discovery of herself till the night, when she should be alone in the chamber with them. The time being come that they were to go to bed, she was left to wait on them, and locked into that chamber, with lights: then beginning to look upon them, and smile: Ingrateful men, said she, speaking but low, do you not vouchsafe to know those that run so much hazard for your sakes? Alas! said Palamede, 'tis Epicharis: Melintus knew her also. Dear Epicharis, replied Palamede, have I ever deserved, you should bring yourself into this danger for me, and would have embraced her: but she gently thrusting him away, said to him, I pray you do not take a recompense in stead of giving me one for the service I do you. Melintus advised to put out the candle, for fear they were seen, and afterwards he demanded her news of Aristides and Ariana, and if they had saved themselves; she said she thought they had: then reported the resolution she had taken, to disguise herself for their service, in exchange of Arcas that would not be persuaded to quit Ariana; that Hermes had been left by Aristides to assist them; but that she had lost him, after giving him advice to employ Maximus and his friends for them: and she told them after that how she had abused the Jailor to get into that prison. They admired the prettiness of her wit, and the luck whereby the old man was cozened, and resolved to husband well that good fortune: Above all they were of opinion not to speak at all one to another by day, but to put their conferences off till night, left she might chance to be discovered. She enquired how they had scaped killing in the encounter of the Soldiers that took them, since there were so many dead in the place. I swear to you, said Melintus, that they had too much fear to put us into desperation, and that we should not still kill some more of them: we were glad to yield us, after we had fought it out to the very last, and since that they used us very unworthily, till we came into this very prison, where we are to be kept while the fire be wholly quenched, and the Senate may assemble to take knowledge of the crimes we are accused of. We are, said she, to endeavour to get out from hence before they have that leisure, and I for my part shall not be slow in finding out the means: but, says Palamede, taking her by the hand, I have cause to think well of my misfortune, that hath given me this benefit, to make her lie in the same chamber with me, for whom I have had so many longings. Palamede, said Epicharis, if I have so freely put myself into your hands, take no other advantage of it, besides the testimony I give you of an honest desire to serve you, for if you abuse this my freedom, I shall know how to punish you well enough, and myself too, for having obliged an indiscreet man. She spoke these words something in passion: but Melintus said to her, No, no, Epicharis, I shall be his surety, assure yourself, Palamede has not so lost his judgement as not to know what respect we are to bear to your sex, and honour to your courage. She knows that well, replies Palamede, if I be not deceived in her humour, and if I honour it. I have been sufficiently instructed to my cost, how I ought to live with her, and learned more discretion in her company, than my wit hath seemed capable of: Nevertheless she knows withal, that I must always be jesting. These occasions, says she, permit no jesting; content yourself, that I love you as my Master, and Melintus as my brother. Melintus admired her virtue, and gentleness, and gave her many thanks for the good will she had for him, without any obligation of his part to have ever moved her to it. Melintus, said she, you are of more worth than all my services, give me leave only to do for you what I am able, and for this time do me the favour to let me sleep, for I had never so much need of rest. Melintus entreated her to take their bed for herself alone, because it was more commodious than her own; but she would never consent to that, and went into another very little one that was made ready for her, after she had prayed them to remember she was called Eurylas, and no more Epicharis. They promised her to have care of it, and then they all three held their peaces to go sleep.  
The next day she arose before them, and went to make acquaintance with all of that obscure house; then having understood there were some Romans come, that desired to speak with the two friends, she went to them to know what their desires were. They signified to her, they were come to offer them their goods and services. Epicharis went to ask the Gaoler if she should let them in, but he said that was expressly forbidden, and she made answer to them, that it was not possible to speak with them; but how they were best to employ themselves with the Senators, to make their innocence appear to them, and what the actions of their life past had been; which they promised to do, and went their way, after she had known the lodging of some of them to make use thereof if need were.  
Melintus in the mean time, that waked long before Palamede, entered upon the consideration of his good fortune, and commended this accident, for making him receive so dear an expression of Ariana's affection, as to send her faithful Epicharis to assist him with her brother, when she could give them no help herself. He doubted not of escaping that danger, seeing himself strengthened with such a helper, and spent all his thoughts in the remembrance of Ariana, and the fortune of his loves, which he found to be in a very happy condition. For although he might think she had not sent this maid but for her brother's sake, yet he found this action to be too gentile, and too generous to proceed from a simple friendship, and not rather to be a Love-invention: and then resting him upon that meditation, he said within himself, And dare I also to pretend to so much happiness? and can I without presumption believe that she loves me? for if I believe her altogether perfect, I am to be persuaded that she hath an excellent judgement: and with what vanity can I hope she should think me worthy of her? and yet because her judgement is so perfect, she knows to what degree my passion has proceeded, and peradventure she will have the perfection of my love be comparable to the greatness of her desert. Should I then be so happy, that for this reason she had found nothing in the world, besides me, worthy of her? that she had separated me out of the number of all men to be made choice of? and that in her soul she had kept her to that choice? Pleasing, but too ambitious thoughts, whither do you lead me? are you so bold, to compare me to this Divinity, that nothing was ever yet comparable to? where are your respects, and your fears? Let us continue in a submission, and not expect her grace but by adoring her, and not in equalling ourselves to her. But is not this again to wrong the perfection of my love to abase it in humility, in stead of acknowledging the beauty and greatness of it? Things that are arrived to this degree, are of a glory too transcendent to suffer contempt of us; they will be admired, and confessed to be as divine as they are indeed. Pardon, my love, I had rather let thee alone than offend thee: equal thyself, if thou be'st willing, to so many merits, 'tis by thee alone I have hope: It may be this fair soul loves thee already, and embraces thee, taken with thy perfection; and if we doubt of this, let us continue in the belief that is more fitting for us, and at least not give over the contentment of hope.  
These delightful fancies entertained him with great pleasure, when all on a sudden he felt himself embraced of Palamede, who said to him▪ Pardon, Epicharis; alas! Epicharis, I ask you pardon. Melintus embraced him in like manner, and spoke to him that he might continue this discourse he made in his sleep; but Palamede awaked, and confessed to Melintus, that he dreamt he was taken by Epicharis making protestations of love to Camilla; and that he fell down at her knees to cry her mercy. Then looking about in the chamber, and seeing she was gone out, he continues, There is no doubt but the love of this wench comes always to challenge the place it had in my soul, what ever lightness may possess me: for I loved her before I went to Athens, where you are a witness how many Mistresses I served: at our return from thence to Syracuse, I had no sooner seen her, but I was more subjected to her than before time: being come to Rome, I loved Camilla, and you have seen how coldly I made use of those advantages you obtained for me, since she arrived there with my sister; now she covers my wound more than ever, by the care she takes of us, and by a thousand pretty devices her wit is continually working. For my part, said Melintus, I cannot think her borne of a servile condition; she has too many fair qualities for so woeful a birth: and I vow to you, I shall never blame your affection for being carried away with such perfections. I do not believe you would so much injure those you come of, to pretend to marry her; and you are not also to desire any thing of her, that might offend her honour; but my opinion is, you will always love and honour what is remarkable in her, being able to say with you, that I have seldom found a person more lovely. I confess to you, answered Palamede, that I oftentimes have these very thoughts, and I flatter them beside with a certain hope, that the time may come that she may appear extracted from some family that might be no dishonour to me, so much do I wish, that reason might accommodate herself to my desires. Is it possible, said Melintus, that Dicearchus should not learn of the Pirates where they had taken her? Never, said he, did my uncle tell us what he knew concerning her; nevertheless he has ever made her be bred otherwise than a slave, and as if he had known her to be come of free persons; nay, one day when there was a speech of marrying her to Asylas a young slave borne in the house, he could not refrain to say; The gods would never pardon me for mixing her blood with one so unworthy of her. That speech more engaged me to love her, and I shall make a relation to you how I let myself be taken. You cannot imagine, answers Melintus, what interest I have in her fortune, and what pleasure you shall do me in repeating a little of her life to me. I am going then, says he, to tell you what hath passed between us. And he proceeded thus:  

History of Palamede and of Epicharis.  
I Cannot tell if I be to account myself happy, or unhappy for the affection I am engaged in for her, not finding any possibility of possessing her, neither as a Mistress because of her virtue, nor as a lawful wife because of her condition: but I will leave you to judge in this case, after I have made you the history of our loves. You must know then, that Epicharis being brought up very carefully under Acidalia wife to Dicearchus, and from day to day making herself more considerable for her beauty and sweetness of humour, was loved of this young Asylas, who was but of a simple and heavy constitution of wit: but yet finding that he was of some credit in the house, because he was son of Cromis and Menalippus, two slaves that had under them the whole government of Dicearchus household affairs, and that Epicharis was very well beloved of their Master and Mistress; he thought he could do no better deed than to pretend to marry her, and first of all he resolved with himself to get her good opinion of him: but she that had a sense of her noble heart, could not endure such a wooing as that, and used him always very contemptuously.  
One day I went into Dicearchus' garden, and was ready to fall asleep in a cabinet shadowed over with leaves, when I saw her coming very near that place with a purpose to gather flowers. I was already sufficiently taken with her affection, and had not failed to have gone to intercept her, but that I was prevented by Asylas, who seeking opportunity to speak to her, had now made his address; nevertheless with fear, and in a fashion simple enough, offered himself to gather those flowers for her she desired. She thanked him, and said she took pleasure in gathering them herself. 'Tis rather, said he, because you refuse my service. Have you, answers she, a service to bestow? Yes, replies he, which I make you present of. You give, says she, that is none of your own, and I give it you again for fear I be accused of theft: And why so, replies he? because, says she, your service belongs to the Master we serve, and I will make no pretence to it. He stayed a while there, because he was not so prompt at a return, and then answers, Although I am his, I can present you with something that is mine own. With what, says she? with my heart, answers he: and how will you do, replies she, to give it me? You demand strange things, says he, what needs you know that? For all that, says she, it were reason I knew it, and still gathered her flowers as she spoke. This young man knew not where to have his heart come out, to make her a present of it; and I perceived she would be going, having made her posy; which made me come out from the place where I was, to stay her. She blushed for shame that she had been heard all that discourse; and Asylas getting afar off us, out of respect, I said to her, Gentle Epicharis, I love you, for thus using persons so unworthy of you: She answered me, because we serve the same Master, he believes all things are equal with us, but this difference there is, that he is a slave by nature, and I by fortune; for nature can never be changed, but fortune may give me the liberty she hath taken from me. If there wants nothing, said I to her, but a liberty to be given you to make you happy, I offer you mine: And what would you be then, answered she? Your slave, said I. And what, replies she, should cause that change? The love I bear you, answers I. I would be very willing, says she laughing, to make this exchange, so you will tell me what I am to do. You are to love me, said I to her. How is this, replies she; you say love makes us lose our liberty, so I should be ever returning into my first condition again. It were better, answered I, we parted all betwixt us, so we should have but one liberty for us both, and one slavery only. We should, says she, find it a great trouble, to know which of us were to be master. Let us be serious, said I to her, Epicharis, I love you with a passion, and desire you also to love me so. I will speak as seriously to you, says she; Palamede, I honour you with a respect, and desire you to seek nothing else of me: then leaving me, and having a mind to laugh, she added, I am going to Acidalia, if you be willing to go on with this discourse, you are but to take it up again, when I shall be with her. When she went her way, I continued some time immovable, being rapt with the gentleness of her discourse, and resolute to love her in earnest, having a good hope she would let herself be overcome. To this end I never gave over making her what assurances of my affection I could, until the time we were together in the Country one day at my uncles, when I thought there required but an occasion that were found favourable, to have her won at my entreaties, and the opportunity of the place. I went one morning to take her in her bed, where I found her fast in a sweet sleep, lying with one arm upon her head, which her smock without all care had left all naked to my sight, and the other carelessly stretched upon the bed, but yet in such a fashion that it kept her from being easy to be uncovered. Her bosom, that this way of sleeping gave repose to, and breathing at ease, was not covered but with the end of the sheet that by chance met there; the rest was very modestly composed. I stood confounded to see her so handsome; for it seemed, her eyes in despite that they were not open, for securing her from me, pierced through their lids to wound me, so strangely did I feel myself moved. And yet not satisfied with what I saw, I softly uncovered all her neck; but I vow to you, Melintus, I never saw any thing so fair. I could no longer contain myself then, but bringing my mouth thither, I pressed her a little more than I should have done, and made her wake. That was a strange spring of hers she gave, when she saw herself between my arms at her awakening, and with ease delivering her from me, because I would not anger her at this first encounter, she enveloped herself in her sheets; and after blaming my boldness for coming into her chamber while she slept, prayed me to go out: then ashamed to lose so fair an occasion, I put myself upon her bed, and embracing her, urged her by all the prayers I could devise, to ease my affection; and in this while I put her to a little pain, hoping to obtain what I desired by a sweet violence: but she after some resistance, at last lift herself up, and said to me with a confident look; Palamede, I believe you are not so unreasonable as to have a thought to take that by force from me which is the dearest thing I esteem in the world: it may be you hope I will be vanquished with your importunities, but know this, that there is no punishment so cruel, as that I shall make choice of for you, and then for myself too after the loss of my honour; my condition hath diminished nothing of my courage, let it satisfy you therefore to have attempted this, the crime is great enough to go no further; and I shall never pardon you while I live, if you leave me not now presently in as much repose as I was in when you found me. If you go on in this vile intent, your labours will be but all in vain, nor shall the difference of our fortunes keep me from having your life, in revenge of your indiscretion. She spoke these words with so severe a fashion, that I had no heart to press her any more. I besought her to excuse the rapture of my love, and would not let her alone, till she had pardoned me. Afterwards, I had always a great opinion of her virtue, and was not wanting to do her all the services I was able, until I went my voyage to Athens.  
I protest to you, says Melintus breaking him off, I am greatly delighted to hear such generous demonstrations of a courage: do but consider a while, how vice serves to advance virtue: for there is no doubt that without that wicked desire in you to attempt upon her honour, you could never have known to what height she had brought that honour. I will avow to you, replied Palamede, that since that time I respected her as much as she had been the most noble of our condition; and the more practice I had with her, the more I observed qualities in her, that could not proceed but from a good birth, as you shall understand by this that follows. Then he goes on.  
Before my depart for Athens, I was aware that Epicharis seeing my overfree humour changed into a respect, and my violent passion into a virtuous love, had also somewhat moderated her too great rigour, to oblige me with an honest friendship, and no occasion to serve me was presented, but she performed it with a great deal of care; but so modestly withal, that I could not imagine it were to gain me any way beside. It seemed only, that she expressed to have some obligation to me for the affection I had to her: and during my voyage, I continually received proofs from her, that she remembered me. At my return I had a great contentment, when I knew my uncle meant to give her to my sister; and the day she was to part out of his house, I went thither to see her: but at my entrance I perceived in a corner the poor wretch Asylas busy at a great reckoning, to which he was so attentive, that he saw me not; he had a little book he was looking in: then he counted one while with his fingers, another with casting counters, but I well saw he could not make his account right. At last I had pity of him, and asked him what he did. He was ashamed to be taken at that occupation: nevertheless, I offered myself in so good fashion to help him, that he desired me to count for him. It was a number of years, wherein there were many days to be added, and many also to be taken away: but I had a mind to know what the meaning of it was. He confessed to me, that after he had a long time sought the good graces of Epicharis, at length he could obtain of her nothing else, but that after six years' service she might receive his affection; and how moreover they had put into the agreement, that according to the quantity of the services, she might take away some of the days, and in like manner she might add to them as she pleased, if he did any thing to displease her, either wilfully or by misfortune; that for this purpose he made use of the little book to keep a true account withal: and now Epicharis was going to dwell out of the house, he would see in what estate affairs were. I began to laugh within myself, seeing his simplicity, and this device of Epicharis wit to mock him. When I had therefore comprehended his meaning, I looked into the book, and saw how every day that passed was taken away, and that sometimes there was writ, for one service four days to be diminished: but by and by after was set down in another hand, for not saluting with a good grace, ten days to be added; for speaking indiscreetly, fifteen days; and all that was to be augmented so, was written with Epicharis hand. I refrained from laughing as well as I could, and after a true supputation, I found that he had still above eight years to serve, and there were two past already, since they made the bargain. When I had stayed his account, and he saw himself so far backward, he could not choose but weep: I comforted him what I could, with a promise so to use the matter with Epicharis, that she might oftentimes diminish the days for my sake. But he ceased not weeping, and said he should not find out so many occasions more to serve her; and I answered him, there should not be so many occasions neither to displease her.  
After I had somewhat restored him again, I went to tell this encounter to Epicharis, with whom I laughed a good while at Asylas' affliction, for finding himself so backward in his account. She confessed she had invented this way to rid her of him, and for merry pastime when she desired it. But in the end I said to her, And for me, how many years will you ordain me? There needs many, said she, because it may be you would often find the means to oblige me, and I should fear you would never do any thing to displease me. If that were so, answered I, you ought to wish the term might soon end, to possess him that would not displease you. Look you then, says she, there must be some other person besides me to make you happy; but I swear to you also, I should never give myself to any less than you. And if fortune restores me not to a higher condition, you may be assured no man shall ever enjoy me in that I am now in. The greatest of my desires is come about, that I may live with the divine Ariana your sister. 'Tis with her I will end my days in the height of felicity. I swear to you, Melintus, that hearing her speak with so great a heart, I knew not what it was kept me back from taking her by violence out of my parents hands, to give her liberty, and marry her after: but knowing she herself would never consent to that, for fear of angering Dicearchus, Aristides, and Ariana, I did nothing but augment my love by the experience of her virtue.  
Some time after, she pleased me again so well, that I was near upon the losing of all respect or consideration. I believe you were then in the Country with Telephus, when my sister made a dance of Egyptian women. I have heard, said Melintus, of something there was done in my absence, which I shall be glad to hear of. You know, replies Palamede, how Epicharis sings and plays on the Lute very pleasantly. We were all assembled at my uncle Dicearchus his to receive this Masque; I saw her enter with three other women, in the number of whom was my sister, and when the noise was appeased, she recited these verses in Music:  

Four Sisters we be come from Egypt together,  
To appear in these parts;  
Unknown were the loves of Cypris our mother,  
And Mercury, god of Arts.   

Our father at our birth left us for portion  
Dexterity of hand,  
And Venus she gave us beauty in proportion,  
Mankind for to command.   

Now seen shall it be if any of this City  
May easily escape;  
If our hands he avoid, our eyes far more witty  
Shall finely him entrap.   
I was one of the nearest of the spectators, and so rapt with seeing and hearing her, that I had lost the use of my other senses, to make happy those of sight and hearing only; which made me I took no heed when one of these Egyptians put her hand into my pocket in the mean time, and took away what I had there.  
When the recite was ended, and the dance following it, they that saw I was robbed, made show to look if they had lost nothing by these she-robbers. I did as much, and instantly cried out that I had been robbed, and ran to Epicharis to entreat her to give me again what they had taken from me; then to my sister and the rest of them: but they all denied the theft, and I had no news of it till the next morning, when I saw coming into my Chamber a young boy I knew not, that brought me what I had lost, with a little paper, wherein were writ these words:  
The Egyptians are content to let you see that they know how to get more than they desire to keep; acknowledge their power, and thank their courtesy.  
I urged this young child to tell me who sent him, but he would never be known of it; and all I could get of him, was to give me leisure to make an answer. And I went to write thus:  
To the most Gentile of the Egyptians.  
IF you had purposed to return me all you took from me, I should have found a heart amongst the things it pleased you to restore: but if you think it fitting, I consent it stay still with you, as earnest of the fidelity I swear to you.  
All these Gentilesses gave me entirely to her; and yet since that time I served her with a great respect, because the commodity at our house being the fitter to make attempts upon her, I perceived that she did the more refrain expressing her good will towards me, for fear I might not take the more boldness; but I confess to you, that what ever entreaty she made me, I never left commending in my mind her carriage. My sister was very well pleased with my affection, knowing this wench to be very discreet, and was persuaded she would find the way to moderate my overhasty humour, if I took pleasure in obeying her. She always therefore used me very seriously: but one time when I assured her of the love I had to her; And may I, said she, have some proof to confirm it? I was amazed, and glad withal she desired some service at my hands, and made offer of all I was able to do to please her. Know, if it be possible, said she to me, of Dicearchus what my birth is, for I believe certainly he knows it: 'Tis not that I am weary of living as I do, for to serve Ariana I would forsake the most free condition of the world: but I should have cause to rejoice in waiting on her service purely out of good will, and not out of necessity. I commended her desire, and promised to use all the entreaties I could to that end: then I added, would to God, my fair maid, our conditions might in some fashion meet one with another; I should have as much cause to joy at that persuasion, as you yourself: for I believe I shall never have power to dispose of myself, until I see what fortune shall have resolved of you. I will not, answered she, make any profession to you, how much I am obliged to your affection, for that were unuseful; but if ever the state of my life may change, you shall find I will not forget the least of your respects. I prayed her to believe I would always serve her after that manner; and proffered myself, in case my uncle gave me no light to know what she were, to go to the farthest parts of the world, that I might learn the truth of it. But when I had put Dicearchus upon that discourse, I could never draw any clearing of the question from him. He told me indeed, that he had her of the Pirates upon the Sea coast towards Camarine: but that made me never the wiser, and I was very angry for having understood nothing else to satisfy Epicharis desire. Presently after the occasion of going to Rome was presented, and when I bade her adieu, she said; Take heed fortune upon the Sea make not you of my condition, and by equalling you to me, separate not us both for ever. I would willingly, said I to her, redeem your liberty and my contentment at the charge of four years' servitude; I could have no greater wish than that it were my chance to serve your kindred in recompense of the services you have rendered mine. Oh gods! how happy should I be, if in the end I might come to the knowledge of them, and give them intelligence of the place you are in, for to make us both free by a happy change: It would never grieve me to endure neither irons, nor the cruelest tortures of slaves, to obtain so great a good. These are speeches, says Melintus interrupting him, very powerful and affectionate for such an unfaithful man as you are; for you were no sooner here but you forgot all those protestations to love Camilla. I beseech you, replies Palamede, do not reproach me with that; for the affection I have for Epicharis, seems to be a strong and sure passion that keeps ever one direct course, letting pass across it those little lightnesses without being moved, and I hope it shall also one day attain the end it hath pretended to.  
Palamede would have finished what remained to be told of that depart, when Epicharis entering, broke off their discourse; and finding them still in bed, she accused them of slothfulness: Palamede in laughing told her, they had but too much time for the journey they were to make that day. Then she told them what she had done with their friends: As for Maximus, although he had reason to be ill satisfied with them, for the detriment he had suffered for their sakes, having saved himself also from the fire after them, with much trouble, and though he had enough to consider of his own affairs, yet he had not failed to promise her all sorts of assistances for them: that the fire was not yet out in the City, but yet they ought not to lose the occasions that were offered to save themselves; that it would be easy for her to bring them a very small cord, wherewith they might draw up a great rope she would have without the Tower, which she now had all in a readiness of an excessive length, because the height of the Tower was very great. There was no other difficulty but for them to get to the top of that Tower, for being always close shut up in their chambers. Three or four days passed on still in their deliberating upon some means, whilst the burning continued always. But they were surprised one morning, being sent for to appear before the Senate. Epicharis was in despair for having delayed so long to invent a means for their delivery, and feared they should be that very day condemned. Melintus and Palamede in less trouble, were brought before the Senate, where entering with a modest assurance, they were set upon seats very low to the ground: The Consul having commanded the accusers to speak, Martian goes out from the company, because he was a party in this cause: and then they were accused with much vehemency, for having by an abominable practice set fire on Rome, and to be the cause of the greatest ruin and desolation that City ever suffered; that not content with that horrible impiety, they had added the murdering of Marcelin and many others, whereof proof was made by Marcelins' sword, that Melintus was found seized of, and for that he was taken all bloody. For these crimes it was concluded by the accuser, that they deserved the cruelest punishments that were. Melintus seeing that no body presented himself for them, demanded permission to defend himself; and having obtained it, he was a while looking down to the ground to think of what he had to say; then lifting up his eyes towards the Senators, he spoke thus:  
MY Lords, if I were to speak before judges that were less equitable than you, I should have great cause to fear the oppression of our innocence. I consider the authority of our accusers, all the City of Rome animated against us, and (if the crimes they suppose us guilty of were true) you yourselves, my Lords, interessed by your losses to punish us. Against all these powers, may two strangers, forsaken of all things, pretend to defend themselves? Nevertheless, we do not esteem ourselves altogether destitute, having in heaven the gods for witnesses of our life, and upon earth the justice we are in hope to find amongst you. We have nothing but the truth for our defence; and this truth being naked and simple, I will also make you a simple relation of our misfortune, whose causes may very easily be justified.  
Being arrived at Rome, for no other end but to behold her glories, and make ourselves known for persons desirous of the best things, we entered, to our misery, into the acquaintance of Marcelin, who after he had made us great professions of friendship, in the end conceived a cruel jealousy against us for a woman's sake, and resolved to kill us. Those that knew him can tell if he were capable of such a practice. One night we were set upon by a number of men that left us for dead, and had it not been for the succours of Emilia and Camilla, before whose house the noise was heard, we should have had no mere pain to defend our own lives. Camilla will be a witness of this truth, and all her house, whither we were carried; who will tell also, how Marcelin not believing we had known his treachery, sent Palamede an ointment that was found to be rank poison. Nevertheless we advised to dissemble and absent us from hence, having such an enemy. Since that, Aristides, father to Palamede, being come hither with his daughter Ariana, upon the rumour of his son's danger, Marcelin fell in love with Ariana, and had a purpose to marry her: But Palamede having him in detestation as his mortal enemy, and Ariana shunning him as the murderer of her brother, his love contemned turned into rage, and knowing we were upon parting to return into Sicily, he plotted our death, but the cruelest one that could be imagined by him. Because he would not let us be gone without a revenge, he encompassed with armed men the house of Maximus where we lived, and then set fire to it on all sides, having resolved either to burn us there, or kill us at our coming out when we had no other thought but how to save us from the flames. They of Maximus house can witness how they saw these furious men setting fire with Torches in their hands, and that two slaves were killed going to fetch water at the Tiber. For me, I determined with myself to take a horse and save me by running through flames and swords. Palamede did the like; but took another way than that I went. Marcelin seeing himself on foot, and that I went far away, made a horse be given him to pursue me, and overtook me being all alone, where furiously assaulting me, I had the good fortune to kill him, though he were armed. Two others came upon me, that were left upon the place. After that Palamede rejoining him to me, we were taken, when we had a long time defended ourselves; and now we are accused for the death of these men, and for having set the City on fire.  
They that have been here acquainted with us, know, if we could everso much as have conceived so detestable an enterprise: what fury must we have been possessed of? and what strange ingratitude had that of ours been, to have had a mind to destroy this great City, whereof we have had the honour to be made Citizens, and for whose glory we have so often fought? But beside, what likelihood is there we would have begun at our own lodging, being shut up within, with what we had most precious, and from whence we had much ado to preserve us? For the murder, 'tis very true that I defended myself from a man armed, that sought my life, which I secured after from two other men, and some soldiers: There is nothing more just than to repel force with force: But in all this, what hath Palamede done? having been assailed by night, he was there left for dead: he ran a danger of being poisoned: seeing the house on fire where he was, he got out to save himself, and came to find me again, not knowing what should become of him after the loss of his father and sister: and he now is accused together with me for a murderer and fire-setter, in stead of the justice we were to demand for having been fired and assassinated. All these things being able to be justified, I implore, my Lords, not your pity, but your justice: not that clemency that hath made you so often pardon your greatest enemies, but the integrity of this August Senate, that nothing could ever yet weaken. Or if our misfortune deserves any punishment for having been the cause, without our intention, of the disaster of Rome, be affected with the compassion that is due to strangers, to our youth, to our innocence, and to so many wounds received for the honour of the Roman Empire. And if there must needs be some sacrifice offered to the people's satisfaction, content yourselves with my life, and provoke not the gods against you by the condemnation of Palamede, the most innocent of all men.  
After he had left speaking, there was heard a little murmuring among the Senators; some admiring the assurance and grace he had in speaking, others his generousness and friendship towards Palamede. The greatest part of them said there was no appearance they were guilty. There were none incensed against them, but those that had been made by Martian. In the end the Consul made a sign to Palamede that he should speak, and with a fearless fashion he said thus:  
MY Lords, Melintus having represented to the Senate all I am able to say, for making our innocency appear, 'tis not against our accusers I am to defend me, but against him. I complain of him in the first place, for that he betrays our cause, by confessing us causes remote of the calamity of the City, and speaking of sacrifices to offer up to the people's desire for to deliver himself alone to death, and preserve my life. I accuse him moreover for gainsaying the laws of our friendship that made us inseparable: and he is greatly in the wrong to affect by design our division, which could not be excused but by disaster. If he were culpable, I should be so too; but since he is innocent, I pretend also to be so. I have always so well laboured to imitate him, out of the knowledge I had of his virtue and perfection, that I fear not to be accused of his faults, but think myself glorious to be found faultless with him. There is nothing belongs to us both that can be divided: our wills united make but one mind, which ruling all our actions, it seems we are in like manner but one body, so as there is but one only person you are to condemn or absolve. And yet, if for causes separate from us, and to which our will hath contributed nothing, we deserve some punishment; which of us can be said to be more worthy of it but I? I am the sole object of the jealousy of Marcelin, and of his hatred; Melintus had no controversy at all with him: To me alone he sent the poison: I alone hindered his marriage with my sister, I alone provoked his vengeance against us, which is the cause of all these miseries. Only Melintus found himself engaged in his treasons, not thinking any thing, and so hath committed nothing, whether by mischance or by intention. I demand therefore we be both of us sent away absolved as innocents; or that I alone be exposed to the sentence: and you shall testify by this judgement, the equity that makes you renowned throughout the world.  
Melintus would have replied, but one of the Consuls imposed him silence. Then all the Judges were in an admiration to see so perfect a friendship, and moved with the consideration of so much virtue and innocency, began to advise for their absolution. They had beside interrogatories given them apart, and all their answers were found conformable: but upon these intermissions, Nero sent to command them to surcease the judgement until he had written his mind to them. So they were sent back again to the prison, where the disguised Epicharis, longing to know the success of the judgement, enquired of them what had passed. But having known for what cause they were sent back, she began to appehend Nero's absolute power, and went presently out, to go inquire of one of Melintus friends, if the Emperor had since writ his will to the Senate. He told her, the tears in his eyes, that he came but now from a Senator that told him the Prince would have them dye: Because Martian, during the judgement, had gone to kneel down before him, and made him promise they should be punished by his authority.  
Epicharis in despair, returned to bring them that ill news: and being shut close together, they consulted upon the danger they were in. She told them, 'Tis a strange thing, that since I came in hither, I have not been able to have this good fortune to find either invention, or occasion to bring you out. For me, said Palamede, I will cast myself down from the top of this Tower into the Tiber, rather than submit to so shameful a punishment. I would, said Melintus, we were but in possibility to precipitate us, there were then no more deliberation to be used: for we should soon find means to descend: the difficulty of importance is, how to get to the top of the Tower. Melintus is in the right, says Epicharis, for the rope is all in a readiness, and I would quickly bring you wherewith all to draw it up to you: And now I think on't, says Melintus, the height of this Chimney answers to the height of the Tower: about midnight we may help one another, and get up to the Tower that way; I believe we may save ourselves, provided only none know of your going out, and that they shut not up some body else here in stead of you: you must of necessity go to buy a boat, with some other habits to disguise us in, and when you return, you shall bring us this same small cord to draw up the other from without to us. I find this, said Epicharis, to be very well devised; and to make it sure, that none inquire for me or for you this night, as soon as I shall be gone out of this Chamber in the evening, you are but to shut the door with the bars, and they will lock you in, without looking whether I be there or no. This being resolved on in this manner, Epicharis went instantly to provide her of a boat, some clothes, and the rope she had caused to be made of a thickness and length very strange; having committed all these things to the keeping of a young youth she knew, and who little thought for what purpose she was to use them; she came back to bring the small cord, and advertise them how all was in a readiness. After she had seen them sup, she took her leave to go to attend them at the foot of the Tower: presently they shut themselves up, and about midnight when they might judge that every body was asleep, Melintus took the sheet that served to their bed, and desired Palamede to get up first into the chimney, because he might help him, and carry with him this sheet wherewith afterwards he might help to draw him up: Palamede was hardly to be persuaded, and would have done him that office and stayed the last: But Melintus told him, these contestations were not in season, and so used the matter, that Palamede set his foot upon a stool, then upon his shoulder, and from thence by little and little got him up to the top, carrying the sheet by which he was to draw up his friend Melintus was not very long in getting to him, though it were with some labour; then they threw down the little cord, to which Epicharis tied the great one, and they drew it up to them, and having bound it to a pinnacle of the Tower with the little one, so strong that it was impossible it should slip, Palamede asked of Melintus where the honour was in that occasion, to go before or after; Melintus answered him, they were rather to consider of saving their honour and dispatching them: Do you then pass first, replied Palamede, that your honour may be first saved. I will, said Melintus, make the retreat. Never, replied Palamede, shall it be said I left you in danger. Ha! answered Melintus, what ceremonies are these? we contested before for getting up, and now we must lose time also in descending But, said Palamede, why will you have me always give place to you in affection? I will have you, continued Melintus, let yourself go first, than you shall carry me down upon your shoulders. Upon this condition, says Palamede, I will, and so took the rope: but Melintus let him go, for it was impossible for Palamede to stay himself; and Melintus was thus willing to deceive him, that he might see him part and know that his friend's life were in safety, before he thought of saving his own. He had also received this contentment, but for the strange accident that happened; for when Palamede entered into the boat, the pinnacle to which the rope was tied, (whether it were for being so old, or for the weight of Palamede's body, and the thickness of the very rope) was carried down together with it; and if at the same instant the boat had not gone off of itself, Palamede and Epicharis had been struck dead under the ruins of it.  
'Tis hard to judge who were the most astonished, either Palamede and Epicharis that felt themselves quelled with the water this fall covered them with, and to see the rope down without all hope of helping Melintus any more; or Melintus himself that thought they had been smitten dead, and saw that he was deprived of all means to save himself. He was a while of the opinion that nothing could now secure him from death, and he was absolutely minded rather to cast himself down the Tower, than remain in the hands of his enemies. And yet being of a courage that feared no danger, and wit that soon invented preservatives, he looked about him, and perceiving the sheet, whereby he got up thither, he considered if he might not cut it into many lengths, to be tied one to another; but all of it would scarce have reached to the half part of the Tower's height; but for all that he purposed to launch himself into the water from the extremity of it as far off as he should be, and took the end of the sheet to begin to cut it; but a wind that arose very high, had almost carried away his sheet, and with it all his hopes. That made him think of a means very strange, and to seek his safety by that which had very near lost him. Having heard tell of some that had been borne up in the air by means of their clothes, and set down upon the ground lightly, he advised with himself, since the wind favoured him, to make a sail of his sheet; and after he had made it swell with the wind to let himself go in it, by holding the sheet by the ends, hoping that the wind would sustain him enough from falling too fast downwards. The worst could befall him was to be drowned, and he had rather lose his life so, than by the stroke of a hangman. Considering therefore which way to accommodate himself, and turning his back to the sheet, he took behind two of the corners, wherewith he made him as it were a girdle, which he fastened before with that was left of the little cord, and letting pass all the rest of the sheet over his head, he stretched out his arms, and took the two other ends in his hands, which he tied also, for fear they might not chance to slip away, but yet in such a fashion, that he might easily undo them: then putting himself upon the pinnacles in opposition to the wind, he made it fill up the sheet, and this wind lifting him up almost by force, he let himself go, recommending him to the gods, and felt that he descended by little and little till he came below where Palamede and Epicharis were, admiring by the light of the Moon this Engine, and not imagining what it might be.    

ARIANA. The sixth Book.  
THe joy of Epicharis and Palamede was excessive, when Melintus being fallen into the water, and rid of his sheet, they saw him come towards them swimming: but that of Melintus was no less, when entering into the boat, and seeing himself helped by them, he was assured that the fall of the pinnacle had nothing offended them. After the common rejoicings for escaping so many dangers, they were thinking how to avoid that which remained, and resolved to depart the City by the same river, for not being apprehended. They went down the stream very easily, till they came a good way off Rome, and about morning they found themselves four or five miles distant from it. There they quitted the clothes they had on, and having filled them with stones, cast them into the water; then they were of opinion to go by land, and take a way quite contrary to that wherein they were taken; for then following the Tiber they had gone straight to Ostia; and if they were pursued, they would not fail to search along the River. It was therefore decreed they should gain the haven of Cajetta, because that of Reggium was too far remote, and that they should not march but by night, for being in danger of taking the second time. Eurylas that had washed him in the water, looked so lovely in the new clothes he was dressed in, that Palamede was in pain to conceal the new wounds she gave him. And then when no body saw them, he helped her to go, and sometimes Melintus lead her; for Epicharis was not accustomed to so great journeys; and their desire was to advance to some place where they might pass away the day. And still as they went, they entertained one another with their adventures, and took it for a good fortune that the pinnacle fell, for else the rope had been left there, which would have made them be followed; but now the world would think they had precipitated them, their coming out by the chimney being to be discerned by some stools they had used to get up with. After they had gone a good journey in discoursing thus, they arrived at a village, where they took with them something to eat, and for fear of being discovered, continued their voyage: then they passed through a great field to get them far out of the way, & found a very retired place, where there was a running brook, near to which they sat down under the shade of sallowes.  
After they had made their repast, they began again to recount their fortunes together; and the fears Aristides, Ariana, Telephus, and all their friends at Syracuse, were in for them; that for this occasion they must not lose time in getting to Sicily, to lessen by so much their displeasures. That consideration made them resolve to continue their march, which they did incommodiously enough, because they kept them altogether in by-paths, lest they might be discovered upon the highways. At last, about evening they arrived near to a house they judged very fair; Eurylas had a good mind to have been there received to repose him that night, and not to be so ill provided for, as to have nothing but the heaven for a Canopy: but they thought it best not to put themselves to the hazard of falling into hands they could not afterwards get free of; and seeing very near that place a little wood, they purposed to enter into it, and there to choose out some shady place; where when they were set, Eurylas overcome with slumber and travel, presently fell asleep: the two others fearing to wake him, made no kind of noise, and that silence insensibly made them sleep also.  
When they were in the depth of their sleep, a young Lady, Mistress of the house they had seen, taking in the evening the fresh air of the wood, passed very near them as she walked about. They could not be seen where they were, of any that had been in the walks of that wood: But Eurylas turning him from one side to another, removed some leaves that were about him, and made a little noise. Corinna (this Lady was so called) curious to see if it were not some beast, went softly forward, and found the fair Eurylas sleeping in a fashion so agreeable, that the sight ravished her: the delicacy and whiteness of his complexion, his vermilion mouth, his brown but fine and curled hair that hung over his shoulders, and above all the amiable proportion of the features in his face, gave her too sensible impressions to seem herself insensible of them: for she stood without all motion, and so steadfast in regarding this fair sleeper, that it might have seemed he had communicated his heaviness to her, but that her eyes were still open: but she thought she had not eyesight enough to consider him well, so many beauties saw she, the least of which was capable to have the possession of her eyes, and fill them with admiration. She put one knee to the ground, as it were to render him homage, and came softly near to kiss him, that he might not awake; but Eurylas at the same time heaved himself up, and fetched a deep sigh from his stomach; which constrained her to retire, thinking he had been about to wake, and gave her a sight of Melintus and Palamede that were sleeping also there hard by, whom she had not before been aware of, for being so much taken up with the sight of Eurylas. That caused her to be a little fearful, seeing herself all alone between three men: and yet considering them she took them for persons of honest quality; and to see their equipage, judged they had suffered some injury. She advised to go home, and return again with some of her people, that with her might desire them to take covert at her house; and as she was going away, she could not choose but cast her eye upon Eurylas beauty: yet at length she left him; and being in the house, she persuaded her husband to go walk out with her into the wood, that he might himself invite them home to him. A little while after she went away, Epicharis awaked, and letting Melintus and Palamede sleep on, would have risen, and perceived four or five coming to them; she took them to be some of those that dwelled at the next house, and were now walking towards the evening at their liberty. They waked Melintus and Palamede out of their sleep at their first coming near, and enquired of her what they did there; to which she answered, that they were three brothers who had lost in the burning of Rome the best of their goods, and were robbed of that which was left them, and now were brought to lie thus upon the ground, in getting by little and little to Sicily where they should not want for conveniences. Corinna seemed to be touched with pity for them, and prayed Curio her husband to take them home with him for a night. This man that was of a sufficient good nature, was well content therewith, and could not take them for thiefs because of their fashion, and especially to see they had no swords; so he told them, that if they would come to his house they should be very welcome. Melintus and Palamede agreed, seeing this free invitation, and thanked him as courteously as they could. They went along with them thus for company. Melintus telling Curio the news of Rome in his ordinary pleasing way of discourse: and when they were come to the house, they all supped together. But it was impossible for Corinna to dissemble the affection she had to Eurylas when her husband's eye were off; and Palamede, that began to have a good mind to Corinna, seeing she was very gentile, and of an humour free enough, did the more observe the looks she sent to Eurylas, which made him wish this affection were rather addressed to him, that he might make some use of the good fortune. That which perfected her dying for him, was, that Eurylas finding a Lute, took it, and fitting his sweet voice to it, sung these verses:  

WHile amiable youthfulness  
Inflames within us fair desires  
Let us prove the dearest pleasures  
Our fortune to us may address;  
And suffer not a day remove,  
Without some sweet delights of love.   

The season of our borrowed light  
Ought not to pass away in vain,  
Wherein we do so freely gain  
The power as well as appetite,  
To suffer not one day remove,  
Without some sweet delights of love.   

Those that have ruder fantasies,  
Reproach our happy times so spent;  
Malicious, or malcontent  
With their despite or jealousies;  
But let not us one day remove,  
Without some sweet delights of love.   
There little wanted, that Corinna transported with love, had not gone to kiss the delicate mouth that sang with so many charms, but the presence of her husband and the company served for a bridle to her. 'Twas no difficult matter for her to be persuaded by Eurylas song, into this humour, and to take the occasion her love offered her, and she thought he gave her advice of what she had to do; and Palamede was of this mind too, who never looked off Corinna, whilst Melintus entertained the good man Curio, that began to have a very great esteem of his guests. When it was bed time, Curio and Corinna brought them to a chamber near unto those where they used to lie apart one from the other, wherein there were two beds. Melintus and Palamede chose the biggest, for they said, they would never be separated, and left the least for Eurylas. Corinna was very glad for that resolution, and when she left them, gave the good night to Eurylas, so as he well perceived the affection mingled withal. Palamede considered all her actions, and having learned that she lay in one chamber, and her husband in another, he thought, that if in the night he could make her believe he was Eurylas, he might easily enjoy her: so as he was resolved to rise from Melintus, and go secretly into Corinna's chamber, imagining that without doubt the love she had for Eurylas, would hinder her from sleeping, and he might easily be received of her. On the other side, Corinna being retired with her husband, had the same design to rise out of her bed, and come to lie with Eurylas, not believing him to be of a disposition to refuse a fair Lady: And Curio willing they should shut up these strangers close into their chambers for fear of some accident, she was not of that opinion, for that were, said she, openly to mistrust them, that it sufficed to shut the doors of the house sure, and they would not dare to attempt any thing. That being appointed, Curio by misfortune would needs lie with his wife that night, to whom this purpose was very unwelcome: Nevertheless when he was asleep, she rose and pursued what she had to do. Corinna and Palamede at the very same time went out of their chambers without any noyse-making, and meeting one another in the dark at a passage, knocked their heads so rudely together, that they were even falling backwards withal: and yet having each of them but scandalous intentions, and not willing to be discovered, they kept themselves from crying out, or expressing any pain for the blow: They would neither of them enter into their own chambers for fear they should be known. Palamede ignorant of what he was best to do, stood still in the same place, and leaned himself against the wall; but Corinna better acquainted with the turnings, slid her softly down the steps. Palamede taking heart, and thinking it was some groom, gave not over going into Corinna's chamber; and she hearing no more of him she had encountered, went up the stairs again and entered into the chamber of Eurylas. She came near his bed, then sitting her down upon't making no noise, she embraced Eurylas and kissed him, to make him awake gently. Epicharis feeling as she began to wake, some body that pressed her on that fashion, cried out, and would have got herself loose; but Corinna laboured to make her hold her peace, and told her she was Corinna, that moved with a love to him, was come to give up herself to his bed, and offer him all the favours he could desire of her. Melintus waked with that noise, and not feeling Palamede near him, thought he was practising upon Epicharis, and went towards the bed to hinder him. Corinna hearing him come, escaped and ran into her own chamber, where she stumbled upon two persons that lay upon the ground, and fell with her head so cruelly against the bed, as she was not able to rise again. She cried out and called for a light, and in the mean while heard a man that said, why brother, are you mad? I am Palamede you torment thus. At last a light was brought; Melintus and Eurylas came running also thither, and found three down all along upon the place; Corinna hurt, and Curio with Palamede, that held one another fast, and were wrestling together. But when Curio knew it was Palamede, he was in a great wonder, and asked him, wherefore he was come to his bed? Palamede for his part seemed as much amazed to see himself in that chamber, and said to Curio he thought he had come to his own, and gone again to bed to his brother; and how he had cause to think strange Melintus should take such hold of him if he were not mad. Curio asked him pardon, and told him he took him for some robber that would have killed him, feeling a man, as he waked, that held his arms. Epicharis and Melintus had pain enough to keep from laughing, seeing them in that disorder. Corinna putting her hand to her broken face, and leaning it against her forehead, said, that having heard a noise upon the stairs, she would know what the matter was, and at her return found them in that posture to give her the fall. The suspicion Curio might have of his wife, was changed into pity to see her in that case; and after they had all of them got up, and some remedy was applied to two or three hurts she had on her face, and to those of Curio and Palamede, for they had fallen from the bed one upon another, Palamede desired their pardon, his error having caused all that disaster, and every one retired to his chamber, where Melintus, Palamede, and Epicharis shut themselves up for fear the noise of their laughter should be heard, which they refraind as much as was possible. Palamede knew than it was Corinna he had encountered in the passage, going to have surprised Eurylas, and how she was forced to get her gone at Melintus coming. He confessed to them also, that willing to go find Corinna, and put himself upon her bed, he had in stead of her embraced that man that had awaked, and seized upon his body at the instant, that he was strangely amazed to feel a beard, and a man that would not let him escape, did he what he could; that in striving together they were fallen from the bed, and Curio undermost, whose fall must needs have well dazzled him, for that he did not so much as dream of calling for help: that in the end he thought he was to make as if he had been mistaken, and to call him brother, to have him believe he took him for Melintus, and was in a wonder he should be in so great a madness, as not to let him go, what ever he did to get out of his hands. They never ceased laughing the rest of the night at these rencounters. Nevertheless Melintus reproached Palamede for having had a thought to such an enterprise. He excused him by the example of Corinna, whose attempt was no less unchaste, and entreated Epicharis to pardon him that crime, which she willingly did, not being able, she said, to take offence at a thing that had made them so much mirth.  
About morning they fell asleep, and waked not till it was near noon: and being up, it was told them Corinna kept her bed. They went to see her, and to know how she did; and meeting with Curio in the chamber, expressed again to him the displeasure they had for being cause of her sickness; then they came towards the bed, where they found her with her forehead bound up, but yet very curiously, and as if in that disorder of her face she had not been over negligent in dressing her. Palamede made her a thousand excuses for his ill fortune: and a little after going aside with Melintus to entertain Curio, Corinna took Eurylas by the hand, saying to him, What will you do for one that has been thus handled for love of you? Madam, says he, all that ever I can do in the world I offer you, in assurance that I am too much engaged to you, and dying for grief that I was not able to receive the favours you would have permitted me. Palamede would favour the contentment and pleasing deceit of Corinna; for he drew Curio on the other side of the bed, as he spoke to him: and Corinna taking the occasion, said to Eurylas, I see very well you must forsake me now, but promise me to return hither one day, and you shall see what affection I have to you. As she spoke those words, she brought Eurylas head close to hers, and kissed him with a great transportation: and beside, she uncovered all her neck to him, that he might be the more in love with her. Eurylas had trouble enough to refrain laughing, and to recompense her with the like favours could well have shown her as much: but he was content to give her kisses back, and promised her it should not be long ere he came to see her again. They were at last to give over that delightful exercise, for fear of being taken by the husband that came for Eurylas to lead him to dinner. The sweetness of Melintus conversation had wholly gained that man: and at dinner he told him, that some Jewels they had still hidden about them; but it would be hard to change them for things that were more necessary, as horses and other provisions. Curio promised to accommodate them: and presently they went to his stable, where they made choice of three horses, for which Epicharis gave him a Ring that was of a far greater value, because she would recompense him for the good entertainment they received at his house. Curio gave them beside to every one a sword, and something with them to eat the rest of the day: then they went to take leave of Corinna, who wept to see Eurylas part; yet she concealed her tears; and Curio having seen them a horseback, let them go with a great deal of sorrow.  
They were no sooner a good way off out of their sight, but having liberty to laugh, they were disposed to mock at the abuse of Corinna, and her so passionate farewell. The encounters of Palamede also served them for no small pastime; and Epicharis flouting him, that his desires had been so rewarded: I find, says he, there is nothing so delightful as that which falls out in love: for if a man has that he desires, nothing is more happy; and the greatest disgrace that may arrive, is but matter of laughter. ay, says Epicharis but the mischief is, you are laughed at to your cost: I find you only happy in this, that you are of a humour that shrinks not for any accident befalls you. It is true, said Melintus, for I believe never any man was so often deceived and punished as he. At Athens he began his apprenticeship, with a thousand tricks were played upon him: at Rome he hardly scaped dying in the trade: and here, see what an adventure 'twas to go cast himself into the arms of an husband, and so to be quit for the hurt he received in his face. Besides all this, replied Epicharis, his greatest unhappiness is, that experience cannot make him wise. How well you are both agreed, said Palamede, to despise my humour! but tell me, whose courage do you esteem the greater, of him that puts himself into many hazards, comes well off with some, is hurt in others, but never yields: or his, that never attempts any thing? Would you have one, after he has been wounded in a combat, quit arms for ever and grow wise by experience? You have reason, answered Melintus, to make a comparison with love and valour: but as valour is a virtue, so you ought to compare with it a virtuous love, that is not fastened but to a fair and perfect object, like as valour that has nothing for its object but honour, no differing considerations to move to the duties of it: so in love, he that shall have but one design, and ever maintains that, is more courageous than he that will always be changing the subject of it. Palamede replied, if you will needs compare Love to Valour, in my conceit this is exercised upon differing subjects, and diverse encounters; one while in the siege of a Town, another at a battle, another again in a private combat. Yet ever 'tis but one valour, says Melintus, cutting him short: Neither is it but one love, answered Palamede, that makes me cherish every thing that is amiable. But this valour, said Melintus, hath but one object, which is honour. And this love, replied Palamede, hath but one object neither, which is pleasure. Pleasure, said Melintus, cannot be the object of a virtuous love; and if you will hear me, I believe you will be of my mind. Virtue never has any thing for object, but that which is perfect and certain, and for this reason she herself is her own end and recompense, there being nothing in the world perfect and certain but she. So hath valour no satisfaction but in itself, and this is that we call honour, which is nothing else but the glory that is in us for not failing in what valour requires at our hands, what disgrace soever may happen; because fortune hath no power over virtues: he that has this quality in perfection, is as valiant being overcome, as when he is victorious, and is conscious to himself of the same glory: Victory and honours cannot be the principal objects of it, because these are not things we can be assured of. In like manner, the perfect love cannot have pleasure for his principal end, because it is not certain, but depends on the will of another: and for that cause his end cannot be to be loved neither, these being things that are without us, and we cannot dispose of: but his only certain object is this, to love perfectly: So the end of this perfect love is in itself, and can never fail it. If it chances one be loved, or receives some contentment, these are but fruits of love, and not the end, even as victory and honours are to valour: otherwise it must be necessary, that after the satisfactions love received, and the honours that valour possessed, both this and that should cease, and have no more operation, as being arrived at their end. You see that imperfect loves, that have no other end but pleasure, die as soon as ever they have attained that pleasure; and this might serve for an infallible reason to make you believe there must be an end far more noble, and more assured than pleasure, to crown a perfect and never decaying love.  
I believe, said Epicharis to Palamede, you would be much troubled to answer these reasons. 'Tis very easy for him, says he, to vanquish an enemy that feels his conscience wounded, being to maintain an evil cause: for all the disasters I have met with, and reason with this very dispute learn me thus much, that we are to love but one thing which is perfectly lovely, and for this cause that it is you alone I am to love: I pray you, said Epicharis, make not Melintus weapons serve your turn against me: and yet I shall not be displeased that he instruct you; and when you have had time enough to be made wise, I shall demand of him what I ought to think of you. Swear, said Palamede, you will always report yourself to him. That will I surely, said she, so much confidence have I in him, that he shall herein be Judge with Ariana. Melintus said, there was hope of amendment in Palamede, and that he would promise, if Epicharis joined her help, to make of him a perfect lover one day for her sake, having already a Master very affectionate, and a Mistress very lovely. Assure yourselves, replied Palamede, that I knew before how to love very well, what ever I said, for I love none but the fair Epicharis; 'tis she I love perfectly, and will love her so for ever. Do you take these little searches I make to others for infidelities? What be they else, says Melintus? I would fain know, went Palamede on, if to love so perfectly as you pretend, you abstain from all sorts of pleasures, as hunting, pastimes, exercises, and what ever else may content you? That were not reasonable, answered Melintus. So then, said Palamede, these little favours are of those pleasures we are not to avoid. The choice a man has made once in his heart, continues still there; and by this means he attends with patience, till the cruelties of her he seeks be over, and the time may bring some ease to his desires. I find this, said Epicharis, an easy way of loving; and if all were of your disposition, there would not be heard such complaints and desperations of lovers, because they would so soon know wherewith to comfort them. 'Tis not, replied Palamede, a particular humour in me, but reason that makes me love after that fashion, and every one finds contentment by it; for having a cruel Mistress, I seek for consolation to the usage she makes me, and in the mean time leave her in repose. When all comes to all, replied Melintus, you would persuade us, that you love extremely, but desire moderately; and if you can make these two agree, you have reason for what you say. Although, says Palamede, I follow not these desires so ardently, think you I desire the less for that? chose, I more honour her I love, not to torment her, seeing her resolved to grant me nothing; and appease where I may the violence of my desires. But, replied Melintus, they are not the desires you have for her, which you go to ease otherwhere; they be some other. Sometimes, answers Palamede, I imagine I am easing those very desires, persuading myself I enjoy her, and receive those favours at her hands. Ah ye gods! cried out Melintus, what crimes are here together. And why, said Palamede, am I so criminal? First of all, replied Melintus, in seeking these favours from others, you serve yourself of the same words, and the same oaths which you use to her you love: see there profaned the fairest means you can have to make yourself be loved, employing them indifferently upon a thousand subjects unworthy of the virtuous design you ought to have: What poorness it is to lie? and which of them all can believe you, having but the same protestations to give in all places? after all this, if you love but one person, can you still find another lovely, and there stay your eyes? for, as for pastime which you allege, a man may seek that, without injuring his love: but one beauty may stand in competition with another, and if you can make much of any, with, or besides that you love, 'tis infidelity. But what crime can be greater than that your imagination commits in the favours of another? and will your fancy then needs have it her you are courting, who receives your discourse with affectation, who either yields with weakness, or prostitutes herself with shamelessness? and do you perfectly love her you imagine to yourself, with all those defects? You charge me very criminally, said Palamede, but I protest to you I have not so vile an intention. No, no, pursues Melintus, you must resolve with yourself, either to believe your affection is very imperfect, or else to purge it of all those errors, if you desire to make it perfect. See there, said Epicharis, one good lesson already; and if every day he took but such another, I think he might be reduced into the right way. To hear you both speak, replied Palamede, it seems I have been instructed in an ill Love-schoole, and must endeavour to forget the false principles I there learned: but I do still find something in me repugnant to the austerity of your precepts: Nevertheless I honour my Master, and love my Mistress so well, that I shall receive their rules upon their word, without examination; and submitting to your reasons, I will make you have obligation to me too for the pains I free myself of, in the search of contrary reasons. They were then come to a pass of a river something difficult, which hindered Melintus and Eurylas reply to him, to mind where the easiest place of going over might be. Palamede having first sounded the depth of the water, and being on the other side, betook him to singing.  

CUpid in his childish flitting,  
Changeth station day by day:  
Above the heavens he makes his way,  
Then upon earth he takes all homage fitting.  
If my heart seeks thus to remove,  
Am I not like the God of love?   

The same diseases Love importune,  
Varieties do more provoke  
Him, that in using many a stroke,  
Wounds now the fair one, now the brown by fortune.  
If my addresses thus remove,  
Am I not like the God of love?   

Cupid beside hath no delight,  
But in preparing some new blow;  
Then slily laughs under his bow,  
At all the mischiefs come from his despite.  
When I my pleasure would remove,  
Am I not like the God of love?   
It will be a very difficult matter for us, says Epicharis to Melintus, to gain any thing upon him by instructions: for see if he be not already returned to his first error. You give a wrong judgement, answers Palamede, of my intentions; because I mean to make these false opinions come out at my mouth, as it were some poison or ill nourishment I had taken, and I have no other means to rid me of them. The same censure you are to give of all I shall hereafter say contrary to fidelity, in answering your arguments: for I shall receive yours in harkening to them, and let go my own, as I mention them to you. Here's a pretty device indeed, says Epicharis, to contradict us all his life long, under the pretext of letting out his false reasons. I am afraid truly, replied Melintus, ours get not out of his mind as easily. Give me them, said Palamede, good ones and strong enough, to the end they may take so sure root there, as nothing shall be able to shake them for going out. Take heed, replied Melintus, the fault be not in the reasons, but in the place that peradventure is so slippery, that nothing can remain firm in it. They sweetened the tediousness of the way with these discourses that held them until the evening; and chancing upon a place commodious enough to eat what they brought with them, they stayed their journey, and let their horses feed upon the grass; but after supper they resolved to go all night, for avancing their voyage.  
Being a horseback again, they entered into a Forest a little before Sunset, and had not gone through the half of it when night began to approach. Palamede and Epicharis were together, and went before: Melintus was about twenty paces of them, and entertained his imaginations, when there appeared to him an apparition upon a great black horse, his face of a fearful blackness, his body all covered with long and bristly hair, and holding a club on his shoulder.  
A man less assured than Melintus, would have been terrified at so dreadful a vision; but he in no amazement stood still, and asked him boldly if he had any thing to say to him. Know, answers the spirit, that thy death approaches. Thou tell'st me no news, replied Melintus, I know it approaches every day. That monster without a return would have discharged upon his head a blow with the mace; but he avoided it by bending his body, and presently took his sword in his hand. Then he saw coming to him another monster a horseback, like to the former; and without trouble to see himself amongst these Devils, he began to charge him that had spoken to him, and at the same time thought how the other might do him no wrong. Palamede and Epicharis that saw Melintus did not follow them, returned back again, and wondered strangely to find him engaged in a combat against such fearful spirits. Epicharis was seized with horror, but Palamede that would not have feared to assail all the powers of hell to succour his friend, took his sword in his hand, and set upon him that came last. At that time Melintus had run his sword into the other he first took him to, in many places, escaping with nimbleness the blows of his club, and in the end made him fall from his horse. Palamede delivered himself too in a small time from him he had taken in hand; and these two friends were very glad to see those spirits had a life to lose, since they poured out so much blood, being fallen to the ground, and had no more motion left in them. They alighted from their horses, and considering them, found they were two men that had blacked over their faces and their hands, and dressed them in skins, it may be to scare passengers, and kill them with the more ease.  
Epicharis had gone afar off for fear, and they had much ado to re-assure her, and make her come near to see those dead bodies. At last she came on, and wondered extremely that Melintus was not terrified at the first appearing of these phantasms. The Moon gave them light enough for not wand'ring out of their way, and to beware they were not again assaulted by the like monsters; but yet they came out of the wood without danger when the night was even spent: and at break of day they met with a man on foot, who seeing them coming, demanded if they had not encountered the two spirits that had slain so many men within seven or eight days. Yes, answered Melintus, but they did us no harm at all. I wonder, replied that man, they should spare you. Indeed, said Melintus, they somewhat affrighted us; but from whence come they, do men think? They say, replies he, they are infernal gods, that were constrained to quit the Temple of Proserpina at Rome when it was burned, and how they will never give over killing, till they have built them another. For my part I am not so desperate as you, for I am going round about the Forest to Rome, for fear of falling into their hands. Friend, said Melintus to him smiling, those gods were not immortal then: fear not passing by the Forest, you shall find their bodies lying on the ground, which we have deprived of life, and assure yourself they were but thiefs disguised into spirits, to kill and rob passengers with more facility after they had affrighted them. This man would not believe him for all that: they swore to him all three, it was true; and that if he were weary of going a foot, he might chance to find one of those wretches horses, and get up to ride: but he could not be persuaded what ever assurances they gave him; and would not take the way of the Forest, so hard a matter is it to cast out fear and the belief of fabulous stories out of vulgar spirits.  
They went on their way, and after they had sufficiently spoken of this rancounter, they took up their last day's discourse for to instruct Palamede in the laws of fidelity. Epicharis asked him if he would have Melintus give him another love-lesson. I had rather, says he, take it from you: for from the very first I should prove a Master. There needs him no other instruction, said Melintus, but to examine well his life past, and he will find that ill desires have brought him nought but shame and misfortune, and that he never tasted pleasure but in virtuous affections: for I will have him confess to me, if the honest behaviour of the wise Eriphile and her sweet entertainments in the very refuse, were not more pleasing to him than the favours he thought he had enjoyed of her in the deceit was put upon him. But, said Epicharis, may not I know that story? I shall bless, replied Palamede, that deceit all my life, for giving original to the friendship of Melintus and me. Now you give me, said Epicharis, a greater desire to know it, for 'tis a thing I never yet heard of; and if Melintus would take the pains to make this relation to me, I would think the service I have done you well rewarded. Palamede, replied Melintus, might better tell you all the particulars of it; but since I can acquit myself so good cheap, for that I am indebted to you, I will not lose the occasion. Epicharis told him, If that be too small a request, mingle with it your own story beside, and tell me all that happened to you at Athens, and in your voyage into Asia. It is but reason, said Melintus, you should know how the lives have passed, which you have been the preserver of. This relation, added Palamede, will be very delightful to you, if with it he reports all the glory and the advantages he acquired: for I fear that for this cause he will conceal from you the fairest adventures of all. You would willingly, said Melintus, have me leave to you this occasion of discourse to satisfy Epicharis, but you shall find other services to render her. I would be very loath, replied Palamede, to hinder her from hearing you: but take it not ill, if you forget any thing, that I remember you of it. Melintus was content, after he had rejected the praises they gave him; and some time after he began thus:  

History of Melintus, Eriphile, and Palamede.  
THere are very fortunate passages to be met with in the life of men, which if they would make right use of, they might easily addict themselves to virtue and glory: and I find that fortune is of main consequence to good designs, providing the means both to undertake, and to execute erterprises. I tell you this, not to have you think I had by this means acquired any quality: but to confess unto you, that I am the less excusable, if I have not made use of this good fortune and facility that have always accompanied me.  
When I was sent by Telephus to Athens, he directed me to the house of one of his friends called Ephialtes, whose wife Eriphile was very handsome, and one of the wisest women I ever knew. And her husband had such trust in her virtue, that he was not afraid to receive me into his house, although I were very young, and handsome enough at that age; nay, he never had so much as a jealousy for the cares she since took of me: for I confess she loved me as her own son, although she was not above two or three years elder than I; and seeing that I had conceived an affection to her great enough, she would make use of this good will of mine to get a power over me, to have me learn with passion all my Arts and exercises. In such sort, that finding me to be of a very willing disposition, she sometimes commended me to encourage me, sometimes she kissed me on the forehead for a recompense, but yet far from her husband's eye; and I swear to you, that greatly served to advance my studies; because I employed my time in them for love of her, quite after another fashion than I had done for my own sake. Besides, knowing her virtue, I was in awe of her, and durst not attempt any thing that I was not sure would be pleasing to her. I gave her account of all I learned, which made me careful in spending my time well; and presently she became as learned as myself: On the other side she taught me honest manners, and the good fashion of living those of our condition are to follow; so as one taught the other what he knew, and learned of the other what he was ignorant of; and thus was it a very delightful school. After imparting my studies to her, I let her see the improvement I made at our exercises. I did my arms in her presence, I wrestled, I lanced the Javelin; and Ephialtes, that was one of the prime men of the City, having always fair horses besides those were mine, I exercised them before her; and when she approved my riding, I thought my pains well rewarded. At the beginning I loved her as she had been my mother, but coming to more age and understanding, which gave me the more credit with her, and dispensed so great submissions to me, I loved her as my sister: so as entering into her confidence, she had now no secret to hide from me. Palamede was then at Athens too, and spending more time at his exercises than at his studies, he came off with much dexterity and grace in them. We did every thing in emulation one of another, without any other acquaintance, but that we were both of the same City. Palamede shall confess with me that one of us suffered with some displeasure the commendations were given to the other, and this spur served also to make us more diligent in well-doing, so as there was not any there besides that might exceed us.  
But leave we this discourse of our exercises, to speak of his amorous humour. After having loved some Ladies of Athens, where there is no want of those that are flexible enough, and being weary of favours so easily obtained, as those he had enjoyed to his cost; one day he saw Eriphile, and fell in love with her; without delay he gave testimonies of his affection to her, by the care he had to see her in all places where she was to come: but he well knew he should have trouble to obtain what he desired of her; for her modesty was very great, and by her speeches she never gave him any hold, whereby he might take the boldness to propound any thing that might offend her honour. Nevertheless having learned that she frequented sometimes at a woman's of mean condition, who was called Harpalice, married to a freed man of Ephialtes, and that this woman was very crafty and covetous, he hoped to gain her by her covetousness, and that she might gain Eriphile by her craftiness. He made his address therefore to her, and this woman received him, and assured him there was none but she that had power over Eriphile, or was capable to serve him. She entertained him a while only with hope; then one day she told him that Eriphile having lost a very rich chain of gold, and fearing her husband should know it, he had a fair occasion offered him to get her good graces, by presenting her with such another. Palamede instantly promised it, and Harpalice having described to him the fashion of that chain, he bespoke it at a Goldsmiths. But when he had it, he feared Harpalice might not give it to Eriphile: so as he entreated her that he might be the bearer of it himself, to the end this might give him occasion to see her in private, and that she would find some means for this meeting. Harpalice was a little surprised, yet she told him she would know that of her, and two days after assured him, how Eriphile had promised to come to her house; that she would feign to make an assembly of Ladies, whereat some men might be present too, than she would put them into a chamber apart, where he might give the present into her own hand, and that there he might endeavour to vanquish her by entreaties. Palamede waited for that day with a great deal of joy, and Harpalice was not wanting to make her assembly: but before the company was come, she carried Palamede into a chamber next to that where the meeting was to be. Thither came I also waiting upon Eriphile, and Harpalice going into the chamber where Palamede was, set him to observe thorough the crannies those that were in the other chamber, and amongst others, Eriphile and me. Do you not see, said she, how Eriphile blushes, and is full of thoughtfulness for the purpose she has to come to find you? Palamede imagined with himself it was so; and when she left him, she said, You may see when I take her by the hand to bring her to you, but she will have me take away the light, for fear you be seen together in this chamber through the same crannies. Palamede consented, seeing it must be so; and a little while after she came to take Eriphile by the hand, because she said, she would carry her to see what was in the other Chamber. She had brought her to set her foot into the Chamber where Palamede was, but it was so dark, that Eriphile retiring her said something loud, Whither do you lead me, Harpalice? This crafty woman came back again presently after, bringing with her in the dark another woman well instructed what she had to do, and said to Palamede in giving him her, I had much ado to make her resolve, serve yourself of the occasion; but I pray speak low: for I should be dishonoured if you chanced to be heard; then she shut them up both together. Palamede can better tell you than I what expressions of his contentment he made her, and how much beholding he thought himself to her for being willing to grant him this favour; how in order he pursued that business, and what victories he obtained; but this I can tell you, that he found far less resistance than he expected, and for an acknowledgement gave her the chain: then Harpalice returning to take her away in the same darkness, they parted asunder with a thousand protestations, and as many kisses after them. Palamede was not at liberty till the company were gone away, and then Harpalice asked him if she knew not well how to oblige a man: he gave her many thanks, and a present, and then went his way very well satisfied. I know not, continueth Melintus, addressing him to Epicharis, but looking upon Palamede, if I may dare to tell you what fault he committed. I pray you, said Palamede, forget nothing befell me, no nor our combat neither, for if it were not for that, the story would be nothing worth, and should have nothing to follow upon it, or else you shall oblige me to take up the discourse where you left. I will tell you then, replied Melintus, that he was not able to conceal this favour, but published it. Eriphile was advertised of that vanity of his, and acquainting me with it, seemed to be very sensibly displeased withal. I loved her with so honest an affection, that I was touched as much as she, so as I was resolved to revenge her. The day after I met him in the Park for exercises, and drawing him to a place where we could not be seen, I told him he had spoken ill of a Lady, that he must unsay it now presently, and publish the contrary, or else I should very soon make him repent it. And I will make thee, said he, have but a short time to repent thee of those words. Then we both took our swords in hand, and being but so lately learned in all the slights of fencing, we were not to seek for any one either at striking or defending. It seemed we were both well content this occasion was offered to put our art into practice, so as if heretofore we had an emulation when we fought but for exercise, we were at this time far otherwise provoked, when we considered the prize and hazard to be as much as our honour and life. After this combat had been a long time debated without any hurt on either party, Palamede impatient that it held so long, gave me a blow with such fury, that having avoided it, his foot failed him, and he came falling close to me. I cast myself upon him, and seizing his sword, I would have forced him to unsay that he had invented against Eriphile: but he told me with a courage undaunted, that he would never unsay a truth. I threatened to kill him if he continued those words, whereupon he said to me, Melintus, I confess it was not well done of me to speak of it, but if I let you see how she favours me, will you not then avow that I have no reason to unsay it? If you can, said I to him, justify it, I will confess myself vanquished by you: but if this be not so, I will oblige you to give me satisfaction before her, and to publish the contrary. I agree, said he, to these conditions, with an oath to content you within these three days: then I let him rise, and we went thus happily away, without having any blood one of another.  
One day after he entreated Harpalice to let him have once again the same commodity of seeing Eriphile: She that aspired to nothing but his presents, promised him; and the next day she bade him come at night. Instantly he comes to me & tells me, I have found out the means to be as good as my word; this evening if you come with the company to Harpalice's house, mark into what Chamber Eriphile enters without a light; afterwards you may see me come out from thence, if you stay the last in the house. I was a little amazed, and could not tell if I were to suspect Eriphile or no: Nevertheless I promised him to be there, and without speaking a word to Eriphile, I accompanied her thither at night. Harpalice failed not to bring him the same woman, that was as courteous to him, as before: For my part that never left Eriphile in the company, I mocked at Palamede within myself, and went home with her, never staying for him. The day after, he came to me in the morning, and asked me, why I stayed not for him the last night, to see him come out. Because, said I to him, I was all the while with Eriphile, and could well answer for her. He began to laugh, but seeing me mock him also, he began to mistrust Harpalice: then he told me, one of us must needs be finely cozened. My eyes, said I, are very certain. Truly, replies he, mine could stand me in no stead in the place where I was, for it was too obscure: but yet I will have all cleared before I have done, and without saying any thing else to me went out, and goes to Harpalice's, and bound her by the same charms of reward, to let him have the same favour once again. She told him it was impossible to have her company so often: nevertheless she would make her come, provided he kept the agreement that there might be no light in the Chamber, for Eriphile was afraid so much as to be seen of those of her own house: that made him mistrust her more than before, yet he was content; and when it was night, he repaired to the same Chamber, where this woman being entered, in the midst of their kindnesses one to other, he cut off some of her hair; and for all she felt him, and would have hindered him from keeping it, yet he carried it away by force. As soon as he was at his lodging, and could get a light, he went to see in trembling what he held, and found it was black hair, quite differing from Eriphiles. Then acknowledging how he had been cozened, and thinking how to be revenged upon Harpalice, he passed away the rest of the night in great vexation. In the morning he came to see me, and said, Melintus, I am ready to give you satisfaction, and to recant what I have published against Eriphile's honour: but this must needs be done in her presence. I sent to know if she were pleased to receive this satisfaction, which she seemed very willing to, upon condition I were at it. Palamede entering, went and cast himself down at her feet, and said to her, Madam, I am come to demand your pardon for the fault I have committed against you, and vengeance for a villainy that gave occasion to my offence. Eriphile prayed him to rise, that he might with more ease relate to her what he had to say. She made us sit down, and then Palamede showing what he had cut off, said to her; Madam, these black hairs shall let you see the blackest villainy that was e'er invented against two persons; and thereupon he repeated to us all the crafty devices of Harpalice, which Eriphile and I were in great admiration at. In the end he craved so many pardons, and added so many protestations of honouring her, and publishing in all places Harpalice's cunning deceits, with an excess of submissions and respects, that we were more content at his satisfactions, than we thought ourselves wronged by his offence. Eriphile gave him a full pardon, and when she knew of our combat for her sake, she would make us friends, and have us continue so, since we were of the same City, of the same age, and equally given to the same honest exercises. I endured no great entreaty, for I had an high esteem of all Palamedes qualities. And he expressed to us, how happy he accounted himself, for drawing this advantage, as he called it, from his own folly. We embraced one another, and swore before her a perpetual friendship: she afterwards made Harpalice be brought into the hands of Justice, and the wretch was condemned to be tied to an Ass, her head turned to the tail, which she was to hold for a bridle, and so to be walked through all Athens, the Hangman whipping her, and children following her throwing of stones. Since that time Palamede rendered so many honest offices to Eriphile, that she much esteemed him: she dispensed her favours equally to us, never ceasing to make us confirm our friendship. And upon that occasion Palamede made Verses, which I believe I can call to mind: I think they were these:  

I Love, but with the purest passion,  
The perfectest that's here below.  
The god that wounded me hath no compassion  
To heal so sweet a sore, nor would I have it so.   

She loves me, and I dare not attend her  
But for one favour to be blessed;  
Letting herself be loved, she knows how to defend her  
By that same virtue only makes me love her best.   

One rival there alike is placed,  
Which makes me no way jealous-hearted;  
Nor am I grieved that he, as well as I, is graced  
To see so little good between us both imparted.   

To me alone I would not win her;  
Nor do I cruelty pretend:  
And yet 'tis not for want either of beauties in her,  
Or passion in my heart, that equally contend.   
I perceive, said Epicharis to Melintus, that you were both a modest servant, and an honest friend, thus to make part in the friendship of this fair Eriphile. You see, answered Melintus, how we have always parted between us, as well our good, as evil fortune: But I must tell you how we divided to ourselves also almost all the honour of the Olympic games: Then he goes on: The time of them being at hand, there came to Pisa from all parts, some to appear in the exercises, and dispute prizes; others to be spectators only. I would aspire to a very high honour: for seeing that the greatest Cities of Greece, and some Kings likewise had sent excellent horses with light Chariots to carry away the prize of the race, I had a mind also to come upon the lists for Syracuse: and having a long time before prepared Ephialtes horses and my own for this occasion, and made a gilt Chariot, glittering all over, and representing that of the Sun, I made six fair Coursers I had be painted, in a fashion that had never been seen before: then dressed like Apollo, and crowned with rays, I appeared in the lists with others that wanted neither glistering shows, nor magnificence: Palamede was contented to pretend to the prize of the Harp.  
Eriphile, to encourage us both to well-doing, had given each of us a favour, to Palamede a Harp, whereon he was to play; and to me a Quiver, with the Scarf of her own working. Every one of those that were to run, drove his Chariot round about the place where the games were had, and saluted the Ladies in passing by, of whom they received favours too, and good wishes; then went to range himself in the place that had been ordained him. I had learned my horses this before, to start at the third time the Trumpets sounded, without needing to hearten them either with the whip, or with the voice, reserving these spurs till the middle of the Course. They failed not to start in time, and orderly ruling them at first, I drove slyly between two that violently went away at the beginning, and were afore me, and having this advantage, I contented myself to keep close to them, until about the end of the race, seeing them strive to overtake me, I spared my horses no more, but giving them the reins, and leaving the rest behind me, I swiftly finished my course, gaining a victory that could not be controverted. Then the Trumpets from all parts began to sound, and next followed the cries and applauses of the people, and afterward I was proclaimed Victor. Having received the prize, I repassed again into the midst of the place as it were in triumph, and seeing they went about to begin other games, I guided my Chariot near to the Theatre, where the verses were to be disputed; from thence I leaped up, where they gave me the first rank, because of the victory I came from winning. I recited an Ode that would be but tedious to repeat now to you, for it was very long. In the end I carried away the prize there too, and having heard a little after Palamede to be proclaimed Victor for the Harp, I assure you I had more joy at it, than for my own victories.  
Presently after, those of Syracuse having understood the honour we had acquired, sent us Letters of acknowledgement, and thanks, and invited us to return to them, to receive the honours they desired to give us. We could not refuse so just entreaties, and so advantageous for ourselves, and so took resolution to depart, with a great deal of sorrow to leave Eriphile. I will not tell you of the trouble she was in to hear this purpose of ours: but she expressed more displeasure to me, than the wisdom of her mind could suffer: and I confess to you also, that to be separated from her, I was to have a great power over myself: for I had lived with her in so great a sweetness of conversation, and such a confidence, that now I went to deprive myself of many pleasures and consolations: Her virtue and her good qualities had always furnished me with so profitable and delightful entertainments, that I made a doubt, if ever I should chance to be so happy again, or meet with any thing that came near that state I was to lose by quitting her: Nevertheless I must have consented to this depart; and Palamede, that apprehends, as you know, his comforts and divertments so easily, had some regret for it in the beginning, but soon gave it over. But in stead of returning to our Country, the heat of the war carried us away. Corbulo, that sage and victorious Roman Captain came to land upon the Coasts of Greece, with the forces he lead, to pass from thence into Asia, and make war with the Parthians. We took this occasion to show our valour, and went to find him: then we followed him in all the Conquests he made, where we gained some renown; and when the peace was concluded, we separated ourselves from the Army. And do you speak so slightly, said Epicharis interrupting him, of a valour admired of all the Empire, and so dreadful to the Barbarians? I will have you rela●e to me what exploits you both achieved, for 'twill be the greatest pleasure I can possibly receive. Give me leave, answered Melintus, not to go on with that story of battles and sieges, that cannot but be irksome to you, considering the very terms of expressing them are unknown to you. Content you only with this, that we had the victory in many encounters, were hurt in others, ran many hazards ourselves, and made others run as many, and in the end the Romans remained victorious. I see well, said Epicharis, I shall for the present gather no advantage from your modesty, but some day or other I will put you in mind, that you are not released of this relation: Go on now only with what happened to you at your return.  
Having left the Army, replied Melintus, we embarked us, and came to pass near unto Greece, I would have turned out of the way to go to Athens, and see Eriphile once again; Palamede that had now quite forgot her, would by no means endure that, and thought of nothing but the reception was to be made us at Syracuse for our Olympic victories, which was more honourable for us, than we could have imagined. I have heard, said Epicharis, of that reception, from her mouth that gave you the presents; but though it were magnificent, I may tell you it surpassed not the merit of the persons were received. And this is that, continued Melintus, you desired to know of me, which is but a very poor satisfaction for all those obligations I have to you: but it suffices me that you are content what payment soever I give you. You are too good a paymaster, said Epicharis, and I am to be very well satisfied; since in waiting on you I have already so much pleasure, and besides you have given me for my service so pleasing a recompense: for I never heard any thing with so much joy, as that of your excellent and happy instruction, the wisdom of Eriphile, the cozening of Palamede, and the birth of your friendships, together with all your honours, and your glories; and if I often spent such hours, I should account my life most happy.  
They were a long time entertaining them with all those adventures, and went on discoursing thus until the Sun was very high: then they retired into a private place that was our of the way. Palamede went all alone to the next Village for some provision, and left Melintus and Epicharis that were discoursing a while concerning the gentile qualities of Palamede, in whom they acknowledged many things that proceeded from a lovely wit, and a great nobleness of heart: as for his humour that was merry, and something addicted to pleasures; they confessed that would soon be ripe in him, and given over, and esteemed him never a whit the less for it: then Melintus counselled Epicharis to repose her a while, that they might travel after, not thinking it dangerous any more to go by day. As Palamede arrived, Melintus made him a sign not to wake her, but to sleep too, that they might merrily after go away together.    

ARIANA. The seventh Book.  
AS soon as sleep had forsaken Melintus, Palamede, and Epicharis, they made a short dinner, and went forward on their way, till about evening they arrived at Cumae, where they were of opinion not to enter, because they avoided the Towns as much as might be. They sought thereabouts some place to retire to, and at last hid themselves with their horses in the den of the Cumaean Sibyl. Epicharis was something fearful to go into it, having heard tell of many strange things that happened in that place, and how the Sibyl had from thence led Aeneas into Hell: Nevertheless, after Melintus had assured her that those were but fabulous stories, she was the boldest of the company, and put herself the forwardest: but she repented of that courage; for going onwards in the depth of this den, and being a good way off from Melintus and Palamede, she heard some complaints coming out as it were from the most hollow secret places of the Cave: She started back for fear, and ran towards Melintus, whom she took by the arm, and thought herself then well fortified: she told him the cause of her being frighted; they came near to hear what it might be, and perceived avoyce that spoke, which made them judge they were, it may be, thiefs that were retired thither: but lending their ear more attentively, they heard these words; Ah Fortune, how treacherous art thou! and how more advantageous is it to be miserable at first, than happy, since thou art so changeable. How cruel were the favours thou gavest me, since they served for nothing but to bring upon me the more sorrow; and how malicious wert thou to place me in a condition worthy of envy, for to reduce me afterward so miserably to provoke pity. But what pity? of whom can I expect it? Of men? they have abandoned me: Of the heavens? they have none to give: Of the earth? she scarce affords me this retreat: And of the Sea? she refused me the succours I hoped from her, when I sought my death in her bosom. Alas, Love, what wouldst thou have me do? dost thou let me live to have a perpetual remembrance of the good I possessed, and of that misery which followed it, both of them alike troublesome to my memory?  
I believe, said Epicharis to Melintus, this man is mad, thus to speak to himself. You know not, answered he, to what a desperation may bring one; and if you knew that which belonged to a Lover, you would soon excuse these extravagances. Then they heard how he went on; But seeing I must suffer, Courage, let us again put the iron into our wounds. Cruel remembrances, I provoke you, to the end you might again hurt me with your most sensible prickings. Sweet entertainment, dear confidence agreeable pleasures, heretofore the joys, now the executioners of my soul; and you Oaths of love that ought to be inviolable, come to me traitors; and if there remains any place in me to murder, spare not your rudest blows there: tear me with rage, despite, and shame, and make my sufferance as eternal, as the love that causes it.  
Epicharis admired the transport of this wretched man, and the violence of his evil that forced him to despair thus: and a while after he continued still: It seems I hope to ease my griefs by these unuseful words: but how unpowerfull are they for such an excess of evils; and to what purpose serve these plaints, when all things are deaf to me? and though they were willing to give me some remedy, yet it is now impossible. Ah ye gods! What make you in heaven? and how do you cast off men to so many miseries? to what end are our incense and our sacrifices, seeing the most innocent are the most miserable? for I will no longer believe you take care of us: What visible assistance receive we of you? What is become of the help of your Oracles for the distressed? Are we more wicked than our fathers, to whom you gave sometimes by your advice, either a remedy, or at least a comfort? And thou, holy Sibyl, whose dwelling I take possession of, if it be true that thou art no more but a voice, why dost thou not make it speak in my favour? And why wilt thou not favour me with some one of thy prophecies, to teach me what consolation, or what end I ought to hope for?  
Epicharis told Melintus, she had pity upon that poor Lover, and that she was resolved to counterfeit the Sibyl's voice, to make him have a purpose to go to his kindred again, amongst whom he might more easily recover his wits. Melintus approved her invention; but she told him she must speak in verse, and that she could not make any. Melintus answered, make haste, and pronounce aloud the verses I shall tell you in your ear, and say every one after me, which she did thus with a very shrill voice:  
Lover of Constancy undaunted,  
Thou shalt perceive thy grief's decay,  
If thou returnest without delay  
Where thy birth to thee was granted.  
The poor man having heard this voice, and making no doubt but it was the Sibyl's, fell down upon his knees, and cried out; Sacred Sibyl, I give thee thanks for the pity thou hast had of my miseries: I shall follow thy advice, for thy holy voice hath been ever true, and if by thy help my life shall prove more fortunate, thou from that time shalt be the only Divinity I will adore. Only suffer me but this night to abide within thy grotte. I would be glad to find a little sleep here, which I have always denied myself, and to morrow will I begin my course to go seek out the effect of thy Oracle.  
Melintus and Epicharis were pleased to see their device succeed so well: but Palamede told them; If you desire he should perfectly believe this Oracle, he must not hear us speak, nor find us in this place tomorrow. Epicharis said, she was of opinion they were best go out, being not well resolved neither to sleep in that den, and that she desired rather to pass away the night in the shadow of some trees, where she should be less afraid. They took that resolution, and when they were got out, sat them down under poplers, where they tied their horses too. The next day Palamede went to the Port of Cajetta, to see if some vessel were not to set sail, that might take them in for Sicily: Melintus and Eurylas saw passing by them a very pale man, with a wand'ring look; but yet that seemed of a good mine, and to have some satisfaction in his mind; although the estate wherein he was did not promise any great reason for it. He came towards them from the ●●otward, and they took him to be the very same they had heard there, to whom Epicharis had given the Oracle, that might be the occasion of his contentment. Eurylas had a good mind, he would have stayed by them to have known his fortune: but he went off, far away, when he perceived them, to avoid the encountering of mankind: and though Eurylas called to speak with him, yet he still continued his way in a very feeble pace. What would you learn, said Melintus to her, the world is full of these Love-traverses; he is so eager to depart because of your Oracle, that there is no likelihood he would stay his journey for us: and if he be sound in love, he will never tell you his fortune; for I judge of him by myself, that in the like occasion would not publish my affairs to all I met.  
Epicharis looking on Melintus, asked him, If you were in love, would you not have a friend to be confident in? I never knew any yet, said Melintus, I durst be assured of in so important a secret. And do you not think, answered she, Palamede loves you enough, not to deceive you? I should do an injury, said he, to doubt of it; but he might be deceived himself, and not thinking any thing, discover that which I should have much ado to keep secret myself. And what would you think of me, replies Epicharis, that I might be brought to reveal any thing, if you had trusted me with a secret that was to be kept with discretion? I confess to you, answered Melintus, that you are the only person I dare be confident of, for a thing that were so dear to me. Let it not grieve you then, said she, taking hold of his hand, that I am acquainted with the whole secret of your life; but live most assured for all that, that I would rather suffer death, than one word to be drawn from me of that you desire should be concealed. And because thereupon he stood still in a great amazement, she added; Melintus, I had not so freely spoken to you, but that I am resolved to employ my life at your service: and I desire you to believe there is not a man I honour so much as I do you, and that my mind shall never be contented, unless yours be so too, since your interests so nearly concern those of my Mistress. Melintus seeing how she knew so much as she did, said to her; Is it possible, Epicharis, she should tell you any thing of this? for I believe you have perceived nothing by me, not so much as from my eyes. Do not seek to inform yourself, said she, how I come to know it, let it suffice I am not ignorant either what you are, or how virtuously you love her; and I have no greater joy than when I hope my services may be of some use to you. Then is my soul, answered Melintus, and my life in your hands: but I am not sorry for it, assuring you that next unto her there is not a person I esteem as I do you, nor of whom I desire more to be esteemed. Melintus, replied she, believe this, the affections I have to you are not of the common sort; and if I do you no extraordinary great services, the fault shall not be for want of employing all the powers are in me. I well know, said he, what you are capable of, and I shall think myself happy in this only, that your will is good. Palamedes return broke off that discourse, who came to tell them there was never a Ship in the harbour, and that there was none expected there; notwithstanding they determined to continue in that desert place until there might some arrive. About Noon Epicharis walking about, met with a little house that leaned against the back of the mountain, whereinto entering, she found an old man and his wife of the same years, that got their living by making certain household commodities of wood, which they carried to sell at Cumae. After she had enquired of their manner of life, she perceived they had two or three beds, and asked them if they had any children. Presently the tears came into the eyes of these good people, and Epicharis desirous to know the cause of their displeasure; they told her they had lately but one daughter remaining alive, whose husband dying a year ago, left her two children, and about a month since having them in the wood with her, a she-wolf carried them away to be devoured, after she had strangled the mother. Epicharis lamented with them that accident, and to stay their weeping, gave them some money: then she asked them if they would lend her the beds they had to spare for two or three days. They offered her all their house, and Epicharis well content that she had found out a lodging whilst they could depart, went to advertise Melintus and Palamede of her adventure, and brought them to this poor house where they accommodated themselves as well as they might. They lived on that they brought day by day from Cumae; and one while Melintus, another while Palamede went a horseback to the Port to see if there were any vessel come. They passed thus eight or ten days with much incommodity and weariness: for this stay was very grievous, and deferred great joys as well from them, as from those they desired to deliver out of pain in Sicily.  
One day as Palamede was at the Port of Cajette, he perceived a man a horseback that looked upon him all astonished: he knew him to be Arcas, and brought his horse close to his, to embrace him. The poor Arcas was so confounded, that he durst not yet be sure it was Palamede; and said to him; Alas! and is it you I am seeking for dead, and do I find you living? 'Tis not a shadow, answered Palamede, thou seest, but the good friend of thy Masters. And what is become of him, replies Arcas? He is not very far from hence, answers Palamede, and I long very much till he see thee. Arcas not able to recollect himself out of his amazedness, Palamede prayed him to come away to go to Melintus. The gods, saves Arcas, favour all your designs for the good news you tell me: alas! does my Master then live still, and have the gods had care of your innocency? I think the time long ere I see him and embrace his knees, after so many fears and griefs that tormented me when I thought him dead. They went on then in their way to go to Melintus; and in the mean time Palamede knew that his father and his sister were happily arrived at Syracuse, and had nothing else to trouble them, but the extreme displeasure for leaving him in so great danger. But Arcas reserved the report of the voyage he had made since their landing at Syracuse, where he had presently left them to return to help his Master, if he might be so happy as to come to him in time. They went in such haste, that they were soon come to the little house where Melintus and Eurylas being at the door, and seeing a man coming with Palamede afar off, knew not what to think: but when they saw 'twas Arcas, they went for joy to meet him. He cast him down at his Master's feet, and embraced his legs, without being able to take himself off. Alas! said he, my dear Master, do I see you once again? Melintus stooped down also for to embrace him, and with excess of contentment held his head with both his hands: at last he asked him how they did at Syracuse. Very well, answered Arcas, and when they shall see you again alive, they will do better yet: But, went he on with a great sigh, how is't possible you escaped out of the Tower? By the assistance of this young man, says Palamede, showing him Eurylas, to whom we are beholding for our lives. Oh! said he regarding him, how he has gained him the gods and men for his friends, by so happy an action. Eurylas laughed that Arcas should not yet know him. Melintus and Palamede too admired his abuse; in the end Melintus asked if he had never seen any thing that resembled Eurylas: No, says he, if it were not Epicharis, and at the same time knew her, and went to salute her: Then were they impatient to know what his fortune had been. As soon, says he, as I arrived in the haven of Syracuse, I saw a ship that was departing for Italy: and I entreated Aristides and Ariana to give leave that I might return to succour you; which they were very willing to, and the same hour I re-imbarked, and in three days space with no good fortune landed at the Port of Ostia: from thence finding this horse, I went till I came at Rome, following the river; and at my first entrance saw much people running to see some strange thing. I was then curious of news, and sought to learn what was become of you; and hoping that some one amongst that confusion might tell me something of you, I followed those that went in this haste: but I heard of them news more unfortunate than I would have desired to know: for being upon the bank of the Tiber, with the rest that ran thither, they told me that two Sicilians that should have been condemned that very day by the Senate, had cast themselves down into the river from the top of the Tower where they were kept prisoners. Judge you what could become of me then; but when I was told your names, and knew my misery to be certain, I cannot relate to you neither my complaints nor my despairs: in the end I resolved with myself to give my assistance to some that might search for the bodies in the bottom of the water, to give you burial at the least: but all our labour being proved in vain, and thinking that the stream had carried you away, I took in hand to follow the course of the river, along which I wandered some days, to see if the water had not cast you upon some shore.  
I went then again to Ostia without hearing any news of that I desired, so as despairing to find your bodies at all, I determined to return into Sicily, always coasting along the Seashore, to see if peradventure you had not been cast upon some bank. Pursuing this sad design, I arrived at Cajette, where I found Palamede, whose happy encounter changed my woefulness into an excess of contentment: But, continued he, may I not know how this handsome youth was so happy as to save you? Then Palamede related to him all her pretty inventions to get into the prison, and the strange fortunes of their coming out, which Arcas listened to with much admiration. At last it was concluded they should stay no longer in that place, but gain (along the Seaside) the Port of Reggium, where they would not fail to find shipping; and when they had taken leave of their hosts, and well rewarded them, they got up a horseback, and feared no more to lodge in any houses, since Arcas had assured them there was no more search made for them, but that they were thought to be dead.  
The places they passed through were very troublesome; for coasting the Sea they met with many mountains and valleys, and the greatest part of the ways were of a tedious circuit. That was the cause they advanced so little, considering the great desire they had to get out of Italy, especially Melintus, who impatient of seeing Ariana again, cursed incessantly this length of a voyage; and one day entertaining his thoughtfulness, upon that subject he made these Verses:  

Ways that have such fearful spaces,  
Infinite Country, that surpasses  
The tediousness of Lybic sand,  
Too cruel Seas that compass me so sore,  
Perplexed turnings; shall I find no end,  
Going to see what I adore.   

Mounts that present me with your heights,  
Valleys that open to me your depths,  
To make me in these Deserts dwell;  
I would not, with desire that had no use,  
Mount up to heaven, nor yet descend to hell,  
But I would go to Syracuse.   

Cupid upon thy wings me bear,  
And so the truest Lover cheer  
That e'er thy pleasing fires did try.  
I am not heavy now, being all but flame;  
But ah! I fear he knows no more to fly,  
Ere sinceinte my heart he came.   

Thoughts that to her your course address,  
Where is my spring of happiness,  
And instantly return again;  
Make at one blow to end my punishment,  
And with like motion carry me amain,  
To my sweet harbour of content.   

But these ingrateful, that in absence  
Know so well to prise their puissance,  
Had rather here I should reside;  
Being well advised that in that other place  
My eyes will ever make them stand aside,  
Of seeing her to have the grace.   

Phoebus, whose fortune is extreme,  
Now to behold what I esteem,  
Cause me by thy power divine,  
That I may see, by rare effect of Art,  
This beauty in thee, as in a mirror shine,  
Inspite of all things that us part.   

But every thing is deaf to hear  
My prayer; then on with our career,  
The course to follow of our travels:  
O gods! O heaven I alas, is't possible  
That ye should make me sensible of evils,  
And the world to mine insensible?   
The continual entertainments of this troop were so delightful, that they were sufficiently diverted; and had it not been for the extreme passion of Melintus, that permitted him no contentment being absent from Ariana, the gentle humour of Palamede and Eurylas had been able to have dispelled his sadness: and although he covered it, what he possibly could, yet he gave not over pleasing himself with often retiring into his thoughts, and by the way of purpose separated him from the company, now going before them, another while leaving them some space before him; having nothing more dear than the remembrance of Ariana's favours which he had received of her by sending him Epicharis; and he took it for a good Augury that his Mistress had acquainted her with his passion, and what he was, there being appearance that this discourse was not made to his disadvantage. He accounted himself more happy yet by much, for having this Wench so affectionate to serve him, since she was so necessary to him, and promised himself at his return a great alteration in his fortune, seeing so many things contribute to his contentment. If this voyage had been yet far longer, such sweet entertainments as these would pleasingly enough have busied him, finding so many causes to hope well; and when he saw his mind in so happy a state, he thought well to leave it so, and came with a cheerly look to join himself to the discourses of the rest, which he ever gave rule to as he pleased, by virtue of the reasons his wit furnished him withal. At last they arrived at Reggium, where they were not long without finding a vessel, and going aboard it, in less than an hour they lost sight of that land, where they had run so many fortunes, making a thousand imprecations against it, and all of them taking an oath never to see it more.  
Being arrived at Messina, they kissed their native soil, and prayed it to be more favourable to them: the next day they went away betimes, and in three days journey came something near to Syracuse, but the night overtook them: and the day after passing by the house Dicearchus had in the Country, Palamede demanded if they would rest them there, that he might again see the place where he had spent so sweet hours with Epicharis. Melintus liked not that motion, and said they were not to lose any time to go to Syracuse. They continued their way, and came to a hill that was of a good height, with a wood by it; and from thence they might begin to discover a plain they were to descend to, and the City of Syracuse itself.  
Melintus, who went some thirty paces before, perceived three men afoot, armed, and masked, that made go along with much rudeness an old man with his eyes muffled, and forced him to enter into that wood. He spurred his horse to see what they would do with that man, and came near to them just as they were going to kill him: suddenly he took his sword in his hand, and striking from his horse him that went to give the blow, he overthrew him to the ground: the two others set on him behind, but turning about towards them, with a reverse blow he cloven the head of one of them, and laid him dead in the place. The other came to him with a great deal of courage: but Melintus made no great account of it, having but him to combat with, and gave him four or five sound blows with his sword: in the mean time he that was overthrown had got up, and had shrewdly troubled Melintus, but for Palamede, who having seen his friend go galloping away, doubted some encounter, and had followed him. He came in just as this last man was coming to Melintus, and made no great matter to defeat him; for having brought him to the ground the second time, he trod on him with his horse feet, and ran him in three or four places with his sword, at the same time that his friend had made an end of killing the other. Melintus presently alighted from his horse, and took off their vizors to see if he might know them: and he was strangely astonished when he saw they were Garamant and Toxaris their ancient enemies, whose treasons they had now punished without thinking of them: then he went towards the old man that had a venerable appearance, but was so out of all heart, expecting nothing but death, that he thought not of unbinding his own eyes, though he were left alone to himself. Melintus and Palamede undid the napkin that covered his face, and were in a great amaze to see that it was Dicearchus, who dazzled with the light he so suddenly beheld, and having still the image of death before his eyes, said to them; Alas! will you have me see myself dye too? Nevertheless his sight restoring him, he knew Melintus and Palamede, whom he thought dead; which made him still more possessed with trouble: not well knowing whether he himself had not been already killed, and were now with them in the Elysian fields; or whether their souls were not come to succour him. And that which caused in him those doubts, was, that they on their part were amazed too, and spoke nothing: but at length Palamede said to him; Ah gods, my uncle, into what hands were you fallen? Tell me rather, answers he, in what hands I am for the present in: for I know not if I be among the dead or the living. We are not dead, says Melintus, the gods have preserved our lives to save yours this day; and I admire my good fortune for coming so timely in, when they were going to strike a dagger into your bosom. Was it you then, replied Dicearchus, that hindered that misfortune? May the gods render you this benefit: but I know not, but you may also succour my niece Ariana, who is within this valley in the hands of above twenty soldiers, with Ericine your sister. Let us go, cried out Melintus, and keep them from having any violence offered them, and he would have parted that instant, but that Dicearchus said to him, Stay a while that we may advise what is to be done: I am certain they will do them no harm, because they stay for the return of these you have slain; and then I shall have leisure to tell you the occasion of what is happened, to the end we may take counsel together: then they were silent, and he goes on: You must know that this man, showing Garamant, seeing how Ariana my niece had a great estate, forbeing left sole inheritrix of Aristides and me, by the death of Palamede which was thought most certain, was so insolent as to make her be demanded in marriage by this other called Toxaris, and who at the same time made himself in love with Ericine your sister, said he to Melintus. I excused me the fairest way I could: but they attributing this refuse to contempt, made me at length be threatened, that they would be revenged for this; and they had such despite at it, that this day, to cut you short, having known how I was to go to my Country house with my niece, and Ericine that accompanied her, they waylaid us at this vale, where having stayed the Chariot we were in, they made me come down with a great deal of insolence, and were resolved to come to cut my throat in this wood; because, said they, I did always seek to revenge me of them, and that if they would live at their case, I was to be taken out of the world. In this design they gave charge to the other soldiers of their company to attend them, and keep Ariana and Ericine well, till they should be come back from hence; let us therefore see for the present what we have to do: for albeit your valour be great, 'twill be a difficult matter to go set upon so many men. It is no matter, says Palamede, I hope we shall amaze them, considering they have no more Commanders. I am thinking, replies Melintus, on some other thing that will not be much amiss: Let us put on the coats of Arms of these dead men, & take their vizors, and their false hair, and then go to find them out, they being never able to doubt we be other than Toxaris and Garamant whom they stay for, and so mingling ourselves among them, we shall have killed a number of them, before ever they be perceived what we are.  
Palamede found this invention to be very good, Dicearchus approved it too, and Arcas being then arrived, Melintus bade him put upon him one of those Coats of Arms, as well as Palamede and he would do, to go execute that they had resolved on, whilst Dicearchus and Eurylas in the mean time looked to their horses.  
Thus they dressed them all three in haste, and took the Masques and Perruques, and forgot not so much as the buskins: then Dicearchus wishing them good fortune, let them depart, and went with Eurylas to put himself into a place whence they might perceive all that happened, and never be seen. Melintus being in the midway of the descent to the vale, made a stand, and said to Palamede, I would never have thought of seeking any other means but force against those we are going to, if that in abandoning our own, we endangered not also the lives of our sisters, and their honour beside, which is more dear to them. I am of opinion therefore, that in consideration of them we let our valour altogether alone, and save them by a way more gentle, and infallible. They we go to seek will never imagine we be other than their Captains, and so we may command them what we please; and I would advise, that coming near the Chariot we have our naked swords in our hand, bloody as they be, as if we came from killing of Dicearchus; and then putting them up into the scabbard, we may make sign to the soldiers to attend us again there; then we will take, you, said he to Palamede, Erycine, because you are in the habit of Toxaris that would have taken her away; and I Ariana, because I am dressed like Garamant. We will make as if we would carry them away into this same wood, not to defer our contentment any longer, leaving the soldiers in the same place still, and then come with them to find out Dicearchus and Eurylas; we shall have means good enough to save ourselves by riding upon our horses to Dicearchus' house, before ever they suspect any plot. This crafty device is very fine, says Palamede, and if my sister and Erycine make any resistance, we need but tell them in their ear who we are. Nay contrary, said Melintus, we are to let them torment us, to make the feigning seem the better. That being approved, they came down the hill, and approached with assurance to these soldiers, who at their arrive separated, and made them way to pass to the Chariot. Melintus seized upon Ariana, and Palamede upon Erycine, and they spoke aloud in a counterfeit voice like that comes out of a vizard: We will no longer defer satisfying us, since the means is now in our own hands; this next wood is very commodious for such an occasion. Ariana fell to crying out and shriekings, but Melintus took her by force, after he had made a sign to the soldiers to wait for them at the same place: but she in striving did what she could to tear his very face, and outraged him as much as her forces would give her leave: then seeing that he held her hands in such sort, as she could neither defend herself any more, nor offend him: Ah cruel wretch, said she, art thou not content to have killed my uncle, but thou must desire to take from me also that by force, which I cannot lose without my life? kill me, barbarous man, so shall not I much outlive my honour, nor thou long time enjoy the fruits of thy insolence. Erycine on the other side was carried away by Palamede: but her soft nature permitted her nothing but weeping and crying; and Arcas followed helping them, and forbidding the Soldiers, that would have done that office, to stir from thence. When they were half way up the hill, Melintus stayed him to take breath, and Ariana recollected new forces for to vex him, and hinder his getting up to the top: but Melintus rendering all her striving useless, she could not contain herself from crying out; Ah poor Melintus, where art thou now? If thou wert alive, thou wouldst not have failed to be here at my rescue, or else not much survived my disaster; but it shall not be long ere I come to thee, if not with a pure body, at least with a soul unspotted; and thou, infamous goat, assure thyself that the gods will revenge me, and not suffer thy fury to go unpunished. How sweet were all these speeches to Melintus? Never were injuries nor outrages so well received. By this time he had got to the height of the mountain, where Dicearchus came running; and Melintus having set her upon her feet, took off his mask, and let her see him.  
Arian's astonishment were hard to be described, one while looking upon Dicearchus, another while on Melintus, two persons she thought to have been dead, and not well knowing whether she might think herself in safety, or else in the hands of some spirits that had taken those shapes to abuse her, she wavered betwixt joy and fear. Dicearchus' said to her, Make no doubt, niece, of what you see: here are Melintus and Palamede whom you thought dead, that have this day preserved my life and your honour. Ariana at that news was taken with such an excess of joy and amazement, that she lost that little strength was left her, after all her strive: she let herself go into Melintus arms, and fell lightly upon the grass: then with a soft voice she said to him; Ha Melintus, is it you indeed I see, or your daemon that takes care of me even after your death? Madam, answered Melintus, assure yourself that I am yet alive to serve you; but we are not to make any longer stay here, if you desire to secure you from the hands of these villains. Ariana seeing Palamede that held Erycine, called him, and said, My dear brother, if you desire I should not doubt of the good fortune they would persuade me into, do but so much as come hither that I may embrace you. Then Palamede came to her; and Dicearchus seeing their kindnesses last too long, put Melintus in mind of getting a horseback, and that he would take Erycine with him. As for him he mounted upon Arcas his horse, Palamede made Ariana resolve to be gone from that place, and to be set upon the same horse with him, and Arcas got up behind Eurylas.  
They determined to place away, without any great precipitation, but in case they were pursued, and get to Dicearchus' house, the nearest place they could be safe in. Palamede asked his sister if she knew that handsome youth with Arcas. I know very well, says she, that 'tis my dear Epicharis: but I dare not before my uncle express to her the joy I have to see her: I doubt not but she hath assisted you very carefully. Alas sister, answered Palamede, but for her we had been now dead men, and that by a shameful death too. How so, replied she? you may tell me by the way as we go in what manner you were preserved: for every one believes here, you cast yourselves down the Tower. They believe this too at Rome, says he to her, and I shall make you a relation of our happy, or rather miraculous getting out: but first tell me why you are thus all in mourning clothes? Alas brother, answered she, the tears coming into her eyes, must I needs, for the succours I have received of you to day, give you so sad news? Sister, replied he, how I am in fear for my father, upon the report of my death. Your fears, said she to him, are to be turned into assurances: for he was not able to resist the displeasures he felt for the news of your misfortune, being chiefly perplexed with the sorrow for having left you, and calling himself author of your death, since he had abandoned you. Then was some time spent in tears, after which they told by course all that had befallen them, while they had been absent from one another. Melintus entertained Erycine too that was rapt for joy to see this brother she honoured so much; and he learned of her what had passed at Syracuse, after he had let her know in a few words how he had been saved. And Arcas gave Dicearchus a part of their adventures, as he went by his side, and thus they arrived at his house, where seeing themselves safe, their spirits were entirely sensible of joy, being no longer distressed with any fears. Melintus advised that the Ladies should rest them whilst they in the mean time took order to go charge those Soldiers that remained, to get the baggage out of their hands. Dicearchus would by no means they should put themselves into that danger: for that the men were not worth their pains, the Chiefs being slain, and the booty they had, was but a small matter. Notwithstanding Melintus changed not his resolution, and hiding his purpose from Dicearchus, assembled, together with Palamede, some Boors of the Country whom he made take Arms; and taking on him to be their Captain, led them on to go find those Soldiers, where of some of them, being impatient for that their men stayed so long in the wood, had gone to see what they did there, and having found them dead, they came back again to advertise their companions of it, just when they were assaulted by Melintus and Palamede: some of them were slain, and they carried away five or six prisoners in the very Chariot, and returned to Dicearchus, who received them as coming in triumph, with their captives drawn in their train. Ariana and Erycine rose from their bed to see what it was entered; and seeing out at the windows Melintus and Palamede in the head of that Equipage, they admired their courage for not enduring that any thing of theirs should remain in the hands of those soldiers: and the prisoners were surely guarded, to be carried to Syracuse as soon as they returned thither.  
Dicearchus acknowledging the obligation he had to Melintus, took him aside, and demanded of him if he could desire nothing of him in recompense of the life he was indebted to him for. I have done nothing, answered Melintus, but what I was obliged to: but yet I will not disesteem what it pleases you to make me offer of; and I ask you no other favour, but that you will never wish me any ill, whatever heartburning you have had against my father. I confess to you, answered Dicearchus, somewhat ashamed, that we have heretofore had some difference, Telephus and I, by reason we were both of a contrary faction: but for the present, things are well changed; and I am so far from having a desire to wish you any ill, as I promise to employ that you have preserved to me in your service, to the uttermost of my power. I beseech you, replied Melintus, to take an oath of this in the hands of Palamede. That will I surely, answers Dicearchus; and having called him, Melintus says to him; Dicearchus will do me the grace to promise me, that he shall never bear any ill will to me, whatever he has had to my father. I wonder, replies Dicearchus, you will make any doubt of this, after the extreme obligation I have to you: but since you are so desirous, I take an oath hereof between my Nephew's hands, and pray the gods to punish me, if I ever fail of that I swear to. Palamede added, Melintus may be well assured of that you promise him; for 'tis impossible you should ever wish me any good without loving him too, seeing I will never have any good without him; and he has too much merit to be refused good will. After these common assurances of friendship, Dicearchus led them into his Niece's chamber; where entering in first upon the sudden, he was strangely affected to find a young man upon her bed that embraced her, and seeing him, presently came down off her bed, and go his way towards the bed Erycine was in. Dicearchus' said to Ariana; Ha! what's this, my niece, is't possible this that I have seen? Ariana smiled, but yet ashamed, as this young youth was also. Dicearchus wondering why they should laugh so, replied, What's the matter, Niece? Where is become of this honour, and this virtue? What, uncle, said she to take away his error, you know not Epicharis then; (for it was she still disguised that embraced her dear Mistress, who could not be satisfied with the kindnesses she expressed to her, for the agreeable services she had done her;) And now Dicearchus regarding her, was himself ashamed that he had accused them, and said that another would have been deceived as well as he. After rejoicing to see her again, and learning some of their fortunes, he enquired of Ariana how she did with her weariness, and after the fright she had been in; she assured him that her brother's return had cured all her distempers. Well, says he, I will leave you with this good brother of yours, and Melintus with Erycine (that was in a bed on the other side) for 'tis no small matter you have to tell one another, and the same time went his way out. Palamede told his sister, We have had leisure enough of discoursing together by the way as we came, and for my part I find these entertainments of sisters but cold ceremonies: It were better we separated, and so went away from her to cast himself upon Erycine's bed, leaving Melintus with his sister. Ariana to be even with him, said, Brother, I admire your humour to be so soon comforted for what you have heard: that remembrance all on the sudden abated his courage, and stayed the liberties he began to take with Erycine and Epicharis, who had much ado to defend themselves from him. Melintus taking that occasion, said to Ariana; Madam, I understood this loss with a great deal of sorrow, you being so sensible of it yourself. I ought not, says she, to have been exempt from miseries, while you and my brother were so cruelly persecuted by fortune: but I swear to you, I was sufficiently tormented with the fears I had for you two, though this accident had not befallen me. I do not think my eyes were ever dry since I left you; you see a face that sufficiently shows the part it hath taken in the vexations of my soul: and do but consider a little to what I was reduced, when by your hands I was delivered, and what thoughts I could have being in the hands of those robbers. After losing of a brother as I believed, whose death was followed with my fathers, I saw they were gone to cut my uncle's throat, the only support I had left me, and myself forsaken of all, and condemned to suffer the rage of those hangmen, without your rescue, whom I am beholding to for, what I have most dear in the world. Madam, answered Melintus, we were first indebted to you for our life and honour, and you secured both to us by means of Epicharis whom you sent us; if since we have assisted you, you are wholly to thank yourself for your deliverance: but I know not how you should ever pardon me for the fears I put you in, going to force you away from among those Soldiers. But rather, replied she, how will you pardon me the blows I gave you, for so I paid you for all the pains you had taken to save me. Ah, Madam, answered he, how pleasing were those blows to me, but may I dare to remember you of one you called upon to help you? Ariana blushed, and told him a little after, I remember it well enough, and give you leave to take those words I spoke, as much for your advantage as you please. Melintus taking her hand in excess of joy, pursues: Upon this assurance, Madam, may I from henceforth without offence tell you my thoughts? He spoke these words in a voice so trembling, and with a face so pale, that Ariana well perceived the extreme respect he bore her, and the fear he had to tell her of any thing might displease her: but to encourage him, she answered; Melintus, I have sufficiently made trial of your friendship by your discretion; I will not have you spend so much as one word to assure me any more of it. He was so ravished, that bowing him, and putting his mouth to the fair hand he held, he was some time in this posture, without any speaking, so transported was he with contentment. Ariana was very glad to see him so seized: but at last he lift up himself, and said to her; What will you think of me, Madam, to see me silent after such a favour? and indeed so great it is, that there are not words to express to you, neither the excess of my joy, nor how much I am to rest your servant. Ariana answers him, If we measure the obligations, without doubt those I have to you are far the greater: but you are to be satisfied with me, seeing that to acquit myself I give you my soul, which is all I am. Your soul, Madam, replies Melintus, may I be so bold to believe these advantageous words? but why should I not believe them, since they come from your mouth that cannot be but true? Will this fair soul then give itself to me, for to animate a body so unworthy of it? and will you indeed receive mine in place of it? Melintus, said Ariana, I do not mean so, this exchange would be too prejudicious for you: but at the least I give you a part of my soul, which is my will, and I must have you dispose of it from henceforth, in exchange of yours, which I am sure is in my possession.  
Melintus was so rapt for these dear engagements, that the commotions of his heart disturbed his mind, and stopped the freedom of his thoughts; and the knowledge of that disorder gave Ariana a greater assurance of his joy and passion, than a thousand words could have done. In the end he replies, It is impossible, Madam, I should express to you how dear these favours are to my soul: for the more I resent them, the less am I able to tell you: but it suffices you to know the greatness of my affection, by being assured how they replenish me with joy, and you shall see with what submission I receive them, by the inviolable respect that shall always accompany me in your presence; and when I have declared what I am, I will incessantly call to my remembrance the estate wherein I was when you were so favourable to me. Melintus, says Ariana interrupting him, this declaration is the business you are to think upon at this time: and I would advise you to make yourself known to my brother: you are not to defer it any longer, if you think it fit to be done: and then we may consult together concerning the ways we are to take, for since the death of my father, there is come from Corinth, Pisistratus, son of Calisthenes, who was uncle to Acidalia, by whose only means my uncle married her, after a suit of many years lasting. This Pisistratus drawn hither rather by the reputation of some estate, than of any beauty he says is in me, hath brought letters from his father to Dicearchus, wherein he desires him to do the like in his son's behalf with me, that he had heretofore done for him with his Niece Acidalia.  
Pisistratus relying upon that favour, thinks not he hath made an unprofitable voyage; but that with the duties he renders my uncle, and the affection he expresses to me, he shall presently marry me, and carry me away to Corinth in the same ship that brought him hither, which still attends him for this purpose. On the other side, Diocles seeks my uncle more than ever, and he entertains them both with hope, not knowing what to resolve on: for although he hath great obligations to Calisthenes, he is not willing for all that to have me so far from him, by giving me to Pisistratus: and again, seeing him to have such fair possessions, and coming of a far more illustrious house than Amyntas, he cannot find in his heart to refuse him. Upon these uncertainties, it were good you first declared your birth, and after that, your suit. Madam, replied Melintus, you do me a very great favour to instruct me of all these things; and I am very glad your counsel is correspondent to the design I had; but yet I would have wished that it had not prevented the permission I had desired of you to make this declaration. I hope, it will be well received; for the Syracusians have cause to love me, and Dicearchus is obliged to me by oath never to wish me ill for my father's sake. The life, says Ariana, you saved him, ought much more to oblige him to that, and I have reason to take this ill, because all that we shall resolve on from henceforth to your benefit, will rather be thought duty and acknowledgement, than affection. I shall ever take it for pure grace, replies Melintus; for scarcely could all my services together pretend to hope for so much as one of those words you favour me with.  
This agreeable conversation ended at the arrive of Dicearchus, that came to take Melintus, and to show him, with his Nephew, the beauties of his house, before the night obscured them: and it was rare indeed for the wonders of it; but yet more recommendable for the antiquity: for they took it to be the very same house that the Syracusians made present of to Timoleon, to stay him amongst them with his wife and children, which he had brought from Corinth; and which he received at their hands for to enjoy, himself, the rest of his days the peace and liberty that he had purchased to all Sicily: and for marks of this antiquity had Dicearchus left in a place out of the way, some ruins which he brought Melintus to see, where there were beside entire columns of that same fair Corinthian work: but some years ago he had himself made that house the fairest that was in all Sicily: for beside the richesse of the buildings, the beautifulness of the gardens and walks was so delightful, for the quantity of fountains and channels, that Melintus never left admiring that delicate place, and failed not to observe whatever was most esteemeable to please Dicearchus: yet he could not but admire above all things the rarities of a great Park, where, reserving only that the allies were made by Art, nature appeared in her pure richesses. The fountains that sprang out in many places, the little rivulets that came of them, and the fair meadows they watered, flattered Melintus' humour in such sort, that Dicearchus perceived well enough, how in that place he had given over compleasance, to make a true estimate of what he liked best. Palamede having advertised him to leave Melintus there, for that he loved nothing so much, as to lose himself in so delightful solitudes, by little and little they went away from him, as if they had had something to say together; and Melintus making as though he favoured their entertainment, out of discretion, withdrew himself from them with much joy, for to converse with his thoughts in that happy condition he was in.  
As soon as he had lost sight of them, he chose a fit place to repose in, and laid him down upon the grass near a Fountain that pleased him, and there his mind represented his fortune to him in the highest and sweetest point a Lover could possibly have desired it. His heart wanted place to contain all the joys that assembled there. Ariana's gracious words too, came to strike his ears with so melodious a sweetness, that there is no harmony able to cause so much ravishment. This charm reduced his passion to that contentment, brought his hopes to that height, and placed his soul in a heaven of such divine pleasures, that he was even ready to expire in this pleasing ecstasy. In the end, retiring him out of this abyss of joys, to consider his good fortunes particularly, he forgot not one of them, that he might be the more sensible how many sorts of happiness accompanied him; and after he had a long time entertained so dear imaginations, he employed the time that remained in making these verses:  

YOu dear delights unto my heart,  
Hopes only friends of my desire,  
That flatter with so sweet a choir  
The ardour of my happy smart;  
You agreeable forerunners  
Of that good, which made my horrors  
Be accused of perseverance;  
Refuse me not your blandishment,  
Or be changed to assurance,  
If you will suddenly be spent.   

Alas! I scarce have faith to spare  
For my felicity of Fate:  
O heaven! what pleasures me translate?  
What fortune may with this compare?  
Her eyes that pity would not move,  
Now change into regards of love  
Their severer influences,  
And henceforth freely them disarm  
Of their sharper inclemences,  
To wound me gently without harm.   

That front whose sacred Majesty  
Such terror struck into my face,  
Becomes more mild, and there doth place  
In stead of fear, security.  
Her soul, that better to admire  
Itself, had seemed to retire   

In a rampart inaccessible,  
To render her will now dispense,  
In those forts no more invincible  
To my respectful violence.   

The sweet and perfect harmony  
That our wills now equalizeth,  
Both of time and chance despiseth  
The proud-disdainfull tyranny.  
Her heart for chaste love excelling  
In me chooseth out her dwelling,  
My wishes more to favourize;  
And renders mine too-well apaid,  
If heaven be pleased to authorise  
The present which to me she made.   

Ye verdant meadows and clear springs,  
Ye sweet-murmuring rivulets,  
How may a Lover when he sets  
By you, enjoy his wander:  
But fare-ye-well, I must away,  
To follow the declining day.  
Hours, that endure as long as days,  
Daughters of aged Time, make haste,  
And days that have whole years' delays,  
Bring me my happiness to taste.   
Melintus having finished those verses, quitted the place he was in, to return to them he had left, whom he found in a great plain Court, waiting to carry him to supper. Ariana and Erycine rose to keep them company, being but simply dressed, and yet this negligence of their dressing was to their advantage. The more cause Melintus had to approach to Ariana, to enjoy the perfect union they had made, the less dared he; scarce giving his eyes leave to look often upon her: nevertheless he knew well enough how to govern his discretion, not to make his constraint appear, nor too much affect dissimulation. The whole course of their adventures furnished them with entertainment enough during suppertime, and after they were rose from Table; Dicearchus who began to admire the wit of Melintus, and could never hear him speak enough, took him from the company to entertain him; and willing to know if he were as well capable to manage public affairs, as to treat of any other discourse he appeared so able in, he turned warily all he had to say upon that subject: but Melintus seemed to be practised all his life long in no other thing, and not only satisfied Dicearchus in what he demanded of him, but upon every proposition too, added so rare considerations as he had never heard the like, that he was forced to avow, that so able a Genius deserved more than a public government, and seemed to be borne to sustain a Crown and Sceptre. In the end they all parted to go to bed; and the Ladies being retired, Melintus was brought to a Chamber richly furnished. He asked Dicearchus if it were that Palamede ordinarily lay in, because they had sworn never to lie from one another, when they should be in the same place. After some Civilities, Dicearchus left them to their liberty: then being together, and in bed; when they were alone, Melintus continued a while without speaking any thing, and a little after came to embrace Palamede, and told him: It is time, dear friend, you should know the secret of my life, which you have hitherto been ignorant of. Is't possible, says Palamede, that you have concealed any thing from me? You will confess, replied Melintus, that I was bound to conceal it from you, and will not be offended thereat, when you shall know that the excess of the affection you bear me, obliged me to it. My dear Melintus, answers Palamede, haste you then to tell it me, and assure yourself, that when I shall be able to do you service, I will not think upon reproaching you. Then Melintus declared to him all the manner of his birth; to which Palamede hearkened with so much contentment, that he would not so well have resented the like good fortune, had it happened to himself. He ceased not admiring at a fortune so unordinary, and doubted not, but that Diocles would be convinced by those means they were prepared of: that if there were, at last, need of violence, he was not a man to make resistance against them. This is it, replied Melintus, that kept me from discovering me until now to you, for the friendship you have to me would have prevailed with you to make this appearance, before, it may be, there were cause for it; and now is the fittest time by far, you will confess. Melintus went through with all that discourse assuredly enough: but when he was purposed to discover to him the affection he had for his sister, he scarce dared to pronounce the fair name of Ariana. Palamede, after some words, knowing from whence that difficulty of speech proceeded, would encourage him, and said; My dear Melintus, it is not necessary you tell me that I know as well as you; and you have heard from myself, how greatly I desire that happiness, as well for my own contentment, as yours: if I could bind me to you by an alliance yet more straight, I would seek it, so fearful am I that we are not yet sufficiently united: give leave therefore that from this very hour the name of brother be common to us: we are already brothers in wills, and I hope we shall be so in effect very shortly. I make no doubt but my sister acknowledges your deservings, and acknowledging them, loves you, besides the obligations she hath to you; and for my uncle, he but now made me a discourse, when we left you there in the Park, that showed plainly how his design might easily correspond with ours. Oblige me, said Melintus, and tell me what he thinks of me: You would not believe, replies Palamede, how much the assistance he received of you this day has wrought upon him, and he desires nothing more, than to render you one day, if it be possible, as great a pleasure. The occasion, says Melintus, interrupting him, offers itself: for he may in like manner oblige me for my life. He is not far off this, answered Palamede, because having no greater intention than this, which is to maintain the authority he hath in Syracuse, he told me, that although Telephus had not been his friend, he saw none so fit as you, whereupon to stay the credit and esteem we might keep there: for the people's love was already set upon you, and that we had a fair means to bind us for ever to you, by a person whom it seems you have fairly won, going to take her out of those Soldier's hands; and that he believed too she would not make resistance to this, because certain words escaped her, when she knew you, that gave him cause to think she hated you not, and that you were also in love with her. That he was very glad he was no further engaged with Diocles, nor with Pisistratus of Corinth, who is come hither drawn by my sister's reputation; and for that he found himself still at liberty to deliberate upon our good fortune and yours, which he would seek as much as in him lay, in satisfaction of what he owes you.  
There wanted but little to have this discourse as pleasing to Melintus, as the entertainment he had with Ariana herself: in the end he knew, how there remained no other doubt in Dicearchus' mind, but the difficulty of his estate, which was not so great as Ariana's: but Palamede added, that the news he was to bring him, would soon clear every thing that might hinder their common contentment. Melintus esteemed himself very happy in the opinion Dicearchus had conceived of him; and after they had passed a great part of the night in so dear discoursing as this, they fell both asleep, and waked not until it was something at the latest.  
But whereas they spent the beginning of the night in their entertainment, Ariana, and Erycine that lay together, gave the end of it to theirs: they began to speak as soon as they waked, which was afore day; and when that appeared, Erycine perceived Ariana had put the sheet from off her because of the heat, and saw hereby so many wonders, that she could not contain herself from saying; Who shall that happy man be, that shall one day enjoy all those beauties? Ariana smiling, answered her, It may be a person you have some interest in. Erycine blushed, thinking she meant it by Amyntas, whom she was in love with, and who loved her too; and because she would seem crafty, told her; I have no interest in those that have none in me. Ariana knowing her mistake, replied; And of whom, think you, do I mean to speak? Of Amyntas, replied she, because you have heard say that he loved me. Assure thyself, dear Erycine, says Ariana, that I am very far from thinking of him: he is a man I never spoke to, and whom I will not know whilst I live. And yet, answered Erycine, but a while since, 'twas thought your marriage was resolved on. Never, replied Ariana, came it to that point yet; for I take not my resolutions on that fashion, and though I should have consented to it, the return of my brother and yours gives me other thoughts for the present. But, went she on, how could Amyntas endure the search of me, after he had loved you? Whence came that coldness? Was it on your part, or on his? On neither, answered Erycine, and if you will assure me never to marry Amyntas, I shall not fail to tell you all that passed between us. I may well swear that to you, replied Ariana, and if you have any design one to the other, be certain that I will not be the cause of our being all three unfortunate: but you shall do me a great pleasure, to learn me something of your life; and I pray therein spend the time that is left us, before we are to rise. This assurance, said Erycine, and your friendship, obliges me to conceal nothing from you: then she began her story thus.  

History of Amyntas and Erycine.  
THe affections that are bred with us, and which we have as it were sucked in with our milk, are turned into so powerful habits, and take so deep rooting, that they are not to be plucked up but with violences that are as so many deadly blows; and I rather believe the impossibility of ridding one's self of them; because the passion that finds itself grown before the birth of reason, knows its own strength, when reason begins but to appear, and so always masters it not only as the first borne, but as superior. I confess to you this is the reason why I have suffered so many troubles with a pertinacious constancy, in spite of the crosses which Amyntas and my affection have met with, and to tell you their beginning, I must of necessity tell you the beginning of my life too.  
Since the birth of my brother Melintus, Hyperia my mother had been many times great with child, but she could never be delivered of any alive; until at last having made some vows to Lucina, she was brought to bed of me. This was a very great joy to the house; and Diocles, the chief friend my father Telephus had, came to congratulate with him, and brought his son Amyntas too, that was then but five or six years old: they told him jestingly, I should be his Mistress, whereto he agreed, and asked to kiss me. I believe that he could then make me no very eloquent offer of service; neither did I give him any great cause to love me, being but a disagreeable Mistress, and very troublesome, that had nothing but cries to entertain him. His father instructed him in the duties he was to render me, and sometimes laughed with Telephus at the fashion he took them in hand; every morning he sent first to hear from me, and after came himself to seem, and kissed my hand: one while he brought me a posy, another time a coloured feather, that they pinned on my head, in hope that one day I would give him some of my favours to wear in that fashion. When I began to speak, he expressed much contentment, having no more a mute to entertain; and seeing how that which he loved began to be informed with a soul, he seemed to augment his affection at it: In like manner finding him compleasant in every thing I desired, I had a friendship to him; for children are pleased with those that contradict them not. We had a thousand sorts of plays, where I was the Mistress, and he the servant: I commanded him with gentleness, he obeyed me with joy, and so the tenderest of our years passed away in many innocent recreations. I cannot repeat to you all our childish discourses; but when he came to be seventeen or eighteen year old, that age, that is accustomed to change all things, had not this power over him: for in stead of diminishing by degrees this affection that had taken no foundation, use served him for matter of love, and made him pursue his design of loving me. For my part, coming to a little more understanding, I perceived how these little liberties were not very honest, and would retire me from him. He was not overmuch troubled at this, for he is of an humour, not to afflict himself; and to be moved at nothing, as you shall see by that which follows, and only said one day to me; It seems, my fair Mistress, you love your servant no more. I had at that time judgement enough to answer him: I pray you leave these names that are no more fit for me, than for you. He, without accusing me of change, or going to complaints, told me; 'Tis now impossible we should lose these qualities, since I have neither will nor power to do it. If it be not possible to you, said I to him, it is very possible to me; and from this time I will quit the name of your Mistress. That, answered he, depends not on you. On whom then, replied I? On me, pursued he; for I remaining always your servant, you must of necessity continue my Mistress. What, though I forbid you, replied I. You pretend then, answered he, some power over me, and in that respect yourself agrees to be my Mistress. You may interpret, said I, my words as you please; but I will not have you use me any more in this fashion. Since you permit me, answered he, to give what sense I would to your words: I will have them signify that you love me, but that you are not desirous at all to make it appear. Look you, replied I, I loved you, being a child; but things are changed. I do not complain at this change, answered he, for in that first age you said before all the world that you loved me, and it was nothing so; and now you will love me indeed, and say nothing. Flatter yourself as much as you please, said I, but for me I know well what I am resolved on: so I left him, and went to join me with the other Maids, to avoid his returns, for my young age furnished me not with reasons strong enough to vanquish him; and my weakness emboldened him the more.  
Some time after Diocles, who had by little and little enriched himself without noise, was declared possessor of the great estate he had acquired; and Amyntas thinking nothing could be refused him with the advantages he had, seemed more than ever, assured of my affection. I believed, my honour obliged me to express more coldness to him still, for fear it might be thought that I made much of him for his riches; in such a fashion, that I altogether withdrew me from him, and would not suffer him to speak to me in particular. I think he perceived my cunning well enough, for without being amazed at my resolution, he would needs write to me. One day he came to see me, when I was in company, I know not what shift he made to put a Letter into my pocket, and when he was gone his way. I put my hand by chance into it, and was strangely taken, finding this writing that was not to have been there. Nevertheless I dissembled what had befallen me, and having impatience till I were alone to see what it was, went out, and finding a letter I opened it, and saw that it was thus:  
Amyntas to Erycine.  
IF I found myself faulty, I should not be so bold to demand of you a reason for your severities; but having always served you with fidelity, I dare be bold to say that it's impossible you should wish me ill, whatever disguise you put on. It may be you would make trial of me: but if you have a design to receive my service after a great deal of time and pains, I pray you do it for the present, and deliver us both of the cares and vexations you are preparing us. I aspire not to that sad glory of knowing how to suffer well; and when I shall have endured your cruelest torments, you would in the end be obliged to relent. Do that now for affection, which you would then do for justice, and making me so happy, you shall force me to serve you also for justice, which I did not before, but for affection.  
I blamed him a little to myself, for taking the boldness to write to me, and for the liberties he used in his letter: but yet this humour of turning thus all things to his advantage, was not disagreeable to me: sometimes I accused my own facility that was the cause he could not think me so ill, as I seemed: on the other side I was very glad that he gave not back for those feigned rigours, because I did but what I ought to do, and that made him never the farther from loving me. At that time I gained also the affection of Misander, if I may so call the desire he expressed to see and speak with me: for doubtless you will laugh at the humour of that man. I have heard say, interrupted Ariana, that he is of Reggium, and comes often to Syracuse, but that he is very melancholic. It is impossible, replied Erycine, you should imagine to what degree he is so. He came one day to see me in the company of Amyntas that was his friend, at that time Hyperia my mother was very sick, and in danger to dye: my affliction which he found to have some sympathy with his sad humour, caused, as I believe, the good will he had to me. His discourses were to make me see, that I had cause rather to be afflicted than comforted, his wit affording him no reasons for to vanquish my griefs: and after he had employed some words to express the part he took in my sorrow, he thought he had sufficiently declared his affection to me; since it may be I was the first he had obliged by that compleasance. Thinking therefore he had got familiarity enough with me by this first encounter, he came to revisit me, when my mother was in better health, and I rejoiced at her recovery: my jollity truly made not his affection dye, which my sadness had produced; but standing mute to all the discourses wherein I expressed a satisfaction in him, he would peradventure have had me believed that his silence proceeded from love; and some days after, seeing me to receive him with a great deal of kindness, as I am accustomed to use all that come to see me, he took the liberty to complain of me, and would have me think that I dealt unjustly with him not to acknowledge the affection he bore me, although he had made none at all appear to me, whether by discourse, or any other way. For my part having no cause to satisfy him, it was no difficult matter to me to keep him in that plaintive humour; and every time he saw me, he seemed to have obtained what he desired; for when I used him with harshness, or contempt, he set himself to discourse, that he was the most miserable of men; that those women that had a sweetness for all other, had nothing for him but disdains; that his encountering was so unfortunate, that at the same instant he appeared, he inspired refuses, and rude usage, into them he desired most to be esteemed of; that in his very presence they affected a favouring of others, to give him the greater displeasure: To end, upon the subject of the misery of his life, there came a torrent of words from him which was impossible to be stopped. I laughed within myself, that he was satisfied after that fashion, in making all those complaints and reproaches to me; his soul loving to feed on nothing but such ill nourishment as this. You describe a man to me, interrupted Ariana, of a very strange nature, and yet pleasant enough withal. I cannot, replied Erycine, sufficiently represent this miserable humour: for I have observed, that it's impossible to please him, giving a sense to all things that confirms his opinion of being miserable. If I used him with any sort of kindness, he took it for feigning; if I treated him with coldness, it was a certain contempt: If I spoke to him, it was, said he, in a certain fashion whereby he perceived well enough the small account I made of him; if I held my peace, it was to let him see that he was troublesome, and to give him leave to be gone. In the end I found very true what I had heard my brother say of him, that of all the passions, he thought, he had none but the displeasant and unfortunate ones, as sadness, fear, jealousy, despair, distrust, and the rest: And upon this subject he made an observation which I have found a very pretty one, and am like to retain it in my memory; that the most things have two faces, which diversely regarded, make effects as diverse: As in a combat, a man of courage considers nothing but the glory of vanquishing, and makes sure of it; a poltroon regards nothing but death, which brings horror and trouble upon him. Even so Misander, being within corrupted with this same black humour, regarded but the ill sense of all things, and interpreted all my actions to his disadvantage. I had two servants then, very differing; one that complained incessantly without having cause, the other that always satisfied himself whatever rigour he received. I confess to you, Amyntas displeased me not, for the other you may judge if he were love-able: yet although he were a man I had reason to banish my company, the softness of my nature suffered me not to anger him enough to drive him away. Amyntas knowing by the entreaty I made Misander, that himself was not ungracious with me, ceased not seeing me, and had not failed of greater attempts, but that I made him know his duty; and my modesty altogether stayed him. Misander had so contagious a melancholy, that he was a vexation to all he came near. Amyntas brought me his acquaintance, but he repented him sufficiently of it for my sake, and more yet for his own; because Misander never left me, and he could not entertain me as he desired. 'Tis true that if I had an enemy, I should wish him to endure the love of a man of this humour: for I believe there is nothing in the world more insupportable. If you stay at home, they will besiege you cruelly, without speaking sometimes a word in a day, and will weary out the most resolute that might think to attend their depart, to speak with more freedom: if you have business abroad, they will still accompany you, and not give you so much as one hour of respite: and in the mean time, they will have their sighs be taken for the sweetest entertainments of love, their silence for an admirable discretion, and their importunity for services that cannot be sufficiently rewarded.  
I remember one day Amyntas came to our house, feigning to save himself from the rain he was taken in; as he had ever some pleasant excuse to come often thither, and finding Misander there, whose presence importuned him sufficiently, without adding to his trouble any thing by this sorry humour, he was not able to endure that constraint, and went out to be delivered of it, in spite of the rain that still continued: but when he was abroad, the storm so increased, as he was forced to come back again to us, where we passed away a day as black as can be imagined, as well because of the weather, as for the humour of Misander. On the subject of that rain, Amyntas the day after gave me these verses:  

Last day, fair Erycina, with a storm assailed,  
At your house I believed I should have shipwreck failed,  
As at some happy Port by heaven granted me:  
Soon by their radiant beams your eyes me dried,  
But when so near my heart their flames I spied,  
Must I be burned, said I, for fear I drowned should be.   

Long time I did endure, because I loved them,  
But in the end surmounted by their heat extreme,  
I took my leave of you to 'scape a fire so sore;  
To the water I returned to seek a remedy:  
Although I had despite to crave so suddenly  
An aid from that, which would have drowned me before.   

Then from a hundred clouds the heaven upon me pours  
whatever it contained of tempests, or of showers,  
To ravish from your eyes the honour of my dying.  
So came I back to you, fair Star of my desire,  
For in your sight I chose, and in that flame t' expire,  
Then perish in the waters never you espying.   
In the end Amyntas desirous to be free of the importunities of Misander, and knowing his humour, advised of a trick as fantastical, as he knew his wit was for the kind: and we had discoursed of him sometimes, Amyntas and I, and were both persuaded, that he would be engaged by contempts, and put off by favours: he chanced to tell me once, that he could not think well of the least liberty a Maid took to express an affection to a man: judge you, if he persuaded me to make any appear to him.  
So Amyntas writ a letter in my name, and having superscribed the direction of it to Misander, he made me believe being with us, that he had received it from Reggium with some others, and prayed a wench I had to carry it him (for he lodged very near us) without telling where she had it. I knew since that it was thus.  
Erycine to Misander.  
Your respect hath vanquished my coldness, and your modesty hath acquired you all the esteem you could have hoped for of me: but because the restraint you use, permits you not liberty enough, I was willing to prevent you with this, and to assure you, I shall take it very well, that you let me know by yours the quality of your affection.  
Amyntas after he knew of his receiving it, would see how his plot took; he went to him, and entering into discourse with a friendlike familiarity, told him he came from quitting me, and that he believed I would make him dye for love, and he should never be able to move me by his affection, or by any other duty. Misander answered him, You that are of so jolly dispositions, you know not how to serve Ladies: Do you think that all your freedoms are so acceptable to them? There must be discretion, and that no common one neither, but of the perfect stamp, such as that I serve her with. What, said Amyntas laughing, do you believe that your sadness, and your silence pleases her? that were to love the most troublesome thing in the world. He would oblige him by this means to let him know his good fortune; and Misander failed not therein; for with a smile that seemed to mock at the other, he answered him; Nevertheless, this sadness and this silence gain me the favours which your jollities ought not to pretend to. Amyntas to engage him further, pursues, And what persuasion have you ever had that Erycine approves your humour? He answered him walking up and down, and going with a stately pace, By the certain demonstrations I have received of it. Yoa, replied Amyntas; you must have dreamed it then this last night, for I have heard her speak of you in a fashion that was not very advantageous for you. He returned, She conceals by that the good she wishes me: but read this, says he, in presenting him the Letter, and you shall know the truth of the matter, if you know what belongs to writing. Then Amyntas took the Table-book, and after he had read it, he feigned to enter into a rage to see him favoured to his prejudice: he blotted out what was written, and then cast the Table-book into the fire, that I might not receive harm by it, if he should have shown it to some body else, and in the end said a thousand things to him against me, as transported with love and fury. Misander would have been angry for that he had so used his Letter. What? said Amyntas, can you put an estimation upon the favours of that woman that first writes to you, and takes a liberty that is unpardonable for a Maid? for my part, take her to you, in this humour she is of, she must needs have a great longing to have her letters seen, since she cannot stay till she receives any, and is not content to write to one alone. I would but put a trick upon you, thinking myself had been the only man she obliged by such a favour as this. See, continued he, taking out of his pocket a letter of the same writing, if I had not cause to be confident in her good graces? but I scorn a thing she makes so common, and swear never to see her while I live, than he threw the Letter in the fire, as he had done the other, and before he went away so wrought upon Misander to bring him to what he desired, that they protested one to the other never to see me more. I find, Ariana interrupted, that he something endangered your reputation, only to get himself the liberty of seeing you more at his ease. 'Tis true, replied Erycine, and when he made me the relation of this, I was angry with him, but he told me that if Misander should chance to boast of that I had written to him, as little as I were known, or he either, never could it be believed.  
So lost I this lovely Misander: but Amyntas did not long time enjoy his artifice, and had no great trouble to hide himself from him for coming to our house, because he was forced to keep away by a misfortune that arrived. Diocles and my father had some contestation, in pursuit whereof it was forbidden Amyntas to come at us, and me to receive him. A little after I heard of the suit Diocles made to have you for him; and one day when he came to me in the Temple, and would express to me the regret he had for that misfortune of being hindered seeing me; I told him, These are not the speeches you are to study for the fair Ariana; you must rather make you provision for some first offers of service. He answered me, I know very well that Ariana is the desire of all Syracuse, and that you have cause to think I esteem her, knowing that she is one of the most perfect we can see: but assure yourself I will never turn my eyes towards her merit, for to fail in the fidelity I have sworn to you. I said to him, How dare you speak thus to me, since I know the suit you are making to her? Say rather, if it please you, replied he, that my father makes to her: but albeit he believes, I would not oppose myself to his intention, yet I hope many things will fall out, before he obtains that he desires. Dicearchus loves him not, and will never give his consent. Ariana hath too great a spirit, and will never make esteem of me, especially not seeking to her by any duties; and though all things were resolved on, be assured that I would get me far enough away for their ever seeing me, until the fair Ariana were married: She deserves at the least an entire heart, and mine can never be but Erycina's. I make an oath here before these gods we adore, and desire them to punish me as perjurious, if I ever quit an affection which I have maintained from my birth, and will take a course to preserve it to my grave.  
He spoke this to me with so much assurance, that I had an opinion he did not deceive me; and I answered him, that nothing but time could make me judge if he were true or no. Ever since he hath continued the same protestations to me, and whatever bruit ran of your marriage, I never found his passion at all abated. Think, fair Ariana, went Erycina on, if I had not cause to esteem myself much indebted to him: for at that time he saw himself so rich, the change of his fortune changed not his affection: but since, what fidelity would not have given way to the hopes of possessing this divine Ariana? That word made her blush, and obliged her to desire she would use her with less flattery. Permit me, replied Erycira, to speak thus of you; for there is no doubt but that this change had been too advantageous for him: Notwithstanding I was assured he abused me not, because I knew that he came not at you: and you cannot imagine what torments I endured in these traverses: for the occasions of loving him still continued, and I saw less appearance than ever that our marriage could be. Consider for the present what contentment I receive, by the assurance you give me, that you are yet farther off from thinking any such matter, than he is; and by seeing you now in a power to be no more constrained against your mind, since you have no more father to rule you.  
There is no doubt, answered Ariana, but you are obliged to love Amyntas, for I can assure you, he hath never sought to give me the least testimony of affection; and in stead of thinking amiss of him for making so small account of the search of me, I extremely commend him, for not failing of his faith to you. In the fashion you have described him to me, he must needs have his heart in a good place; and I hope your affections shall attain their desired end: so far am I from hindering it, that I could wish I were happy enough to serve you therein, and satisfy the obligation I have to you, for not concealing from me your secrets. But, replied Erycine, who can then be that person I have interest in, that may one day enjoy you? Dear Erycine, said Ariana, I give you leave to guess, but you shall never know it from my mouth. Truly, answered she, you pay me well for the freedom wherewith I have told you the dearest thoughts of my soul. Then she goes on, My Brother, shall he be so happy? That may be, replied Ariana, and yet never shall my husband be your brother. I comprehend not your meaning, said Erycine. There are many other secrets also, replied Ariana, that concern you and Amyntas too, as much as myself: but upon this subject words are forbidden me, and within a few days nothing shallbe hid from you: only content yourself that I hope to find the means to make us both happy.  
As they ended that discourse, Epicharis that was up, came to them, and Ariana reaching out her arms to her, made her come nearer, to embrace her again, and said to her; My dear Wench, is't possible I should see thee again? and that with thyself thou shouldst bring me so many contentments? Can I ever love thee sufficiently for so many services thou hast rendered me? Madam, answered Epicharis, the satisfaction I have for having done any thing to please you, has place of a great recompense with me: yet I refuse not the honour of your love, without which I confess I could not live. Erycine said also that she was much beholding to her, for her brother's safety: And because it was now late, they were surprised in this entertainment by Palamede, who came into the Chamber, bringing Melintus with him, and opening the Curtains, called them sluggards for being still in bed: Melintus, who was more retentive, said they had endured pain enough the day before, for to rest yet the whole day. 'Tis not reason, said the fair Ariana, that you should be walking up and down alone by yourselves to day; and although my uncle has shown Melintus all he thought worthy to be seen in his house, I am sure I shall let him see beauties which he cannot see unless I be there. Without all doubt, replied Melintus, where you are not, many beauties are wanting. That's not my meaning, said Ariana: but there are certain places in the house, whose beauty is unknown but to myself; and I will carry you thither to see if you will be of my opinion. If they please you, replied Melintus, I make no question but they will be pleasing to me, and they will be so the more, when you are there. Let us then dress us, said Erycine, and go you down to stay for us in the garden, where we will presently come to you. They could not deny them this leisure, and so the two friends went out of that place sorrily, where so many beauties were not so carefully hid, but that some one would still discover itself, that seemed never to have seen day before, so white, and delicate it appeared. They had word brought them, that certain men enquired to speak with them in the Court of the Castle, and impatient to see who it was, they went to them, whilst these fair Ladies dressed them with all the curiosity they could devise.    

ARIANA. The eighth Book.  
THe accident that had happened to Dicearchus the day before, was known that very night in Syracuse; and every one rejoiced that they had all of them escaped the danger; but when they learned how this was done by the succours of Melintus and Palamede that were living, there was a public joy so great, that never did any people express the like. Telephus and Hyperia could hardly believe so happy a news, after they had mourned for Melintus as dead, and resented his loss with as many griefs as his desert, and their good nature could produce in them. Telephus had not failed to have come to him, if he had been in a friend's house: but he was content to send him word to come away suddenly to see them, and that he would no longer deny them this contentment. Dicearchus chiefest friends came from Syracuse to congratulate his good fortune: and the friends of Melintus and Palamede came in great haste to see and embrace them. Diocles was not wanting to send to hear from Dicearchus and his Niece: but Pisistratus came thither himself, being in pain for Ariana he was so extremely in love with; and it was he, with some others, that having seen Dicearchus, demanded to salute Palamede and Melintus. After the embracements of the dearest friends, and the ordinary civilities of the rest, Melintus knew that the very Deputies of the City were coming to see him. He went as far as out of the house to meet them, and they perceiving him, alighted from their horses, and saluted him severally. Then one of the number said to him, that the great affection he had expressed to his Country, could not be acknowledged, but by the like care for every thing that might concern him, and in particular for the conservation of his life, which they were now come to congratulate for: that death had deprived him of a reasonable fair recompense he was to receive, as to see himself blessed, the remainder of his days, by all the people: how that heretofore in Pisa he had acquired a victory glorious for him, and for Syracuse: but that the other he obtained at Rome, surpassed that by far; as being both honourable to himself, and profitable to his Country; that it seemed he was not borne but to vanquish, and to be the safety of all, being no sooner entered into Sicily, but that he found new occasions of gaining honour to his own person, and preserving both the honour and lives of others. He prayed him, in conclusion, to make haste to receive the praises and good wishes of so many as were made happy by his means, and assured him that if the gods granted but the least part of the vows were every day made for him, he should be without doubt the most contented man in the world. Melintus answered, that he received too much honour for so little merit; that the services men do to their Country, are simply duties; that there was not one amongst them, that would not have sought the same benefit for Syracuse; and that he was only the happiest of them, for having met with the occasion; that if the Syracusians desired to put a greater obligation still upon him, he demanded, not out of acknowledgement, but grace, that he might be heard in public concerning a cause that was of consequence to him, and that he should have wherewithal to make trial of the people's love, in a matter of justice he was to require at their hands. Not the ears alone, said they, but the mouths too, and hearts of the Syracusians are made your own; and if they find the occasion of rendering you the good-turne they have had from you, they will reckon that day in the number of the most fortunate of their life. He desired them to be mindful of that; and from thence carried them to Dicearchus, who honourably entertained them, and was well pleased that they had given Melintus that honour, making it his design then to give him Ariana.  
In the mean time that Dicearchus was busy with them, and Palamede with Pisistratus and the rest, Melintus got him from them all to go find Ariana, and not to lose the time he might pass in her company. He saw Erycine and Epicharis that had but now made an end of dressing her with so many advantages, as he stood in a maze, and spoke nothing. She feigned a necessity of those ornaments, being to receive so many persons of quality as were arrived: but the principal cause was, to give, if it were possible, more love to Melintus: and indeed he was so ravished with seeing her, that he almost forgot to make the relation of the Deputies he came from entertaining. He told her at last, they should be all obliged to return that very day, because the people would needs see them; that he could no longer also defer the contentment of Telephus and Hyperia, and besides that Dicearchus would wait on the Deputies into the City. Ariana seeing they had so little time to be together, took Melintus and Erycine by the hand; and giving Epicharis charge to follow, went with them down a little winding stairs that led into the Park without passing by the Gardens, and told them, they were to take that time to walk in at liberty, while they might be thought to be still a dressing. When they were come to the great Allies, Epicharis willing to favour these lovers, made as if she would show Erycine the places that best pleased her, and went from them. Hardly can Melintus his contentment be represented, at what time he saw himself alone near to his fair Mistress: after the measure of losing sight of them, he felt himself advanced to so high degrees of joy, that he could not express them with his own eloquence. Ariana knowing his silence proceeded from excess of pleasure, was willing to ease him, and spoke first to him: I promised to show you places here you had not seen before, and to my liking, the fairest that belong to the house: I will carry you to a place here hard by, that I have often visited since the woeful news of yours, and my brother's death: you will find, that nature seems to have made it of purpose, to entertain any thoughts one has a mind to: but as heretofore it hath been a witness of my sorrows, so will I have it now be of my contentments. Madam, answered Melintus, if your satisfaction be as perfect as mine, I esteem you the happiest of the world; but I doubt whether it may be equal to it, being impossible you should have those fair causes of raptures that are presented to my soul. Melintus, replied Ariana, it becomes me not to express to you the excess of my joy, and yet shame must needs give place to truth, and I must confess, that yours cannot easily surpass mine: at the least, you are deprived of this pleasure, which is extreme in me, to see you alive, after I had mourned your loss: for you cannot be sensible of that contentment, not having been tormented with the like grief for me. And I had less cause, answered Melintus, to hope for the honour of your affection, than you to see me living; and this happiness ought to be much more sensible to me; for my life cannot be so greatly beneficial to you, as the expressions of your affection are to me. Ending this discourse, he came to the place whither Ariana conducted him. It was four delicate springs of water that issued forth with noise, and spread themselves severally there about those Country places: in the midst of them was a tuft of trees bend together, that made a most delightful shade; underneath those trees slept a Diana of white Marble, that in her return from hunting seemed to have chose the fraisheur of this place to repose in. Melintus vowed he had never seen any thing so delicious; and being entered under those levy Arbours, Ariana sat her down at the feet of the Diana, and Melintus laid him upon the grass at Ariana's feet, not letting go her hand. A little after she said to him, Will you confess that I have brought you into a very pleasant place? 'Tis far more agreeable to me, answered Melintus, than you can imagine; and I am certain it was never so much till now. But Madam, goes he on, kissing her hand, can I sufficiently prise the happiness I possess? and may it possibly be one day so well confirmed, as to warrant me from all apprehensions that afflict me? Melintus, replied she, diminish your fears, and receive as powerful assurances of my friendship as my honour will permit: after so long a trial of your affection in so many occasions, and being so obliged to you as I am, to use dissimulation and coldness, would no longer be modesty, but ingratitude. Ah Madam, says he, if I may believe this I hear, make, I beseech you, my happiness entire: use the means that nothing may separate us. I conjure you to this by my affection that never had equal, by your beauty for which I have so many holy desires, and by this fair hand I hold, and conjure too by these ardent kisses, never to touch other than mine to give faith to. Ariana answered, I promise that I will never be but Melintus his: to this am I obliged by his merit, more yet by his affection; and being redevable to him both for my honour and life, I remit both of them into his hands, as things he hath acquired, and whereof he can better dispose of than myself. I speak thus for the present now I have no more father, whose absolute power might contrary my desires. I dare very well then make choice of you, and having made it, assure yourself I shall as well know how to maintain it. Madam, replied Melintus all confounded, stop I pray you the course of these obligeant words: my soul is not capable to support their sweetness; and the pleasures that enter in troops at my ears, are ready to stifle it, if my other senses receive not a part of them. Ariana seeing that he grew pale in scarcely pronouncing those words, bowed herself down thinking he was going to sown; and Melintus lifting up his amorous arms to her, she let him lay his head close to hers. It was than he made proof, that the dearest pleasures of love are not those that are best resented: for he entered into a fainting that stupefied all his senses; and when he came out of that trance, love and respect had a long combat within him, to make him deliberate whether he should attempt any farther, or be content with those favours. Ariana knowing the doubt he was in, animated her face with a redness, and that colour made her yet more Majestical: in such sort that Melintus being up, and having one knee upon the ground, durst not conceive a dishonest desire, seeing her so full of brightness: nevertheless, after he had many times kissed her hand, he would bring his mouth even to her bosom, but she putting him softly by with her other hand, Content yourself, said she, with these hands that shall ever be favourable to you, while you address yourself to them only. This Diana sleeps not so fast but she may be a witness of your actions: and yet I do not believe you have so much as one thought contrary to my desire, for fear I should be obliged to diminish the affection I bear you. Madam, answered he, the living Divinity I behold, gives me a sufficient restraint, and I here make an oath to this fair hand to seek no other favours but from it; since 'tis from it I expect all my good fortune: but I hope to give it so many kisses, as in the end it will be weary of them, and would gladly be eased of those troublesome kindnesses, and permit me to give a part of them to the rest. Ariana taking his head gently with her hands, kissed him on the forehead, and said, you shall sooner receive favours thus, when you seek them not: then she rose up, and said it was time to go find out Erycine and Epicharis that would be in pain for them. Melintus answered her, If they have had as little thought for us, as I have had for them, I do not believe they are in any great care for what is become of us. If I were not assured, replied Ariana, that they know us well, I had not suffered them to have left me so: but let me go now together with them into my Chamber, and give the rest of the day to Ceremonies, after having spent the morning in the liberty of our thoughts. Melintus with grief quitting this pleasant resting place, where he had passed so agreeable moments, told her, that his life would be too happy, if he might often meet with so sweet hours. In such discourses as these they took the way of the great walk, where they found the two Maids, whose discretion was such, as they never enquired where they had stayed so long; and they all thinking it fit to return, the Ladies went to get to the same stairs, by which they came into the Chamber: and Melintus took another way, to take away the opinion of their being together.  
Palamede was walking in the great Court that was opposite to the front of the house, with Pisistratus, who had a great desire to get the good graces of the brother, so to attain to those of the sister: and seeing Melintus come from the Parkward, he went to meet him, and told him, he was very glad he had found out places fair enough in that house, to invite him more than once to visit them, and quit the company of men for their sakes. 'Tis true, answers Melintus, that I would many times leave men, for a conversation I now come from. That of your thoughts, says Pisistratus, must needs be very agreeable to you. I should wrong myself, replies Melintus, to abandon men for the entertainment of my thoughts: but one may justly quit them for goddesses; and I confess to you that if I durst have prolonged my contentment, I should still have been besides a Diana that is in this wood. The place, says Palamede, is reasonable pleasant, and the figure is one of the fairest in all Sicily. I vow to you, continued Melintus, that my eyes were charmed near her, and I do not yet well know how I was able to retire me from her. The more skill one has in delicate works, says Pisistratus, the more one admires them. I deny not, answered Melintus, that my admiration proceeds from some knowledge: but I am sure never any man went from her more satisfied than I. I am sorry, replied Palamede, we are so soon to go for Syracuse, since you are so well pleased here: but I hope we shall return hither often. While they were speaking thus together, Dicearchus came from meeting with his Niece at the foot of the great stairs, by which she was descended with Erycine and Epicharis; and leading her into the garden, she appeared so handsome, with a redness that mixed itself with the shining of her whiteness, for seeing Melintus she but now came from, that she thereby much augmented the passion of Pisistratus, and extremely satisfied that of Melintus, who was in hope to see himself very shortly possessor of so many beauties. Pisistratus saluted her, and Melintus that had far more commodious hours to himself, left him the freedom to inquire of her health, and the fears she was in the day before. He expressed to her his grief for having been so unfortunate as not to have come to her succours, that yielding to none either in affection or courage, it vexed him to yield to them in so good fortune. Ariana received all those civilities, and assurances of affection, with a coldness pleasing enough: being not willing to cause to be produced in him, either an hope, or the resentments of contempt; and presently she was delivered of this entertainment, for they were called to dinner.  
Dicearchus made his ambition and sumptuosity appear to the height in gold, whereof the great dining chamber was full; and the magnificence of the feast discovered the pride of his nature, which he veiled under an affected courtesy. After that dinner was ended, they were to think upon returning to Syracuse, and to make this entry the more agreeable to the people, it was ordered that the prisoners should be carried in the front, bound in a Chariot; the Ladies should follow after in a Coach, and the rest of the company go in the rear a horseback. It was in this equipage they parted from that house, which Melintus left with regret, because of the contentment he had there received. After he had put Ariana into the Coach with his sister, Epicharis, and some other Maids, he mounted a horseback, and joined himself to Dicearchus, the Deputies, and the rest whom he laboured to entertain by the way; and sometimes he went to the Coach with Pisistratus, and Palamede; showing himself as acceptable among Ladies, as he was serious and able with the most ancient of the company that followed him.  
Telephus that had been advertised by Melintus since the morning, came out of the City to meet him; and both alighting from their horses, they could not quit the embracements they each gave and received, being overcome with the pleasure of seeing one another again: yet it became them to follow the troop; and because Telephus had imparted his contentment to all his friends in the Town, the people was prepared to receive him, and filled the streets where he was to pass: so as at their entrance they were astonished at the world they saw. The Deputies had placed Melintus in the midst of them; Dicearchus went near to him with Telephus, Palamede, Pisistratus, and the other of their friends; and he marched as it were in triumph, and with pleasure heard the cries of joys, and the wishes the Syracusians made him, call him father of his Country, and giving him a thousand praises. Ariana believed that she participated of this honour, and felt a thousand delights in her mind, to see him so much beloved, whom she loved so much herself.  
In the end this troop separated at Dicearchus house, where Ariana was left with him, and Palamede. Telephus carried Melintus home with him, and his daughter Erycine; and the Deputies, with Pisistratus and the rest, took their leaves to retire every man to his own house. Some Officers of justice seized on the prisoners, whose condemnation and death followed some days after.  
When Hyperia had used Melintus with all the kindnesses that a true mother might give her own son, she had thought dead, Telephus took him apart, and made him a present of two writings; whereof one was an attestation signed by Hermocrates, wherein he acknowledged, that he had committed into the hands of Telephus, a son of his borne at Lylibeum, named Melintus, who in the place of his heart was marked with another heart, for to be of some use to him, if peradventure he might one day stand in need thereof. The other was a letter of Diocles written to Telephus, while he was still at Lylibeum, wherein he rejoiced for the birth of this son of Hermocrates, and said, that this heart which he was marked with, signified that he should love his Country, and gain the heart of all he desired to have for his friends. Telephus added, how he had happily found these writings, whereof he was not willing to speak to him before, thinking they had been lost; but that now with these assurances, he made no doubt but Diocles would be convinced. Melintus rejoiced to have found out these means at his arrive, and declared to him his resolution to accuse Diocles in public: and that for this cause he had demanded an audience of the people from the Deputies that had been sent to him.  
They celebrated yearly at Syracuse a very ancient feast, to thank the gods for the ruin of Tyrants, and there was always a man of the race of Timoleon, that was Precedent of the games were made, and a Maid of the same family, to present the sacrifices, and give the prizes of the plays. This feast approached, and the Syracusians knowing that Melintus desired something of them, would have him make his demand that very day, and said, that being delivered not only from the ancient Tyranny, but also again by his means from all Subsidies, they could not receive a more welcome pleasure the day of this feast, than to recompense Melintus in some sort for the benefit he had obtained them. He communicated the matter with Ariana and Palamede, and told them he feared that having to make an accusation, and not a request, lest Diocles might not have cause to pretend, that holidays were no days for judgements. He propounded to them whether it might not be more fit, first of all to speak with Diocles; that peradventure they might obtain all of him by fair means, in showing the infallible testimonies they were provided of. Against these considerations it was alleged that they were to make use of the good will of the Syracusians, and that they in the humour they were in, would for love of him pass over ordinary formalities: how it was dangerous to speak to Diocles, because there was no appearance he would be disseized of his goods any other way than by force; and that he would rather go about seeking inventions against the means were left them; that if he were surprised, the trouble of this novelty, and that of his conscience, taking from him the way of replying, would make him be condemned in the field: and that they were not to entreat gently a man that had used malice and treason: but Ariana's reason was best approved, that it concerned Melintus (if he would be known to be the son of Hermocrates, and of the blood of Pyrrhus and Achilles) that this truth should be declared in public, and that it was not sufficient one particular man avowed it. Melintus well perceived, that interessing herself in the honour of his house, she would have her choice approved of all the world; and confessed that in that advice she had expressed a great deal of understanding and spirit. Palamede added, that since it was so resolved, he would entreat his uncle to suffer him to be Precedent of the games; to this end, that being for that day the Chief of all the youth of Syracuse, he might have the power in his own hands, to make Diocles appear, and to arrest him, if he would avoid the judgement. All being thus concluded on, they expected that day impatiently.  
In the mean time Melintus saw Ariana often, and received of her as many sweetnesses as he could be sensible of, being assured of her affection. Never did two persons make so great an esteem one of another, and never did two souls meet with so much sympathy. They had both of them a greatness of spirit so perfect, a wit so discreet, a quickness in conversation so sparkling, and a modesty so majestuous, besides the beauties wherewith nature had so liberally endowed them, that never couple encountered together with so much perfection and equality: and so admiring one another's fair qualities, they framed within themselves so relevate an affection, that every other thing had been to them but a subject of contempt, had they not yet more despised to be presumptuous. Pisistratus too saw Ariana often, and his love increasing every day, he ceased not to give her new testimonies of it: but she received them so discreetly, that he had no cause either to boast himself, or complain; and Pisistratus believing that her virtue and modesty enjoined her to use him after that fashion, could not esteem himself so far off, as he was of his hopes. At length the day arrived, and Palamede having obtained of his uncle that he might preside, made himself Head of all those that would present them at the Plays. Melintus put himself under his Conduct, so did Pisistratus, who that day had a design to show that he was worthy of Ariana: Amyntas that was one of the most accomplished of Syracuse joined him to them, with some others; and Misander himself, that had a mind to mingle his melancholious humour to the public rejoicing.  
Ariana was led to the Temple in the morning by her brother, and the Maids of her train by Melintus, Pisistratus, and the others. She was dressed in a white robe, the bodies whereof were close fitted to her waste, and made her good shape appear: and in the skirts it was enlarged with a thousand folds, and training upon the ground made her look very majestical. She was crowned with a hat of flowers, and her delicate hair in tresses falling upon a neck of snow, did so well set forth the beauties of this divine face, with the whiteness of her neck, whose splendour dazzled men's eyes so, that there was not any one that could support unhurt the sight of so many wonders. She presented the sacrifices upon the altar of Liberty, and made the ordinary Vows: but her fair eyes mocked at the words her mouth pronounced, and sought with their divine beams to ravish from all that beheld her, that very liberty which by her vows she wished perpetual to them. Melintus was so rapt with seeing her, and thinking that this ceremony should presently be followed with another, that would place him in the very height of felicities, that these dear imaginations served him for a pleasing entertainment. Pisistratus regarded her too full of admiration, and desires accompanied with hopes, and the others conceived wishes which they themselves confessed unprofitable, and that were as soon smothered by the little hope they had reason for.  
After the Sacrifices were ended, and the solemnities that followed them, she was led up to a Scaffold that was erected in a great meadow out of the Town, and all the Ladies came about her, after the same manner they had done at the Temple. The ordinary Judges of Syracuse, that were also to judge the prizes, were placed lower; among whom was Diocles, that never expected to be judged himself that day.  
Melintus was dressed in the same scarf, and mounted on the same horse Ariana had heretofore presented to him: but besides all this, that very day she had given him a Bracelet of her fair hair, and tied it to his arm.  
Palamede had desired a favour of the gentile Epicharis, that from day to day made him more enamoured of her, and she not willing to refuse him that contentment in such an occasion, had taken the pains to braid all his hair for him, with ribbons of silk of her colours, for they were all to go bareheaded: The rest were accommodated as much to their advantage, as it was possible for them. The first exercise was horseraces, where the greatest part presented themselves; and after they had made the Tower of the place with many a passade, they ranged them at the entry of the barriers. At the same time the Trumpets sounded, it happened that a Lark pursued by a Hobby, came to save herself in Ariana's hands: thereupon there rose a cry of all the people, and Melintus turning his head, and considering with pleasure Ariana's actions, delayed the time to start with the rest: but perceiving his fault, and spurring up his horse with fury, he soon passed the last; and seeing Misander that was well mounted, and in hope to get first the end of the course, he came justling against his side, and overthrew him and his horse to the ground. Pisistratus that followed him, could not keep his horse from falling neither, when he encountered Misander's: that disorder stayed the course of the rest that came after, the most of them falling also, and not able to keep themselves up in the heat they were in; and this number of men and horses laid along together, made a spectacle ridiculous enough. In the mean time Melintus that saw none but Palamede now as forward as himself, slackened the speed of his horse, being willing to yield this victory to his friend: but fortune would needs acknowledge this generousness of his; for one of Palamedes ribbons of his head untying, flew away, and came to encircle Melintus his that ran behind him in a little gallop, and girt him after the fashion of a Diadem: as if Palamede seeing how Melintus yielded him the crown of the victory, had desired in recompense to crown his friendship: some others interpreted this action to portend a great Sovereignty that Melintus should one day attain to Instantly there followed great applauses when this action was known; and Ariana herself in her mind admired at Melintus his gentile courage. Palamede having had the first honour, and Melintus the second; the rest to put off the shame they were in, thought of appearing again in sundry other games, wherein part of them in one kind, and the rest in others, acquired some glory. Melintus had the prize for having best thrown the Javelin, Amyntas that of the bow, and Pisistratus that of the foot-race, since the horse-race had been so unfortunate to him.  
The fair Ariana gave all the prizes that were ordained, and Melintus being the last that ascended the scaffold to receive his of her hand, the whole field resounded with the noise of the people that had an incomparable affection towards him. Ariana as she presented the prize, said to him in a very low voice; Courage, Melintus, 'tis time the world know what you are. That intention was accompanied with the peoples at the same time: for that Melintus turning his head, while he was still upon the scaffold, the most ancient of the Judges said to him; Brave Melintus, you promised the Syracusians to make this day the demand of that you desire of them: they entreat you no longer to defer this contentment of theirs; that these pastimes might end with a thing that were just, and very agreeable, as some recompense to your virtue would be.  
Palamede was remounted a horseback, with those of his troop, and barricadoed up the Judges with the rest of the people, in such sort that it was impossible for Diocles to get out. Then Melintus being by Ariana's side, made a sign that he concurred with the desire of all, and every one giving him silence, he began thus:  
SYracusians, if I were not pressed by your desires, I should but trouble myself in hindering your recreations, having not a demand to make, but an accusation: Nevertheless, as I am forced by yourselves, and by my own just resentment; I declare that it is Diocles I accuse, and who ought to depart from among the judges to be condemned by them, after he hath been convict of the crimes which he can never clear himself of.  
Then there was heard a great noise, every one looking upon Diocles, and he himself was in great trouble, never expecting this business might concern him: afterward recollecting his spirits, he made an apology, that it was to surprise him, and that this was no day for the accusation of Citizens; yet for all this the people willing that Melintus should continue his appeal, Diocles was constrained to retire from the rest of the Judges, and to go apart, waiting Melintus his discourse, whereupon he might frame his defence: these contestations being appeased with the noise, Melintus went on thus:  
THe gods are my witnesses, if I love not my Country to that height, as to have been in pain to resolve of displeasing one of our Citizens, by redemanding of him the estate that he detains from me; and I believe that if my honour had not been mingled with my interest, I had forsaken my pretensions, and contented me with the fortune I am already in. But these very gods would judge me unworthy of the favours they have given me, if I should let them be lost; and my silence would rather be thought cowardliness than patience.  
There is none of you but wondered whence Diocles' riches came; not being a man that hath store of ships for traffic, or one that hath taken in farm any thing of the Public, which are the ordinary ways from a mean estate to attain to great faculties; fortune recompensing sometimes those that are wholly addicted to her. The goods of the earth fall not from heaven in a moment, not being perceived; their original is not of that nature; but being things that belong to the possession of men, they arrive to no man without the order of succession, or acquisition. I cannot tell by what succession the goods of Hermocrates should fall to Diocles' share; and for his acquiring them, that can he not justify by any title. But since it is necessary for knowing the secret of his affairs, that I declare that of my life, I will conceal nothing from those that express so much affection to me, not doubting but when ye shall have understood the truth, you will render justice to whom it is due.  
Syracusians, the greater part of you may remember Hermocrates, who by a misfortune was banished this City; he thought Diocles so much his friend, as he feared not to commit to his trust whatever he possessed within Syracuse, and the rest of Sicily, to have the government thereof until his return: But Hermocrates having been lost by an adventure that came not yet to light, Diocles that heard no more news of him, was resolved with himself in the end to call his own all that was Hermocrates his. This usurpation had for ever been hid, but that another deposition was made to a friend more affectionate, and more faithful than he. Diocles' accompanied Hermocrates one days journey only out of the City, at what time he went away: but Telephus followed him as far as the Port of Lylibeum, where he was to embark to pass unto Carthage; and Euphrosyne that departed from Syracuse very big, being at that place surprised with the pains of childbirth, was brought to bed of a son, whom Hermocrates desired Telephus to carry to Syracuse, and nourish as his own until he should return, being not willing to expose him to the Sea. Diocles was not ignorant of this truth: for Hermocrates sent him the news of it, and so did Telephus, and to both of them he gave answer of Congratulation with him: I will not be afraid, Syracusians, to tell you that I am that son of Hermocrates, whom you have hitherto thought the son of Telephus.  
(All the people clapped their hands for excess of joy, understanding this strange news; and Melintus continued on.)  
Hermocrates had always loved you, and you have favoured the memory of him, and I know that his very banishment was a testimony of your affection towards him. Therefore I make no doubt at all but you receive these news joyfully; since you have both loved him, and are inclined to love me also. There remains nothing for me to do, but to give you the proofs of what I say, which proofs will appear so clear, that you shall neither make any doubt of my birth, or Diocles' infidelity: for besides that I could produce many witnesses; Hermocrates as he spoke to Telephus, gave him a writing signed with his own hand, by which he acknowledged to have put into his hands a son of his that in the place of his heart was marked with another heart.  
(Telephus who was present gave that writing to the Judges, and Melintus pursues.)  
Diocles himself making answer to Telephus, wrote to him to Lylibeum, that be rejoiced for the birth of this son of Hermocrates, and that the heart he was marked with, signified that he should gain the heart of every one, and be a lover of his Country.  
(Telephus put that letter too into the Judge's hands, which being read aloud, Melintus unbuttoned his doublet, and discovering his stomach he raised his voice, and said:)  
Now Diocles, look upon this heart, that accuses thine of the basest perfidiousness that ever was. 'Tis this heart that reproaches thee for having failed of faith to thy friend; beside, I do dot know whether to this crime thou hast not added yet a greater treachery than that; by taking out of the world Hermocrates, to be more secure of his estate. Nevertheless, I will not believe thee so wicked: But what reasons canst thou allege to colour the usurpation of what was his? For if thou hadst no meaning to keep it, why didst thou mock at Telephus, when he advertised thee not to aspire to the daughter of Aristides by the support of those riches, because Hermocrates son was living? and if thou wouldst not believe that, why didst thou not restore those goods to them of the race of Hermocrates, since they belonged not to thee? See there then the treasures thou hast acquired, without running Fortune, either by sea or land: see there the excessive gain thou hast made return of, giving nothing in exchange for so many possessions, but thy faith and thy conscience which thou hast forsaken. This Traffic was made within thyself, and thou hadst nothing to do but to deliberate whether to get that estate thou wert not to betray thy soul. Thy avarice disputed against thy fidelity, and the decree thy judgement gave in behalf of it, is the sole title of these new acquisitions. But 'tis but to abuse the cares of the judge, and of the people, to seek for other proofs after a case so clear: it stands thee then upon to disavow the writing of Hermocrates, and thy own too; and after that to report the titles of all thou art possessed of; and all this being impossible, I demand of the Syracusians, that they condemn thee to restore the goods thou injustly detainest from me, whereby I might from henceforth sustain the quality of my birth, and that they ordain for thy infidelity that punishment it hath deserved.  
When Melintus had made an end of his speech, all the people began to clap their hands, and to cry out, Condemn Diocles: but the Judges having made the noise cease, commanded him to speak. Then he required time, for to consider upon his justification, and said that he could not answer in the field to all Melintus his impostures: that he well knew how to defend himself from them; but that he must have some leisure to make the falseness of what he had said appear. They gave him the writings that Telephus brought in, and demanded of him if he knew them. He could not disavow his own hand-writing, nor that of Hermocrates, but he said all this made not against him, but that he might have gotten the goods before his depart. The Judges enquired of him, if he had the Contracts of the sale that passed between them. He answered, that they were at his house, and that he only desired time to produce them. They ordered that he should send his son Amyntas who was present, to go bring them: but then he said they were not in place where he could find them, and that he himself had need of term for to put them in order. All these answers being but shifts, and the people never ceasing to cry out against him, the Judges assembled together to deliberate, and after a long time speaking what they had to say, some excusing Diocles, that had to that time been ignorant who Melintus was: others showing more severity, and saying that however the case stood he was willing to retain what appertained not to him. In the end the Magistrate pronounced this judgement; That Diocles was condemned, not only to restore into the hands of Melintus all those goods he held of Hermocrates; but beside, to pay him the revenue for the time he had possessed them; and that for the infidelity he had committed, he was banished for three years.  
The people by their applauses seemed to be well satisfied for this sentence, and Melintus making a sign with his hand that he would again speak, all was silent, and he said; I have hitherto only demanded justice of you, and now I demand a grace at your hands, which is, to revoke the banishment of Diocles in my favour, and for the revenue of my estate for the time that is past, I give it to Amyntas, whose good qualities I esteem, and will be a friend to him.  
Every one having admired the generousness of Melintus towards the father, and his liberality towards the son, he obtained all that he desired, and this last action broke off the assembly. Melintus took Ariana's hand, who was full of satisfaction for the happy success of their desires, and brought her back to her house with Palamede, and their friends. Diocles' full of sadness and shame, retired him to his own house; not knowing whether he were to complain of Melintus, or commend him, from whom in so small a time he had received so many displeasures, and so many graces.  
Dicearchus who had not assisted at the plays, because of his place which he quitted to his Nephew, learned this news of a friend of his that presently went his way to advertise him of it, for to advise together how they were to live with Melintus, since he was known for the son of Hermocrates. When they were upon that doubt, Melintus comes in bringing Ariana; Palamede made the recite to Dicearchus of all had passed, and so to Melintus his advantage, that he was obliged to confess to him, that he rejoiced for that good fortune: But after all was retired, when Palamede said to his uncle, that they were to esteem themselves very happy in this, that nothing hereafter could be found wanting in Melintus for giving his sister to him, since his birth and estate were as great as he could desire them to be; Dicearchus answered, how that deserved well to be thought of at leisure, and for that time could get nothing else from him. This acknowledging of Melintus for son of Hermocrates, was cause of the death of two persons; Diocles, whether it were that he was seized with grief for seeing himself fallen from so great a fortune, or whether he repented for having committed so great an infidelity, was found dead the day after in his bed; and Hyperia, who till then believed she possessed an inestimable good, having a son so accomplished as Melintus, received a far greater affliction when she knew she was not his mother, than she had done when the news was brought her of his death, and not able to resist this dolour, lost her life some days after.  
Melintus having much resented the loss of a person that held the place of a very affectionate mother to him, could not for all that keep any long time this displeasure in his mind, being too much diverted by his hopes; and seeing himself restored to the possession of all that could appertain to him, he thought nothing could now retard his contentments, being assured of the affections of Ariana, of Dicearchus, and of Palamede. He came every day to visit them, and had conceived too high an estimation of his felicity, receiving every moment new testimonies of Ariana's love, had it not been for some coldness that Dicearchus made apparent to him, though he endeavoured to hide it with a feigned courtesy. Pisistratus too rendered many duties to Ariana, and Melintus seeing that Dicearchus made more esteem of him than his custom was, believed it was but to make him a more honourable refuse: yet for all that they were exceedingly amazed, when Palamede having prayed his uncle to resolve on the marriage of Melintus, he gave him this answer, that it was necessary he went first to Corinth with him and his sister, to see their kindred, and advise with them about it: that for this purpose they would go in Pisistratus' ship that was to return, and that they should both prepare them for this depart. Palamede would oppose some reasons to this resolution, but all was in vain; and when he brought this news to Melintus, and his sister, he filled them both with confusion: Melintus made Dicearchus be entreated by Palamede, that he might accompany them in this voyage, to make himself known to their friends at Corinth: but he said, that was not fitting, and it would seem he went to speak of a thing resolved, if he were with them. That answer troubled Melintus still more, not knowing for what design he intended that voyage, and made those difficulties: For he thought he had sufficiently obliged him by saving of his life, and more again by his oath, to make him forget those ancient enmities.  
Nevertheless all prepare to depart, and Melintus one day finding Ariana amazed for this necessity of parting, full of sadness said to her, Madam, what signifies this woeful voyage? I know not what end it may have, but the beginning is too sad, to promise me any good. When I thought myself the happiest of men, I find that good fortune absents her the more from me, and forbids me so much as following her. Melintus, answered Ariana, I know not what my uncle's designs are: but mine shall ever be like yours, and finding that I am seconded by my brother, there is no force can possibly overrule me. Live I pray you in repose as much as you may during this absence; and if my being away causes sorrow in you, let the assurance of my affection diminish it. Madam, returned Melintus, how happy do these expressions make me in so unfortunate an occasion: but may I be assured that no constraint shall ever change your mind? You ought not only to believe this, said she, but you do me wrong beside to make any doubt of it: for it seems you judge me capable of lightness and ingratitude. Pardon, Madam, said he, never thought I these defaults could have place in your heart; but losing so many blessings by your absence, me thinks nothing can ever restore them again to me. What may I hope for more, after the loss of those deceitful assurances that have these late days flattered me? Will you have this misfortune of seeing you no more promise me any good, when my very greatest contentments have brought me nothing but so cruel a disaster? Melintus, says she, all contentments are followed with displeasures, and all sadness with joy: things that are contrary succeed one another: we shall have a little to suffer being separate so long: but after a while enduring, the return will be more glorious, and more agreeable to us: afflict me not I pray you with your sorrows, my own are sufficient for me; and after I shall know that you support with constancy this separation, I shall have courage enough to imitate you. I am of the opinion, replied he, that to have so much courage, is to have but small love: for what strength can be able to resist the displeasures of my soul, being deprived of the happiness of seeing you? Resolution can do nothing to ease an evil, which judgement finds more hard to master, the more it seeks wherewithal to give it consolation: to give over sorrow, I must of necessity give over remembering you, and that can I not but with my life. Melintus, says Ariana, I know this very well that our misfortune is great: but do you complain of it to me, to this end that by my reasons I might endeavour to comfort you? or else that I by knowing it, might be sure to suffer as much as you? For the first you confess yourself that reason can do nothing, and for the other you would be cruel to desire an augmentation of what I endure. Let us rather comfort us on both sides, and as I betray my grief to express a constancy to you, so do you seem to have one too, that being content with our miseries, we may at least be delivered from those we seek to bring one upon another. These words that came from the excess of a rare friendship, brought the tears into Melintus eyes; and it was a pain to him, (so seized was he) to frame this answer: Madam, that I had a meaning to increase your grief, were impossible, having so much love for you: but I am brought to that pass, as not to know how to speak to you; for if I express my sufferings, you complain of me; and if I express them not at all to you, what will you think of my affection? Ariana perceiving his difficulty of speech, to give him comfort interrupted him, and said; I will have no more expressions of this affection: for if I still had need of them, you should not already have received so much of mine. No, my dear Melintus, I am more assured of you than of myself; but these mutual assurances serve for nothing but to make us be more sensible of this accident: if we loved one another less, we should be less touched for this separation: let us then esteem our grief glorious, since it hath so fair a cause; and not complain any more, since we would not have less affection, to suffer the less pain. Melintus' full of seizure, and touched beside at these dear speeches, could not pronounce a word himself, but only kissed Ariana's hands that were all wet with the great tears that fell from him. He was a good while in that posture, and Ariana giving way to an object so sensible, let fall too some tears from her fair eyes, which she dried, willing to hide her affliction from Melintus, who at last addressing him to that he held, never lifting himself up, said; Fair hands, must I forsake you, and abandon the sweet pleasures you favour me with? promise me at least never to receive others in the place of mine. Swear it to me, fair hands, by your sweet restraints, I will believe you will never be unfaithful to me: for you are too delicate to enterprise my death, and too white not to be innocent. Ariana answered, I promise you for them all you desire, and will have you (said she in presenting them to him) kiss them again, for pledge of their fidelity: then she rose up to divert her from her sorrow, and that she might not be taken in this trouble by any one that came in. For Palamede chanced to arrive a while after, with whom they discoursed upon the occasion of this voyage, whose true causes they could not understand. He promised Melintus to advertise him by his letters of all that passed, and to come back himself to Syracuse if need were. For to make any resistance to their uncle, into whose hands Aristides at his death had committed Ariana, they could not think it fitting.  
From that day till the depart, Melintus could never entertain Ariana in private; only he let her see these verses which he gave a borrowed name to, that they might be read before all.  

WHat fortune envious at my love,  
Or what command imperious,  
Absenting Cloris far from us,  
Doth my souls better half remove?  
And shall I for my punishment  
See her depart, and give consent  
To this absence, to my misery?  
Destiny's jealous, heavens inhuman;  
Let me part and her accompany,  
Or in her hands my life retain.   

Will any this injustice offer?  
And must I now till her return,  
The more for love of her I burn,  
The more condemned be to suffer?  
Already fear and discontent,  
And cares that never durst attempt  
To seize me in her heavenly presence,  
At her depart their powers will try  
On me, and threaten my innocence  
With their insulting tyranny.   

Cloris can you be so resolute,  
The god of our hearts to despise,  
And yield to the severities  
Of a sorry force less absolute?  
I cannot make you pity me,  
Nor by my love's extremity,  
Nor by the fountain of my tears,  
Come forth my weep; I will have  
My eyes cast out these arms of theirs  
That were too weak her stay to save.   

And can this so constant humour  
In all duties laws so tried,  
Never to see me be denied,  
And pretend the name of Lover?  
Cloris your love is not like mine;  
My heart with jealousy must pine  
At such a cold tranquillity:  
For but that in your eyes I vent  
My passions livelier ardency,  
I should be smothered where I went.   

Are you so cruel then to leave me?  
Can nothing hinder this remove?  
No sense of pity can her move  
That has no pity to relieve me.  
Adieu then severest beauty,  
Adieu heart full of durity:  
No vainer hope can joy recall;  
Hereafter let us nought pretend.  
I lose my life, my speech and all,  
And I am ruined without end.   
The griefs Melintus felt at this depart can hardly be described; those of Ariana were no less; but she so well concealed them, that Dicearchus never knew the unwillingness she had to be gone. They were accompanied by their friends to Pisistratus his ship, and Melintus could not bid farewell but with his eyes, to the fair Ariana: but this adieu was so sensible to them, that she betook herself with Epicharis into one of the Cabins of the ship, to lie down upon a bed, where she was drowned in tears; and Melintus after having taken his leave of Dicearchus, and quitted the dear embracings of Palamede, seeing her no more, and the ship sailing away, let himself be so carried away with grief, that he fell down between the hands of Arcas, and was a long time ere he returned out of his fainting.  
His suit and his love were now divulged in Syracuse, and the more he was loved, the more pity did his sorrow move: in the end, full of discontent and weakness, he was reconducted to his own home, for he lodged no more now with Telephus, since he had been restored to his estate; and his friends laboured to divert him from his grief, which none but himself could have experience of the greatness of.  
Pisistratus thinking to have the wind of love as favourable, as that that filled his sails, went his way to Corinth, proud with the spoils he imagined to carry away, and the conquest he promised to himself. Dicearchus gave him great assurances, Ariana's discretion forbade him not to hope, and Palamedes courtesy made him believe he would not be displeased with his alliance.  
He nothing wondered for that Ariana shunned his entertainment, judging that in these occasions of being sought to, maids will appear modest. Dicearchus who received him with more freedom, was his ordinary company; and Ariana had no other consolation, but in speaking of Melintus with her brother, and her dear Epicharis. Palamede that became more and more in love with the beauties of this Maid, never ceased rendering her honest testimonies of his passion: but every hour hearing the reproaches of so many lightnesses, he resolved hereafter to make himself be known for a faithful man, and submitted to all the proofs she could desire. Having passed the Isle of Cephalenia, they entered into the gulf of Corinth, to which they had but lately given the name of Lepanto. At last they arrived at Corinth, where Sebastus, a Cousin of Dicearchus, came to receive them, and bring them to his house, and there they were entertained, according as the quality of Dicearchus, and the magnificence of Sebastus required. This old man was renowned for his authority in the City, and more yet for being one of the wisest of all Greece: he brought to salute Palamede and Ariana, a young daughter of his called Cassiope, whom they found very modest, and handsome: but when Ariana heard tell of the marvellous qualities of another sister she had, named Cyllenia, who was among the Maids that served at Juno's Temple, she had a great desire to know her. Her beauty had given her the prize above all those of Corinth, but her wit had made her still more recommendable; and the extreme love which the virtuous Lepantus had to her, lessened not that reputation. Ariana was impatient till the next day came, to go see her; and Cyllenia that heard speak of this divine Ariana, had no less desire to judge of so many perfections.  
Pisistratus being come in the morning to see them, conducted Ariana and Palamede to the Temple; and when the sacrifices were made, these two fair Ladies encountered with so much rapture on either part, that there was never satisfaction equal to that. Their sight was so busy in judging of their beauties, that they never thought of speaking one to another. Ariana had a brightness that far surpassed that of Cyllenia, but sweetness and modesty were very equal in them: the admirations they had then one of another, were since followed with mutual protestations of friendship; and in stead of having jealousy for the advantages that each saw in her companion, the knowledge of those merits bred more esteem, and affection in them. Presently faint civilities were banished, from them, to make place for a freedom that permitted them to conceal nothing from one another. The resemblance of their beauties, and of their wits, joined their souls together, and by and by after, that of their fortunes made this friendship perfect.  
Dicearchus that would put into practice the promise he had made Pisistratus, declared at last to Palamede, that he had not brought them to Corinth, but to make up the marriage between him and Ariana: that he would never while he lived consent to marry her to Melintus the son of his greatest enemy; and that this was the resolution they were to take Palamede astonished at this discourse, laboured to divert him from his design; represented to him the obligations he had to Melintus, the love of his friend to his sister, and after all the oaths by which he had promised never to wish him ill for his father's sake; and that if he failed there, the gods would not pardon him. Dicearchus answered him, that his intention thought but upon Telephus, not on Hermocrates, when he made that oath; and though he were obliged to perform it, yet he was not for that engaged to give him his Niece. Palamede employed all the eloquence he was capable of, to bring him to reason; reproaching the life Melintus had conserved him, and what injury he did himself in expressing so much ingratitude: but nothing could bend this opiniated and vindicative spirit, that would beside have Palamede advertise his sister of it, for to take her resolutions accordingly.  
This cruel news in such wise surprised her, that she lost speech at it; but Palamede seeing this fair sister to be transported with grief, and out of all heart, encouraged his own, for to assure her that he would not suffer this tyranny: that their uncle ought to have over them a mild authority, but not an unjust Empire; that he knew well how to defend himself, and her too from this oppression; and that though he were not at all so engaged to Melintus, the fashion Dicearchus used, sufficiently obliged him not to give way to him. Ariana somewhat restored by this resolution, prayed her brother to try first if he could gain her uncle's spirit by sweetness: but she was much amazed when Dicearchus himself signified to her, that nothing should ever divert him from that design; and not knowing how to be free of her uncle's cruelties, and Pisistratus importunities, she advised to shut up herself with Cyllenia in the Temple of juno, where she should only have Epicharis with her, while Palamede returned to Syracuse to advertise Melintus of what passed, and to resolve together how she should behave herself. The next day she prayed her uncle to give her leave to be some days with Cyllenia, who thinking he could better be assured of her in that Temple, consented; and Palamede feigning that he went to see his friends at Athens, departed, and embarked him secretly, to take the way of Syracuse.  
As soon as Ariana was alone with Cyllenia, she made her part of her grief, and after she had concealed nothing from her concerning Melintus and herself, asked counsel of her what she had to do. You have reason, said Cyllenia, to make your address to me in this occasion; it is impossible for you to find a person more knowing than I am upon this subject, to tell you what is necessary for the ordering your affairs, and avoiding what is to be feared; and since experience hath so well taught me, I will tell the greatest part of my life, which will be the best instruction you can receive. Ariana having desired her to make her so profitable and delightful a discourse, Cyllenia began to speak thus:  

History of Lepantus and Cyllenia.  
Fair Ariana, you have conceived so good an opinion of me, that it grieves me to diminish it by the recite I am going to make you: for you shall hear such sad accidents that happened to me by my own fault only, that you will hardly believe I was ever able to fall into a blindness of that nature: yet in respect of the care I have of your good fortune, I had rather prefer your safety to my reputation with you: that by my example you might receive counsels that may be of use to you. I shall not fear to re-uncover my wounds for your sake, and to strike terror into you, to the end you may escape the same precipices whereinto I am fallen. Some comfort shall I have too in my miseries, if they may but serve to hinder you from being miserable.  
Know that Lepantus whom you have heard tell of, was of Naupactum, a Town not far from hence, situate at the mouth of the Gulf of Corinth, who having lost his father and mother, was not content with the cares they had taken to have him instructed in all necessary studies and exercises; but after he had married a sister he had to one of the chief of Athens, he came to this City, drawn hither by the reputation of the great Philosopher Artemidorus, who was a particular friend of Sebastus my father, for to learn of him the most hidden, and sublimest Sciences. Though those studies were very serious, and that required an entire wit, yet he was not so taken up with them, but that he diverted some times to all other sorts of arts and gentilesses, where he prospered with so much glory, as if his birth furnished him with a good success for all he took in hand. Artemidorus admired this excellent genius, and sometimes entertained my father with wonder at it: He came very often to our house, where they conferred together concerning their studies; and being very courteous, he many times escaped from them to come to speak to me, as if he were tired with the high discourses they treated of; and he passed away the time in my company with so pleasing discourses, that I should have thought his only advantage had been to entertain Ladies, but that I knew how much he was esteemed for things of more weight: so I made a far greater account of him for that, and honoured him as a person distant from the ordinary sort of men: He expressed too, that he took great pleasure in my company, for that I loved to quit the common discourse of Maids, and sought to make my spirit capable of things our custom is to be ignorant of: so as accommodating him to the sufficiency of my judgement, he learned me fair considerations by means that were very intelligible: and when he advanced a little, and saw that I attained him, he strengthened me in that estate with thoughts of a higher nature, and bred in me a disdain of our ordinary conceits, with a desire to polish my soul, and make it more perfect. It seemed he had framed himself what he attempted to love: and on my part being much indebted to him for that pains, I studied to please him, and so to use the means as to be thought worthy of his esteem. Some jealousy I had, when I understood that every body favoured him, or that he pleased himself in any company, having a fear lest the kindnesses of some Ladies might not take him from me, or that he encountered not some one whose wit he might find more equal to his own. It seemed there was a design in it, that those that came to see me, ever spoke of Lepantus, and thought me happy for seeing him sometimes, as if all things conspired to make me love him; and if he came to our house at the same time they gave him these praises, I well saw they were not affected, because every one offered them him with so much honour, and approved what he said with so great pleasure, that I could not be wanting after so many persons, to give censures of him to his advantage. I would have w●●hed he had seen me oftener, and since that seeing there passed few days. ●hat he came not to us, and finding him in a sadness that was not ordina●● with him, I imagined that he loved some Lady that used him ill, or that ●e could not easily see; and came to divert his griefs with me. One ●●ile I wished ill to that fair Lady, for the sorrow he suffered for her: another while I was not angry for the small satisfaction he received, for the inter●●t I had in him; and whatever were the cause of it, I was very glad to see ●im oftener. He had the reputation to be loved of some Ladies; but they we●e such as never troubled my mind; for he told me all the defects he foun● in them, some were too facile, others had no other pride but to get quantity of Lovers, and to keep them all by different means, and because I knew th●t vanities and affectations were insupportable to him, I was sure he would never have a passion for those subjects. I enquired after the places he most hunted: but I found none that deserved his stay, and in my soul I doubte● not but that he approved me as much as he did any else. At length one day when we were alone, I showed him some verses were given me, and in recompense he let me see others he had made himself; and they were these:  

SHall I then suffer an eternal silence  
Of my sad griefs to hide the violence,  
Extinguishing my days most happy season?  
And can this beauty that my thoughts adore,  
The use of voice deprive me evermore,  
After she had deprived me that of reason?   

And shall the ardour of my secret fires  
Still kindle in my soul so vain desires,  
And no excess of rigour mollify:  
Still shall her eye upon me fulminate,  
And pitiless my hopes to dust translate,  
As into ashes my heart multiply?   

Where art thou Courage? have I lost that strife  
That carries all to their own good and life?  
My just resentments where have you remained?  
What magic poison, what deceit might keep  
Your power in most necessity asleep,  
When I these unknown traitors entertained?   

Ah! Whither will my senseless fury take me?  
The discreet bridle of cold fear will make me  
Soon disavow these transports of my tongue:  
The torments of my reigned soul I nourish,  
The enemy that kills me I must cherish,  
If I no reason have, my plaints are wrong.   

They're wrong, 'tis true; my fetters are too fair:  
Causeless complaints my want of worth ●clare:  
To free me of them 'tis not my design:  
The honour of her sight is recompense,  
And I too happy am without offence,  
Always so near my heart to bear her shrid   

Said I her shrine? ah, 'tis herself, 'tis she,  
I feel her there within too cruelly  
Kindling the coal that nourishes my torment:  
'Tis she, her power makes her well appear,  
Who in that heat is pleased, she caused there,  
And lives in fire as in her element.   

Thou that liv'st in me, beauty inhuman,  
What need I speak, thou well beholdest my pain;  
Wilt thou establish peace within thy dwelling?  
What! my ills horror makes thee insensible?  
But if thou art but ice, alas! is't possible  
Thou shouldst not quench the ardour of my loving?   
Is't possible, said I, giving him the verses again, Lepantus should stand mute before her he loves? Not only mute, answered he, but so full of respect and fear, that not so much as a look hath ever given her an expression of my love. You must needs, said I to him, fear her extremely, for I know but very few that would not gladly receive the offer of your service. I wonder, replies he, you should think that so strange, when you are one of those that cannot endure to be loved. Speak not of me, returned I to him, for I have reason not to believe that any can love me: but she you are in love with, being without question very lovely, may well believe what you might tell her concerning your affection. chose, goes he on, I love her not but because she resembles you, and this is that makes me fear, that I be not sensible of the same severity in her, which many others have made trial of in you. I answered him; but it was not Lepantus that made me those offers; and being unsatisfied with my own beauty, I could not believe any great effects could proceed from so mean a cause: beside, I must tell you, that though I be not worth the pain to be loved, I have not hitherto found a man worthy of my spirit; and though some one might present himself, I should use him as if I thought him the least of men, and myself one of the perfectest women. This answer surprised him, and for a time he stood as if he had been without all sense; then recovering speech, he said to me; I have then some cause to fear, that this beauty resembling you, banish me not her sight, if I prefumed to declare my love to her, or at least that she thought not herself offended at me, and her provoked eyes were not to be endured. All, said I to him, are not so ill-natured, and I would willingly know her, to persuade her to think well of you. May it please the gods, said he, you had as much will to help me, as you have knowledge of her. I swore to him I would employ myself heartily therein, if he would let me know her. That would be, answered he, to speak of love to you, which you will never endure. That concerns me not, said I, will never offend me. If she resembles you, replied he, both in beauty and humour, she must have a like thought to yours, and to make trial by yourself of the usage I should have of her, I will tell you, Cyllenia, I love you: What would you answer? But, said I, that is not so, and therefore I cannot make you the answer I would. There is nothing more certain, continues he, and all the discourse I made you, was but to make way for this declaration. I blushed, and ashamed that I had thus forced him to discover himself, told him; Lepantus, if the freedom I use with you cause this boldness, you shall not long time abuse it: for you must either lose this liberty, or my sight. He, nothing amazed, answered me; You will confess than I had cause to conceal my affection from her that resembles you: for I apprehend as cruel an answer from her, as that I have drawn from your mouth. I was now more ashamed than before, for having been so deceived; and but for the coming in of some company, I had gone to complain of him for thus playing with me: yet for all that I flattered myself with a belief that his discourse might well be true; and all night long I did nothing but fortify me in that opinion, that he would but sound me on all sides; and that if my answer had been more gentle, he would have left off feinings, to speak more open and plainly to me. It was a strange resolution of mine: I wished he would love me, and thought I loved without being loved; but when I saw him submit to me without knowing my design, I took upon me so absolute an authority over him, that I would make him suffer as rigorous a government, as if I had hated him, and would put him to the cruelest trials of it.  
Since that time he lived with me as before, thinking I had received his excuse; nevertheless I would not stay there; and my desire was admirable. I had a mind that he declared himself to me, and was for all that resolved to take away all hope from him. So I sought the occasion as well as he did: and one day as I spoke to him of a dream I had had, he told me he had put one of his into verse, which he showed me that very time: they were these:  

FOnd man, what have I done? ah wretched bold device!  
Have I then dared to break theice  
Of a respect so long preserved?  
And hath my fury then at last usurped this licence,  
Me speak of love she heard,  
And for this I am banished evermore her presence?   

Those fair eyes without mercy, more to justice bend,  
Have added for my punishment,  
Fierce anger unto Majesty.  
I feel their venging fire: she flies away unkind  
To a woods privacy;  
And I in following her lose both force and wind.   

Stay cruel one, to satisfy you I intend;  
For if my mouth could you offend,  
My hands to right you shall not spare,  
But all is dark as night, and reaching but my arm,  
I take but a light air:  
Gods! I'm in bed, and but a dream is all my harm.   

O fortunate awake that favours innocence!  
What? her anger, and my offence,  
Are they into air vanished?  
My respect triumphantly laughs at these Chymears,  
And my senses joyed  
Are safe from such fantastic miseries or fears.   

Go, dream, the terror of souls amorous,  
Bearer of visions hideous,  
Brother of shady ghosts and spirits,  
Cruel impostor, go, and plunge thee in the deep  
Of hell devoid of lights,  
Where nought but crimes and monsters sadly keep.   
Are you still then, said I to him, upon this restraint, not to dare declare yourself? Ah Madam, answered he, you have given me a lesson not to put me to that hazard. All women, said I, are not made of this mould. I told you before, replied he, that she, without giving you offence, is made just as you are. I pray you, do not desire me to run that fortune; lest aspiring to blessings I dare not hope for, I deprive not myself by imprudency of those I now enjoy. I see her, I speak to her, and content myself with the esteem she makes of me, since I cannot pretend to be loved of her. But, replied I, what can you hope will become of your affection, if she have no knowledge of it? He answered me; Since she will not hear speak of it, before she knows it, she must know it, before she hear speak of it. What know you, said I to him, but that she knows of it already, and that there remains not something more to be done besides assuring one another? Promise me, said he, that she shall not be angry, and I will take that liberty. I promise it you, said I, for the power I have over her. He answered me, you have all the power over yourself: and for this cause I presume once again to tell you, that it's you I love; and that you are to be fully persuaded of it, since you know well there is not a person in the world besides you that I can love. You imagine, said I coldly to him, to make me answer again in the name of her you love, and to try me the second time. No, returned he, there is no feigning at all in this I tell you now, and what ever severity I may prove, I am forced to say it by the excess of my affection, and by the assurance you have given me not to be offended. I will not be angry with you, said I, since I have been so obliged in the business: but I forbid you ever speaking of this affection: if you love me, you will fear to disobey me; and if you love me not, I will never hear your dissimulations. Then growing pale as if he had received an arrest of death, he durst no longer endure my sight; and casting down his eyes, he said to me; Madam, at this time I am not faulty but for having obeyed you; and since to obey your commands, is to fail; my disobedience to that you ordain me, shall not be any more a crime. You are for all that, answered I him, to resolve you on this, or never to see me. This last blow confounded him altogether, and took his speech away: some that came in upon us found us in a great silence, which he never broke, but in his going out when he said to me, I had rather be deprived of speaking to you, than of seeing you: and since you are so cruel, I promise I will obey you all my life. Nevertheless he could not refrain from taking up this discourse again another time, whereupon I alleged the promise he had made me, and would hear him no more. The day after he let me see these Verses:  

YEs, I have promised, and will keep my word;  
Hard-hearted woman, whose record  
Holds only what exasperates my pain;  
To suffer always, and to hold my peace:  
Inhuman, inhuman,  
Keep then as I do, all your promises.   

Those eyes, that hid a soul without all pity  
Under a veil of amity,  
Assured me to your grace to dare pretend;  
But now they are my cruelest enemies,  
Where me they should defend;  
Why do not they observe their promises?   

When I resolved to send unto your prison  
My heart together with my reason,  
Your beauty promised them so sweet a bondage:  
Upon those hopes to irons they were led;  
But to endure your outrage:  
Is this to keep what you have promised?   

I grant, a spirit without love as you,  
May live as well and ne'er be true:  
But I alone will make my promise certain:  
And heaven, that laughs at lovers perjuries,  
Shall never be in pain,  
To mock, or pardon my disloyalties.   

Again, I vow to hold my peace for ever:  
And if I chance to fail hereafter,  
I will endure the worst of your disdains.  
All things will speak for me; my pain will speak  
That on my face remains,  
And tell the griefs I suffer for your sake.   

My silence more disert than my discourse,  
Will be ready at my succours,  
To let you know the evils that compass me:   

And this amaze which your perfections  
In your presence give me,  
Will tell you the excess of my affections.   

When you consult your glass early, or late,  
The two bright Planets of my fate,  
So worthy to be loved, my love will tell,  
And without crossing that you me enjoin,  
Your own fair mouth as well,  
Shall tell it to you in default of mine.   
I confess to you I had a great power with myself, to use him so cruelly: for there was not any thing in the world I could esteem like him, nor that I had a greater desire to please: yet knowing that he valued nothing so much as a virtue separate from the common, and that he would love me the better for thus resisting his first attempts, I thought I must live with him after that fashion. But judging then that I had proved him enough, and full of joy to see him so touched with love, it became me to yield a little; and changing my countenance, I said to him with a smile, Lepantus, I will have you obey me all your life time, by never speaking of your affection: for I will be altogether assured of it, thinking you too virtuous to be a deceiver. He was so surprised at this discourse, never dreaming on so happy a fortune, that taking me by the hand he could not tell what to answer. At last he said to me, It suffices that you have knowledge enough of yourself, and me to be instructed what you are to believe of either: And you have reason not to desire any words for your assurance; since all the actions of my life shall declare nothing else to you. Lepantus, replied I, you have sufficiently known how much I esteem you: If I must love something, it cannot be but you: I permit you to believe this, and prescribe you no law for your manner of living with me hereafter, being certain that all your desires are regulated by virtue. Madam, said he to me, kissing my hand, my passion hath for its object a thing too perfect, for to permit me a thought that may be unworthy of the cause of it, and I receive no small joy for the assurance you are pleased to have of it, which makes me believe that you judge it as great as it is indeed, though that be very hard to do. Let us leave, said I to him, these common protestations, and live without doubting one of another: 'Tis not your words, that have taught me what to think of you, and one word only from me aught to assure you of my friendship, since I durst say it. There is no more to be done then, replied he, but that you order, how it shall please you to have me live: whether you desire I should declare myself, or else keep still my affection hidden. It were better, said I to him, not to discover us so soon (because at that time Callias sought me) you know, added I, what my father desires, and I must break that blow, before it be known that I have another desire: in the mean time live so discreetly, that none may perceive your design. I receive, answered he, this ordinance for an extreme favour, and you shall see in what sort I shall observe it. From that time we lived together in a most perfect confidence, which we concealed with a marvellous discretion; and there were very few that could suspect us of intelligence: which made us both severally be thought insensible of what belonged to love, as finding nothing worthy of us. I advertised him of whatsoever passed, whereupon he gave me counsel, and received it of me also in that which concerned him: I told him good tales of those that attempted to love-me, how they behaved them in it, and in what fashion they were received; he pitied some, and laughed at others. If there happened any thing to me, I longed to see him, to make my report to: so did he also make me so exact an account of his life, and satisfied all I desired of him, with so much care and respect, that I became too much assured of the power I had in him. But I swear to you, nothing was so agreeable to me, as his discretion: nothing seemed so far from any design of loving me, as he: He never dissembled in presence of all, and of my father too, to speak what he had to say to me, or knew of me, under terms so pleasant, and with so much dexterity, whether in making any relation, or to the purpose of what was spoken in the company, that without being understood of any body, we did understand one another as well as if we had spoke openly.  
For the space of a year we lived after this manner, but in the end having broke the marriage of Callias with much ado, and seeing how difficult it would be for me, often to make the like resistance to the duty I owed my father, since he expressed, that he had no other desire than to see me very soon married to one of the chief of Corinth, I counselled Lepantus to lose no more time, but to discover himself, though I foresaw many difficulties: for notwithstanding that my father esteemed him as much as was possible, and saw his condition as considerable as his own, yet was he far from having a thought of him, being unwilling to make an alliance out of Corinth. We therefore consulted together of the ways we were to take; and although Lepantus received with much joy the permission of demanding me, yet he never left fearing for all that; for he saw that if fortune were contrary to him, he should not only lose the benefit of having me, but besides the commodities he enjoyed before, as to see, and entertain me with so much facility. Well for all this we were to resolve, and I promised him to express in his favour whatsoever my honour might permit: nay, I gave him all the assurances of my affection he could desire; and upon the sadness I saw him in, I told him; Lepantus, are you not content with the words I give you? tell me what you would have them, and you shall see, if I have not a purpose to do all I can for you. Madam, answered he, the honour you do me is so great that my silence in part is for not knowing how to give you thanks. I have nothing to desire of you, but what it shall please you to command me: I had rather from henceforth be obliged to your good will, for the favours I shall receive of you, than to the promise I have drawn from you: but give me leave a little to apprehend the hazardous fortune I am running: there is no midway for me; I must either be the happiest of the world, or dye: for be you assured, that if I see myself deprived of living with you, the readiest death I can find shall be my deliverer. Lepantus, said I to him, fortune, it may be, will not be so cruel to us, and before you lose all hope, I must first lose all sorts of means, whereby you might have satisfaction. The power, answered he, you have herein, is so great, that if you employ it, I make no doubt of my happiness: you have a father that loves you, and that has no cause to hate me: I dare say our conditions are equal: but a light difficulty many times overthrows important considerations. 'Tis not here, as with ordinary marriages, where after the proposition is once refused, the small engagement of the parties leaves every thing in the same state it was in: but as soon as overture shall be made on my part, I must spend all the powers I have, and my very life in the acquiring of a good fortune, without which I can no longer live in the world. I replied to him, Do but on your part what depends on you, and for me, doubt not but I will yet do more than you dare hope: I will believe, the gods will take care of us, and not suffer that we be long-time divided. He took my hand, and kissed it a good while full of transportation, and joy; and to retire him from that trouble, I told him, we were to think upon the means we should use. We advised that though he had kindred at Corinth, yet it were better the proposition should be made to my father by Artemidorus, being a fit man to open the purpose of it as a common friend, and capable afterwards to persuade by the strength of his reasons; and that if need were, others might join in it: all the difficulty was, to have news one of another, in case the business went hard, for to give advice of all should pass, and remedy the disorders might supervene. I could not resolve of trusting any body, and that was a good turn for me, for without doubt I had been betrayed. At last I told him, I had a closet that was over a street where few ever passed, and that at night I would let slip a cord to which he might tie the letters he sent me; and the day after he should have my answer. And so that was resolved on, and he parted from me with much sorrow, fearing he should not see me again of a long time: yet I saw him once more, but it was in company of some others, and he had only leisure to tell me how Artemidore would be for him with an extreme affection, and was to propose the business the next day.  
I waited for that day with a great deal of unquietness, and in the morning I prepared myself to look well, when Artemidore should come to our house: but I was prevented, for my father, returning home to dinner, I saw him look but with a sour face, and walking fast up and down as if he had some thought to vex him. I knew that he came from Artemidore, and made no more doubt of that made him so thoughtful. We dined without a word speaking, and after dinner he went into the Closet where his books were, and sent for me to come to him. I came trembling as if they had led me to execution, but yet as I entered I recollected my spirits, and as his custom was to speak to me as soon as ever any occasion was presented, he said, Daughter, I heard this morning, that you are sought of one whose deserts are well known to you, and to me too: there are difficulties that would divert me from thinking of him, and there are some reasons also to make me have liking to him: but before hearing of any proposal, I was willing to know if you could resolve with yourself to receive him. I desired to seem crafty, and preventing him, said; Father, I beseech you name no man to me, but believe that whatever he be, I shall receive him, so he be a fit man in your opinion. He had spoken thus mildly to me of purpose, well doubting that I was advertised of all, and by and by he perceived my cunning: Then he goes on; No, no, daughter, it belongs to you to make choice of him you are to live with, and I shall see afterwards if your choice be reasonable, because in this judgement you are to refer yourself to me; and I will tell you truly that 'tis Lepantus is your suitor. I could not abstain from blushing, yet thinking how all depended of the declaration I should make in his favour, I answered, Sir, Lepantus hath too many good qualities, and I have too often heard you valuing him, to find any thing to be disesteemed in him: if he be agreeable to you, I shall soon let you see that I have no other design but to obey you. This answer, though it seemed very fair, made my satisfaction too manifestly appear to him: he thought the demand was not made, but that I desired it, besides the mistrust he had heretofore of our intelligence together, and there was nothing could more have hurt us, than the knowledge of this confidence that was betwixt us without his leave; and though he had had no other cause to complain of Lepantus, that provoked him enough to tell me with an angry countenance, I see well he does not displease you, but I fear lest that which most pleases you in him, be not that that most offends me: go, I will think of it; and in the mean I forbid you seeing him. Those words strangely amazed me, and I went out as full of confusion, as I had been before of hope.  
At night I knew by Lepantus letters, that Artemidore had proposed our marriage to my father, and remonstrated all the considerations that might move him to it, which he something coldly harkened to, and promised to think upon it. I counselled him to employ all the friends he could make to persuade my father, before he gave any answer to his disadvantage; because I came to know that he was greatly offended at our affection; in such sort that there passed no day that those that had a power over him did not speak of this business to him, whereupon he would give no resolution.  
Lepantus was very well beloved at Corinth, and as soon as his aim was known, there was none but desired he might succeed in it: Every one made wishes for him, and saw with sorrow the torment he endured, because of my father's aversion: And for that I was in some estimation there too, they thought nothing could better be fitted together than we two; and I believe this, that never were humours so equal, he not only loved all that was perfect, but had rendered himself so accomplished withal, that whatever fair qualities men have pain to acquire, seemed to have been bred with him; for me I will not say, I was of that perfection, but yet I could not approve but that that was so. We did ordinarily give the like judgement of all things; our courage was elevated to the same degree; and we affected the same kind of life both. Do but see what happiness I had possessed if we could have come to have lived together. My father was blamed of all for opposing himself to our desires, there being none but would have judged this affection to have been nourished of a long time between us, and that he would have attempted nothing but by my permission.  
I protest, it despited me that the world believed I loved him, and I was sorry that his merit was so known to all, as it was impossible but it should be known to me too. I would have wished him less accomplished, that it might have been doubtful whether I esteemed him or not; and not knowing how to be revenged of this common opinion, sometimes I was resolved to abandon him, and I consented to make myself miserable, and him too, for to ruin this belief at our own cost, it is true he has paid very dear for that glorious and haughty virtue he taught me; and that I well served myself against him, of this greatness of spirit to which he had advanced me, that persuaded me, it were better to lose all the contentments of my life, than it should be said, I were in love. In the mean time I considered not how there is nothing more lawful, than to choose by honest means him one thinks she shall be happy to live with, and when that happiness is arrived, one cannot but be thought wise. That error made me commit faults I shall deplore all my life time.  
Though my father had let Artemidore see, that Lepantus was not to think of me, yet he refrained not sometimes to put him upon that discourse, and represented to him what fault it was, to refuse this good fortune for his family: that he despised in Lepantus the qualities that other fathers would desire to meet with for their daughters; that if he loved me with so much passion, it was rather a happiness, than a thing to make him culpable, that the whole City would have an obligation to him, for the stay of a person of that merit with them; for the greatest part of his estate being about Corinth, he offered to settle himself there, and never forsake my father; but all this prevailed nothing upon him. That which rendered Lepantus recommendable, was that which did him the most harm; my father having this woeful opinion, that he was rather to choose a son in law less able than he, and that would be more careful of his affairs. But yet I believe the strongest reason was, that my father (although a knowing man) retaining the nature of old men, that will have all their opinions pass with authority, was envious of Lepantus' knowledge, and desired not to have ordinarily at his house a person that could contradict him: though Lepantus well knew how to give way to all he said with much discretion. My father had not so much reason to refuse him, as I had to love him, and he could not but perceive the desire I had, because I was not able to suffer any body that spoke to me to the disadvantage of Lepantus, and far rejected the parties that presented themselves. I know very well that if I had declared to my father that I could not consent to any other search, he would at last have been flexible to the tenderness he had over me, and the merit of Lepantus: but fearing lest so absolute a resolution came to be known in Corinth, I never had that assurance.  
In the mean time I was tormented with Lepantus vexations, and with my own too. I saw him at the Temple, but rarely; and with a face so changed, that Death hath not a more forlorn one. His letters were not filled now but with the misery of his life, and modestly he remembered me of my promises. I acknowledged he had reason, and that his good fortune was in my hands, but I could not resolve me: and this severity that made me insensible to his griefs, and prayers, in the end wrought in me also an insensibleness to his affection.  
All that came near me, were instructed to speak in contempt of Lepantus, and because I knew him too well to believe them, if they told me any thing that were contrary to the truth; they did only disguise his virtues, and made them pass for so many vices. Thus the charms he had to make him be loved of the ablest, and respected of the meanest, were but an imperiousness, and a tyrannic authority which he usurped upon all that haunted him: his discretion was dissimulation, and his courtesy artifice: all his good qualities in their judgement were so many defaults. I confess to you, I began by little and little to give place to their reasons. Lepantus' absence effaced every day out of my memory some one of his perfections. I said that peradventure my affection blinded me, and made me imagine merits that were not in him: that those that were without passion judged of him otherwise: at last believing I was far more quicksighted, and more perfectly judicious, I perceived not that I became blind, and without all judgement. Nevertheless there still remained in me a certain respect for Lepantus, that I durst not offend him by expressing my coldness. I was ashamed to give him that displeasure, that never yet had the fortune to displease me. His letters were still full of love and sorrow for seeing me no more; and because he knew that the gentilesses, and points of wit he wrote, were very agreeable to me, he ever mingled some of them, maugre the cruelty of his fortune, and the torments he endured; and many times he so forced himself, that laying aside his griefs, they were throughout filled with sweetnesses and elegancies, and to any but myself would have seemed to come from a man very well satisfied.  
For me, I knew well his constraint, and lamented it: but then when my affection diminished, I changed my opinion, and judged that if he had been much in love, he would not amuse himself with those finenesses: if his passion carried him away to express some despair to me, I said it proceeded from the respect he ought me: if he gave me any advice, I took it not well he should trouble himself to counsel me, or that he mistrusted my own direction: if I met him, and he appeared to me with a very altered face, finding no more in him that which heretofore was so acceptable to me, I thought I had reason to withdraw my affection: and if some hope made him recover his ordinary complexion, I said he was not much troubled with love. In the humour I was in, it had been hard for him, so to have composed his face, and his actions, as I should not have found something to distaste in them. He judged well that the cause must needs be very ill, that produced so great a change: for that heretofore he did nothing which I would not have approved: yet his discretion always so perfectly maintained itself, that he never complained of me, what cause soever he might have: He never made known any of the assurances he had received, to express what wrong I did him. So he dissembled his grief, not daring to accuse me, and hoping I would use his affection better: but that good will I had had for him, began to be quite extinguished.  
At the beginning I made answer to his letters, and gave him new assurances, with some instructions for his conduct: since I took upon me to represent to him the difficulties: a little after I received his letters without answering him; and at last I sent one of his back again without seeing it, and closed as I had received it. The same night that I did his affection that outrage, and that he received that usage so unworthy of him, I understood how he hardly escaped dying: his affliction assailed him in such sort, that they thought he would have been strangled, but for the remedies were brought to ease him. I thought I could no more receive his letters, since I suffered the suit that Callias renewed. I let myself go with the common opinions, that all the women that live in the world have not husbands so perfect, and yet are no less contented with those they have; that it were better to obey one's father, than satisfy the desires of a person that was before unknown; and if there remained in me any consideration for Lepantus, I said that he having a strong, and a constant spirit, would learn resolution by the loss of me, and with this vile reason I defended that cruelty that sent him death into his bosom.  
I often considered upon the excess of his respect and love, that never suffered him to make so much as one complaint of me; and the resolutions he took afterwards, made me plainly see that this silence proceeded of no little resentment he was affected with. In the end I consent to the marriage of Callias, and he is received at our house: Every one wonders at my resolution, and how Lepantus had so disengaged me from loving him. Callias was not very vicious, and had no remarkable imperfection in him: but he was of the number of these middle and indifferent sort, for whom those that have wit and courage, have so much contempt. At first I compared him to the most part of them I knew married, and I found that he might equal them. But all on the sudden, see my traitorous memory, that had sometime concealed Lepantus from me, how it came to represent him with all his perfections; and making comparison with Callias to him, I found so great a difference, that I was ashamed of the fault I went about to make. In stead of a right shape, and majestuous countenance, I saw a heavy body, and graceless; in stead of that exalted spirit that handled rare subjects with so much facility, and so pleasingly diverted me, I found a languishing entertainment, and that was capable of nothing but the meanest things: in stead of that so native courtesy, and gentile carriage, I saw a man that observed no civilities but those he took from the imitation of others. I begin to regard him with coldness, afterwards with disgust, and in the end with a contempt that was more cruel to me than to him: nevertheless I had let all things be resolved on, and could no more go back.  
The day that Lepantus knew the agreements were to be signed, when I went to the Temple, he came near me unseen, and said to me, Never will I be brought to make any reproach to you while I live; but the death I am going to seek will never leave you in repose. At the same time he withdrew himself from me; I had not known what to have answered him, so much did his sight and words trouble me; and seeing him no more, an horror seized me, and so great a shaking withal, that I could hardly stand upright. Yet recalling all the resolution was left me, I thought it had been the last agony of our dying friendship.  
I estranged therefore, as much as I could, Lepantus from my imagination, and rejected the exact consideration of what I was going to do; but when all was settled, and by my hand too, and that I had shut my eyes to take this poison, coming to open them again, I perceived that all those that loved Lepantus, could no more endure the sight of me: the pity of the sickness he could have no cure for, made them have me in detestation, and they esteemed me unworthy to have been so well loved of him: in stead of a common rejoicing there was a general silence, and there was none but the most contemptible persons that expressed any joy. All this amazed me, one while Lepantus presented him to my imagination, reproaching me with my infidelity: all his fair qualities came to assault me one after the other, and seeing Callias in the place he was wont to hold, I turned away my eyes, and could not endure him. Every one acknowledged my frenzies; but they imputed them to my humour, which they took to be something proud, and singular. At last the day arrived that I was led to the Temple betimes in the morning; and having known that Lepantus was gone out of the City, for not being a witness of an action so shameful for me, and so unfortunate for himself, I never had so great desire to hear news of him as then, to learn what would become of him. After I had been married, I perceived at the door of the Temple a man that was not known, but I knew he belonged to Lepantus; and guessing he was not there but to bring this news to him, I said to him passing by, Go tell thy Master what thou hast seen, and at what hour soever it be, come again to tell me what he has done after thy relation. Judge, fair Ariana, what care I could have of him, after the action I came from. The rest of the day I was so full of trouble, that to see my face they thought I had been sick. It seemed the cruelest of thoughts attempted to assault me all at once, for to put me into the greater disorder; and sometimes they provoked me with such fury, that but for the restraint our sex is obliged to, I believe I had given up myself to desperation. My soul was already filled with these confusions, when about evening I knew that one asked to speak with me. I presently imagined it was news from Lepantus, and went in great haste, but trembling withal, to know what the matter was. I saw it was the very same man, that having taken me apart, told me, with the tears in his eyes, that having passed in a Squiffe as far as Naupactum, he found Lepantus that attended him upon the bank of the Sea, to whom he told what he had seen, with that he heard me say; and how ●●pantus had answered him. Stay not a moment to go tell her again, what thou art about to learn; and suddenly he had got up to the promontory that avances into the Sea, and from thence precipitated himself into the Gulf, he being unable to have come near to hinder him. Hearing this woeful news, I cried out, Oh gods! I have made him dye; and staying no longer by the man, I bade him withdraw himself, and I went again into the great Chamber all in trouble, and with wand'ring eyes. They enquired what I ailed, but presently I fell into a weakness. My father, Callias, and the rest astonished for this accident, laboured to bring me again, and by force of remedies I opened my eyes: then I was carried to my bed, where I was taken with so violent a fever, that it troubled my judgement, and made me furious. I lost all respect and knowledge, and when Callias came near me, I cried out, Take away that Monster, that would devour me; ha the villain beast! I am undone, see his venom that he casts upon me; and I retired me as much as was possible. If my father came to restore me to my wits with gentleness, I said to him, Ha! hangman of thy own blood, go cruel man, think not to put me into the claws of this Dragon: I will kill myself rather. No, no, thou shalt never carry me thither; see Lepantus there coming to my succours: then turning me again, I said, Generous Lepantus, how do you come to my defence, since I was cause of your death? What, have you pity enough of me, to go set upon him? Well, on then, go kill this Monster, and take heed he does not enwrap you with his tail: Courage, my dear Lepantus, see already one paw struck off; Courage, his blood is lost; Lepantus, one blow more; look, look, he is dead: then I rejoiced, and thought to embrace Lepantus as victorious, and demanded his pardon for making him dye, with a thousand prayers, that were followed with a torrent of tears. I cannot relate to you all my frantic humours, knowing nothing of them but what they told me afterwards: but my transport ceased not, but when Callias and my father betook them out of my presence. Then returning to my ordinary sense, I could not believe what they told me of my madness, although I felt great vexation of mind for the loss of Lepantus, and the displeasure of my errors: And I considered into what misery I had enengaged myself, when I preferred to be miserable, before any should know that I loved, since I was then both miserable, and known to be in love. But again my fever and fury took me, as soon as ever they returned to see me; as three or four days after, seeing how my life was endangered, and no appearance this marriage could be consummate, for what I had expressed for Lepantus, and against Callias, they were resolved at last to assure me, that he should not be my husband: then my fever much abated; and when all the agreements were quite broke, because of my aversion, by little and little I recovered my health; but I had still left so great a grief for Lepantus death, that never since could I find any contentment. At all instants his fair qualities, and the obligations I had to him came into my mind: the fault for having brought him to dye, is to me so cruel a remembrance, that it gives me no repose; and I have found too true that he foretell me. In the end I was resolved to put myself into this Temple, for to spend my days in the service of the gods; since I so ill knew how to use the good fortune they had offered me amongst men. And this is that, my dear Ariana, I have to tell you of my life, that it may serve you for example, and hinder your falling into the same faults, that have been cause of so much affliction to me, for I see that your affairs take the very same way that mine did, and if you be no wiser than I, you will make yourself as miserable.  
Ariana who had given great attention to this discourse, than broke her silence, and said; I have had much contentment to hear the particular of your life, but as much displeasure withal to know the misfortune of it. I find that in some things you are unblamable, and in others excusable; because you were injurious to forget the merit of Lepantus, and to be changing in effect: but on the other side, the authority of a father is very great, and I do not know how I myself should have resisted it. Heretofore, answered Cyllenia, I thought this authority was not given to fathers, but to this end, that we might not doubt to render the respect we ought to the wisdom of their counsels: but since, examining all things, I have found that there is nothing so tyrannical; and that they only hide their own fancies under this cloak of goodness, and love towards us. Ariana, assure yourself, our parents have their designs quite differing from ours; after we have well considered of choosing a person, virtuous, accomplished, and conformable to our humour, to pass our life with in honour and repose, they come to regard him with other eyes; they will be only satisfied, and suffer no inconvenience: our happiness is the least thing they consider; if they have some little cause of hatred against that we desire, or some interest that obliges them to desire what we avoid; to conceal the true cause of their own passions, they will blame ours; they will represent us the obedience we owe them, and what shame it is to make ourselves be spoken of, serving them of our very virtues for to make us miserable: then they employ their power against our weakness; for there is no doubt (and you will confess that in this subject I have made myself very learned to my cost) that if our understanding be not well fortified by reason, it will many times waver in the execution of an enterprise, and be driven out of the considerations upon which it was founded, by other very light ones for the most part. We ought to do nothing we have not well thought of, and approved; that nothing afterwards may be capable of making us repent, for the lightness of our judgements; for repentance makes the thing ill, which of itself was good; and the election that is founded upon a certain science, and firm discourse of reason, ought never to be changed. Thus when we have known a person to be of a happy birth, endowed with all honest qualities, and for these just respects have found him worthy of our friendship, and have been willing to express this esteem of him, that we have received his assurances, and returned him ours; there is no more consideration that should disengage us; our soul is given to him, when we have entertained his: heaven hath allied us, our virtue can no more consent to undo what we have done, and the thoughts that move us to dream upon other subjects, are all of them criminal, and against the honour of our sex, that cannot endure there should exist a man to whom in effect we have given our heart, while another shall enjoy our bodies: this meditation alone is a perpetual executioner to us, whatever face we put on, and what pretence soever we take for the excuse of our Fightnesse.  
I perceive, interrupted Ariana, that you have well studied these considerations, and shall have cause to mistrust my own courage, since yours being grounded on so good sense, was able to give way to difficulties. Truly, replied Cyllenia, peradventure you need not fear falling into the like errors, that I have done; because the authority of an Uncle is not so powerful, as that of a father, and besides you have more strength of wit than I: but above all, never persuade yourself that the affection you have for Melintus can be annihilated, whether by resolution, or by time; for fear you abandon not upon that hope all the prosperity of your life. See then, Ariana, when by a mature knowledge of virtues and deserts, two wills are encountered equal, 'tis now no more a passion, but 'tis reason that loves. We cannot hope that ever such affections should be separate from our souls; there arrive many times accidents that may trouble us, and make us receive false opinions; but when those fancies are dissipated, the first impressions that cannot be dissolved, appear as ingraved as ever before, and are felt in their whole strength; and judge you in what estate one is, if during the trouble of judgement, one has committed so great a fault as cannot afterwards be repaired. We must confess, answered Ariana, that men have much more force in resolutions, than we: for when they have once conceived a design that is of importance to the good of their whole life, they maintain it to the very last breath, and do all things possible to put it to effect: chose, our spirit slackens to the least obstacle; we know not what will become of us; and our feebleness hinders us from clearing the meanest passage, for the attaining of supreme felicities. 'Tis true, pursues Cyllenia, but why should not one woman be found amongst us, to express a resolution, and to relieve the honour of our sex? Fair Ariana, if I have thus failed for want of courage, do not you the like; acquire to yourself with much glory, much contentment. Nature hath given us secret desires, not only to conserve our lives, but also to make them happy: for the first she has given us the love of ourselves; and for the second she will have us love some other thing: but because the love of ourselves is first, the more the thing we love resembles us, the more happy are we when we can possess it. So when two souls meet, alike in goodness, sweetness, and virtue, 'tis a treasure cannot be esteemed; and such a rancounter is made but once in an age: and these are to despise all the hindrances they find of uniting themselves together, to the end they may enjoy the perfect contentments of so fair a friendship; for after they be once known and loved one of another, if it chances they be divided, it cannot be without an insupportable violence, and without suffering afterwards as cruel punishments as they had promised to themselves pleasures of eternal conversation together. We must needs think, replied Ariana, that these felicities are exceeding great, since the only hope I have to live one day with Melintus, ravishes me: for to tell you the secret of my thoughts, I do not believe that any thing but the death of one of us, can ever be able to keep me from them; I think the time long till he be here arrived with my brother, that you may judge whether I have reason to love him; and that we may all together take counsel how we are to divert my uncle's designs, for the favouring of our own. I shall be very glad, answered Cyllenia, to give my advice in those conferences, and assure yourself my resolutions shall not be less generous.  
These fair Maids entertained one another often thus, during the absence of Palamede, and attending with impatiency his return, and Melintus his; sometimes the gentile Epicharis interposed her counsels, being loved of them both, as much as her wit and discretion deserved.  
Dicearchus many times came to see them, and pursued his Niece to consent to his design, whereupon she referred her resolution to the return of her brother. Neither did Pisistratus fail of his respects to her, hoping to gain by the expressions of his affection, what Melintus had already acquired by so great a number of merits and services, that Ariana's, disacknowledgement had far surpassed that of her uncle, if she should have so much as made a doubt of satisfying the promises she had so solemnly sworn to him.    
The end of the first Part.   

ARIANA. The Second Part.  

The first Book.  
SInce the cruel depart of Ariana, Melintus had banished from his soul all kinds of joy, and seemed to have lost by absenting her from his sight, so many fair qualities that made him admirable. This spirit so generous, so sage and courteous, now languished overwhelmed with grief, without any appearance of virtue, receiving his friends respects without expressing a resentment to them, and altogether careless of returning any. He hated as much as his disease, the divertments that might ease him, and cherished nothing but that profound sadness that consumed him. He had no contentment but when he redemanded of his memory the dear pledge it had in keeping the divine Idea of his fair Ariana, which never presented her to his imagination but with a pomp worthy of her, accompanied with lights that rendered her all bright, full of charms and graces, and who seemed to send him amorous regards for to comfort him in this absence, and assure him of her fidelity. But still this pleasure was troubled with many vexations; presently was bred a wish to see those beauties otherwise than by Idea, than followed an impatient desire, if not to possess them, at least to enjoy the favours that were heretofore permitted him: but this unfortunate desire being acknowledged impotent and destitute of all succours, replunged him into the excess of his afflictions.  
They are but senseless people that can be happy by fantasy; because their judgement nothing operative, and unable to discern the false from the true, they receive and resent their imaginary good things as true ones. Melintus on the contrary was not miserable but for having too much sense: the solidity of his judgement repelled, in despite of himself, these vain illusions; and brought him to see and feel the truth of his disgrace, with all the miseries that accompanied it. If he sometimes laboured to relieve himself by meditations of virtue, which teacheth to contemn humane accidents, as things that are without us, and whereof we have not the jurisdiction; and if his courage made a hard strife to find comfort in this separation, considering it was to end, and that evils that have a term prefixed, receive consolation from hope; suddenly a thousand cruel suspicions overthrew his resolutions. He found that the hasty voyage of Dicearchus had no apparent thing in it, that could be to his advantage; he considered the prosperity of Pisistratus, who seemed to triumph over him, having had the power to carry away in his ship, and to hold in his own disposition his dear Ariana, with those that disposed of her: the advantage of this rival to be in his own country, assisted by his friends, favoured with a thousand means, having Dicearchus present, Ariana and her brother, whom he would endeavour to overcome by all the ways he could invent; whilst himself in the mean time was far away, uncertain of all things, in vain provided of friends, in vain cherished and honoured of a whole Nation, and in vain restored to his illustrious and rich inheritance, since all this power was of no use to him. These murderous thoughts, sustained by many importunate reasons, whereof his wit was but too fertile, pursued cruelly his hopes, and deprived him of the only remedy that was capable to sweeten his troubles. His body participating of the griefs of his soul, had without doubt fainted under the burden of so adverse a fortune, but for the last preservative was left in him, the assurance of Ariana's affection, and of Palamedes friendship, which he could not doubt of. Palamede was a friend proved by too many rencounters, to have the least suspicion of; and to distrust Ariana, were to add a crime to his misfortune, which the faithful love of that fair Lady could never pardon, nor all the Ocean wash away.  
How many times for all that, said he, overpressed with his fears, and wavering betwixt assurance and doubt; Fair Ariana, whose resolution good or ill, shall give me either life or death, pardon a little apprehension in him that lives in ignorance of all that happens to you. If I fear, 'tis that I doubt of myself, and not of you: when I imagine to myself the force of your divine spirit, I feel a power coming into my soul, that drives out all defiances; but to believe that I should be the subject of an invincible constancy, were a presumption that would make me unworthy of you. It may be the knowledge of many merits in another, shakes your resolution at this present, and makes you avow that they have more equality with the greatness of your virtue: it may be also you are at this hour generously resisting the attempts of a violent pursuit: Me thinks I hear of one side the humble supplications and advantageous promises; and of the other the counsel full of feigned affection borne out by a tyrannic authority, by choler, and threatenings: if this last be true, ha! how I envy you so glorious a trial of love; and how I would cherish the happiness to be exposed to violences yet more cruel, to let my passion appear victorious over heaven and earth. How am I happy, if in these occasions you have me for your sole object, and how happy do I esteem you too for the joy you receive in triumphing over their attempts and practices. Thus was it, that Melintus flattered his passion, and strengthened his dearest hopes; and if sometimes a little doubting mingled itself with his pensiveness, it was so modestly, and casting always upon himself the fault that might cause his misfortune, that even Ariana could not have taken offence at him. But the blessing he expected still floating in a Sea so full of storms and shelves; and his present evils giving him a sense of all their force, he relapsed continually into his first trouble. His friends were oft constrained to take him away by force out of his solitude, and bring him to the public recreations, and sometimes to hunting, where he ever stole away from the company, and had no contentment, but when he was in place where he might freely think that he had none indeed.  
If honours had been capable to have satisfied him, the Syracusians had cured his melancholy, establishing him chief of their Counsel, and erecting for him a statue of brass in the public place, with this honourable Inscription, To the generous Melintus, that loved his Country better than himself. But all those favours were but a weak remedy for his evil: his face well showed the displeasures of his mind, so strangely was he altered, and his body could not long resist any more, being deprived of nourishment and rest. His days were nights, because he no more enjoyed the light, having his sight so overcome and weakened by watchings; and his nights were long and tedious days, since he never tasted the sweetness of sleep.  
About the end of one night which he had passed away in this manner without sleeping, after having rolled in his mind a thousand different imaginations upon the subject of his cares, he spent the rest of the time he had to lie a-bed, in making these verses under the name of Cloris, which he ordinarily supposed.  

YE sad and miserable nights,  
That waken all my un-delights,  
While sweet repose you give to all things else beside,  
Shall I thus complain for ever?  
I have suspired enough, let me in rest abide,  
And tell me not, that Cloris is not here, however.   

The Moon already waxing pale,  
Doth to the Sun's arising vale,  
And yet unquiet slumber still my eyelids close:  
To me alone under the heaven,  
Day passeth without light, and night without repose,  
When e'er of Cloris sight I feel my sight bereaven.   

Messenger of approaching day,  
Goddess, whose beauty, I dare say,  
Borrows a thousand graces of her I adore,  
Comest thou of her return to tell me?  
Thou runnest in vain for me, return, O fair Aurore,  
If thy coming be the news of day light only.   

Wherefore, Postilion of the day,  
Powr'st thou down tears which look so gay?  
Criest thou for pity to behold what I endure?  
What may thy laughing then portend?  
Is't not for this, to comfort me by an augur,  
That I shall quickly see the beauties I attend?   

Alas! how sweet is this conceit?  
The heaven too-jealous will defeat  
This blessed hope, I fear, of my felicity.  
But thou that bring'st the day again,  
And rendrest to our eyes the fairest things that be,  
Why mayst thou not return the object of my pain?   
Melintus thus passed a miserable life, having his soul perplexed with griefs, impatiencies, suspicions and fears; full of uncertainties and doubts, which is the woefullest estate a Lover can possibly be acquainted with. 'Tis ordinarily between two extremities that virtue, happiness, and tranquillity consists: but there is nothing so cruel in love, as the mean between hope and fear; 'tis a space filled with confusion, despite, and rage. The mind will always be acting, hearing and judging; if the senses make no report concerning that it loves, it knows not wherein to be employed, it is troubled and lost, and turns its forces against itself to be tormented and destroyed.  
At length the arrive of Palamede who came from Corinth retired him out of all those doubts; but it was by the assurance he gave him of the misfortune he so feared. He learned the tyrannous resolution of Dicearchus, the violent pursuit of Pisistratus, and the cruel persecutions Ariana suffered, for not failing of her fidelity to him. And yet he was more content to be assured of a mischief that was without remedy, than to live incessantly in uncertainty and fear. His courage permitted him not to despair, and the faithful assistance of Ariana and Palamede was too powerful a stay to his resolutions. But the Letter he received from Ariana, made him entirely confident, and obliged him no longer to defer his depart for Corinth; the letter was thus:  
Ariana to Melintus.  
AT length we have known the cause of our voyage; they will have me marry Pisistratus: but to consent to that, I must first lose the remembrance of you. But yet I know not what will become of me, if you assist me not with counsel and succours: having nothing for my defence but the friendship I bear you, which is an invincible reason, though not fit now to be alleged. Came away therefore as soon as you can possibly; and to the end you may not doubt any thing of me, know that I permit you all the enterprise you have a mind to.  
There needed Melintus but few such words, to make him go to the very extremities of the earth; and instantly he resolved with Palamede to furnish a vessel with all things necessary to serve them at all occasions; and because they were in doubt whether force was not to be employed, they provided them of the fairest and best arms they could make choice of. But although the love of Melintus wholly possessed him, yet he omitted not to consider of things that were more remote; and knowing well that sooner or later Nero would come to understand that they were living, he was resolved to send Arcas to Rome, to learn if there were no speech of them, and he gave him charge to make his address to Maximus, to whom he sent rich presents, in recompense of the losses he had suffered for their sakes. Having given order on that side, he entreated Telephus to take the care of all the goods he left in Sicily; and when he was ready to depart with Palamede, Amyntas came to offer himself to him with so good a grace, to accompany and serve him in that voyage, that he could not refuse him. Erycina herself too that always loved Melintus as her brother, prayed him to receive him; being desirous that Amyntas, who continued passionately to love her, should render her this testimony of his affection, to go serve him in his enterprise, that was not altogether unknown to her. Melintus, Palamede, and Amyntas, accompanied with the most courageous youth they could be assured of, departed, and took the way of Corinth. The wind was favourable to them at the beginning: but presently there arose a Southwind, that forced them to go far away to land in Italy, whatever Art the Pilot could employ. This going out of the way, and reculing of a voyage were very cruel to Melintus, that every instant thought it the fatal hour, when they would constrain Ariana to marry Pisistratus: Nevertheless a month and more was he thus to pass, before the wind changed: but as soon as ever it was good for them, they put to Sea again. The second day after they were gone, they saw coming towards them a light Vessel, that seemed to have a purpose to set upon them. Melintus because he would not be surprised, put a Casque on his head, took a sword and a Target, and advertised Palamede, Amyntas, and the rest to do the like, and make them ready to fight. They knew instantly that it was a Brigantine of Pirates, that was very soon with them, for they were too courageous to fly; and when they were hooked to them, Melintus first leapt into the Pirates ship, and was presently followed by Palamede and Amyntas, which strangely amazed the robbers, because they had never been accustomed to be prevented, nor to fight only for their own defence. This astonishment they were put to was attended with a thousand blows, that Melintus and his valiant friends gave them in a moment. Melintus had already struck down at his feet five or six soldiers, and all flew before him; but he was stayed by the valour of a young Pirate extremely handsome, who wore a gilt Helmet, covered with plumes that over-shadowed his face, and gave him at the same time both fierceness and grace; and therewithal he made appear so much force and address, that Melintus judged him an enemy worthy of himself; so he instantly assailed him, but he wondered to see that in what place soever he addressed his blows, he still found there either his Buckler, or his Sword. In the mean time it behoved him also to think of warding the strokes of so valiant and skilful an enemy, that gave him no rest, and for well defending of himself, left not well offending of his enemy. Yet Melintus had the better of him, because by little and little he made him give ground, and at last avoiding a blow he slipped besides his weapons, and passing up to him, ran him into the left arm. They came then to closes; Melintus after much wrestling threw him to the ground, and having drawn his sword out again, was going to kill him, but that one stayed his arm: He looked upon him that held him, and saw a man of a good mine, that had no arms at all, and that conjured him to give life to so gentile, and so valorous a Captain. Melintus was contented to take his sword from him, and advertised to have his blood staunched: at the same time he regarded what Palamede, Amyntas, and the rest did, and he saw that they had slain the greater part of the Pirates, and that the others demanded their lives, seeing their valiant Captain vanquished. This young Sea-robber having somewhile held down his sight to the ground, because he was ashamed of his defeat, lift it up at last to regard Melintus, and said to him, I had never been so cowardly as to have given you my sword, and be beholding to you for my life, but that I have a design to employ them both at your service: for you must needs be the most valiant of all men, for having brought me to this estate, when I never yet could find any that resisted me. I pray you therefore, receive me for a soldier that shall well know how to obey you, since I knew not how to overcome you. Melintus touched at these words, that parted from a heart very generous, and feeling in himself some motion that invited him to love him, whether for the grace that accompanied his countenance and speech, or else for a secret affection that all valiant men have one to another, reached him out his hand, and having embraced him, assured him of his friendship; he only signified to him that he wondered, how being so honest and so valiant, he addicted himself to a Pyraticke life. Eurymedon told him (for so was he called) that as soon as the trouble should be appeased in the ship, he hoped not to be condemned by him for any of his actions.  
Melintus answered him, that he would be very glad to learn his fortune, and because that Vessel was full of dead men, he repassed into his own with his friends, and made the fair Eurymedon enter too, and him that had kept him from being killed, whom he told that he would not willingly arrive at Corinth but in the night. Eurymedon, who had often run over all those Seas, and saw already appear a far off the promontory of Naupactum, and the Gulf which but very lately had the name of Lepanto given it, since that unfortunate Lover had precipitated himself into it, told him they were very near it, and they were then to cast anchor to stay in that place. His advice was followed, and the two ships separated, for not falling foul one of another. Eurymedon having seen that his hurt was not very great, applied to it a drogue, which he was sure would close up the wound by the next day. Then Melintus prayed him to make known his fortune to them, being impossible they should better employ the time that remained until night; and when they were all retired into a Chamber, he began the history of his life thus.  

History of Eurymedon and of Pasithea.  
I Believe there is not a person in the world that can better testify than myself, how much important to the life of men is the encounter one meets with to be bred and brought up; for if I have done good actions hitherto, I am altogether indebted to this nurture for them; and if ill, I hope to be excusable by the same. You will confess this truth, when I shall have told you wherein I employed my time, since I came to have any understanding; for of that which happened to me before, I could never be able to learn any thing.  
Within the Ionian Sea there is an Island called Corcyra, upon one of whose sides looking towards Epire, is a retreat of Pirates, where it is impossible to assault them. I was brought up amongst them in that place, without ever having knowledge of what parents I was borne; only they made me still believe, that I was of an illustrious blood. I know not whether they stole me from some King being but a little child, or if it were only to put more courage into me: but I have always observed that they bore a great respect to me, and that from my very infancy they ordained some of their number to serve me; and since that as soon as ever I was able to bear arms, they voluntarily submitted them to my obedience; and thought their conquests most assured, when they could have me for their Chief I cannot tell from whence the opinion came they had conceived of me, or whether some divining ginger had not promised them some great fortune, if I commanded them. At last I found them ever ready to obey me, excepting only in that which most concerned me, to know in what part they had found me. Nevertheless I thought them to be excused for refusing me that contentment, when I considered they were in fear to lose me, and that as soon as I were restored to my Country, I should seek their ruin in stead of serving their fortune. I believe that which made them hope for something out of my courage, was an action I did, being not fully yet nine years of age. Some of the Pirates had made a prize, and coming to part it before me, two of them took a quarrel against one; and to make him quit what he had, held their swords in their hand against him. I could not suffer that unequal combat, seeing him that was alone ready to be killed, though he employed all his industry and courage to defend himself; and without dreaming of my age, or the danger, I took into my hand a little sword I had, and went to set upon one of the two. I know not whether he feared to offend me, or whether by despising me he gave me the more facility to strike him, but I took him a blow into the belly that made him dye in the very instant. Presently those that were present came to embrace me, and gave me a thousand praises, for not having endured the cowardliness of those two that had assaulted one alone. As soon as I came to be twelve years old, they began to carry me to Sea, and whatever care they took to hinder my getting out of the ship, when they were going to fight with another, they ever found me in the midst of the Combat, my sword in my hand, and having some enemy under my feet. At length when I came to have about fifteen years, it happened that he that commanded all the Pirates died: they chose me for their Captain; rejoicing, as they said, for that they should from henceforth obey a Prince: the ceremonies that are usual to them in such elections were observed, and they made me an oath of an inviolable obedience, provided, I should maintain their privileges. A little while after, to show myself worthy of that charge, I went to Sea with two ships only, and sailed to the Coasts of Egypt: I was so fortunate as to take five great Vessels laden with Merchandise, and with them I returned to Corcyra, where I made part of my booty to all my companions, who ceased not commending me, and calling me their good and their valiant Prince. In two years I made them richer than their last Captain had done all his life time: yet I will not repeat to you all the prizes I took, nor all the hazards I ran, to come to that which has been the most sensible thing to me in all my life. I attained with age more understanding; and having always lived among them in this error, that the greater the massacre and booty were, the greater also was the glory; by little and little I began to be of another opinion: for it seemed more glorious to me to pardon the vanquished, than cruelly to kill them; and I took a far greater pleasure in giving away what I had gotten, than in making treasures of it. That made me consider that the life of these Pirates was miserable, and that their actions were repugnant to those that generous courages ought to put in practice. That which finished to bring them into detestation with me, was that for my good fortune, being gone very far in course within the Hellespont, we were surprised with the winter at our return, & constrained to stay in port a of Greece until the Spring. While those that were with me counterfeited Merchants to be safe in that place, and sold what they had taken; I lost not my time, but went through all the fairest Cities of Greece, resting some time in every one, where I learned lightly the exercises that are proper to them that follow arms, and the civilities I saw observed by the most Noble. In these Schools I well knew that that where I had been bred, was founded upon wicked Maxims, and that which our men call valour, and glory, was properly assassinate and robbery. Notwithstanding after having stayed more than six months to instruct myself thus, I failed not to put again to Sea with my companions to return to Corcyra.  
The second day after our parting, we perceived a great ship that came from the coasts of Asia, and seemed to take the same course we did: presently we resolved to set upon her, and having a while coasted her, at length we invested her, and entered in. The sight was well enough maintained by those that were within, among whom was the Captain that defended himself a long time against me: nevertheless I made him in the end desire his life, and I pardoned all the rest in favour of him. I had hurt him in many places, and was careful to make his wounds be dressed; then I carried him with his ship and men to Corcyra. My return was extremely acceptable to the Pirates, as well because it was along time ere they had seen me, as for the greatriches I brought, with this Prisoner that was an Armenian Prince, who went from thence Ambassador to Rome from Vologeses, King of the Parthians, and from Tyridates' King of Armenia. The knowledge I had that he was a Prince, made me have a particular care of him; I visited him very often, staying till his ransom might arrive, but I found him in so deep a melancholy, that nothing was able to comfort him. In the end having urged him many times to tell me the cause of his sadness; this Prince that called himself Araxes, finding in me some civility, and a great deal of freedom, resolved with himself to let me know what his grief was, and spoke thus to me; If I had no other displeasure but this to be wanting to my King, whose affairs suffer a great prejudice by the stay I make here, you will confess that I have reason enough to be afflicted: but though the trouble I am in for this be extreme, it is far surpassed by another torment I endure. I will not, continued he, conceal from you that which causes me so much pain; and for all you are the sole cause of the imprisonment I am in, I receive so many courtesies from you in my misery, that I will willingly make you part of my fortune, as the best friend I have in the world. Know, pursues he, that Tyridates my Master is the legitimate successor of the kingdom of Armenia, by the partage that was made between him and his brothers, Vologeses and Pacorus; of whom the first that was the elder, reserved to himself the kingdom of the Parthians, and gave to Pacorus and Tyridates, the kingdoms of Media, and of Armenia. But the Romans under the Conduct of Corbule, having made themselves the stronger party in Armenia, expelled thence Tyridates, and made come from Rome Tygranes a stranger Prince, grandchild to the ancient Archelaus, King of Cappadocia, and Nephew to Archelaus the King of Troas, who had always lived in hostage with the Emperors; and established him King of Armenia. This change was very sad to the greater part of the Armenians, who regretted their natural King of the race of the great Arsaces': On the other side many loved Tygranes better, hoping that the Romans, from whose hand they received him, would better know how to maintain them in peace, than Tyridates who could not resettle or preserve himself, but in continual fight against them. Nevertheless Vologeses having assembled all his forces to restore his brother into his kingdom; after there had been advantage and loss on either side, we ordered the matter so, that Corbulo was agreed, that Tygranes should abandon his pretention to Armenia, and that Tyridates should remain peaceable possessor of it, upon condition he went to Rome to receive the Diadem from the hand of Nero. While they were in preparation of this voyage, I was sent in the mean time to the Emperor, for to assure him of my Master's fidelity, for gauge whereof he hath left his daughter in the hands of Corbulo; but I had Commission to pass by Treas to see King Archelaus, upon certain conditions that concerned him because of his Nephew Tygranes; and in that place I encountered all the good or bad fortune I am to hope or fear while I live. This King has no sons, but the disgrace is well recompensed by the fortune he hath to have a daughter named Pasithea▪ that is without doubt the fairest and most lovely Princess of the world. After I had spoken to the King, I was brought before her to salute her; and as soon as ever I saw her, a trembling surprised me, that presaged, as I believe, the miseries that were to come upon me for having seen her. I left not for all that re-assuring myself; but after some discourse I had with her, I felt that I was so taken with her love, that with astonishment my voice failed me at every word. I could not finish that interview, for the contentment my new growing passion received in regarding her: On the other side, I was ashamed to be with her, and unable to entertain her. Yet at last I left her for fear of being troublesome; and retiring me to the lodging was provided me, I began profoundly to meditate upon that which had happened to me. I considered the beauty, and all the graces of the Princess that forced me to love her, and whereof I found nothing capable to disengage me: on the other part I had regard to the small hope I had to be ever happy with her, because she was destined to Tygranes her Cousin, who would ever be more considerable than I to Archelaus (though I were of the race of the Arsacides) for being the only remainder of his blood. Those cruel thoughts were indeed strong enough for to ruin my hopes, but not to choke my affection; and the violence of it every moment increasing, I had no way to ease my ardour but in seeking to see her: and so far was this sight from bringing me any remedy, that I felt a thousand desires entering into my soul by troops when I saw her, that never meant to leave me, but render me the most miserable of men. I knew well that the more I saw her, the more I resented my evil, and yet nothing was so cruel to me as to be obliged to leave her for the performance of my voyage. All I could do, was, that being with her when I took my leave; Madam, said I, I am going to Rome, whence I would be glad to return as happy as Tygranes, though I would not willingly bring away with me the qualities he acquired there. She asked me what I meant to say? 'Tis this, answered I, that he is come back from Rome with the hope of possessing you, but hath brought away with him abase and servile spirit, that makes him unworthy of so high a fortune. I had not taken the boldness to despise her Cousin in this manner, if it were not a thing known, that his spirit was abjected and grown degenerate, having been so long time retained in hostage at Rome. She blushed to hear me speak so, and without anger, said to me; If this hope be so high as you say, it may give courage to those that want it; and take it away from those that have too much of it. I had only leisure to return; 'Tis not to lose courage when it is not lost but with one's life; and this is the resolution I take in the search I will make for the honour of your good graces. She could not answer me, because some company came near us; and I was reasonably well pleased for having expressed my affection to her, and the poor esteem was made of Tygranes, before I was separate from her. I parted from Archelaus Court with a purpose to go to Rome, and to return as speedily as I could into Armenia, to acquit me of my charge; where when I had stayed as little as I possibly might, I was resolved to go re-visit Pasithea, the privation of whom was so cruel to me, that all the moments I passed without seeing her, were so many years to me of insupportable punishments. Judge, Eurymedon, continued he, what misfortune 'twas to me to be taken by you, at that time my very voyage itself was tedious enough to me; and what kind of life I must lead in this place, where peradventure I lose the fortune of my Master, and the dearest of my own hopes? Then tears abundantly flowed from his eyes, whereat I was touched, but yet more to know that I was the cause of so great a trouble in the affairs of Tyridates, and the loves of that Prince, all which obliged me to say to him; I believe your greatest grief comes from not daring to hope for any courtesy at our hands; but I will let you see that my soul holds nothing of the cruelty of Pirates. I think the gods have sent you hither for my safety, and it may be too they have made me be borne to serve you. From this present I give you liberty, without expecting your ransom any longer, and render you all those that remain of your men, with the riches you have, which are still entire: but 'tis upon condition you grant the request I will make you. I have had a long desire, continued I, to quit the life of these Pirates, amongst whom I have been educated against my will; and thereupon I related to him all you have heard touching the incertainty of my birth, and the manner of my living until then. Now, added I, you may make your voyage to Rome, and depart when you please: I only desire this of you, that we may live eternally friends, and that you tell me where I shall find you at your return, whether in Armenia, or Troas; for after having abandoned this Isle for ever, I will return to you in equipage worthy of a Prince, that we may no more be separated.  
Araxes at the beginning of this discourse, knew not if he should believe what I said▪ but seeing at last that I spoke seriously, he cast himself upon his knees before me, and said, That he made no doubt but my birth was of the most illustrious, since I did actions that appertained not but to the gods, and the greatest Princes of the world: that if he received of me so great a grace, he had an obligation to me which all his services could never acquit him of, and that if he were so happy as to see me one day in Armenia, I should acknowledge what resentment he had of so singular a favour. In the end he made me a thousand oaths, to assure me that never man was so redevable to another, as he should be to me, after having received an office so important to his life. I lift him up again, and having embraced him to swear yet to him an eternal friendship, we consulted together, and found that he required at least two months for his voyage: he demanded of me that term, within which time he would without fail render himself in Troas with the Princess Pasithea, if there arrived to him no second misfortune; that yet he ought not so to call the encounter he had made of me, since he had gained more in this mis-adventure, than he could ever have acquired in the most happy accidents of his life. I furnished his vessel the best I could, wherein I made to be re-imbarqued all his men, with what he had lost; beside I added to that some presents of my own, to the end he might remember me, whilst I should dispose of my affairs, to forsake secretly those that had bred me, without their doubting of my design. My companions had sorrow enough to see so much riches carried away from them; but they respected me with so much honour, that they never durst express any thing of it to me. At last I let Araxes depart from our Isle, after many embracements, accompanied with protestations of friendship. Afterwards I was some time amongst the Pirates, living more than ever after their mode, and approving all their actions, to the end they might have no mistrust of me. But when I saw the time approaching that Araxes had given me, I began to choose out those that were the most affectionate to me, to follow me in my enterprise. One day having assembled them, I represented what our course of life was, incessantly to purchase wealth without knowing whereupon to employ it. For, said I to them, in the ordinary life of men, I find excusable those that labour to accumulate goods, for the sustentation of their families, or for satisfying their ambition, which cannot be done without their succours. But we have no children, for whom we might have cause to travel; and for the degrees of honour, we defer them not to the most rich, but to the most valiant. What fury then possesses us to thrust ourselves incessantly into peril, and to trouble the repose and commerce of all other men? This same valour wherein we surmount others, may make us gloriously acquire in the wars, that which now we infamously gain by rapine. If all the world fear us, we fear all the world also; and measuring our number with that of the rest of men, we have far the greater part our enemies. Others again have this advantage above us, that being in our power, either they go out by ransom, or else receive their death with innocence; and we are certain being taken, to dye by the most shameful punishment can be inflicted upon villains. Besides all this, I do not believe the Romans will let us any longer live in repose: there is no doubt but in the return from the Parthian war, Corbulo will scour the Seas of Pirates as easily as Pompey heretofore did. The more valiant we have been of late, the more complaints have we provoked against us; and the more we have made ourselves redoubtable, with the more puissance and resolution will they come to assail us. Why shall we continue living after this fashion, when we may be seen among other men with more honour and safety, and with as much advantage? I believe I will not give place in valour to any Captain in the world, and I am assured there are no Soldiers in Corbulo's Army more courageous than you: in the mean time we let them bear away the spoils of all the earth, and the applauses of all men; while we amuse ourselves unworthily in running over the Sea, to wait for the passage of a Merchant. Let us go, my companions, in place where we may purchase wealth accompanied with glory: Let us be friends to the Romans, or enemies; either take part in their victories, or else join us to those they assault, and hinder their Conquests. There is it we shall prove ourselves invincible, when all our actions will be authorised with the right of war. If I be a Prince, as they would make me believe, I will achieve actions worthy of my birth; and if you retain still in you that great courage I have had experience of in so many encounters, you will not doubt to follow me in the design I have to render our good fortune perfect, and our glory immortal.  
When I had finished speaking, they all cried out to me that they were resolved to live and dye with me, into what part soever I would lead them. I took of them an oath differing from that they had heretofore made me, and prayed them to keep our enterprise secret; while they put apart what they had most precious, and made them ready to follow me, when I should feign to make choice of them to go out a coursing. I was afraid to arrive at Troas sooner than Araxes; so as I let a month still pass, after which I took leave of the rest of the Pirates, with a purpose never to see them again. I confess to you my joy was extreme, when I saw myself escaped out of their hands; and I thought upon nothing but the new fashion of life I went to lead, in which I promised me all sort of contentment and honour. But it is very difficult for those that are accustomed to vice, entirely to quit it, and not again to relapse into their first manner of living, when the occasion freely offers itself. Two days after we were parted, when we had gone round about the Peloponesus, and were passed the Cycladeses, as we entered the Egean Sea, there comes a ship to us, that was found so fair a prize, as it was impossible for me to hinder those that were with me from going to board her. I said enough to them, is this that same generous resolution we have made? is this the oath that ought to be inviolable? They prayed me to give them this last satisfaction, and that it was only to take leave of their trade. In the mean time they carried me away, did I what I could, towards that Vessel, what ever remonstrance or command I laid upon them; and being joined to it, they entered pell-mell in: as for me I stayed in the brigantine with my arms across, unwilling to have any part in that action, which I was to suffer in despite of myself; only I desired them to kill no man. Some while after I saw them return charged with quantity of fair Stuffs, which were going to Rome, and came from the Levant: they made pass into our ship young children very fair, rare horses, and store of precious Merchandises that had been destined for to serve the strange luxury that then reigned within the chief City of the world: they took nothing but what was rich, and left the rest with their lives, to those that were in that ship which they let depart. The greater part of my men fell down on their knees before me, to entreat me to pardon this disobedience, and promised that hereafter they would inviolably observe all I should command them. I was constrained to do what they had a mind to, than we pursued our course.  
We had purposed to go land at Troas, and had already discovered the Island of Lesbos, when there appeared to us another Vessel that came from the Islewards: My companions assured me that I should find in that occasion whether they would not from thenceforth observe what they had promised me, and were resolved to let her pass: but when she was near us, I heard the voice of a Maid crying out, Save the Princess, friends, save the Princess. I said to those of my ship, that there was an occasion worthy of our courage, and that we were to assail those ravishers. Presently we went to board them: it was a ship of robbery like unto ours; whereinto I leapt with my companions: I found there small resistance, though those of the Vessel were well armed, and we put all to the sword; then I entered into one of the Cabins, where I found an ill-favoured counterfeit man, assisted with four or five soldiers, that held a young Princess, the fairest 'tis possible to see. I gave three or four good blows with my sword to those wretches, and suddenly this villain cast himself upon his knees before the Princess, and said to her; That if she prevailed to make me save his life, he would learn her something that was of great importance to her. She harkened to what he would say, and after she had a while spoken to him in private, she addressed herself to me, and prayed me to prepare to fight with another ship that was presently to assail her; then she said to me; Know, brave Warrior, that the man of the world I most hate, had a design to carry me away far off from my Country, and with a very pleasant artifice: for so to work his purpose as I should have an obligation to him, he made two Vessels be in a readiness; the first was this, which he had kept hid behind a Rock along the Sea-coast, where I was to walk with my Maids, and in it were those that took me away, whom you have defeated: the second is still in the Port, and he is to go aboard it, feigning to come to my rescue; to the end that after he had attached this, I should believe he had saved me from the hands of this man, whom he chose the most ugly he could find, to make me have the more horror at him, and believe that I was extremely obliged to him for such a deliverance: then he was to conjure me by his affection to receive him for my husband, in recompense of so notorious service; if not, he was resolved to carry me away by force into his own Country. Now, pursued she, if you desire to perfect my obligation, I beseech you not to spare him when he shall aboard us, as he is purposed to do presently; that he may receive at your hands the reward his treason has merited. She spoke with so much grace, that I ceased not admiring the sweetness of her discourse; and I answered her; Madam, if the duty that commands us to serve all Ladies, did not ordain me this obedience, your birth, and so many fair qualities I see in you, oblige me too much to give you this contentment you desire; and I think the time long till this Traitor appear, for to punish him before your eyes for so great a villainy: but to the end he may not fail to join us, I am of opinion that we pass into my Brigantine, that is very like this, and better provided of all necessaries: then after having set up the same colours, we will sink this, with what remains of these miserable men; and he will not fail to take us for the same Vessel that brought you away. This proposition was found very good by the Princess, who smiled hearing the invention of it, and at the same time struck a thousand wounds into my heart. I took her by the hand, and made her pass into my Brigantine: and instantly I caused diverse holes to be made in that we came out of, whereby it took water on all sides, and a little after appeared nothing of it above the Sea. I had impatiency till this other Vessel arrived, so desirous was I to please this fair Princess, whose sweet Majesty already bound my heart with a thousand chains: At last I see it appear, and withal gave order to make them feign a slow flight, and that when they should aboard us, they would let a part of them enter: I took only a helm, and put down the visiere for fear they should be shy of entering, seeing unknown faces. The Captain of the other ship was armed just so when he leapt into ours, and he said as he entered, Ha traitors! I shall reward you well for carrying away such a Princess; but he found what he never expected, for I received him with so great blows, that he perceived with astonishment that they spared him not. I swear to you I was ashamed for so facile a victory: yet having promised the Princess to punish him before her eyes, I struck him down at my feet, and willing to cut off his head, I made her be called, that he might dye in her presence: but when I snatched off the helmet from this wretch that lay at my feet, I stood immovable to see it was Araxes. Then my spirit was troubled with a thousand confusions, to have thus treated him I went to seek in Troas; and on the other side I had promised the Princess not to spare him: whereat she wondering, I very sadly regarded her, and casting me down at her feet, said, Ha! Madam, how miserable am I, I must either disobey you, or kill my friend. She embraced me to lift me up, and said to me; How is't possible you should be friend to so wicked a man, being so generous as you are? Nevertheless I will be satisfied for your sake, with the punition he hath received, and will have you give him his life. I thanked her for this grace she gave us both, and went to make Araxes blood be stopped, which he lost on all sides. He was so ashamed and confounded for what he saw, being yet scarce disabused, that he durst neither lift up his eyes to me, nor to the Princess that was the fair Pasithea his Mistress: yet he let his hurts be accommodated, and in the mean time I went to demand of the Princess, if she desired not I should wait on her back to Lesbos. This is that, said she, I beseech you to do. Presently I made Araxes be returned into his own ship, and recommended him to his people, commanding them to follow mine. Having given order for every thing, I had now no more care but to entertain this fair Princess; and although the friendship I had promised Araxes, strove to impeach the birth of my love, yet it kept not so good guard, but that there entered by little and little much passion into my soul: and I did myself turn away my thought from that friendship, to favour the surprise, and betrayed it of purpose to let myself be taken. This Princess made me so great thanks, that I knew not what to answer to her obligeant words; and the more she expressed herself redevable to me for the succours I had so timely brought her, the more she reduced me to have need of hers. After having assured her of my service, and that she might dispose of my life, I entreated that she would not declare Araxes for author ofher carrying away, which she promised me.  
At length we arrived in the Port of Mitylene, where there was already come running together much people, with the King Archelaus her father, who was then in that I'll, and much troubled to set out Vessels for to follow after those that carried away his only daughter. We descended, and the King coming to embrace his dear daughter, demanded her how she had been saved. See there, said she to him showing me, the man to whom I owe my honour and life, which his valour hath conserved me. The King came to embrace me, and assured me that I might dispose of all his estates, in exchange of so dear an assistance. He asked who those might be that would have stolen her away; and I well knew she would oblige me, at what time she answered; I believe they were some of these Sea-coursers, of whom there was not left a man, for that their vessel was sunk to the bottom. Araxes, replied the King, has not he met with you? No, answered she, and it may be he has taken some other course.  
But, continued Eurymedon, I cannot but recount to you the people's rejoicings for Pasithea's safety: there were nothing but exclamations of joy round about us, and so great a throng, that we were in danger of stifling. I knew very well that she was infinitely beloved, but the cause of that love I shall tell you some other time. I commanded those of my ship to return to Sea along the coast, to go meet with Araxes his, who yet appeared not, and to advertise him not to fail to return to the Court to have himself cured; and that the King had no suspicion of him: I retained by me two or three of mine only, and with them accompanied the King and Princess to the Palace, where they would have me be lodged as long as I desired to remain in that Country. Archelaus demanded me if there were no means to know whom they had so great an obligation to. I told him, they called me Eurymedon: as for my birth, that I knew it not myself; and how they that bred me would persuade me that I was of a royal blood. They were satisfied with that for the time, then conducted me into a chamber, where they prayed me to repose: but I told them my travel had not been so great, as to oblige me to take rest before night. I reconducted them into their retiring chambers; and by the way admired the number of Lords that came to kiss the Robe of Pasithea, and express their extreme joy to see her again. And indeed the qualities of this Princess were admirable, as I came afterwards to know. Besides her marvellous beauty, she had so many charms in all her actions, whether in the sweetness of her looks, or in the obliging familiarity she used to all that approached her, that she acquired not the benevolence only, but the passionate love of all those that could see, or speak to her. All the strange Princes that came to her father's Court, could no more part from her: those of the Country that had been acquainted with her of a longer time, kept in their hearts her old-inflicted wounds, and the Gentlemen that were ordained to serve her, were all pale and languishing, to feel themselves consumed by an hopeless love. As soon as ever she desired any thing, all the company round about her ran to have the happiness to render her service: if any indisposition happened to her, it was a general affliction; and if the gods had desired humane victim for the restitution of her health, there was not a man in the Isle, nor yet in all Troas, that would not have sacrificed himself for her. It is not for any affectation in her to make herself be loved; nor that she employed any kind of artifice thus to acquire all hearts: but it was so natural to her to please every one, that not thinking thereupon she produced always these effects, and sometimes she was angry at herself for so rare a gift of nature that contrary to her desire gave hurts to those very persons she had a will to oblige. It was then no great marvel, if being so universally beloved, she was so of me too: but yet herein was it very strange for me, to obtain without pain the honour of her esteem, which so many Princes of a long time had sought with a thousand duties; and by such an hazard as scarcely can at any time be encountered. Araxes being departed from our Island by the favour I showed him, was gone in all diligence to Rome, than he returned again into Armenia; and presently he had rendered himself in Troas, having employed no more than two months in all those voyages, so pressed was he with the desire of seeing Pasithea; and the King Archelaus desirous to pass away a part of the Summer in the Isle of Lesbos that appertained to him, he had followed them because he would not forsake the Princess, whose good graces he laboured to gain by all sorts of artifices. In the end not able to obtain of her any favour that might encourage him to attain them, he was resolved to carry her away, when she were walking upon the coast in company of her Maids only: for that she had set hours to be free in without any man to be present. But consider what misery was that of Araxes; and what fortune I had; he would have the Princess obliged to him for his artificial deliverance; and my good fortune would have me give her a real succours, which entirely procured me her affection. I acknowledged her good will to me by this, that being in her chamber, after the King was retired, she said, she would walk in the Gardens before supper, and gave me her hand to express that she would be waited on by me. I was so taken with this honour, as I am not able to repeat to you the transport I was in. I confess, I had not yet loved any thing, & was but new to begin in the entertainment of Ladies: I was young & without experience of the civilities are to be observed; having been always upon the Sea, & among Pirates: only I called to my remembrance what I had seen in Greece during the stay I there made. Much company passed before us, and others followed us with the Maids as far as to the Gardens, where the Princess separating from the rest, that went off out of respect, brought me to a walk, and we were left alone together: then desiring to make her some entertainment, as she seemed to invite me to do, I said to her; Madam, what greater fortune could arrive to me, having a purpose to see this Court, than to have had entrance by so favourable a means? She answered me, This encounter is happy only for me, because without your finding me at Sea, you would ever have been a welcome man here, but if I had not met with you, I should at this present have been the most miserable of the earth. Madam, replied I, there is no Judge but will avow that your encounter being infinitely more agreeable than mine, I must be the most happy in this occasion; if it be not for this, that so rare a sight bring me not more misery than I can yet foresee. I can very well, said she to me, take from you that fear, and assure you that if my sight be not happy to you, at least it shall never be unhappy, as long as your good fortune may depend upon my will. The greatest glory I have in the world, is, not to be hated of any; and I must be so in a great degree of you, if after so many satisfactions you have given me, you should receive little from me. I was strangely ravished at those obliging words, and me thought they gave me occasion to press her further, that I might receive greater testimonies of her favour: but contenting herself with that she had said to me, she broke that discourse to demand of me, whence came the acquaintance I had with Araxes, Madam, said I to her, I can tell you nothing of this subject, unless I recount to you my whole life, and because I will not conceal any thing of it from you, give me leave to remit that entertainment of you, until you shall be more at leisure: I beseech you only to believe, that I have too little known him for having ever participated of his maliciousness. Remember you then, said she, of this promise: for I hope to receive a great pleasure by understanding your fortune; it can be no ordinary one, and I expect to hear of you actions very contrary to those of Araxes. You must know, continued she, that the first time he saw me, was, when being sent to Rome by Tyridates, he passed by Troas to see the King my father. I know not what design he had for me; but after he was willing to express an affection to me by some sighs, he was so insolent in taking his leave, as to speak contemptuously before me of Tygranes my Cousin; thinking much to avance his own affairs, by reculing those of Tygranes, whom the speech went I was to be married to. I had temper enough not to give him offence then, by returning to this indiscretion, what would seem but reasonable. But believing I should never see him again, I would let him depart without discontentment. About two months after, I saw him returned to Trous, having power again to make some other treaty with the King my father, while Tyridates was gone to Rome for to receive the Crown of Armenia from the hands of the Emperor. I cannot relate you the tricks and villainies he used to gain some advantage upon my will. The mildness I express to all I see, made him so insolent, that he feigned not to attempt all he could upon my wit, which it may be he esteemed but weak, and susceptible of many impressions. For to abuse me, he consulted with Priests and soothsayers, who would have made me believe, that by their science, and by their immolated sacrifices, they knew my good fortune could come from no other part but Armenia; that a Prince of the most illustrious blood of those provinces, aught to possess me; above all that I well guarded me from what came from the Romans, and from that they had nourished; because from that side there could arrive nothing but misery to me. Beside all this he gained by presents a woman that lay in my chamber, who was so wicked as to terrify me by night, and make me hear voices with pitiful accents, as if it had been the Queen my mother, that was dead a little before, who advertised me to fly Tygranes, and to choose Araxes for my husband. Nay, he was so cowardly and treacherous, as he dressed ambuscadoes for to assassinate his rival, from which his good fortune only preserved him. All these practices were discovered to me, but one day before he made me be taken away; and he knows not yet that I have had any knowledge of them. I remember that some days before he took the boldness to tell Tygranes in my presence, that he was a King without a Crown, and that he should be shortly a servant without a Mistress: I could not then conceive what his meaning was; but since I have known that he then meditated my carrying away, whereupon he was resolved, seeing that he gained nothing by his wicked practices. His unfortunate design was reasonably well ordered; and I had been twice stolen away, but that I was delivered by you only from both those miseries. See for the present if there were ever a man more villainous than this same, and whether I have not cause to detest him above all things. Pasithea left speaking, continueth Eurymedon, and I was so astonished to hear of so many malicious devices, that I stood immovable, and looking upon her, at last I spoke to her; Madam, I knew not this Prince to be so traitorous a man, having never seen him but a few days in a place where he was retained prisoner, whence after he had been delivered by my means, he promised me his friendship for ever: I assured him also of mine, and I never saw him since. I esteem him very wicked by this you have learned me, but I find him nothing crafty withal, or else unfortunate, for that endeavouring to get your affection, he acquired nothing but your hate, wherewith he may well think himself hated of all the world. For me I abandon him, as well for your sake, as for my own: confessing that there is nothing so dangerous as the friendship of a traitor. We encountered then at the turning of an alley, where we found much company: she had only time to tell me, If you lose on one side, you may gain much more on another; there being here none that will not be pleased to have you for a friend. I could not return, because we were to join with the company; and the rest of the day passed away in civilities and ceremonies.  
When I was retired▪ I was in great perplexity how I should treat with Araxes: but he delivered me himself out of this unquietness, for my men returning to find me, after they had been long at Sea told me how they had seen nothing appear, what ever care they had taken, and that without doubt Araxes had withdrawn himself to some other place. I had no other thought therefore, than well to govern the fortune of my affections, since they had so prosperous a beginning. The next day I went to wait on the Kings rising, who still gave me all sorts of kindnesses; then he led me into the Princess Chamber, whom we surprised as she was new coming out of her bed, but this surprise was most advantageous for her, and very agreeable to me, because she had all her neck bare, that was of an extreme whiteness. All she could do, was to put before it her fair hands, which though they were jealous of the marvel of this bosom, and seemed to dispute beauty with it, yet for all that let scape the victory by the overture of the fingers that could not wholly hide it. My contentment ended by means of a linen cloth they brought that entirely covered her, and stole away all those treasures from my sight. The King left me with her, ordaining her to entertain me; he could not have done me a greater grace, and desiring to prevail of it, I said to the Princess, Madam, pardon that I cannot wish ill to the greatest enemy you have, since he is the sole cause of my good fortune of seeing you. This good fortune, answered she, is not of consequence enough to be much beholding to him for it. Thereupon she demanded me where he was. I told her, that having sent out my people to search him at sea, they had heard no news of him. O! That the gods, replied she, would never return him again to us, for my repose and yours! But, continued she, may I not know how he had obliged you to come hither? This is that, said I, I cannot altogether clear, if I have not the leisure to learn you with all my whole life. I will at this very instant, said she, give you the commodity; because I think the time too long ere I know your news: and calling for a Persian simarre, or mantle, to be brought her, she sat down again upon her bed, & having made me come near her alone, commanded me to sit down, and acquit me of the promise I had made her the evening before. Then I recited to her all I have learned you of my fortune, thinking it had been disloyalty to reserve any thing to tell, from her I had given my heart to. She heard me with much astonishment and joy; it seemed too she did already take part in the accidents of my life. There rested only to relate to her what I had done since my depart from Corcyra, for to come into Troas, when they came to advertise her, that Tygranes who was arrived from the confines of Armenia, came to see her. She blushed, and put herself out of the bed; at the same time I fetched a deep sigh, and that suspiration more inflamed the fire of Pasithea's cheeks, who to cover the occasion of her redness, said aloud; I am truly very much ashamed that Tygranes will find me in this disorder. And then he entered to salute her, and made certain compliments: afterwards he addressed to me, and told me, that he came from knowing of the King the obligation all his Realm had to me, wherein he took more part than any body else, having a great interest in the Princess safety. I answered him, that none was redevable to me for a thing which my duty alone had ordained me to do: nevertheless that I esteemed myself very happy for being so fitly encountered at sea for her succours, and for being cause of their contentment. I observed by his port and discourse, that he was such a man as Araxes had described to me, that appeared rather borne for to serve, than to command, showing no greatness of courage at all, and affecting nothing but a few civilities, that are practised among honest Citizens of a Town. A while after a great number of Princes and Lords arrived, and there was nothing spoken of but sacrifices and rejoicings for the safety of Pasithea.  
The next day was chosen by the King for certain exercises these Princes renewed often in the public place, for to dispute prizes in emulation of one another; their design being no other in those Countries but to please the Princess, and enter into her good graces. I waited on Pasithea to the Temple, where the sacrifices were made with much ceremony and joy: as for me, I lost myself in the press, having made sign to my men to follow me, and being returned to my vessel I went away into the plain Sea. The Princess wondered to see me no more, and thought I was gone to find Araxes. The King commanded they should seek me out, and could not know wherefore I had quitted them without any leave-taking. In the mean time they gave not over the resolution they had taken to rejoice, and all things were prepared for the plays against next day. I came to know since, that Tygranes led the Princess into the public place, and having left her with the King upon a Scaffold, he mounted a horseback and went to join him to his troop among the Princes, who would that day show their address in favour of Pasithea. After disputing of some prizes, they planted in the midst of the place a pillar of wood, to which they fastened arms in fashion of a trophy, that represented a man armed. The Princes came on horseback running about it, and he did best, that struck the fairest blow into those arms. When they had all given different strokes, there was heard twenty trumpets at the end of the lists, that made all turn sight to that side, and the barrier being opened, the Trumpets entered, and placed themselves about the field. Presently after fifty men appeared on foot richly clothed, each their spear in hand, and buckler on the left arm, and in the middle of them was a young warrior, armed lightly, upon a fair Arabian horse, who after that his companions had all of them lanced their Javelins upon the trophy, came on in a gallop, and fastened his into the visiere of the helmet. Every one clapped his hands in expression that that was the fairest blow was given: but that noise ceased, because of the same Trumpets that sounded again; and those warriors having ranged them round about the field, the barrier was opened, and there was seen to avance by degrees, a great pavilion, of a stuff very fine, and extreme light, the base whereof was carried round on all sides by four and twenty young children very handsome, clothed in Cassaques of Carnation silk embroidered with silver, with little head-pieces of the same livery, from whence hung down plumes of carnation and white. When this engine was brought into the midst of the place, two of those children that bore up the borders before, opened the pavilion; and at the same time was seen to come out of it a great Eagle that flew with the pavilion up into the clouds, and made sight of it be lost. I appeared then upon a fair white horse, marked with red natural spots. I had my head covered with plumes of diverse colours, I was dressed in a proud Cassaque of embroidery of gold and silver, and managed my horse, that was in very good equipage. The children went to dispose themselves about the Princess Scaffold, and in the mean time after I had given some passadas with my horse, I made him take course towards the trophy, and I struck my Javelin into the Casque with so stark a violence, that it not only stayed fastened in it, but the pillar also that peradventure had been shaken before, was therewith overthrown to the ground with the arms. My strength was admired of all the people, and the Princes themselves, but much more when I descended from my horse, and going towards the Arms, I took them with the pillar and all upon my shoulder, and carried them to the King's Scaffold. I presented them to the Princess, and having laid them at her fear, I received of her a bracelet of great pearls that was the prize, which I kissed, and then passed upon my arm. She was filled with a great satisfaction to see me again, and for the honour I had acquired in presence of her father, who gave me a thousand praises, and invited me to appear again at the pastimes remained.  
Give me leave, said Palamede then, to interrupt you; and let us know, if it please you, how you were able to find where withal to make so marvellous an entry. I am very glad, answered Eurymedon, that you have remembered me of it: for it may be I should have forgot this. I had by good fortune, replied he, found all these things in the first ship my soldiers took; the pavilion, the children so adorned, that great Eagle, the horse on which I road, and the other of my Lieutenant who was a young soldier very valiant and expert; he it was that appeared in the midst of those fifty that first entered, who were the very choice of my companions. For me having found this Eagle very big, I tied a cord to her foot, the other end whereof was fastened to the top of the pavilion, that was sustained within by the point of a great spear I held in my hand: and I bore it thus myself on horseback in marching with the children, that lift it up by the borders. I held the Eagle all that while, and when the Pavilion was opened, I let her go, and she carried away with her that pavilion that was but of a light stuff. This invention was much approved of Melintus, Palamede, and the rest, than Eurymedon went on; The last pastime was, that all they that had appeared in the other exercises, should join them together, and strike at one another with Javelins whose point was rebated, only to show dexterity and grace, which was rather a kind of dance, than a combat. They gave me one of those Javelins, and remounting upon my horse, I went to mingle myself with that company; but the play was such as greatly troubled the joy of that day's work. Two Armenians had put themselves into the party, with darts that were very sharp, and one of them struck Tygranes, & wounded him to death; the other addressed him to me, whose blow I happily avoided, rather because 'tis natural to turn away the body from a dart one sees coming to him, than for any fear I had cause to have of being hurt therewith: but yet I could not hinder the blow from piercing me into the arm. Presently Tygranes cried out that he was hurt; he that gave the stroke would have run away with his companion; and their flight only accused them, for it would have been doubted whence the blow should come, if they had stayed amongst us; all was in alarm at the instant, and in disorder. Archelaus came running with some of his officers that assisted him, and as soon as he was arrived, Tygranes expired, which put the King into a great sorrow. But that which astonished all the world, was, that an old man of the chief about Archelous, cast himself upon the dead body of Tygranes, and embracing him, melted into tears, and filled all with his complaints. The King demanded of him what cause he had so particularly to be tormented for that accident. Ha! Sir, said he, let the cause of my extreme grief serve for diminution unto yours. I will tell you then that this same was my son, whom I carried with the little Tygranes your nephew, when you sent him by me in hostage to Rome. Your nephew died at Sea, and seeing that it was altogether important for the good of your affairs this child should go to Rome, because there remained not any of your blood to be given in hostage; I supposed my son in his place, who was received for him, and ever since he has been bred as if he had been the true Tygranes. I believe I am not unblamable for making this supposition, having then had no other design but the establishing of your estates; and if since I have left every one in this error, it was for fear the Romans might think you had been author of the deceit; but since I durst not render him any duty of a father during his life, suffer me at least to give him this last testimony of my affection; and thereupon he betook himself to embrace him, and to mourn as before. Every one was immovable for astonishment; but the King more than all, who left not for all that to take care of Tygranes' body, and to comfort this good man whom he had always proved most faithful. In the mean time they had arrested the two Armentans, who after some torments, confessed that they had been sent by Araxes, for the dispatching of Tygranes and me; and how they were not able to devise a better means to compass it. I had Araxes then in horror for that he would have caused my assassinate, after so many good offices he had received at my hands; and I thanked the gods for preserving me from that danger. The King and the Princess had now no other care but of me; they constrained me to keep my bed because of my wound, though it were a small one: and I was not angry for it for being visited by the Princess, who said to me the first time she was alone with me; Ah, Eurymedon, these are the presents of your good friend. I answered her, Madam, a though his intention were most villainous, I know not how to complain of him; for thinking to take me out the world, he has taken him away too that would soon have filled me with miseries, and rendered you unfortunate beside, for being unworthy of you. But since he is no more, give me leave, Madam; my voice failed me then, whereat she smiled; and having a while regarded me, said to me, You may go on: I took up my speech, but in trembling, and said, Give me leave, Madam, to hope. My tongue was tied the second time; and she smiling again, said to me, I will not have you make an end: for I permit you to hope all things. Ha! Madam, said I how happy do you make me! but when you shall consider that I am a stranger, and unknown, I may well fear my happiness change not. Your actions, answered she, make you to be known too well what you are; and as Tygranes' actions could not be but base; being no Prince; so is it impossible but you must be a Prince, considering you do all the actions of one. I replied; My ambition never made me affect that title, although I were brought up in the opinion of possessing it: but yet I will retain it for this, since it is that alone that may encourage me to pretend any thing near you; though my extreme passion will take a great part in the enterprise of acquiring the honour of your good graces. She said to me, I will believe concerning your passion all you please to have me: but I command you to take upon you from henceforth the quality of a Prince, staying till you may verify your birth, for to strengthen in the mean time, and bring to a good end the choice I will one day make of you. I took then one of her fair hands, which she let me kiss a long time; and I could not let it go, not knowing in what other sort to express my joy to her. But we were to separate now, and she went her way, after having ordained me so to order my affairs as I might know what I was. I promised her to employ all my care in that re-search, since from thence depended all the good fortune of my life. The day after when I arose, I went to see her, to give her thanks for the cares she had taken of me. At my first coming she came to meet me, and told me she had strange news for me: heaven at length hath delivered us from Araxes. A man of his came to let me know that he is dead of his wounds: but before he died, see what impression he was willing to leave with me of you. Then she presented me a letter she had received from him, where in I read these words:  
Araxes to the Princess Pasithea.  
Fair Princess, I am going to dye for you; and having always had this design▪ I should not regret the quitting of my life, if I lost it not by the hand of a traitor. The care I have had to serve you, continueth even after my death; and I advertise you that he you favour, and who calls himself Prince, is the most famous and infamous Pirate that ever coursed the Seas. The hurts I have received of him, have been my recompense for having given him the happiness to see you, and you are not to expect but the like treason at his hands. If you do him justice, you will rather let him feel the hand of a hangman, than ever give him hope of the honour of touching yours.  
Ha! the wicked rogue, cried I out after I had read it, see what rage he is in? The Princess said to me, If you had not acquainted me with your life, and I had not been witness in what sort you are cause of his death, he might peradventure make me believe something against the truth; and beside I must not have known him for a villain and an artificial companion. But as his other malices have turned to your advantage, so shall this more augment the favour I will have to you. The rest of our discourse passed in admiration of the strange fury of that Armenian, and in common assurances of our affection.  
Since that she could not so well hide the love she bore me, but that the King perceived it: he expressed to her that it was not agreeable to him; and in the end he entered into an extreme choler against her; so far as he made me covertly understand, he would be glad I retired from thence: but I was deaf to the propositions they made me, being too dear engaged in that Country. I well saw that the King received me with more coldness than he was wont, and at last showed me a countenance that witnessed a great aversion to me: but that which lost us, was, that one day he surprised me alone with her in her Closet, as I was kissing her hand. Then he entered into such a fury, as he drew his sword, and had killed me, but that I made my escape. I went out of the Closet, and a little after out of the Palace, being stayed by no man, because I was reasonably well beloved: nevertheless seeing there was no safe abiding for me in Mitylene, I went aboard my ship, with all my soldiers, who were soon come about me; and I was sometime in full Sea about the Isle, being not able to go far away: but in the end impatient to know what was arrived to the Princess, I landed one of my men, for to go learn news of her: he made report to me that she was kept prisoner, but in a very strange fashion. The King after he had expressed all the anger an offended father might make show of, deliberated to hold her in sure guard: yet for the execution of that purpose, he was much troubled, because she was so generally beloved, as he knew not of whom to be confident. But when he had along time considered in his mind, he advised to put her into a Castle with a guard of many women that would be uncapable of resenting her charms, who were shut up with her, having provision of victuals for more than six years: then he sent for out of the farthest parts of Paphlagonia, six thousand Barbarians, that were disposed round about the Castle, which was environed with high walls, in such sort as they could not see her. This order having been given, the Princes that were in love with her, being resolved to serve her, and judging it impossible to deliver her, if they were not pvissantly assisted, departed for to go each into his own country, and bring forces from thence that might give them the honour of her deliverance, and gain her affection to them: as they believed I had justly possessed it before, for having saved her out of the hands of Araxes. The man I had sent brought me all this news: presently I consult with myself what I was able to do, not enduring that any but myself should deliver the Princess, who was prisoner for my occasion. I call to counsel my companions, and tell them, I was resolved to return to the Pirates, for to bring with me all the forces they had in the Island, and with them to deliver Pasithea: that we ought to feign we had been long retained in some place; and for our better reception we were to make some more prize. They accorded to what I desired, and then we traversed the Egean Sea; and we had coasted all the Peloponesus finding nothing, until here hard by we met a Vessel of Merchants, amongst whom was this brave Greek (said Eurymedon, showing him that had kept Melintus from killing him) to whom, pursues he, I can render no other recompense, for being cause you took not away my life, said he to Melintus, than by telling you, that he hath seemed to me the most virtuous man I ever knew, as well for the contempt he made of death, when my companions assailed him, as for the wise discourse he hath since given us: so as in admiring him, I embraced him, and prayed him that he would continue my friend: I have counted to him a part of my adventure, for to take his counsel; and when we were entertaining one another with much affection, your ship appeared, which we set upon to our loss. I vow to you, that nothing ever so amazed me, as to see you leap into my Brigantine, having never yet been assaulted in my life; and I have for the present no greater desire than to know who you are, for to devote myself to you in quality of a soldier, or slave, which you please.  
Eurymedon thus ended his story, and the generous Melintus having admired his grace, and the natural liveliness of his discourse, and nothing doubting of his valour or nobleness, promised him not his friendship alone, and that of his company, but their assistance beside for the enterprise of Pasithea. We are, continueth he, Sicilians, and are going to Corinth for such a design as yours is: for I have there a fair Mistress, sister to Palamede you see here (showing him) who is injuriously retained from me. We are now so near our journeys end, that if you will aid me for the getting of her, we shall afterwards join us to you to go along to the Isle of Lesbos. Eurymedon thought himself very happy for finding so soon an occasion to serve him; and when they had all embraced to be friends one to another, Eurymedon commanded his men to follow him in their Brigantine. They continued on their way, in consulting what they had to do, and arrived by night at Corinth.    

ARIANA. The second Book.  
THe night seemed to open all her eyes, to behold the actions of a troop so generous; and lent as much light as was necessary to make them know one another, and not be known. Forthwith Melintus came out of the ship with Palamede, after having committed the government of what they had resolved on, to that wise Greek, whom they already made great esteem of because of the prudent advice he had given them in the counsel they held together; and when they had entreated Eurymedon and Amyntas to be in a readiness with the soldiers, if they had need of their aid, they entered into Corinth, and went towards the Temple of juno. Palamede having conducted Melintus thither, made him retire seven or eight paces, while he had spoken with the guard of the Temple, and after they had opened, he demanded them, if he might not speak a word to Epicharis from Sebastus and Dicearchus. These people that had seen him before with his uncle, failed not to go call Epicharis, who coming forth to see who enquired after her, was greatly amazed to find Palamede there: presently he brought her where Melintus was, and she was overcome with joy for seeing them again. Melintus asked her how Ariana did: Very well, answered she, if she may but see you; and assure yourself you never came so seasonable, for we are reduced to a great extremity. Ariana hath always deferred her resolution to the return of her brother, and Dicearchus not enduring so long delays, has given her three days only of respite, which expire to morrow; and do not hope, said she to Palamede, to be able to bend him by any reason: for he is so settled in mind to give her Pisistratus, that all the powers of heaven and earth could not make him alter this resolution. Melintus stood mute to understand so cruel opiniativenesse, but Palamede and Epicharis told him, there was no other remedy but to carry away Ariana to a place where Dicearchus had no power, and where she might dispose of herself. This very night, continued Epicharis, you are to depart, for to avoid the violences of to morrow. Can Ariana, says Melintus, resolve herself upon this flight? You are too respectuous, answered Epicharis, and she too virtuous: you must for a time dispense with this severity of wisdom, and let love and courage work. Never hope your virtue should subdue Dicearchus' fury: you must oppose your passion to his, and yours being the more noble, it will without doubt master the other. Remember you only that this night's hours are very precious, and if you lose them, peradventure you may never recover them again. Melintus demanded counsel of them, what he had to do: and it was a strange thing, to see a person so stored with wisdom and valour, reduced in this occasion to implore the counsel and assistance of a wench, and of Palamede too that so many times had needed his prudence, for the redress of his youthful errors. But yet Melintus now mistrusted his own virtue that slackened, and was giving way to his passion, for to let that have the ordering of this enterprise which seemed something violent to him; and he asked counsel of others, thinking he was incapable in that estate to counsel himself. Epicharis told him she would go first to advertise Ariana and Cyllenia of their arrive: and when she had taken advice of them she would return, and that then they might resolve of all things. So she left them, and being entered in again went to bring Ariana and Cyllenia this news, who attended with much apprehension to know what Dicearchus had to say to Epicharis: but their passions were well changed at the return of this wench, when they understood how Melintus was so near them. It moved Ariana extremely, that felt all at a time, joy, fear, and hope. Epicharis and Cyllenia confirmed her, and after many reasons alleged on either side, made her resolve to go her way with Melintus. That which most encouraged her in this project, was the determination Cyllenia took to go with her; having had, she said, no prosperity since the death of Lepantus, besides that of her friendship, which she would enjoy all her life time, and for this cause she would follow her fortune. Ariana could scarce believe what she said: but she assured her, it was her resolution. They sent away Epicharis again to bring Melintus to the place they were in, and thought good to have scaling-ladders procured, whereby they might save themselves; because it was impossible to have them all go out by the gate by reason of the guards of the Temple, whom they would not have killed though that had been easy enough.  
Melintus, when he knew the resolution of Ariana and Cyllenia, entreated Palamede to go back to the ship, to fetch from thence a ladder of cords; and to bring along with him the sage Greek; that Eurymedon and Amyntas came armed also, with five or six soldiers in favour of their retreat; and that all should be conducted to a place of the wall Epicharis showed them. Palamede promised not to fail in that order, than went his way. Melintus let himself be led all-trembling by Epicharis, for to go see his dear Ariana, whose absence had been so cruel to him. The gates were shut up as soon as they were entered, and Melintus was brought to a Chamber, where Ariana going out to meet him, could not refrain from opening her arms to receive her dear Melintus, and suddenly being ashamed for doing that action before Cyllenia, she left him without speaking, to give him leave to salute that dear friend of hers. Cyllenia admiring the majestuous fashion of Melintus, though he were much out of countenance, assured him that he was welcome. He answered her, that to have been received only into that Chamber, was a favour too sensible to him for being able to express the true apprehension of it. Presently she made him sit down by his fair Ariana, which was to good purpose for him that could no longer have sustained himself in that sudden taking he was in. They felt themselves both so moved, that being one before the other, and holding hands together, they could neither of them speak. Melintus to ease his heart which he felt oppressed, fetched a great sigh, which Ariana received as she breathed at the same time, and then by suspiring she sent it back again to Melintus; and it seemed that their souls did thus visit one another, or rather that they made use but of one soul for the animation of their bodies. In the end Cyllenia that nothing wondered at this silence for being so well acquainted what love was, would comfort them, and said, that sighs would not serve the turn to save them, and that time must not be lost. Then Melintus began to speak, and addressing him to Ariana, said to her; But, Madam, can I believe you will follow me? She answered; Melintus, I am yours, and without you I cannot live: In what part of the world it shall please you to retire me, I shall account myself happy there to dye with you. See there Cyllenia, continued she, who will accompany me; and I am persuaded not to miscarry, since she will take part in the action. Cyllenia told them, now the resolution is taken, let us consider of choosing out the most necessary of our furniture, and be gone. Epicharis, that already thought of getting them together, said they should soon be ready. Then Cyllenia having taken a little Cabinet, wherein was what she had most precious, put it amongst the things Epicharis wrapped up together; and every thing being in a readiness, they went out of the Chamber without noyse-making, and took them to the foot of the wall, where they stayed not long, till they saw falling at their feet a ladder of cords. Melintus' first ascended, & took Ariana by the hand to hold her up in coming after him, and having drawn her to the top, he gave her to Palamede who helped her down, and Melintus went for the two that remained, one after the other. Cyllenia would have Epicharis go away first, it being more dangerous she should stay behind than herself, but yet in the end they were all three saved. Presently Melintus took Ariana in his arms, and carried her away as fast as he could: Palamede seized on his dear Epicharis, and the Greek took Cyllenia. Eurymedon and Amyntas, with some soldiers, favoured their slight, but they were amazed when they heard a great noise in the City, and many people coming towards them. The egress out of the house could not be so secret, but that the servants soon perceived it, and had advertised the guards of the Temple that came running after the ravishers, and some of them went to Dicearchus and Pisistratus, to give them advice of this escape. Eurymedon and Amyntas were constrained to stay those that followed them, by shutting up the pass of a street, while the Ladies might have time to be transported into the ship: they would have been contented to sustain them; then to make their retreat, but that they saw the number increased, so as they resolved to kill some of them, to strike fear into the rest. Instantly they struck down dead five or six upon the place, and that cooled the courage of those that followed, so as it was easy for them to make their retreat without danger. They entered into a Skiffe that waited to carry them to the vessel, and arrived at the same time the Ladies were brought by Melintus and the two other into the Cabins for to repose them: but at their entrance they saw a strange spectacle. There were Torches in the ship, by means whereof Cyllenia seeing him that carried her, made a great cry, and violently striving, got out of his arms: then all affrighted as she was, she ran away towards Ariana, looking behind her in trembling if he followed her not. On the other side the Greek that held her, having seen her, fell down the whole length of him, and gave no more sign of life at all. Ariana demanded of Cyllenia the cause of that great fear, and she said to her, Dear Ariana, know that I was carried away by the soul of Lepantus, which had reassumed his body, for to render me this office, and having put me into the ship, it left the same body that is fallen down dead again. Presently they went towards that Corpse. Melintus and Eurymedon said it was a Greek they had brought with them, and that well deserved they should take care of him. Then by virtue of remedies they brought his pulse into him again, than his sight, and a little after his speech. Ha gods! said he, what have I seen? Eurymedon took care of him, and Melintus returned to Cyllenia who was all-affrighted, to tell her that it was not a dead Corpse, but a living man. No, no, answered she, it was the soul of Lepantus. Melintus could not imagine what she meant; but Ariana that knew her life, said to her, And may it not be Lepantus himself, who it may be is not dead? On the other side, the Greek says to Eurymedon, Ha! I have seen Cyllenia. He answered him, What do you so hate Cyllenia, that you cannot see her without so much horror and amazement? Alas! 'tis contrary, replied he, I cannot see her, because I have too much loved her. What is't then? reparted Eurymedon, do you fly that you love? In the estate she is in, answered he, I cannot see her but dye. On the other side Ariana says to Cyllenia, let us go see if it be Lepantus. I will not go thither, answered she, for he is dead. But peradventure, replied Ariana, he is living. Dead or alive, said she, I cannot endure sight of him. Thus they would neither of them see one another: Lepantus because he thought her married, and Cyllenia because she thought him dead, and though he had been alive, because she had been so unfaithful to him. At last Ariana went to see Lepantus, and assured him that Cyllenia was not married; which he would not believe; then she returned to Cyllenia to tell her that Lepantus was not dead. Thus were many voyages to be made, first to one, and then another, before they were able to certify them; and Ariana was constrained to tell Lepantus in what sort the marriage of Cyllenia with Callias had been broke, and how the displeasures she had since received were punishment enough to her for her disloyalty. She went again to tell Cyllenia that Lepantus had been preserved from death, and had always kept his affection as perfect as if she had never failed in her constancy to him, and she prayed her to resolve to see him. Lepantus and Cyllenia were at the last brought one before the other; Cyllenia conducted by Ariana and Epicharis; and Lepantus by Melintus and Eurymedon. Cyllenia cast herself at his feet, and in weeping asked him pardon for her fault. Lepantus put one knee to the ground to be as low as she, and in lifting her up again, said to her, that he saw for the present how the gods had been nolyars to him, and that in saving of his life, they were desirous to conserve to her the faithfullest servant she could have in the world. After that these two lovers had many times embraced one another, full of astonishment and joy, they retired them all into the Chambers; and because it was not sure for them to stay so near the port, the two vessels parted, and put into the full Sea. They consulted to what place they ought to retire to, not willing to go to Syracuse, whither without fail they should be followed; and because Melintus had promised to assist Eurymedon for the enterprise of Pasithea, they resolved to go descend to a Port of Epirus, where they might attend him while he went to Corcyra to get his forces together, and that in the mean time Melintus should marry Ariana, and Lepantus Cyllenia. Taking this course they saw pass by a vessel well armed that went to Corinth: but considering of nothing but their joys, they prayed the winds to be favourable to them, and went with full Sails. The weather was very fair, and Melintus taking Ariana by the hand, led her out to go walk upon the hatches, where having a good while entertained her, (and Palamede coming on the sudden that had something to say to his sister,) he set himself in the mean time to thinking, without ever quitting her hand, and in a short time made these Verses:  

YE happy waves that bear the beauty I adore,  
Which made the earth to feel her Empire rigorous;  
Respect you her rule too, and be commanded o'er,  
This vessel gently court with kisses amorous:  
Unfaithful Element, know that at lest 'tis she  
Thou ow'st thy loyalty.   

What! do you murmur waves? and foam yourselves to rage,  
To feel you are o'erruled by so triumphant power?  
Rebels be quiet, and your storms see you assuage:  
If you had eyes to see, you would not be so sour;  
For soon of her regards the lovely violence  
Would still your insolence.   

But you are yet more fierce, and beyond custom wroth,  
Pressing too near to look on this Divinity.  
No Venus you have here, no daughter of your froth,  
She you are bold to see has far more majesty;  
And that pure shamefastness that shines upon her face,  
Shows that she has more grace.   

Yet unto us incline you to be favourable,  
Vast Seas, and safely guide this Vessel to the Port:  
But if we be pursued, then open as you are able,  
For them your deepest gulfs that unto death resort.  
To your waters I commit this stolen jewel,  
To lose it be not cruel.   
Lepantus that was come upon the hatches too with Cyllenia, and the rest, heard Melintus repeat those verses he had newly made. And at the same time he composed some in emulation, and made an air of them: then having found a Harp, he accorded his voice to it, and sung these Verses:  

Soul, be no more to torments so subjected:  
Heart quit vexation, and to joys aspire:  
I see my fortune passes my desire.  
Where I sought death, I find my life protected.   

In place where deadly envy I suspected,  
And happy Spouse's arms her to combine,  
Without all thought I took her into mine;  
Where I sought death, I find my life protected.   

When my sad griefs by fury were directed,  
I sought to dye, but Seas could not me drowned:  
Where I ne'er sought, my fortune there I found:  
Where I sought death, I find my life protected.   
After that Lepantus had made an end of singing, and they had much commended his voice, and the grace he had in touching the Lute; they prayed him to tell how he had been saved from the Sea, and what his life had been since; for Ariana had already related part of that which happened to him before. He was very willing to give them this contentment, and seeing every one set and prepared to listen, he quitted the Lute to put himself in the midst of them, and began thus:  

Continuation of Lepantus History.  
TO avoid the reproaches I might seem to put upon Cyllenia, I will make no repetition of the resentments I had, to see that I was by little and little abandoned of her: yet I shall only let you know how I flattered myself with a belief, that she would prove to what extremity of grief my fidelity might resist. For I could not imagine that her spirit that seemed to me so raised above the ordinary of women, and had honoured me with so perfect a confidence, could forget that estate we were in together, and draw a veil before what had passed between us, to lose the remembrance of it for ever: but in the end I learned, how to make Callias happy, she had signed the arrest of my death. Until than I thought all her coldnesses to me were but feining; and even when I understood my misery, I could scarce believe it, my mind being unable to be so soon disabused: it may be too I did believe it, seeing no cause at all of doubting, but that my soul astonished at so unfortunate a blow, was then in a dizziness that hindered so soon an apprehension of its misery. I was at last forced to confess so visible a truth, and to be sensible of those stings of sorrow that accompanied so cruel an accident. Not knowing what to do with myself, I went into a Boat, and fled away to Naupactum, believing to ease my misery by avoiding the dwelling with those that were cause of it: but I was to have the power to escape from myself too, that was then my cruelest enemy; my mind producing continually furious imaginations for to tear itself in pieces. I was not content to see myself in so miserable estate, but still to augment my fury and despair, I sent back one of my servants to Corinth in the same Squiffe, for to go to the Temple where Cyllenia was to be married, and bring me news after what sort she would govern herself in that action. I expected that news with as much unquietness, as if I had hoped for the greatest pleasure of my life by it: but when he was returned, and I knew that after she had given me my death, she added blows that seemed to come from an extreme inhumanity, as to desire to know what I had done, after hearing she was married; my soul could not endure this anguish, it chased away my reason, and received in place of it, desperation; which getting the mastery, ordained me to say to the man that spoke to me; Go, and fail not to tell her what thou art about to know: and suddenly I gained the height of a great rock, that avances into the Sea, and cast myself down in his presence.  
But who can doubt (after what I shall tell you) of the continual care the gods have over us? for it is impossible to attribute to fortune, that is blind, and imprudent, many assistances we receive in the greatest hazards of our life, which cannot be given but from a better, and a more advised hand. In stead of losing myself, I fell, as I may now say, happily, into a great Fisher's net, who were with their Boats under that same rock. My fall was so sudden before the eyes of these men, that I was at the bottom of the water before they could judge what it was; and they thinking it was some monstrous fish that had thus leaped out of the water and then fallen in again, drew up their net with great expectation and hope. When I came to appear, they could not yet know what it was, because I was entangled with the net, and store of weeds that involved me: but at last when they had dis-intricated all with much carefulness, they found to their great grief that it was a man. Nevertheless their hope was turned into pity, and after they had made me void the water I had drunk, they spread me upon their cloaks, and laboured very carefully by all ways to make me come again. I opened at length my eyes, and when I knew the place I was in, I was much amazed, yet after I had learned in what manner I was preserved from death, and a long time studied upon so strange an accident, I knew that the gods were not willing I should dye. That consideration affected me with piety and fear all at once, and brought me to understand what fault I had committed against them, when I followed the blind transports of my despair. This gave me the resolution to live, but not to comfort me; and I entreated these people to carry me in their Boats to some remote place, where I would reward them for their pains. They set up then a little sail, and because the wind was good to go to Cyrrha, which is a Town of Phocide something near that place, we arrived there presently. I found that they had taken away nothing that was about me, so I had enough to content them with. I had beside remaining some Diamonds, which now were happily at hand, wherewith I believed I might make a voyage: in such sort as I took upon me to go on, not yet knowing in what part I should choose my abiding, and having no other purpose than to fly the circuits of Corinth. But yet I could find no corner of the earth where to live without sorrow, & I had been very happy if in any place I could have lost my love and my remembrance. My fidelity had too profound a rooting to be shaken, and inconstancy was not acceptable to me, but in the continual change of places, that gave some diversion to my unhappy constancy. I wandered thus over all Greece, avoiding those places I had any acquaintance in; and for that reason I would not see Athens, which is a Town that might have much diverted my grief, because of Eriphile my dear sister, who is married to one of the best men of this great City. What, interrupted Melintus, are you brother to the virtuous Eriphile, wife of Ephialtes? Yes, replied Lepantus. Give me leave, continued Melintus, to embrace you then, since you are brother to one of the wisest women I ever knew, at whose house I was a long time brought up, and to whom I have a thousand sensible obligations. Then they expressed a great deal of kindness one to another, and Palamede that had shared in the friendship of the sage Eriphile, would also mingle himself with their embracements. Afterwards Melintus referring to some other time to tell him all the causes he had to love and serve him for his sister's sake, prayed him to continue his story. Lepantus went on: In the end I resolved with myself to depart from Greece, and to pass into Asia. I arrived in Eolida, from thence I went into Lydia and Phrygia, but there befell me no remarkable thing but in Galatia, where I ran a great hazard of perishing by an infamous death.  
As I was coming near to arrive at the principal City, I passed by a wood where some murder had been committed. I saw myself encompassed with a number of horsemen, who took me for one of the murderers, and carried me away to the City, what innocency soever I was able to allege. They that did the murder were presently after apprehended and put in prison with me, and when they knew that I was accused of their crime, they mocked at me among themselves, and swore they would not discharge me though they knew me not, that I might die with them for company. I was much perplexed having no means to justify me but by them, and in great displeasure that I was to dye so shamefully, as a way-robber and a murderer. One day when I thought they came for us to be led to punishment, I saw coming in an Officer of Justice, who having assembled all the Criminals, declared to them that each was to choose his advocate, for to plead his cause before the King; to the end that the most eloquent of all should bear away for his Client the grace that was yearly accorded. I enquired what that grace was, and learned that in julius Caesar's time, Dejotarus was King of Galatia, who after he had followed the party of Pompeius, and been received into favour by Caesar, was accused for having dressed Ambuscado's for him, when he was at his house in Galatia. For that cause he was cited to Rome, where making his appearance, he was ready to be condemned to dye by Caesar and the Senate, but for the succours of Cicero's marvellous eloquence, which had so much force as to make Caesar change his determination, and pardon Dejotarus. The King being returned to Galatia, that he might remember this benefit received by eloquence, ordained that every year on a certain day, the Criminal persons should make choice of Advocates, amongst whom he that should be judged the most eloquent should carry away for his Client the grace of his life, besides the advocates prize, to whom was given a Crown of great value. After I had learned this, I knew that the most famous advocates were retained of a long time by great sums of money, and I saw it would be very difficult for me to hope for that grace, having no means, nor any acquaintance in the Country. Nevertheless I took heart, and said all aloud to this Officer, that I demanded leave to defend myself. Every one took him to laughter to hear my proposition, for they saw me in an estate too miserable, to believe I could have any science: but for all that I gave in my name, to the end I might be heard before the King as well as the rest. In eight days space that were given to prepare the Orations that should be made, I had leisure enough to think of mine: and when the time was come, they brought us all to the Palace. We were put into a great Hall round about certain bars, that hindered any approaching to the King, who was within upon a seat raised with four or five steps, and had on each side of him his chief Officers that were the Judges. When they would begin to hear the plead, the bars were opened to let in the first Advocate that was to speak, who standing before the King, began a very studied speech, wherein he laboured to defend a criminal that was present with us. When he had ended, there rose a little noise of the different judgements were made of him: then they opened to another, who discoursed with a great deal of vehemence; and so many were heard one after another. I was in a wonder to see so many Advocates, but they told me there were come of them from all parts of Asia, and out of Greece too, some sought to by the Criminals, and others invited by the ambition of making their knowledge appear, and carrying the prize. This number troubled me much, yet order was taken that the speeches should be short, for else one day had not been sufficient to hear all that presented themselves. At last, they said there were no more Advocates to plead. The King was now demanding the Judge's advice, and I thought to have stepped forward, to entreat audience, but an Herald prevented me, that told the King there remained no more but a poor Criminal called Lepantus, who desired to defend himself. Well then, answered the King, we will not deny him that justice. Then I entered within the bar, and being before the King, I said in a few words what I had premeditated, with all the assurance and modesty I could. Brave Lepantus, interrupted Melintus, do not deprive us I pray you the repetition of that Oration; we have time enough to hear it, and since it is but short, it cannot be grievous to you. Grant this at least to the desire of Cyllenia, who so attentively hearkens to the accidents of your life during her own vexations. 'Tis to command me, answered Lepantus, so to entreat, and since you will have it so, I will recite what I spoke then; I began thus:  
GReat King, and you equitable judges, I cannot complain of fortune, for the strange accident I am fallen into, since she gives me the happiness to be heard of you: And wherefore should I be aggrieved at her? since both before and after my calamity, she provided me means to relieve myself? As soon as I entered this Country, she hath rendered me criminal before I was culpable; but at such a time when a grace is offered which she puts me in hope to obtain, having made me to be instructed from my infancy in all sorts of Sciences and Arts, foreseeing the need I should have of their assistance. The gods beside had been unjust and cruel to permit the adventure is arri'vd to me, if they had not known in what sort I could secure myself. Accuse me not of presumption for being assured to carry away this day the prize is given to the most eloquent: it's impossible you should refuse me it, seeing there is nothing can better persuade than innocence.  
All that the Art of Eloquence can do for to palliate a crime, is to breed a doubt to take away the knowledge of the accusation, whether it be true or false; than it labours to move compassion in the judges, to make them incline towards the better part: but truth hath no need of artifice or disguisement; she discovers her all naked, and then produces out of herself an infinity of powerful and invincible proofs. This is that truth that comes to my defence, and goes so pure out of my mouth, as you shall have no trouble to acknowledge it.  
No crime it was, most just King, that made me depart my own Country: neither by any crime have I entered into this. One misfortune drove me from the land of my birth, and another have I met with, in your kingdom. The first lost me the dearest of my hopes, and the other will violently take from me the only things are left me, which are honour and life. As for my life, I would abandon it willingly as the most unfortunate of the world; 'tis not the fear of losing it that makes me speak before you. I endeavoured to forsake that when it seemed honourable for me to dye: but since the crime they accuse me of is shameful, and the punishment that threatens it; this occasion hath fast bound my life unto my honour, and I am obliged to defend the one, for to preserve the other.  
Since I left Greece, I wandered from province to province to give ease to an anguish that afflicts me, and passing by a wood to arrive at this City, I perceived that I was environed with persons that took hold of me, without telling me for what cause: afterwards I knew there had been a man slain in that same place, and how the murderers were brought to the same prison with me, who knowing that I was accused of their crime, mocked at me when they saw me, and swore they would not declare me innocent.  
But it is easy to verify whether I be guilty or no. Let them be interrogated apart in what sort they know me, and it will appear that I never saw them before. It is but a month since I passed into Asia, and in that time I traversed Eolida, Lydia, and Troas: I was but two days within Galatia, and the day I was taken, I had come from a place so remote from hence, that it was impossible for me to have any acquaintance with them. All this may be known of those whom I lodged with in my voyages, who will not deny to witness to that I say.  
See there, great King, and you the judges, all the eloquence I will serve myself of: The truth it is that speaks out of my mouth: She will have you give her the victory of this day's work, it's she pretends the prize, and not I: she shows herself to you all naked, for to show you, that the others eloquence, in comparison of her, is but an adulterate beauty. justice, that is seated by your sides, holds out her arms to her, and from under her head-band fails not to know her perfectly. This severe goddess is without doubt for the present well satisfied, that the gods have put amongst the accused an innocent, for fear she should this day have been constrained to let go an offender. Great King, take pity of a stranger, that has no support with you besides this justice: but this stay is very powerful, fine 'tis that alone that can maintain kingdoms. I fear not death, but infamy. If I cannot deserve the prize of eloquence from so many rare wits, ordain me at least from this present to go employ my life in the defence of your frontiers against the Barbarians: I shall esteem myself happy to dye like a man of courage. If I cannot avoid death, at leastwise let me avoid shame: or if you will make this day famous, by the most memorable judgement that ever was, let none of us all bear away the victory; but give in my favour the prize of eloquence to truth, and life to innocence.  
I made an end thus with some kind of hope, because I was heard with much attention. Presently the King rose up, and after taking the opinions of all the Judges, he sat him down in his seat again; then he pronounced; The Greek Lepantus is declared by our judgement innocent and victorious. By and by they came for me from among the criminals with whom I had placed me again; and making me approach to the Throne where the King was, I put one knee upon one of the steps, and received from his hand the crown ordained for the victor. The King was not contented with this grace, which he had given to my innocence rather than my eloquence; but lifting up himself he took me by the arm, and commanded me to accompany him, because he would know what I was. He did me the favour to lean on me till we came to his chamber, where having enquired of me all he had a mind to, I satisfied him with the most respect I could; then he offered me one of the chief places of his judicature, if I would stay with him. I answered him, that being redevable to him for so many graces, he might dispose of the life he had given me: but that finding me uncapable to govern myself, it would be impossible for me to govern his people that were under his authority. That if he would add an extreme favour to so many others, I besought him would give me leave to return into my own Country. He laboured to retain me still by some reasons, but seeing that if I would have yielded to him, it was for not daring to contradict him; and that my desire was altogether bend to depart his Realm, he made me some presents, and let me go. I put myself into some equipage for my return, and providing me of men and horses for not running any more such shameful fortune, I re-passed by the same ways I came; then I crossed the Egean Sea, and descended into Macedonia, where having stayed some time, I went into Epire, whither we are now going. But because vexations were my most agreeable company, I began to be weary of my men, and resolved to go live in some solitude. According to this project I left them in Epire, with charge to attend me there, until I had made a voyage into Italy. I passed the Sea without any of my people, and arrived at Brundisium: I traversed Apulia, never meeting with any place I could delight in; from thence I came to Cumae, where having found a corner to be alone in as much as I would, I took some small provision to eat, which I carried in with me; and there I accused the gods as much as I pleased: I tormented myself according to my humour with cruel remembrances: and the more pain I inflicted on myself, the more satisfaction I imagined to receive. That place was the den of the Cumean Sibyl, and one night when I had made a thousand complaints, I bethought myself to implore the succours of her voice, which as they said was still remaining in the world, for to favour me with an Oracle. This sacred Sibyl at last had pity of my evils, and I heard the divine voice speak to me in these verses:  
Lover of Constancy undaunted,  
Thou shalt perceive thy grief's decay,  
If thou returnest without delay  
Where to thee thy birth was granted.  
Epicharis, Melintus and Palamede interrupted this discourse, by taking them to laugh, and said all at once, Was it you then, Lepantus, we gave that same Oracle to? Look you, continued Melintus in showing Epicharis, there's your Sibyl that pronounced the verses, and I it was that made them on the place. Lepantus was so amazed that he knew not what to say, having believed until then that he had been divinely assisted; whereupon being all confounded, Cyllenia, Eurymedon, and the rest that knew nothing of that encounter, prayed Epicharis to tell them what it was. She recounted to them, how being escaped they three out of the prisons of Rome, and flying that City, they hid them one night within this den, where hearing a man that complained to himself, and implored the aid of the Sibyl's voice, she resolved to counterfeit that voice, and to send back this woeful man to his own kindred. Lepantus returning out of his astonishment, said to her; Fair Epicharis, is it possible, this you say? 'Tis even so, answered she, and beside I call you well to my remembrance, because now I know 'twas you that passed by us the next day morning. 'Tis true, said Lepantus, that I saw some body that would have stayed me; but I was so satisfied with my Oracle, and the gods assistance, that nothing was capable of holding me. In the mean time, said Epicharis, see how beyond all thought I have proved true: for you have found here by my means, your fortune entirely changed; and to me you are beholding for all your prosperity. 'Tis true, replied Lepantus, that you are my Sibyl, and the sole goddess I am bound to adore; since of you alone I hold all the contentments of my life; and had it not been for you, I should still be within that grot. Everyone admired this rencontre, and how casually they had repaired to that same place, and been inspired to render him the Oracle that was the truest, and the most wholesome the gods themselves had been able to have given him. Lepantus gave many thanks to Epicharis, and to the gods which had spoken to him by her mouth. The he went on:  
Although I believed the gods took care of me, and would deliver me out of that miserable life I was in, yet I could not imagine for all that they were able to heal me otherwise than by the forgetting of my love: in such sort that albeit I followed the command of that Oracle, it was without all hope of good fortune, because I would not be cured on that fashion. I took the way of my Country with languish and disdain enough, finding myself forced to go thither by a power that seemed fearful to me, and yet abhorring the very places I sought. That caused me to make no very great haste for avancing my way, and being arrived at Rheggium after many days, I was well content to find no shipping there to go to Corinth, because the more I drew near it, the more fear had I to arrive. At Rheggium I had an host, a very ancient friend of my deceased father, whom I resolved to go see, never thinking he could have any knowledge of my miseries; to the end I might so journey some time in that place. This good man that was called Menander, having known of me who I was, made as much of me as was possible; and knowing that I stayed at Rheggium but whilst some vessel parted for Corinth, he prayed me to dwell with him as long time as I pleased, and expressed to me, that he could not receive a greater contentment, than to see the son of his good friend. I was in this house a long time, because they were not weary of me, and I thought not of going away, not yet being able to resolve of any thing.  
Menander knew very well my mind was troubled, and having many times laboured to know the cause of it, he could never learn any thing, whereupon not willing to press me any further, he only tried to divert me. He had a daughter was married at his house, named Melicerta, that was a very pleasing woman, and of a most gentile wit, he commanded her not to leave me without entertainment, and she performed the charge with a great care, and more grace withal. Every day I knew the City news, which she was well informed of; and when the time furnished none of itself, she related to me things that had passed before, and so agreeably made her recites, that she rendered my mind attentive to her discourse, and gave it no time to consider of its melancholy. But since we have leisure enough, I must needs impart a story of hers to you, that so possessed me when I heard it from her, and in such sort diverted me for seeming to concern my affairs, that I believe I shall bring some pleasure to you too by the repetition of it.  
One day I saw come to her house a Lady called Ardania, to visit her; and by the kind entertainments they gave one another, I knew that they were entire friends. This Lady had much sparkling: but her beauty seemed to have encountered some great sickness, because her complexion, though very delicate, was pale and decayed, and her eyes that were very full, and of an agreeable bigness, had no quickness in them; and were so languishing, that they seemed to regret the loss of their lustre and charming vivacity. I perceived how my presence made their discourses indifferent, and hindered them from speaking freely together; so as I took Chares apart (that was Melicerta's husband) and entertained him, for to give them all the liberty I could. I saw well I had done them a pleasure, for they were more than an hour in secret together; and at length Ardania resolved to be gone. Chares would wait on her home, because it was at the latest, and left me alone with Melicerta, that said to me a little after; Here was a Lady that has been a great deal handsomer than she now appears for: but her griefs have caused that change. I attributed, said I to her, that paleness to some sickness; for there is no doubt but she still retains the marks of an extraordinary beauty. I will not conceal from you, continueth Melicerta, that for an inconstant woman she is as well punished as could have been desired; and when I consider the accidents that happened to three or four of my acquaintance, I find that love is very just: when he pretends to be revenged, he advises sometimes to punish infidelities after a pleasant manner; and though Ardania be my dearest friend, I have so much confidence in your discretion, as not to fear relating to you the whole story.  
Three or four years ago, went she on, amongst the most accomplished of of this City, there was one called Polydamas, who besides many other excellent qualities, had so great a discretion, that it made him be loved of all the world. He was of kin to Ardania, and that consideration made them see one another often; they had each a very great esteem of other: and their affinity giving them still cause to love, they were endeared with much affection, and did communicate together with a great confidence. I was at that time one that knew all Ardania's secrets, and I perceived that nothing pleased her like unto Polydamas, for she ever made me relations to his advantage, and if he than made her not in love with him, at the least he made her have contempt for all other men. He was engaged above two years before, in the search of a Maid named Elusina, who loved him with so much constancy, that she suffered for his sake all the cruelties a furious father can inflict, when he sees his daughter's passion contrary to his designs. Ardania knew of Polydamas all that passed in that affection: but because he was more loved, than he loved himself, he pursued that enterprise with coldness enough, and seconded not the endeavours Elusina made to attain to what they desired: only he contented himself to render her such duties, as he could not deny her without expression of much forgetfulness and contempt. Ardania sometimes reproached him before me for the small care he had of Elusina; and he confessed to herself that she was cause that he could never have a love to any to be in love with. In the end the constancy of Elusina gave way to the violences of her father; she resolved with herself to obey him, and for this demanded leave of Polydamas, that she might be delivered from the vexations she was made to endure. He did at that time an action that might seem to proceed from a good sincere affection; but that was indeed a testimony of his coldness. He wrote to her, that not able to see her eternally endure, he had resolved to entreat her the same thing for which she had desired leave of him: that losing all hope, she ought to give satisfaction to her friends, to preserve herself from misery; that he prayed her to forget him, if it were possible, for not being all her life miserable; that for this purpose he returned her all the pledges he had of her friendship, and remitted her all the oaths she had made him; to the end that engagement hindered not her repose. Hereupon she married, and left Polydamas at liberty, who but poorly resented this misfortune. Ardania, continued Melicerta, has a brother called Misander, who, with other base qualities, is possessed of so heavy a melancholy, as he is distasteful to all company. Lepantus was there interrupted by Amyntas, who told him, I have sufficiently known Misander to my cost. Ariana added, it may be 'tis the same Misander Erycine spoke of to me. The very same, replied Amyntas, whose humour made us suffer a long time both of us. I perceive then, went on Lepantus, you know him better than I do by sight; but yet peradventure I know more than you the effects of that sad humour that vexes himself, and has given so much trouble to others. Polydamas, continued Melicerta, though he despised Misander's humour, yet he gave not over making shows of kindness to him that he might be often with Ardania, whose company he was very well pleased with. One day Misander heard how they spoke of marrying Polydamas; and when they were all three together, he told this news to his sister, as if it had been very agreeable to them; whereupon Ardania blushed. Polydamas observed this action; for there is nothing so soon perceived, as that which makes for our advantage, and he judged that she was interessed much in him. That made him think of a thing he was not yet well advised in, which was to seek her affection, having but till then desired her friendship. Ardania was far more handsome than Elusina, and it was very easy to kindle a fire, after the beginning of heat that was between them. There had been nothing but the consideration of their kindred that hindered Polydamas from casting his eyes upon her for to marry her; but then he knew, that since she made no difficulty of it, he ought not to be more scrupulous than she. See him then resolved to testify much passion to her; and without seeming to have apperceived her inclination, that she might not be ashamed for having prevented him, he judged that he was to feign to have loved her of a long time with a concealed affection. Upon that occasion he made many verses, whereby he said it was at least permitted him to put in writing what he suffered without telling the subject of it, and to comfort his mind in this sort, for so many cruel thoughts that tormented it, and would break out. At the same time he was more careful than ordinarily in his respects to Ardania, and expressed to her by his sighs, and some interrupted words, that he died for love of her. At the first testimony she had of it, she learned me the news that Polydamas loved her, as a thing extremely desired of her, and that possessed her with joy; I was then at her house, when he showed her those verses, and she was very glad to have him read them before me, to the end I might know how much passion he had. He imputed all his coldnesses for Elusina, to this secret love he had for another a long time since, and feigned to have done many things out of necessity, which were not done then without design. We asked him many questions upon this secret love he yet declared not, to all which he very well satisfied; and Ardania took great pleasure therein. He knew very well we understood all he would say; and from that time we took a custom of speaking together without declaring of any thing openly; and yet we failed not to tell all things as intelligibly, as if he had told the name of her he loved. I found him very happy for treating on this fashion, because that under the coverture of the kindred, he took such liberties as would not have been permitted him, if he had been declared for a lover: as to bring near often his mouth to hers, and to hold and kiss her hand incessantly. Thus was it that he gave birth to the most violent passion that ever was, because this fair Cousin refusing him not those caresses, and obliging him with a straight confidence, he felt himself so redevable towards her, and at the same time so touched at her beauty, that he kindled a fire not of a long time to be quenched. Misander saw not very willingly this great intelligence; yet he could not judge then that it were other than a simple friendship. Polydamas seeing that he had need of this melancholic man, gave him in the mean time all sorts of duties; for Ardania had but a mother who was very old; and all the power of the house was in the hands of this Misander, who though of a weak and heavy spirit, had yet the authority because of the harshness of his disposition which they were afraid to displease. Ardania and Polydamas persuaded him for the most to what they had a mind to by gentleness of spirit: but they feared him, when he should have come to know of their love; for he had other projects for his sister. One day Misander, whether out of simplicity, or of purpose, entreated Polydamas to persuade Ardania to a marriage she resisted. Polydamas found himself obliged to speak of it to her, and it chanced to fall out in my presence. He represented to her all the considerations that ought to move her for the choice of that husband, whereto at the beginning she replied with laughter, as if she thought he did but mock her; but he urged her so, in speaking seriously concerning this affair, in plot, as I believe, to prove her, that at last she was angry, and said to him, that she took this ill at his hands, more than at any other. She discovered herself thus, and it was the first word had escaped her, whereby she showed that she approved his affection. Then he appeased her, and would make her believe he had so spoken to know her thoughts; and to tell them to her brother. She feigned not to tell Polydamas often, that she should be the most miserable woman of the world, if the resolution she had prospered not: but although he knew that he was well loved of her, yet he knew it not then so well as I did, to whom Ardania told a thousand things touching his affection, that made me see, never woman was more in love.  
Afterwards there was presented a party to her, which gave them many fears and troubles. The business had been debated amongst the kindred before communicating it with Ardania, because they would not so much as doubt of her will, in such sort as all was in a good forwardness, when she learned the news of it. Consider her then full of apprehensions, and all she could do, was to represent some difficulties. She acquainted Polydamas with it, who knew not what remedy to invent; and their affection not daring yet to break forth, they were both of them in great pain. One day he came in to Ardania's, when the friends of either party were assembled, to remove some difficulties concerning that marriage. Misander came out to meet him, and Polydamas signified to him that he would be gone, since they were busy. No, no, said Misander, you shall stay if you please, because you have as much interest in this affair, as any one that is here. As little, said Polydamas to himself, then suffered to be led to the place where they were that debated the differences. Ardania was present, as pale as if she had been ready to be condemned to death: but when she saw Polydamas enter, she conceived some hope, and took a little courage. He was in the esteem of so great virtue, and so good a judgement, that presently they proposed the difficulties to him for to consider and judge of them himself. At first he pretended that he would accord all things; having for all that no other design than to break this assembly; and said that they were to yield on either side, and that small respects ought not to hinder an affair of great importance. He insinuated himself by this means into the credence of both parties; but when they would precipitate the marriage, he said, that was not reasonable, and that that which regarded the whole life deserved to be thought of at more leisure. In the end he was so skilful in managing their wits, that he broke this assembly, and made the resolution be deferred to the next day. Ardania at the beginning knew not what to think of Polydamas, hearing him speak: but seeing he had so well brought about his design, she was very well satisfied. Then being alone with Misander and his mother, he declared how they were to distrust those that would dazzle their eyes by so sudden a resolution as they obliged them to take; that there was some great defect concealed under it, and time were necessary to find it out. After he had put these suspicions into them, they made so many adjournments, as they gave despite to the others; and at last all was broken off, to the great contentment of Ardania and Polydamas, who were of opinion that they could not always so turn off the storms that should be presented, and that it was time for them to declare. The succours Polydamas had given Ardania in this last occasion, had so obliged her, that she was entirely bound to him, and gave him all the honest assurances Love is able to accord. They consulted of the means they were to use, and provided them of persons that might make her mother consent. There was but this troublesome Misander, who was too wild a beast to be easily governed; so as there were but few to be found that could persuade him. Polydamas that had an empire upon his mind, had been the only man sufficient to bring him to any thing he was willing to have him, if he had been to speak to him for another, but for to serve himself of him, he remained without force. Upon these attempts the mother sickens, and dies. Ardania after having rendered her the last duties, received no consolation but from the faithful company of her dear Polydamas, who believed not that any thing was able to hinder their good fortune, since she was left Mistress of herself. There was made between them a renewing of assurances; they lived in so strict an union, and had as particular cares for one another, as if they had been already married together. Then were presented more parties for her, so as they resolved to conclude their affairs, and to make the proposition of them to Misander, to whom she had purposed to declare her absolute will, and to pray him to consent thereto, if not to pass forward. Polydamas made choice of one of his friends to speak to Misander; and he acquitted himself so well, showing him a thousand respects that ought to oblige him to desire that marriage, that if he had been of any judgement, he could not have refused to consent to a thing so desired of all. He received this overture with a great deal of sadness; nevertheless he promised to speak of it to his sister; but within his mind he conceived a furious hatred against Polydamas, in stead of the near friendship was betwixt them; and he believed, as there was much appearance for it, that Polydamas had not expressed affection to him but for this design. So, unworthy souls fail not to acknowledge their own defaults, and the merit of others, through the darkness that encompasses them; and in stead of cherishing the virtue of those that excel them, they hate and shun them for fear of being overruled. Misander being returned to his house, makes himself sick, and refuses to eat: they ask him what his grief is, he is angry, and spiteful, he knows not to whom to take him for to wreak his choler on; and his whole project is but to counterfeit the mad man and enraged, in testimony of his aversion to his sister's design. Ardania doubted that all his transports came from the declaration had been made him, whereof she was well advertised; and knew not how to speak to him in this unquiet humour. At last he took him to his bed, and then sent for his sister to come to him, and when they were alone, he said to her; Well, sister, I knew at last the cause of your coldnesses, and of all the refuses you made of the parties were offered you; I perceived my suspicions were well grounded, when I could not approve such secrecy with Polydamas. I know well 'tis from your advice that he makes you be demanded in marriage: See if it be a thing you have resolved on: I can no longer hinder your purposes, & will sign you what consent you will have me: but assure yourself, that I will not live two days after. Yes, I will dye, and make him dye too, for having mocked me all his life, and abused my freedom for to deceive me and you also. There fell in continuation a torrent of enraged words against Polydamas and Ardania, and after that his fury had taken some respite, she told him, that she knew not why he should be so transported; that she was ignorant of Polydamas design, but that if he had an affection to her, he honoured her by it; that she would tell him truly, that if he consented to it, he should do her a great pleasure, for she could never be happy but with him. I would rather, said he to her, throw myself down headlong, and strike a poniard into your bosom. No, no, I shall hinder the effect of your fancies well enough, or else blood shall be seen spilt. Ardania perceiving that his transport made him speak strange follies, left him, without expression of any great care she took at his words, and they both passed away a night that gave them but little repose. I had been chosen, continued Melicerta, by these two lovers, to be their confident during the traverses which they had foreseen, and it was impossible for them to see one another after that declaration, Misander having shut up all the avenues: so as Polydamas the next day came to see me, to know what had passed. I told him that affairs were much embroiled, and that there was a rumour in the house, that Misander was mad, and Ardania resisted his rage the best she could.  
But it was a strange thing, to see the small force of Ardania: she could not endure her brother's choler, and seeing that he would not eat, she went to beseech him not to be angry, and she would do nothing contrary to his will. I durst not tell Polydamas of this weakness, seeing to what point of sadness he was brought, because Ardania had not spoken with so great a resolution as he expected. She on the other side seeing her brother pacified, recovered her forces, and expressed affection to Polydamas: Misander then made the madman as before, and constrained his sister to give way to him. That combat between Ardania's love and Misander's rage endured a long time, and when this was cooled, the other had the advantage. In the mean time Polydamas seeing no more Ardania, that put not in effect what she had promised him, was tormented with many cares and unquietnesses; and the more facility he saw of executing their designs, the more grief he had to see that she could not resolve to despise her brother. But to come to the infidelities I told you of, said Melicerta, which were punished one by another, I will let pass all the strifes Ardania made; then the weaknesses which made her release, with all the complaints and reproaches Polydamas used to her, who yet was so discreet, as he never complained of her but to herself and to me. He had been false to Elusina without her knowing of it, and she too had been unfaithful to him, in abandoning him to deliver herself from misery, although she believed that he still loved her. Love, to revenge Polydamas on Elusina, made her being married have her husband in such a contempt, that she feigned not to seek to Polydamas again who despised her. Again, to revenge Elusina on Polydamas, he caused Ardania to forget the greatest affection that ever was; and I believe that which made her unfaithful, was the fidelity of her glass, which representing her complexion to her effaced with cares, What now? said she, shall I lose my beauty that procured me so many vows and commendations, to maintain my love that brings upon me so many mischiefs? No, no, let us quit this love, the trouble of my soul, and the ruin of my dearest treasures; and forgetting it for ever, let that beauty return, which for one lost lover shall gain me above a thousand. See her then deliberating to become handsome again, and for the recovery of her good looks, quite unwilling to hear speak of Polydamas any more. I wondered with myself at so strange a change; and when I reproached her for her lightness, she had the boldness to deny to me all she had told me when she loved Polydamas, even thus far, as she would have made me believe, that she never had any affection at all to him. At that time a young man called Cyllarus sought her; he had loved Danaide, a woman he had been beholding to for all the civility he knew with Ladies, for she had taken the pains to instruct his youth; whereupon Cyllarus being ingrate, renounced her friendship, and pursued the affection of Ardania. Love that had already taken vengeance of Elusina and Polydamos, was revenged at one blow of two unfaithful persons; joining in marriage Cyllarus with Ardania to punish them one by the other. This delicate woman that thought her charms so puissant, could not stay that wanderer; who was no sooner married, but that he returned to Danaide, and without considering of the displeasures he gave his new wife, sought by all the ways he could to re-enter into her good graces. Danaide in revenge of herself, mocked him a long time, whereat he received so many sorrows, as he could not hide them before Ardania. She on the other side seeing herself despised, began to regret her faithful Polydamas, she had forsaken; so as being both of them in bed, they lay off from one another as far as they could, and suspired each of them apart, one for Danaide, the other for Polydamas. But a while since, Cyllarus has found the means to rejoin with Danaide, and this is that Ardania but now told me, said Melicerta, at least she has this opinion, whether it be so indeed, or that her jealousy makes her believe it. Do but see, Lepantus, said she to me, what repose Ardania can expect for the present: for whether her husband finds himself in grace, or in disgrace with Danaide, she receives by it the same affliction: she despairs to see him sigh for her; on the other side she dies, when Danaide makes him happy, and in this I account her most miserable indeed, that the more she is afflicted, the more she brings herself into estate never to regain the affection of Cyllarus. At length all those displeasures have caused the loss of that beauty she had so much cherished, and for which she had forsaken him that had so much affection for her. Polydamas meeting her by chance very lately, and seeing that fair face so altered as it was, made verses under another name, which he sent to me; and I assure myself, Lepantus, added Melicerta, you will find them very witty. She took them out of her pocket, and showed me them; I took a copy of them, which I have now about me. Lepantus let Melintus see it, and the company, and it was thus:  

PHillis, alas how you are changed:  
Where are the baits you had so rare?  
Ha! now my love is well revenged:  
My eyes are wondering who you are:  
And is your beauty thus to change inclined,  
In imitation of your mind?   

Poor Phillis! you have no more charms  
To make another amorous:  
Your eyes deprived of their arms,  
Are now no more so dangerous:  
Their beams so lively, now have lost the art  
Of penetrating to the heart.   

For when you banished that flame  
Which in your spirit had such power,  
Not without fury forth it came,  
Your complexion to devour.  
That teint though lovely had not force enough  
For to resist so keen a blow.   

Your beauty proved faithful yet,  
When your heart wanted loyalty,  
For seeing me to dye for it,  
It rather chose to dye for me.  
Her fairest flower passing so soon away,  
Was constant in her changing day.   

Alas! said the soul so grieved,  
Beauty will you forsake us quite?  
To this lover I'm obliged,  
Answered she in great despite;  
If you resolve to change, and make him dye,  
My change must give him remedy.   
Lepantus folding up the verses went on. Melicerta thus ended her story, which I listened very attentively to, continually thinking upon Cyllenia; whom for all that I could not wish to be punished in like sort; having always kept for her so dear a remembrance, that very often when my memory presented her to my imagination, and let me see her as unfaithful, it seemed that I turned away my sight, but I had sorrow to be willing at the same time, and unwilling to think of her. And thus lived I during my griefs, which Melicerta only was able to comfort by her delightful recites. But at length I considered how I too long time neglected the good fortune the gods had promised me; so I thought of departing; and having found the commodity of a vessel, I took leave of Menander, Chares, and Melicerta; and being at Sea, we were encountered by Eurymedon. His companions having killed some of those were with us, I attended to receive my death at their hands, and I believed that that was the alleviation of my miseries the gods had promised me, not able to imagine any other. And for this cause I presented myself without arms with much assurance before their swords. They were amazed to see me so resolute to dye; and Eurymedon who saw me in this action, thought it was out of greatness of courage; so as he saved me, and embracing me expressed that he would have me be his friend. Afterwards I was present when the Pirates went to assail the brave Melintus; and I was so happy as to render Eurymedon what he had lent me, by obtaining of Melintus that he would not kill him. In the end following so courageous a troop, I found in my arms my dear Cyllenia, as pure, as fair, and with as much affection for me as ever, and all this by the strangest hazard fortune is able to produce. 'Tis for this I shall esteem myself all my life time redevable to the fair Epicharis, whom I shall hereafter call my Sibylla; and though this encounter may be ascribed to fortune, I believe rather that the gods are extremely her friends; who would make me happy by her enterprise. Lepantus ended thus, and every one admiring those encounters; Melintus prayed him that they might swear together an eternal friendship, as well because of his virtue, as for that he was brother to the sage Eriphile. They related then to one another all their lives; and the adventures all of the company had met with, furnished them with entertainment enough in their voyage until they came into Epire, where they landed. Eurymedon took his leave of Melintus and the company with many embraces, to go find out his Pirates; and he assured them he would pass by the same place again, and see them before he went to the Isle of Lesbos with his forces; and that if he found them not there, and they needed his service, they should hear news of him in the Isle, which was the place of his dearest desires. He entered into his own ship with those companions of his that remained; and Melintus, Ariana, and all their friends, went unto Nicopolis, the chief City of Epire, in hope to stay there without fear of their enemies, and enjoy all the contentments they could promise themselves.    

ARIANA. The third Book.  
FOrtune that had given these lovers so many traverses, now seemed weary of persecuting them; and they were resolved to give end to their own pains. Melintus was the next day to marry Ariana, and Lepantus Cyllenia. Palamede offered himself to return to Corinth to his uncle, feigning to come back from his Athenian voyage; and by making as though he were ignorant of all that had happened, endeavour to appease him, and likewise Sebastus for Cyllenia, and so to mediate their peace and return. Lepantus had found out his men in this City, who attended for him in the same place where he had left them, when he parted from Epire to pass into Italy. They were lodged very commodiously: so as all of them made choice of that house, for to be the happy place where so many fair and violent desires should receive an entire satisfaction. Melintus was so ravished to see himself in the Evening of tasting so many delights, that he himself could not measure the greatness of his own joy: but the more Ariana approached the height of her desires, the more did her modesty strive to repress the testimonies of her contentment. Lepantus and Cyllenia in their souls felt no less pleasure. Amyntas promised himself that his good fortune would follow that of Melintus, from whom he expected much succours with Telephus: and Erycine ought to be satisfied with him, for having so well obeyed her when she commanded him to serve Melintus. There was but Palamede, to whom the love of Epicharis gave desire and impatiency enough: but the discretion of that wench moderated him, who knowing that he should commit a great fault to marry her being aslave, had forbidden him the hope of it, as long as she continued in that condition. Palamede notwithstanding in this occasion not enduring to see so many persons made happy, and himself so far off enjoying the same pleasures, said to her, Fair Epicharis, how long do you mean to defer satisfying the passion I have for you? desire you I should attend an infinite time, and in the mean space live with you the most unfortunate of men? fear not to have me do any thing unworthy of me by marrying of you; your merit abundantly recompenses the default of your liberty; and my uncle cannot refuse to give it you, when you shall be my wife. What occasion more favourable may we hope for? Now all things are here in disorder, if we commit a fault, it will easily be considerable. Can you fail by imitating the actions of Ariana and Cyllenia? and must my condition, which you judge more exalted than yours, be the sole cause of making me unhappy? Palamede, answered Epicharis, if you could judge how much I esteem myself obliged to you for your affection, I think you so reasonable, as you would have cause to be satisfied with me: but you shall pardon me if I cannot consent to what you desire. I know well the difference of our affections. 'Tis a passion something blindish that makes you love me, but 'tis reason only that causes me to honour you. You consider not well what I am, when you express so much love to me; and without doubt turn away your thought from a defect that accompanies me, while you esteem me worthy of you: chose the more I open my eyes to see what your worth is, the more cause I find to love you, and think myself indebted to you. But loving you with reason, I love your honour as much as I do your person; and it would show I had out small care of that, if I should make myself happy to the prejudice of it. That which is fit for the fair Ariana and Melintus to do, is not so for us; and the same reason that permits them to marry against the desire of Dicearchus, is that which ordains me to continue still a Maid against yours. Palamede, I beseech you to temper your desires; and assure yourself that if the gods are pleased with our affections, they will so bring affairs to pass, that honour and fitness shall not be separate from our contentments. Thus did this wench, full of wisdom and courage, stay the transports of Palamedes affection, who the farther off he found himself from contenting his desires, the more he admired the virtue and generosity of Epicharis, and increased his passion by them. Melintus sent to have brought out of his ship much riches whereof he was provided, for to make that day as famous and magnific as he was able, in a place so distant from their acquaintance. He made to be taken out thence many sumptuous moveables, vessel of gold and silver, and what ever he thought necessary to make himself seem worthy of Ariana, if Dicearchus received him into grace at Corinth. Ariana and Cyllenia that ought to have been the fairest ornament of that happy day, failed not to prepare against the morning all that might make their beauty appear more resplendent: but nothing could render their charms more pleasing, than the excess of their contentments, which not able to be contained any longer in their hearts, were now discovering themselves upon their faces. Every one used the greatest care he could, not to be without pomp and grace; and at last that morning arrives so much desired of all.  
When all things were ready, and they putting themselves in the way to go to the Temple; they heard Trumpets sounding in the City. Ariana thought Melintus had sent for them from his ship to lead her to the Temple with more solemnity: but he stood in amaze at it, and having sent to know what it meant, they brought him word, that a public cry was made, by which was commanded to all those that were subjects of the Empire, to seize upon Melintus and Palamede, Sicilians, wherever they were found, and to send their heads to Rome; because they were the enemies of Caesar and the people of Rome: and for the better knowledge of them, they gave all their marks.  
This cruel news troubled all their joys, and filled their souls with astonishment and sadness. They durst not now go abroad for fear of being known; and they could not tell what counsel to take in such an excess of misery. When they fled from Dicearchus fury, see them fallen into a far greater misery, having the Romans for enemies, whose Empire being of so large an extent, they could not hope to get out of it without being discovered upon the ways. They shut up their house as carefully as they could, staying till they might think upon some remedy, though they had but small hope to find any. Ariana fell a crying, to see a persecution so cruel against her dear Melintus and her brother, Cyllenia accompanied her tears out of compassion, the others sought to encourage the resolution of these fair Ladies against this unhappiness: but they that took upon them to comfort others, were no less afflicted themselves. Lepantus and Amyntas offered to go learn what they said about the Town: but because they were strangers in that place, they feared lest they might give some suspicion of those that dwelled in the same house. All that day passed with much sadness and fear, and the next day also, without inventing of any expedient.  
Epicharis whose wit was full of a thousand inventions, told them, she saw well that it appertained to none but her to save their lives, as she had once already done at Rome: that she would go about the Town to see what passed, and for this cause she was to be disguised in a man, that habit being fatal for their safety. Nevertheless that they should not be so secure in her devices, but they might try to find out other means beside. Melintus said, he could find no better, than to send away some to Corcyra, to advertise Eurymedon of the danger they were running; that he coming by with his forces might deliver them. Amyntas would go thither to do them this service, and because he would not take their ship, for fear they might have need of it themselves, he went away in a Skiffe towards Corcyra. Epicharis on the other side made no matter of cutting her hair once again; & being accommodated with a man's clothes, and a sword by her side, she went out of the house one morning, with a design to go gain the Porter of the City, to let them out by night. She had mistrusted the conduct of another in this occasion: fearing he might cause a suspicion, and being apprehended discover them: but she was assured of the dexterity of her wit, and made no doubt of her courage in case she were taken, never to tell where they were. Her project happily succeeded; for after having sounded this Porter every way, she found him to be a man that for a little money would let the very enemy enter into the Town. She put some pieces of gold into his hand, and prayed him to attend them about midnight: from thence she went to their vessel, for to give order that all might be in a readiness at the same hour, to the end they failed not of departing away. But when she was at the Port, there was a young man that cried out as he saw her; See there my fugitive slave, friends, lend me your help to arrest him. Instantly he would have laid hold on her, but Epicharis stepping apace backward, took her sword in her hand and struck him a blow with it upon the arm. Yet she presently was arrested, and brought before the Romans that were newly arrived. That young man having his arm all bloody, failed not to come to the same place, and entreated the Romans they would not let go his slave that was called Eurylas, but that he might be restored to him again. Then Epicharis knew it was the Gaolers' son of Rome, to whom she had sold herself heretofore: but without any amazement, she addressed her to the man that seemed to have the most authority, and said to him; I make you Judge of the difference that may be betwixt this man and me; and I am assured he will condemn himself; then she turned her towards him, and said, I confess I sold myself to you; but was it not upon condition that I might be redeemed at the same price? 'Tis true, answers he: she goes on; When you would have given me the money we were agreed for, did I not leave it with you to keep for me? 'Tis true, said he again. Then I might, continues she, lawfully go away from you when I thought good, since you have the same price in your hands, I can redeem myself with. The young man stood without any answer; and he before whom this cause was pleaded, said that Eurylas had reason, and might go at liberty. Epicharis made a leg, and took her leave of them: but this young man coming out of his amazement, cried out; Let him not go, for it was he that helped out of our prisons Melintus and Palamede. So they seized the second time upon the poor Epicharis that was going her way; and she was brought back again before him that had judged her, who was called Trebatius. There was with him a young Roman, whose face appeared very delicate, that said, Without doubt he will learn us news of those we seek for: let us go into the Town, and encompass all with soldiers, lest any thing escape. Epicharis was overcome with grief, when she saw this resolution, and accused her extreme misery for the regret she had for having so well hitherto carried her plot, and the fear that she might be a cause of the death of Melintus and Palamede. Yet she dissembled as much as she could the trouble she was in, for not giving any suspicion by her astonishment; and considering how they knew assuredly at Rome, that Melintus and Palamede were living, as well because of the cry was made, as to see the Gaolers' son that spoke as he did, and the rest that made search for them, she told them; I am alone in this Country without any acquaintance, and know no news of Melintus or Palamede, with whom this Gaoler had shut me up in a Chamber of the prison. I confess to you truly, that when they saved themselves by the chimney, and from thence by the top of the Tower, I was asleep, and I think verily they had stupefied me some way or other: but at length being awake, and not finding them, because they had left lights in the Chamber, I was strangely perplexed, and I knew not but that I was to go give notice that they had made their escape: in the end fearing to be accused of their flight, for not having had care enough of them, I resolved to save myself by the same means they had done. But being descended by the rope, a pinnacle of the Tower fell down that was like to have overwhelmed me: when I got free of those ruins, I went away as fast as I could, and never since heard I any news of them. She entertained with these reasons Trebatius, and those that accompanied him, as they entered into the City: but although they had some appearance of truth in them, they were not for all that yet satisfied. Trebatius sent to those that were in another ship, for to advertise them to come on shore; and how they were in hope to have news there of those they sought. In the mean time they went to repose them in the most apparent house that was in all the City, as belonging to the Emperor. Epicharis at the same time was sounded on all sides, and she satisfied the best she could possibly all the demands were made her: but at last they of the second ship arrived, among whom she was very much astonished to know Dicearchus and Pisistratus; then she judged herself lost. Dicearchus coming near her, said in looking firmly on her; If I be not deceived this is Epicharis disguised, and this is not the first time she has taken this habit: she had the confidence to enter thus into the prison, and to save those you are seeking; and this Gaoler had reason to know her. Every one stood in a maze at the resolution, and the wit of this young Maid. But, continues he in directing his speech to her, if you be not the slave of this man, at least, minion, you cannot deny but you are mine. Your slave, answered she reculing a step, and regarding him contemptuously, I am none of yours, but Ariana's your Niece, to whom you gave me. No, no, replied he, you are my slave, and by the right I have over you of life and death, I command you to tell me where are Melintus and Palamede whom the Emperor makes search for. Go, answered she, hangman of thy blood, that fearest not to sacrifice thy Nephew for satisfaction of thy vengeance against Melintus: go furious mad man, that wilt destroy the only hope of thy house, to please thy brutish passion: assure thyself the gods will punish thee. Yes, I confess to thee I know what Country they are in for the present, but be certain that I will never tell it, nor yet for what purpose they sent me by Sea into Epire: and I shall make it appear to the cruelest executioners, that I have still more constancy than thou hast rage. Dicearchus blushed hearing those sensible reproaches, and could not answer her: but Trebatius for all that left not commanding they should put her into irons, until she had declared what she knew. Epicharis answered him as she went out from his presence, that he then expected to stay a long time in that place, or else to put her suddenly to death. She was thus brought into an obscure place, and as she went she saw one of those that led her away, which made himself known to her. It was Arcas the faithful freedman of Melintus, who told her in her ear, Let me know where they are that are sought, that I may advise them to save themselves if it be possible. She named him the place so handsomely, that none perceived this secrecy, because they no whit mistrusted Arcas; who as soon as ever Epicharis was shut up, escaped from among those of that troop, and went to find Melintus and those of his company, that knew nothing of all had passed. Melintus was well pleased to see again his dear Arcas, and from him expected much succours in the necessity they were in. But he was in a great amazement, when he heard that Epicharis was taken, and had been known by Dicearchus and Pisistratus, who were arrived at this City, with some Romans that on the Emperor's part sought to put them to death. Arcas told them how Epicharis expressed resolution enough never to tell the place they were in; that she would make them believe very finely, that they were in a very far Country, and had sent her hither by Sea upon some defignes: but that he saw little hope of escaping, because the City was every where environed with soldiers. All these cruel news dismayed their spirits for grief, that were already well forward in fears. Alas, said the fair Ariana, it seems the fury of our misfortune assembles forces from all sides of the earth, for to take from us all hope of safety. What crime, good gods, have we committed, that you should suffer men to persecute us with such rage? and from whom can we expect help, since he that served in stead of a father to us, is the most animated to destroy us? Alas how miserable am I to live! Without me, Melintus should not have been here, nor my brother at this present; and but for me, my uncle had not thus pursued their life. Just gods! if I be cause of their misfortune, let me be punished only: give an end to my life which is to them so fatal, and by my blood appease your anger. But what? my blood is too poor a thing to extinguish so much choler: you will not have so much as one of us escape. Well then, ye gods! delay not the time to make us perish. Are we so puissant and so redoubtable, that so much people must be brought against so few persons? Gather here together all the forces of the Empire: join our very friends to our enemies; provoke beside against us all the rest of the earth, with heaven and hell. The valour of Melintus and my brother is then very formidable, since it makes itself be feared even of you; that you should need the assembly of so many powers for to vanquish them. Ariana in her grief, cast against heaven all those complaints, and if she had believed any thing to be more revered yet than the gods, which might have power of governing the resorts of fortune; in that transport she was in, she would not have feared to assault it. Melintus comforted her the best he could possibly, and told her they were yet all estate, either to save themselves by artifice; or defend them by valour. At the worst, that death was not a thing so miserable; and that there were in life many things more to be dreaded: above all he entreated her not to accuse the gods for their calamity. We must take heed, said he, of offending those, from whom succours may be expected. They have drawn us out of greater perils; and if they permit for the present that we be reduced to such an extremity as this, it may be 'tis to the end we should acknowledge that we hold not our safety but of them. Melintus thus laboured to appease the griefs of his dear Ariana, whose sorrow was more insupportable to him than his own misfortune. Lepantus also employed all the Art of his eloquence, and all the force of his virtue, to find out a remedy, or at least a consolation for the danger they were in. There was none but Palamede transported with fury, who knowing in what sort Epicharis was handled, and that she was in danger of her life, would have parted that very hour to find out means for her delivery. What, said he, shall I let her dye that she might make me live and be so unworthy as to secure my own life by the loss of hers? I will rather kill all those that keep her, and my uncle himself. Nothing is capable of resisting my love and courage in such an enterprise as this. Thus made he many threatenings in his fury, and nothing seemed impossible to him: but he was kept back by the rest, that represented to him how by going forth he exposed them to danger; that they were to consult a while what was to be done; and that if force were to be used, he would much better bring to pass his design, when he should be assisted with all their troop. These considerations something appeased the agitation of his spirit; and the care they had over him, put him out of hope of escaping their hands. In the mean time Melintus and Lepantus enquired of Arcas who they were that had questioned Epicharis, and were landed at the Port before Dicearchus; for it was necessary to know all, and how he had encountered them, to the end thereupon they might see what enemies they were to guard themselves from, and what remedies they might invent in the miseries that menaced them. Arcas told them that the relation he had to make them upon this subject was something long: that he was first to return to those he had come with, that they entered not into suspicion of him if they saw him not; but that he would presently return, and pass away the night with them: especially he would learn the resolution had been taken since he left Epicharis. They let him go, and having attended him with much impatiency, he came back about evening; and after they had eaten a little, he assembled them all in a place, where setting himself in the midst of them, he began thus what he had to tell them:  

History of Arcas, Trebatius, and Emilia.  
IT must be confessed that a benefit is never lost, and that by knowing how to acknowledge an obligation received, one ordinarily draws on a second: for had it not been for the care Melintus my Master took to send me to Rome with presents for Maximus to recompense him for the losses he had suffered for our occasion, I should not now be here to advertise you of what is prepared against you, and give you assistance according as I shall be able.  
When I was come to Rome, I enquired where Maximus dwelled, because his house that was consumed by the fire had not yet been repaired. At last I found him out, and having been received by him more courteously than I hoped for at my first coming, he was much rejoiced to hear news of you; for he believed until then that you were dead; and accepted with a great deal of difficulty the presents I brought, esteeming them, as he said, too rich for the small service he had rendered you. I demanded of him if there was nothing spoken of you: he told me he had heard nothing at all concerning you: but two days after word was brought us, that there was a public cry made, whereby it was ordained that Melintus and Palamede, who had escaped the prisons of Rome, should be killed in what place soever they were found, for that they were enemies to Caesar and the people of Rome. This news struck a terror into me; and instantly I prayed Maximus to go to the Palace of Nero, for to know in what manner the speech went of them. He reported how he had understood, that Trebatius, Tribune of the Emperor's guards, had a command to go with three companies of soldiers in search of Melintus and Palamede to Syracuse, or any other place where they thought to find them, and that he furnished a ship for this purpose.  
Although I had much trouble in my mind, I left not thinking what I was able to do to serve you: I resolved with myself to make me a soldier of Nero's guards, and enter into the companies that were to follow Trebatius. Maximus brought me acquainted with a Centurion, whom I gave an honest present to, presently he received me, and made show of much affection to me. I did my reverence to Trebatius, who finding me ready to serve, regarded me favourably enough, and began to have a confidence in me; he many times after that put commands upon me, and at last gave me the charge of Marshal of the lodgings to my company.  
When we embarked us I observed near him a young Roman very handsome, whom he had a great respect to, and much care over: he wore a helmet on his head that gave him much grace, and I saw that all his actions were accompanied with much delicateness. I imagined that I had seen his face heretofore; but I could not tell who he should be. Trebatius had given me charge to take care of some stuffs, and I was laid down amongst them to keep them more sure. This young Roman came to sit down by me, never seeing me, because I was laid. Trebatius who lost not sight of him, came presently near to him; and never thinking there had been any body that saw them, or could listen to them, he put one knee to the ground before him, and taking his hand, said to him; It seems you fly from me, and what care soever I take to do you service, I observe nothing in you but coldness to me, not to say contempt. Trebatius, answered he him, excuse the violence of the thoughts I am possessed with: I forget not the due acknowledgement of the pains you take to satisfy me; and I shall one day know how to express the obligation I have to you. Ha! Madam, said he. I was strangely amazed, pursued Arcas, to hear that word, never having thought it had been a woman. That made me give ear more attentively. Ha! Madam, I say, continued he, what have you then ordained concerning me? and if it happened that I could never find what you are seeking, should I always be miserable? Trebatius, answered she, use herein the greatest care you can: for be assured that I shall never make you contented, till I be revenged. Ha! said he, how cruel you are to me. What would you have, Trebatius, replied she? one passion hinders the other: as long as I shall have vengeance in my heart, I can never have love there. But replied he again, may I not know what cause you have of so great a hate against Melintus? Oblige me by telling me it to take part in your passion, that I may afterwards oblige you to take part in mine. Tell me, faite Emilia, what Melintus has done to you. What! was't Emilia? interrupted Melintus; ah! is not she dead? That name, went Arcas on, surprised me as much as it does you, and presently I called to memory that it was she herself disguised in a man's habit. That made me apprehend being known by her; nevertheless being not fallen yet into that accident, I was resolved to avoid her presence as much as I could: then I trusted in the change that was made of me; for she had not known me but a slave and shorn, and ever since you gave me my liberty, I let my hair grow that quite altered me. Is it very true then, replied Melintus all astonished, that she is living? Give me leave, answered Arcas, to pursue the rest, and you shall know if it be she or no. Ha gods! said Melintus again, there remained nothing but to make the dead rise again against us; and I think there is not a thing now in the world that has not conspired our ruin. Arcas went forward thus. Emilia answered Trebatius; Since you desire to know the cause I have to hate Melintus, I will not deny you this satisfaction; if you can receive any at all, by learning how much love I have had to him: for I must confess to you, that he is the only man that hath had the power to produce this passion in me. But he has made me pay well with usury for the time I deferred to receive it into my heart, and has revenged to the full upon me the contempts I had until then of you, and some others. Know, continued she, that this traitor insinuated him into my heart by a very great appearance of virtue and merits; observing a dissembling modesty, that knows as often how to conceal vice as virtue. I deny not but he hath qualities that render him admirable; but he must of necessity have a presumption in him, that persuades him there is nothing in the world worthy of him: On the other side, he affects so great a contempt of glory and praise, that one could hardly believe he has any vanity. I swear to you that since I have cause to be his enemy; considering of all his qualities, I know not what I ought to think of him; for if he were virtuous, why did he express a love to me without having any? and if he were not so, why did he refuse the offers of my good will? Well, he made love to me, and I loved him. Afterwards having been hurt before my lodging, and left for dead, I made him be carried home to my house; where I assisted him with more passion than a mother could have done the dearest of her sons. This insensible man began to receive my endeavours and my assistances with coldness and disdain; and I perceived that my presence was always troublesome to him. At first I believed that the pain of his wounds caused his ill humour, or that it was grief for a long sickness: but since, a certain Ariana, sister of Palamede, came from Sicily, what sickness soever was upon him, he spoke no more but of retiring from me to go to her. I knew than he had never loved me, and was tormented with a cruel jealousy that gave me no repose. I saw well that I had no cause to retain him, since he loved me not; and yet I could not endure he should forsake me. Never had I experience of so many troublesome passions as then distracted me; but I confess there cannot be imagined a more cruel torment. Love, hatred, the resentments of contempt and jealousy, put me into such a disorder, that my mind was in 〈◊〉 perpetual fury. There rested for all that in me I know not what hope, that believing him to be of a great spirit, he could not but esteem himself much obliged to me, for so many duties I had rendered high 〈…〉 nevertheless this ingrate, this perfidious man prayed me at last to give him leave to retire. I expected that blow with a great deal of fear, and receiving it I forced myself some time to persuade him to stay still with me: but seeing him resolved to be gone, I perceived there is nothing so sensible as the contempt and the ingratitude of that one loves. I could no longer contain myself, but gave him all the reproaches an outraged lover could make, in calling him traitor, villain, ingrateful, and all that may be said in a furious anger. This artificial man having given free liberty to my rage, to make it lose its force, began to pacify me by little and little, by the most flattering words deceit itself could have invented. He persuaded me to what he would, being so weakened by the agitations of my soul, that in that estate it was easy for him to vanquish me. Then he laboured to make me believe things that were so pleasing to my desires, and that in such sort flattered my hopes, that I conspired also with him for to abuse myself. Never had he expressed so much passion to me, as he did at that time: he spared, neither protestations, nor oaths, for to assure me of his love and his fidelity; and feigning some days that he could not be far from my presence, he obtained insensibly leave to be gone, in making me hope that he would return to me every hour. Being thus escaped out of my hands, he counterfeited himself sick, that he might not be obliged to see me again, until he returned into Sicily. I sent often to hear of him, and was advertised of all that passed at their house, by the means of a young boy called Damis, slave of Maximus, who reported to me that nothing was so agreeable to Melintus, as the dear assistance of this fair Ariana. It consumed my heart with jealousy and despite, that he had thus deceived me to get away. I attended still a good while; and the more time passed away, the more he made me lose hope of seeing him ever again. This outrage seized me in such wise as I became sick, and willing to prove to what degree his ingratitude would proceed, or whether pity might not do that which love could not obtain, I gave out every where that I was at the extremity, to try if he would not render me at least some office in the very last moments of my life. But this cruel man, this Barbarian, was never touched for any accident that could arrive to me; and had less care of me, than if he had never known me. Not content yet with that trial, I made it be reported that I was dead, to see if he would not come to visit Camilla, and to hear being closely hid, what he would say to her upon the regret of my death; and I will tell you truly what my fury was then; I was resolved if he came, to come forth of my ambuscado after I had heard him a while; and to tear him in pieces with my teeth and with my nails: but all that moved him no more, than if he had had no soul; and I knew beside that he had hindered Palamede from coming to see my sister, upon the accident was thought to have befallen me. I knew not now in the extreme dolour I was in, what artifice to use, nor what resolution to take, when the passion of others was near to have succoured mine, and supplied the defect of my inventions. Marcelin, as I knew of Damis, to be revenged of these Sicilians to whom he was enemy, attempted to burn them all one night in their house, or if they got out, to kill Melintus and Palamede, and to carry away Ariana in that disorder, for to give her to the Emperor. This enterprise, as I came to know since, succeeded not well for Marcelin, who was slain without the City by Melintus, and Ariana saved herself by I know 〈◊〉 what means: but the day after, Palamede and Melintus were taken and brought prisoners to Rome. Never, pursued Emilia, had I so much joy as to learn that they were destined to death, being accused for having set fire on the City; and when I was advertised that they were to be brought before the Senate to have judgement, I disguised me in the same estate as I am now for the present in, to see what countenance they had, and to what punishment they should be condemned; and slipping into the Senate-house among the crowd, I so wrought that I got a place, whence I could see them at my ease. I saw this traitor present himself without any amazement, and in seeing him, I became pale, and a shaking horror surprised me that took from me all strength. The trembling that had seized me, quitted me not as long as I beheld him: but when he began to speak, I felt myself even gone, so was I taken with the different passions that perplexed me. In the end I recollected a little force and courage; and seeing in what sort he defended himself; Ha! said I to myself, see how this deceiver spoke to me, when he would abuse me. How well he knows to disguise the causes of their misery, and his love for Ariana. He dares not pronounce that name for fear of being troubled. And yet I confess to you that I felt myself affected with the things he said; and my hatred was not powerful enough to resist the force of his discourse. I would have had them adjudged him to death, and yet I well saw that it was impossible to condemn him. I attended his judgement with as much trouble as if it had been my own; and for all I desired he should dye, I surprised myself sometimes in the estate of having a fear for his life. But yet for all that I saw they were about to absolve him, and I was angry and content at the same time: but when they came from Nero to command the judgement to be surceased, for that he would declare his will upon the matter, I cannot express in what state I was in. I well perceived how the Emperor feared lest they should have been dismissed and quitted, and that this signified an inevitable death: but I could not rejoice at the assurance of their misfortune. Nevertheless when Melintus was sent back again to prison, and I saw him no more, I reentered into fury against him. I accused myself that I had not provoked the Judges to punish them, that I had not invented some crime to have made them be condemned at the instant: I represented to myself all the contempts and all the indignities he had offered me, and was impatient till Nero sent to murder them in the prison. All day long I did noting but torment myself upon this occasion; and at night I could not sleep. I conceited in my mind that I saw Nero's soldiers enter the prison, and massacre with a thousand blows that perfidious man. I imagined that I arrived there at the same time, and rejoiced to see him in the expectation of death, and then to wash my hands in his blood. After I had passed away the night in these rave, I sent to know at the prison, if they were not yet dead: but they brought me word that all was in great tumult there, and how they believed they had precipitated them from the top of the Tower into the Tiber, having found means to get out by the chimney of the Chamber where they lay: that a great multitude of people was about the river, and many men in Boats to search for the dead bodies which were thought either drowned, or brained, because a pinnacle of the Tower was fallen down with them. My fury persuaded me to a strange curiosity: I would needs go to the very place where they searched for the bodies, for to satiate my sight with that spectacle; and I believe that if Melintus his had been found, I should have died for joy to see it. But all the care so many persons took, and I myself that gave money to have the water searched, proved unprofitable: the night came on, and I was constrained to give over this search, with all the rest of them that had laboured in vain. I wanted not satisfaction, though it were not entire, believing them to be dead, and that the stream had carried them away. Some days after when I would go upon the water, I made them conduct me far out of the City, to see if peradventure these bodies were not cast by the stream upon some bank. A young youth that guided us, seeing an empty Boat at the banks-side, told us without thinking any thing; See there a Boat without a Master. I asked him what he meant: he answered me; A young man bought it, but I believe it was not to make himself a Waterman; and gave it me to keep that night the prisoners saved themselves. Then he added a little after; They thought good to search in the water the other day I believe they are far enough off by this. I fretted, pursued Emilia, to hear him speak thus; and I urged him to tell me what he knew of the business. I will tell you, says he, upon condition you will not discover me; which having promised him, he continues, that he had seen the prisoners save themselves in that Boat, after they had been a long time descending from the Tower by a rope, and how he saw them pass by, because that night he watched upon the river. I made as if I rejoiced, added Emilia, that they were safe; but in my soul I resolved not to let them scape so unpunished; and he that had well regarded me would have seen that I could not choose but have my face all of a fire for excess of choler. What, said I to myself, shall this Barbarian be presently in Sicily beside his fair Ariana? and have no dearer entertainments with her than to relate what contempts he made of my affection? and shall he boast himself all his life time for having securely triumphed over all my passions? No, I will not dye so, without a revenge: he is not so safe as he thinks himself to be. I will pursue him into what part of the earth soever he retires; and if I be not powerful enough myself, I will provoke the fury of all the world against him, to hinder his escaping out of my hands. I returned into the City, musing of a thousand ways to his destruction: but to be more assured that he were living, I resolved to send one of my men expressly to Syracuse, that might inquire, if Melintus were arrived there. This man reported to me all the rejoicings were made at their return; the sacrifices and the plays, with the glory of Melintus and Ariana, whom they believed to see very shortly married together. All these things so animated me with jealousy, shame, and despite, that I purposed to prevent their happiness by the death of that villain. I advised to make use of the Emperor's power, that I might not fail of my enterprise. I saw you then, more than of custom, says she to Trebatius, because I began to acknowledge that you had always loved me with a true affection, and that had resisted all my contempts; and I was sorry for having made choice of this traitor and this perjurious man, in stead of you that were never wanting to me: I resolved to be no more ingrate towards you, but to content your just desires; upon condition you should first see me revenged upon Melintus. You promised me to satisfy my passion, before you would press me to content yours. It was then, continued Emilia, that I gave you advice to go and declare to Nero, that Melintus and Palamede, his enemies, were living; and to demand a Commission from him to go put them to death. I desired beside to have it published throughout Rome, and all the Cities of the Empire, that they should be killed in what place soever they were found; and I was willing myself to assist you in this Commission by disguising me thus, that if it were possible, I might kill that perfidious wretch with my own hand: for I confess to you it is the greatest pleasure I can ever hope for in all my life. Emilia ended thus, pursues Arcas, and Trebatius answered her: Well then, Madam, I see that he must dye, or I shall never have any contentment from you: Now I know how much cause you have to seek his death, I will join the desire of revenging your injuries, to that desire I had before only to obey you. They had other discourses afterwards together, says Arcas, besides these. O gods! interrupted Melintus, must this woman live still for my torment? See what rage she is possessed of. Arcas prayed him to let him go on, and he replied: I was in a strange wonder to have heard all Emilia's fury; yet I had an opinion that the gods had suffered me to be advertised of all these things, to give me the means of doing you service. I had no other care, than to keep myself from being known to Emilia; and so we arrived at Syracuse. I knew very well you were not there, so as in that place I was in no fear for you. About the evening we landed, and were lodged in the City. Presently I went to see Telephus, and told him of the search was making after you, which troubled him exceedingly. We advised, that we were that very night to send tickets all about the Town, for to entreat those of Syracuse, if they loved Melintus, to take heed of telling the Romans whither he was gone, because they sought to put him to death. We brought this to pass, and the people's love was so great towards you, says he to Melintus, that Trebatius and Emilia were more than eight days enquiring after you in all places, without being able to learn any news at all. As for me, I had resolved to go to Sea in the mean time, and find you out at Corinth, to advertise you to save yourself; but they had stayed all the shipping at the Port; so as this was impossible for me to do. At last, I cannot tell by what means, but they came to know whither you were gone: presently they made us go on shipboard again, and I departed with them, after I had taken my leave of Telephus, Hyperia, and Erycine, whom I left all in tears: I cursed the winds for being so favourable to us; for we arrived at Corinth in less time than could be hoped; and at the Port found all in great trouble. Trebatius demanded what the matter was; and they told him they had carried away certain Maids in ships that set sail not above an hour before. We went on shore, and I was greatly amazed to meet Dicearchus and Pisistratus, who were busy in preparing a Vessel to go out after the ravishers. Trebatius asked him what his trouble was. Roman Lord, said he, I had a Niece, the government of whom was committed to me by my brother when he lay a dying. I had promised her to Pisistratus, you see there, says he in showing him; and a traitor called Melintus is come from Syracuse, and hath taken her away from me. Ha! the villain, cried out Emilia, 'tis the same man we are seeking for the Emperor, to have him dye. Comfort yourself good man, continued she, we shall revenge you well enough. I believe, replied Trebatius, they are in one of the two ships we encountered sailing towards the coasts of Greece; we are to lose no more time, to depart and follow them: if your Vessel be ready, said he to Dicearchus and Pisistratus, accompany us, and we will join our quarrels together. Never saw I any thing so encouraged as Dicearchus, who hastened his imbarquement with Pisistratus as fast as he could; and when Trebatius and Emilia set sail, he followed them.  
After having passed the promontory of Naupactum, we took the right hand along the Grecian Coasts, and came into all the ports one after the other, where we did but inquire if two Vessels had not arrived very lately: Thus went we into diverse places never hearing any news of you. At last we arrived here; where being descended, Epicharis that was at the Port disguised in a man, was so unhappy, as to be known by the Gaolers' son, that kept you prisoners at Rome. He had accompanied us having known the design of Trebatius; for his father being kept in irons, because he had been too negligent over you, he was in hope to deliver him, by lending his help to make you be put to death, and for this reason he embarked with us. You may see by this how many persons have encountered together for to work your ruin, and this is that we are for the present to endeavour to defend you from. But even now when I left you, I learned that they had set strait guard at all the ports, and along the walls of the Town: from thence I went to mark out the lodgings for those of my company: and I have kept for myself a very commodious one, that it may serve you, if you should have occasion to use it; then I came to find you again, and we must for the present advice how we ought to order ourselves, and in what sort I may succour you. Arcas ended thus, and he was heard of all with much astonishment and fear, learning by his discourse so many occurrences that were prepared to make their deaths inevitable.  
Melintus broke off his silence then and said, Well then I see 'tis but my life they require; they seek neither Palamede, nor any one of you: by my dying I will make them all satisfied, and deliver all of you from the danger wherein you are for me alone. Yes, I will go and present myself before them; I will open my bosom with a poniard in their presence, for to content with one blow the vengeance of the Emperor, of Emilia, and of Dicearchus. Were it not far better to let it appear, that none was able to make me dye but myself, rather than fall unworthily into their hands, and receive a shameful death? It is no fury this, that transports me. If I saw any appearance to secure myself and you too, by valour, or by any other means, I should be much troubled to desire to lose my life before I lost all hope: but seeing us environed with men of war on all sides, 'twere better I died alone courageously, than to attempt means that could never succeed, but bury you all under my ruin. The sage Lepantus stopped this discourse of Melintus, in putting his hand upon his arm, and said to him; Pardon me, if I esteem you not exempt from transport, in the resolution you take. Those that have a great courage as you have, when they offer themselves to dye, are carried many times away to this desire, rather out of a pleasure they find in despising death, than for any necessity that obliges them to desire it. But we are never excusable for having prevented our destiny, as long as wit or force are yet capable of surmounting the rigour of fortune. We are to make a trial of all things before that extremity, and not to neglect the meanest hope that may be left us. One moment of time may change the state of the whole world; and this same fortune that assembles so many enemies to destroy you, can with a reverse bring themselves to ruin, and overthrow so many accidents by one alone. They know not yet where we are; Arcas is in good estate to give us advice every hour; and if you must dye, stay at least till you can no longer live. For my part, I am of opinion that we change our lodging, and go presently into that that Arcas has taken for himself in the Town, as if we were Romans too; because that lodging being marked for them, they will never come to seek us out there. Then must Arcas go and advertise those of our ship, that they retire to a bay I saw hard by, for fear they should discover us, if they enquired of them: we will find out afterwards some means to deliver Epicharis. Those reasons, and that counsel appeased Melintus, and gave a little consolation to all the company: presently they resolved to follow the propositions of Lepantus, and to depart that house to go into that Arcas had reserved for himself. It was done that very night, and what ever they had more precious than other, was transported into that lodging, which was commodious enough; the house they were in was left to those it belonged to, whom they took leave of, feigning to go and embark themselves: they left them reasonably well rewarded, and obliged them by their presents not to tell that any of them had stayed in that place. Arcas went towards the ship, which he sent away to that same Bay, with a charge that if they were found, they should not tell whose men they were, but to feign any thing rather.    

ARIANA. The fourth Book.  
THe next day after that cruel one, wherein so many miseries happened, in stead of so many expected joys, Trebatius and Emilia made an exact search throughout all the City, except the houses where the Roman soldiers were, who had all of them given their faiths that no Citizen was lodged with them. Arcas made himself the busiest man of all, in ferreting all the corners of houses, being certain that they would never go into his. About evening he failed not to appear there, and assure his good Master and all the company, that he hoped to keep them from being discovered; and that Epicharis was to be admired at for her resolution, not to disconceale them; especially that she had removed the opinion of their being in that Country at all: she feared only lest they might not expose her to some punishment. That word so transported Palamede, as he resolved either to dye, or save her. He enquired of Arcas in what part of Trebatius house she was shut up, and how many persons were appointed for her guard; and when he had learned all the particulars he desired to know, he feigned no more thinking of her, and went to bed. But when he thought every body asleep, he descended down the window by his sheets into the street, having no other arms but his sword. He went to Trebatius lodging, at the gate whereof was a Corpse de guard, where being entered without any trouble, because they took him for one of the soldiers, he went on towards the descent of the obscure place where Epicharis was enclosed; and finding a soldier that kept the entry, he threw his cloak about his head for fear he should cry out, and at the same time stabbed him twice or thrice into the body; and went not from thence till the soldier had expired. He went down afterwards without fear into that obscurity; and was come even to the door of the dungeon, where was another soldier with the keys, and a little light about him. This soldier surprised, asked him who he was; but Palamede not willing to give him the leisure of knowing him, assailed him with good blows of his sword, and presently laid him dead at his feet. Then he took the keys, and with the help of the little light he had, opened the dungeon door. Epicharis believed that they came for her, to propound more questions, or else to make her confess something by torment: but when she felt herself embraced by Palamede, she took him for some indiscreet soldier, and repulsed him rudely. But for all that Palamede making him known to her, and expressing a thousand joys for seeing her again, she was exceedingly amazed, and asked him how he was able to come thither. He related to her all he had done: then he said how they were to lose no time, and prayed her to make haste to go out with him. I am fast, says she, by the feet; and I am much afraid that all your pains have proved unuseful, and that you be not here in great danger for having slain my guards. Nevertheless searching among the keys, they were so fortunate as to find those of her irons. Palamede opened the lock, and full of rapture for delivering his Mistress, kissed her fair feet, and cursed a thousand times those that had made so delicate a person endure such misery. At last Epicharis after having tried a while if she could go well, resolved to be gone. Palamede was of opinion she should go out alone, as he had entered alone; and that he would follow her presently after: and, for fear she should be known, he made her take the Coat-armour, and the Casque of one of the two soldiers he had killed, to the end they might let her pass without difficulty. She would have had him go first alone; but it became her to give way to the love of Palamede. She passed therefore without fear so disguised, through the Corpse de guard, and being escaped she stayed some time in a place for to go along with Palamede, whose fortune had been very different from hers: for having delayed the time a while, he was going out also, after he had taken the Casque and Coat-armour of the other dead soldier: but when he was very near out, a soldier stayed him by the arm, and asked him whither he went? He answered him in the Roman language, that he was going out by the command of Trebatius: but when he was demanded the word, he could not tell it; and though he took his sword in hand to escape by valour, yet they failed not to encompass, and seize upon him. By and by after the dead soldiers were found, and they knew that Epicharis was escaped. Palamede was kept till the next day, attending the waking of Trebatius; and betimes in the morning he was brought before him: but when Dicearchus was sent for to know him, there cannot be described an astonishment like to that of this old man, who prosecuted the death of Melintus, never thinking his Nephew had been with him, but that he was still at Athens, whither he thought he had gone. In the end being come to himself again, he entreated Trebatius to save his Nephew's life, who was in no sort guilty of what Melintus had done: but Trebatius willing to satisfy the command he had received of the Emperor, and revenge the death of his soldiers, by punishing the hardy enterprise of Palamede, commanded him to be set in the place of Epicharis, and if he would not tell where Melintus was, that within two days they should put him to death. Palamede said, it was a long time ago ere he had seen Melintus, and that his uncle could witness for him, with whom he parted from Syracuse to go to Corinth, and after that had taken leave of him to go to Athens: that he had a desire to see in order, all the Cities of Greece and Epire; and being arrived at this, he had learned that Epicharis was retained prisoner, whom he loved sufficiently for to undertake her deliverance: that since he had been so happy as to effect it, he took no more care for any thing could happen to himself. Trebatius said, how this encounter of him and Epicharis, made him believe, it was not true he told; and that they might very well have news of the other person they sought, since already they had one of them in their power. Assure yourself, pursues he, that if you declare not to me where Melintus is, torments shall make you confess it. There is no torment, answers he, capable to make me say that I know not. I am ignorant where he is, and for what cause you make search for him: you ought not to delay the time of putting me to death, for having slain your soldiers, if you prolong my life only in hope to learn news of Melintus, of whom I can tell you nothing, but that I left him at Syracuse. Arcas was present, who was come in haste to Trebatius his, very early; because Palamede had not been found in his bed, and they all imagined that he had done some strange enterprise for Epicharis, the unfortunate event whereof he considered, full of sadness and despair. Palamede was led to the prison whence he had drawn Epicharis, what entreaty soever Dicearchus could make to save him; and Arcas went to report these woeful news to Melintus and Ariana, and he told them that they knew not what was become of Epicharis.  
This affliction renewed the weep of Ariana, and put Melintus out of all patience, who having followed until then the wise counsels of Lepantus, could not endure to see the grief of Ariana for her brother, and the danger his friend was in. He took Arcas aside, and made him swear that he would inviolably obey his commands: then he told him, that he was resolved to deliver Palamede; but what misadventure soever chanced him in that enterprise, he charged him, not to declare himself to be any of his; to the end he might preserve Ariana with their friends, and that they never came into the power of Trebatius and Emilia. This faithful servant laboured to make him change this deadly resolution: but Melintus astonished him, by swearing, that if he opposed his design any longer, or advertised Ariana of it, he would strike himself with his sword into the body. He recommended to him above all the care he was to have all his life long over Ariana, whose safety he committed to his charge. Arcas knew not what to say, seeing the desperateness of his Master, who commanded him beside to go presently out of the house, and attend him at Trebatius his, where he should be a witness of what he meant to do. And thus was it that Melintus hindered Arcas from declaring his design: instantly he chose out eight young soldiers that had followed him from Syracuse, whom he had proved to be full of great courage, and who admiring his virtue, expressed a passionate affection to him. He acquainted them with his purpose, and perceiving how they entertained with joy this occasion of dying at his service, he made them arm them under their Cassaques, and without speaking to his dear Ariana, or to Lepantus, went out armed as they were. He would serve himself of nothing but his valour in that enterprise, without employing any other artifice. As soon as he was come before Trebatius gate, he cast himself bravely into the Corpse de guard with his companions, and after having killed above six soldiers, before the others were advised of them, he shut the door upon him, for fear there might not come succours to Trebatius. The Alarm was presently all over the house, and more than thirty persons were assembled together, for to sustain them: they gave not over their pursuit of cutting in pieces whatsoever presented itself before them; and never gave Melintus so many proofs of his valour, as having to defeat the most warlike amongst the Roman soldiers. His companions that laboured to imitate him, seemed to acquire new forces by seeing the great blows he gave, and believed that nothing could vanquish them in the company of so valorous a man. Already above twenty Romans had been slain, when Trebatius, himself came running thither, with Emilia, Dicearchus, and Pisistratus; and seeing this slaughter of his men, and so valiant enemies that pursued them, he could not imagine what they were, nor how they should conceive so furious a design: nevertheless seeing that it became him to join himself to the number, he prayed Emilia to retire, and go see their combat out at a window. It was she that knew Melintus first of all, and showed him to Trebatius: Dicearchus remarked him too, and being retired with Emilia into one of the Chambers, they saw that Trebatius had put on arms, and was engaged in the fight with the rest. Arcas that he might not be obliged to strike his Master, or his companions, had broken his sword, and mingling with Trebatius soldiers, seemed to be one of the first in fight against them, for to hinder by this means the most daring of their party from approaching them. Melintus perceiving Trebatius whom he knew, thought of nothing but assaulting him, hoping that if he were once defeat of him, the rest would soon be disheartened, and easily dispatched. On the other side Trebatius refused not the combat, being in despair to see so great a number of his men upon the place, and Melintus began to have a good hope of his attempt, seeing so many dead about him, and that he was still assisted with six of his company against a few that remained. But by misfortune a Roman was advised to go fetch by a back way, those that guarded the gates of the City, who came running instantly; so as Melintus was environed on all sides. The six that remained with him were presently put to the sword, and Emilia seeing him alone, cried from aloft to Trebatius, that they should not take away his life. Melintus was even ready to be trodden down with the crowd of those that set upon him, but yet he still left not strowing the place with dead bodies, in the fury he was in; and they were afraid to come near him by reason of the great blows he gave on all sides of him: but at last he was taken by means of a Roman soldier, who in dying, for rage took hold of his legs, and made him fall. Thus was this prodigious valour constrained to yield to so cruel a fortune, and presently he was carried into a dungeon apart, and laden with irons by order from Emilia.  
During this tumult, Dicearchus minding the safety of Palamede, was gone towards the place where he was, and having given money to a soldier that was left alone to guard the entrance, because the rest were run away to the defence of Trebatius, he persuaded him to let him go, being able to excuse himself upon the disorder that had happened. This man having been thus gained, Dicearchus conducted his Nephew by a back door, never telling him the occasion of the rumour he heard (for without doubt he would have succoured Melintus,) and having given him advice to save himself, he returned to Trebatius, who was then thinking of carrying away the bodies of so many dead men as were in the Court of his house, and could not sufficiently wonder at the great courage of Melintus, and his resolution for the safety of Palamede. Emilia was well pleased to have Melintus in her power, and was casting in her mind what kind of death she should give him, being resolved to kill him with her own hand. Then word was brought them how Palamede had been saved, and there was a soldier that accused Dicearchus for having been towards the prison: thereupon those that guarded him being not to be found, they conjectured that Dicearchus had gained them, whereat Trebatius being offended, made him be put into the same dungeon, where his Nephew had been before, near unto that wherein Melintus was, and was resolved to put him to death, for having dared to corrupt his men, and save the enemies of Caesar, and at the same time he made Pisistratus be banished from his presence.  
On the other side Palamede being got out, knew not what to think to see all the City in a rumour: and yet considering of nothing at that time but his own safety, he regained the lodging of Arcas; never enquiring what the matter was. But he was greatly amazed when he understood that Melintus was gone out with eight soldiers, and he could not imagine for what design he had stolen away from his troop in that equipage. Instantly he would depart, for to go seek and succour him, but he was hindered by the arrive of Arcas, who learned them all that had passed. The fair Ariana who began to dry her tears for her brother's return, felt then a new affliction that opened afresh the source of them. Every one was in such a despair at this calamity, for the affection they bore Melintus, that in stead of comforting her, they expressed by their extreme grief what cause she had to afflict herself. Palamede seeing in what sort he was obliged to Melintus, for having conceived so generous an enterprise for his safety, was fully resolved to render him the like: but he could not yet invent the means to effect it; and he only mingled his despite with the extreme displeasures of his sister, Lepantus, and Cyllenia.  
In the mean time Emilia that meditated of nothing but the means of entirely satisfying her vengeance, having in her hands the subject of all her furious passions, considered that if she could get Ariana into her power, she might have wherewith to punish her, for being cause of her torments, and an occasion beside to aggravate the punishments of Melintus, by the resentments he should have at that she would make Ariana suffer, before she put him to death; and doubting that she might be in the same place, since Melintus was met there, with Palamede and Epicharis, she made a further search in all parts to have her in her hands. But Arcas knew so well to divert the scrutiny that might be made in his house, that she could never learn any news of her. Many days were thus consumed in this search about the City, and some places adjoining: in the end not able any longer to defer her revenge, and Trebatius urging her to put an end to the life of Melintus, for to give a beginning to his happiness; she resolved one morning to go herself and kill him with her own hand. She took a poniard, and Guides to conduct her to the dungeon; then being sure that Melintus could not defend himself from her, because he had his hands tied behind him, and irons at his feet, she sent away those that were with her, to enter alone into that obscurity with a torch in her hand; having yet some shame left, to commit that action in the presence of another. What? said she to herself in entering, it seems I tremble, and that my body fears to execute what my mind has so resolutely undertaken! Can I yet doubt whether I be to revenge myself, having run over so many Seas to find the occasion? No, no, let this cruel man feel the fury of a woman justly provoked, and repay all the torments he has made me endure. She encouraged thus herself, for to fortify her heart that seemed not over much assured, and went her way towards Melintus, conducted by the torches light, in design to make him have a sense of the death she would give him.  
Melintus knew her presently, and seeing that she sought him among the shadows, he would prevent her, and said; Come, Emilia, that you bring me is very agreeable to me. Those words troubled her, because this voice heretofore so loved, surprised her; and she thought not that Melintus could know her, believing her dead, and seeing her in the habit she was in. Ha! traitorous Sorcerer, said she at length, what spirit hath learned thee that I am Emilia? Yes, I am that Emilia, the object of thy contempts and thy ingratitudes, that am come from hell to ravish from thee thy perfidious soul, and abandon it to the furies. Well then, replied he gently, dispatch, Emilia; do that you have enterprised: behold my breast uncovered, strike the poniard in, and assure yourself that the death you are going to give me, I shall receive it, not as a punition for having offended you, but as a recompense for the good service I have done you. Done me good service! replied she instantly. Ha! Villain, call'st thou that good service, to have mocked at my love, and to have rewarded my cares with disdain and ingratitude? call'st thou that good service, cruel man, when after thou hadst escaped from me by subtlety; thou wouldst no more think there remained an Emilia in the world, to whom thou wast so much obliged? call'st thou that good service, thou ingrateful wretch; when neither the sickness that happened to me for the regret of seeing thee no more, nor my death so near, nor my very death itself could oblige thee to give one visit to our house? Emilia, replied Melintus, to what purpose serve these reproaches, since you are resolved to make me dye? Dispatch, Emilia, see my breast ready for you, give the blow, and believe that you never yet obliged me so much; as you shall do at this hour by taking away my life. No, answered she, I will know first, wherein, traitor, thou hast served me. Ha! Emilia, said Melintus, will you have me to your shame present before your eyes so trouble some remembrances? Did I not serve you well, when seeing that this same Emilia, whose wit and virtue I had before admired, let herself loose to desires that were not very honest, I endeavoured to assuage that heat by my coldnesses, for fear she should bewail all her life time, the fault of a few days? Did I not serve you well, when deploring with myself the wand'ring of your soul, and comparing your abasement with the honour of your preceding life, I was not willing to take advantage at your blindness, but maintained you, pure at least from ill effects, since I could not hinder the impurity of your desires and thoughts? And did I not well serve you, when seeing that my presence rather kindled your passion, than my reasons had power to extinguish it, I took a resolution by subtlety to go from you, hoping that by taking away the object that carried you to impudicity, by little and little reason would be restored to you, and make you know into what misery you were ready to have fallen? Emilia, Emilia, I had been such an one, as you would then have wished me, what should you be at this hour? What repenting for having committed so shameful a fault? what remorse would seize you at this present, for having lost that honour that heretofore became your front with so much assurance? and to see yourself constrained to hang down your eyes, as complices of your shame, and of your misery? What have I done to you then, Emilia, to pursue me thus so furiously? You will make me dye, for being cause that you may yet boast of your being honest; that you fear not the reproaches, either of men, or of your own conscience, and that you find persons yet that will enterprise all things for your sake. See, Emilia, whether I have done you good service or no; and judge for the present, if I should have more obliged you by satsfying your desire at that time, than by not doing it at all.  
Emilia, in whom there still remained seeds of virtue and a good courage, was so touched at these true and sensible reproaches, and stood so full of shame, as her furious and irregular passion, not able to sustain the force of so great a virtue, forsook her, and she was constrained insensibly to let fall the poniard she held. She continued silent a long time, not knowing what to answer him: at last she sat down by his side, and said to him, Melintus the wisest of all men, thou hast twice vanquished me: the first time thou gainedst but my heart and my affection; but now thou surmountest my soul, and my very reason, that confesses there is no virtue in the world comparable to thine. I submit to all the pains thou wilt ordain me, for the torments I have made thee suffer; and I will confess every where, that I am redevable to thee for the resolution I take, to follow all my life time the advice of thy marvellous wisdom.  
Emilia thus rendered due homage to the virtue of Melintus, when Trebatius who had care of her, and feared that Melintus all fettered as he was, might find means to defend himself from her, because she stayed long, came all alone to find her, and was in a great wonder to see her by Melintus, rather in estate of a suppliant, than a person that sought revenge. What's this? said he to Emilia, What do I see? Trebatius, says she to him, you have reason indeed to wonder: but if you had heard the sage discourses of Melintus, you would be overcome as well as I am. See the most virtuous man of the world, to whom I am beholding for the purity I have hitherto preserved, and for the virtue I shall follow all my life hereafter: I require you would save his life for my sake, or else put me to death in his stead. Madam, replied Trebatius, you know I have not enterprised the ruin of Melintus, but to satisfy you, having no cause at all to hate him. If you have admired his wisdom for the present, I have lately admired the greatness of his courage and strength; and it was with much regret that I permitted you the destruction of so valiant a man. Melintus broke off this discourse, to tell them that he had neither so much virtue, nor so much courage; that what he had done against the Roman soldiers, was rather an effect of despair than valour, for having understood that his friend was in danger of his life; and that Emilia called wisdom in him, the knowledge he had given her of the transport of her fury, which made her do things misbecoming her sex: that since they had a command from the Emperor to put him to death, they should not for this refuse to do it, for fear they themselves suffered not for it. No, no, said Emilia, I will dye, before any such thing happen to you from Trebatius; and I know that he is not here, but to obey me. Trebatius confirmed what she had said, and then Melintus replied; Since you are willing, I have an obligation to you for my life, I will acquit myself in some sort towards you; counselling you, said he addressing him to Emilia, to consider for the present the merits of Trebatius, his faithful affection, and so many services he hath done you, which altogether oblige you to receive him for your husband. And you, said he turning him towards Trebatius, receive from my hand Emilia, whose fair qualities you are not ignorant of, and who having let herself be surprised with the passion of revenge, shall from henceforth prove the vertuousest woman of the world, since she has known how to overcome it. Emilia gave her hand to Trebatius for Melintus sake, and having permitted him to kiss it for a pledge that she received him as her husband, made him all-transported with joy. Trebatius finding himself so redevable to Melintus, asked him, if he desired any other thing of him beside. That you would deliver, answered he, Palamede. He is no more in our power, said Trebatius; and thereupon he told him how Dicearchus had saved him, but that he had caused the old man to be put in his place in a dungeon near to that they were in, and that he was resolved to have him dye for having dared to conceive such an enterprise, and that now he was the more persuaded to it, because he was Melintus enemy. Ha! Trebatius, said Melintus, I demand of you then the life of Dicearchus, in stead of Palamedes. Too-generous Melintus, replied Trebatius, if you knew in what sort he is incensed against you, you would never desire he should live any longer. 'Tis no matter, said Melintus, he is uncle to Ariana and Palamede; and though he be very cruel to me, I will never endure to have him dye. I give you his life then, and will have him hold it of none but you. Melintus thanked him for this favour; and than Emilia asked how he was able to save himself in the City, while she made the search for him. He answered her, that it was by the means of Arcas his freeman, who had put himself into their company being at Rome, and told her all he had done since to succour Palamede and him being in Nicopolis: that they had ever been with Ariana and the rest of their troop in the lodging he had made to be marked out for him; and thither without question was Palamede retired. Trebatius and Emilia highly commended the fidelity, and resolution of this freedman, and Emilia that remembered what he had done heretofore at Rome with Nisus, being a slave, when he attempted to dye for his Master; added, that this was not the first time he had shown a great courage, and extreme affection for him. Melintus interrupted this discourse, to tell them, that seeing his own safety assured, and that of Dicearchus too, there remained no more but to think upon Trebatius his; and this was it they were well to provide for: for if the Emperor knew that he had let him escape, he would never pardon him. They considered some time thereupon, then Melintus replied; I am of opinion that to take away from those are with you the knowledge of the favour you have done me, you were best to go both of you out from hence, as if you came from killing of me, and Dicearchus too, since he is in a dungeon here hard by; and that you command all your soldiers, and all that serve you, to go seek Palamede in all the shipping at the Port, that so I may escape when all shall be gone out, and there be not any left that may be a witness of your letting me go. You may tell them how Dicearchus hoping to save his own life by discovering his Nephew, declared to you before he died, that he had hid himself in some ship or other. You may keep still by you Arcas only, for to serve you, and help my escape. Trebatius approved of this advice, and resolved to follow it: he went with Emilia out of the dungeon whither they had descended, being followed by none, and as soon as they were above and among the soldiers, Trebatius made as if he were in a great heat, and said that he came from kill Melintus and Dicearchus; but that he must have Palamede too, who was hidden at the port in some of the Vessels, and that Dicearchus had confessed it before his death. Instantly he commanded all his soldiers to go seek him there, and forbade them returning, till they had found him out. He met none in all the house that he sent not thither, feigning to do it out of a great passion to have Palamede under his hands. He kept only about him Arcas, who melted into tears believing his Master was dead. But when they were alone, Trebatius commanded him to shut the doors, and bade him be comforted, for his Master was still living. Arcas was in a strange amaze, that Trebatius knew Melintus was his Master; and continued in a suspense, not knowing if he were to believe that he was alive, and not able to imagine in what sort Trebatius had understood any thing concerning him by Melintus: but Emilia assured him by telling him how she knew him, and how Melintus and they were become friends. Arcas cast himself at their feet for excess of joy to give them thanks, and presently they went away together to the dungeon to have Melintus out. This poor freeman seeing by the Torchlight that Emilia had left his Master, who reached out his arms to him, thought to have died for joy to see him yet living; and in testimony of his extreme satisfaction, undid the irons off his feet: at the same time Trebatius and Emilia took him on both sides for to lift him up, and because his feet were stiff and benumbed, they would needs sustain him, until he came into the Court of the house, and could go alone; and they led him thus, as it were triumphing over the rage they had before conceived against him. When he saw himself in case to go freely, he would take his leave of them, and prayed them, that they would send away Dicearchus after him: but Emilia desired to accompany him with Trebatius to his lodging, because she was desirous to see Ariana, and entreat her pardon for the troubles she had made her suffer, in pursuing the death of him she loved. Melintus prayed them not to take this trouble upon themselves, for fear some body might see them together in the City, and this occasion make Trebatius be accused. She answered that they were but to put every one a casque upon their head, with the vizard down, and so they would not be discovered: that Arcas should go in the mean time to fetch Dicearchus out of the dungeon, and bring him away with his chains and all to their lodging; that he might receive the grace of his life of none but Melintus. This contentment must be given to the desire Emilia had to see Ariana again, and make a friendship with her. They put each of them a casque upon their heads, and went out, after they had given charge to Arcas to go deliver Dicearchus, and bring him bound as he was to the lodging they were going to.  
They found the streets empty of people, for the greatest part had followed the soldiers to the Port out of curiosity, to see what they went to do there: so as they were seen but of a few, till they came to the house they went to. Ariana and Cyllenia were in a great fright, when they knew that three armed men demanded entrance. Palamede who was already in desperation for not knowing what was become of his friend, was resolved to ease his resentments by revenging himself on these three men whom he judged to be Roman soldiers; and after he had armed him with Lepantus, he commanded they should open and let them enter. Melintus went first, and was amazed to see himself in an instant assailed by Palamede: he perceived the error of his friend, yet he was constrained to take his sword in hand, for to ward the blows he gave him; at last taking his time he lift up his vizor, and in speaking made himself known to him. Palamede presently threw away his sword, and cast himself at his feet to demand pardon of him. Melintus embraced him, and lifting him up, said that he would yet more wonder, when he knew who they were that accompanied him. Trebatius and Emilia advanced then the visiere of their Casques; whereat Palamede had a like astonishment, as if he had seen enchantments. Lepantus that knew them not, rejoiced only to see Melintus alive, and ran instantly to advertise Ariana and Cyllenia of this good news. At the same time Melintus entered into the Chamber, and Ariana came to receive him with open arms, and could not speak a good while, so transported was she with joy. Trebatius and Emilia saluted her after that, and she was so confounded for what she saw, and heard them speak, that they were to give her some time for to be assured that it was no dream. Tears of joy flowed every where abundantly to see so fortunate a change. Trebatius and Emilia made them many excuses, and endeavoured to have them forget their miseries by the continual kindnesses they showed them. At length Melintus said, that nothing now remained, but to have Dicearchus. Presently after he entered all laden with fetters, Arcas holding him behind; and being brought before them, he was in a great wonder, when he lift up his eyes and saw Melintus, Ariana, and Palamede besides Trebatius, with well-pleased countenances. He could not imagine what such a change as that meant: but he was much more confounded when Trebatius said to him; Old man, you had deserved death rather than any of these persons here, for having corrupted my men in my own house, and I had ordained you to punishment; but I was constrained to give your life to the entreaty of Melintus the most virtuous of men; and from henceforth you hold it of none but him. Dicearchus was allashamed, once again to have an obligation for his life to a person whose death he prosecuted: but Melintus knowing his disorder, would comfort him, and went to embrace him; then putting one knee to the ground, he began to undo his irons, and asked him pardon for having given him much displeasure in that he was forced by his love to carry away his Niece. Ariana at the same time was upon her knees before her uncle, and desired his favour for the fault she had made in going away from Corinth; and it was an action that drew tears from the assistants, to see a captive at the same time suppliant, and sought to, and that the same persons demanded grace, and gave it. Dicearchus weeping also, could not tell what to say to them; only he embraced one while Melintus, another while Ariana. At last Trebatius said to him, that he should receive Melintus for the husband of Ariana, and for the most apparent happiness that could arrive to his family: that he himself acknowledged him to be the most valiant & most virtuous man of the earth; & that he wondered how he could possibly have such animosity until then, against a person of so admirable qualities. Live, says he, from henceforth, happy together, being obliged to one another by many important services; and make much of the repose that fortune sends you. The embraces then redoubled, in testimony that they confirmed the advice of Trebatius; and a little after they consulted what they had to do. Trebatius said he would go to find his soldiers that were still searching Palamede in the Vessels, to whom he resolved to say that Palamede had been found in the City, and put to death: that at the very hour he would embark them, and return to Rome with Emilia, in whose company he hoped to pass away his days happily. As for them, he counselled them, as well for their own safety as his, to change their names, and retire to some part of Asia, where the Emperor should never hear more of them: beside, they ought not to retire them to places commanded by the Roman Governors, but into some King's dominions, either of Troas, or C●mm●gena. These advices having been approved, they took leave one of another with a thousand embracings, and as many wishes that they might live all of them in prosperity and repose the rest of their days.  
Nothing now remained but to find out Epicharis, and they judged that she had returned to the first lodging they were in; because she knew not they had changed it; but there she was not to be found: nevertheless the day after having known that Trebatius was departed with all his troop, they would remove again into that lodging, which was very great, staying until they might hear news of her, and sent the faithful Arcas who remained amongst them, to have brought thither what they had transported into the other house; to the end they might in that place celebrate the marriage of Melintus with Ariana, and Lepantus with Cyllenia, which had so cruelly been deferred; but now was resolved on by the very consent of Dicearchus, who was so ashamed for being so many times redevable to Melintus, that he could hardly lift up his eyes before him. Palamede in the mean time went to the bay where the vessel was hid, for to have it return, and to see if Epicharis were not along the Sea-coast somewhere: but all his care proved unprofitable. That very day they took out of the ship all they thought necessary for them, to go away by land as far as the Hellespont, and from thence to pass into Asia; because the way was much shorter, and withal they were in hope to find Epicharis. Afterwards they sent away the Vessel to Syracuse, with charge to go secretly advertise at the houses of Dicearchus, of Melintus and Telephus, what fortune they had met with; and to bring them all the commodities they could get together out of their estates, to the end they might be able to live in Troas, where they would settle; and that those were sent to them should come the same way they went, not to fail of encountering them: they gave marks also whereby they should be found, and instructions concerning all they had to do.  
About evening, when every one re-began the preparations for the next day, they were told, there had been in that house some days a sick woman that was landed at that place, and appeared very venerable. They had the curiosity to go see her and offer her what assistance they were able; but when they were entered into the Chamber, and came near her bed, she cried out having perceived Dicearchus; Ha ye gods! Who presents this hangman to me, this traitor? and continued a thousand outrageous speeches against him, in such sort as they thought her sickness was some burning fever; and having recommended her to those that waited on her, they left her. A little while after, Dicearchus by chance repassed by this woman's Chamber, who beginning afresh her injuries and maledictions, made herself at last known to him, to be the sage Euphrosyne, wife of Hermocrates, and mother of Melintus. Dicearchus then full of confusion to find himself guilty of all the miseries that had happened to Hermocrates and her, knew not what to do with himself, whether he regarded her, or returned towards Melintus, whose sight he could not endure, for having so much offended him, and for being so obliged to him. At last he resolved to go nearer, and he said to her, that in satisfaction of so many miseries and displeasures he had brought upon her, he thought himself happy for having a means to give her as much contentment now presently, as before he had given her troubles and griefs. Euphrosyne not able to judge what he meant to say, asked him, if he would not still continue his deceits and treasons, and assured him, that the gods would one day revenge her for all his villainies. Dicearchus failed not to go out, and finding Melintus he said to him with a heart touched by repentance, that he esteemed himself at last very happy for having found out in his misfortune, wherewith to pay him in part for so many obligations he had to him; not only in granting him Ariana for his wife, but also in making him an inestimable present, for which without doubt he would be extremely joyful. Melintus having given him thanks, and not able to imagine what he could give him, let himself be conducted by him into the Chamber where Euphrosyne was, to whom he presented Melintus for her son, and said to Melintus, that he gave him Euphrosyne for his mother, and that he rejoiced for that the gods had offered him this means to give them satisfaction. Euphrosyne and Melintus knew not yet if they should believe it or no, and continued silent and astonished. No, no, replied Dicearchus, never doubt of what I tell you. Euphrosyne knows who she is, and for you, says he to Melintus, open your breast to her, that she may see the mark of the heart, which will assure her that you are her son. Melintus showed her that mark, and then Euphrosyne said, opening her arms; Ha my son, is it you indeed, whose sight I have so longed after? and whom I could never hear any news of? Ha Dicearchus, how from my heart I pardon you all the torments you have made me suffer, and if Hermocrates were with us, how happy should I esteem myself for the present. At the same time a stream of tears bedewed her face all over. Melintus had his heart so pressed, to feel himself embraced by this virtuous mother, whose loss he had so often lamented, that he could not be at ease but in letting fall also many tears. This object so tender, and so pitiful, mixed with regrets and satisfactions, with sorrow and joy, could not be seen but with weeping, which served for two uses, being capable to represent both the resentments of grief, and the excesses of contentment. Melintus presented afterwards Ariana to his mother; and having told her a part of her virtues, and of their adventures, let her know that she was destined to be his wife, if she were pleased withal. Then they embraced one another with much transportation; and Euphrosyne said, that after so much happiness, she had nothing to be sorry for but the loss of Hermocrates. Melintus expressed to her that his greatest desire was to know what their fortune had been since their exile from Syracuse, and in what sort she had encountered in that place. She let them know that she was very willing to give them this contentment, believing now she had strength enough to perform it; but Dicearchus foreseeing how that discourse could not be made, but that he must receive the stings of many a reproach, withdrew himself with Palamede, leaving Melintus, Ariana, Lepantus, and Cyllenia, in preparation to hearken to Euphrosyne, who began thus her discourse, holding Melintus by the hand.  

History of Hermocrates and Euphrosyne.  
MY dear son, if you desire to know the original of our misfortunes, and what the great Hermocrates your father hath been, I must of necessity take up my discourse something from afar off, for to let you see that at what time I married him, fortune never brought together any couple that had cause to expect more happiness, and yet proved so unfortunate as we. Under the reign of the Emperor Tiberius, Hermocrates (of whose illustrious birth I will make no relation to you, because I believe you are not ignorant of it) would go to Rome being very young. His father and mother having no other child but him, were in trouble to have him so far removed out of their sight: but in the end he obtained leave. As soon as he was at Rome, he stayed not long to put himself into the acquaintance of the great Prince Germanicus, who then was the refuge of what ever there was virtuous upon earth. Hermocrates that was perfect in all kinds of excellent qualities, and among others had a wisdom and a valour to be admired, was presently loved of him; and a while after the occasion of the Germane wars was presented, wherein he followed that Prince, and made so many proofs of his valiance, and prudent government, that he gave him great commands in the Army, and honoured him diverse times with many crowns, and advantageous praises. After these wars were finished, he returned to Rome with Germanicus, and admiring the virtue of this great Prince, he could not forsake him: Germanicus on the other side, loving Hermocrates dear, gave him cause enough not to abandon him; and knowing his nobleness, and his virtues, believed that he alone was worthy of his friendship. They were a long time in this sort inseparable; and if the gods willing to punish the earth by the cruel Emperors they gave since, had not so soon taken out of the world this lovely Prince, whom by a just title they called the delights of humane kind, I believe I should never have known Hermocrates, nor been to him the cause of all his miseries. But Germanicus having been poisoned by Piso and Plancinus in Syria, Hermocrates could not endure to see Rome any more, where there was an Emperor so execrable, who envying the virtue of his Nephew, and the love that all the world had to him, had cruelly deprived him of his life; so as he returned to Syracuse, but with such a regret for the death of Germanicus, that his sadness appeared visibly upon his face, and made him be affected the more by others to see him faithful to a Prince so lamented of the world. At that time was I one of the most considerable of Syracuse, although I were not originary of that Country: but the Nobility of my birth was well enough known; for that my grandfathers that went out of Carthage when it was destroyed by the Romans, were of the race of the Princes Hamilcar and Hannibal; and therewithal I had an estate, if I may say it, equal to my Nobility, and my mother only was left me of my kindred, all whose cares tended to the choice of some party that might be for my advantage.  
Dicearchus (many ages since descended of Timoleon, and having a sufficient estate to sustain the rank that his birth gave him,) was one of the chief that presented themselves. He was wanting in no care or practice, for to order his affairs so as he might marry me, and laboured by a thousand ways to give my mother great impressions of his honesty, for he knew her to be of so great a virtue, that he well saw she would be impregnable any other way but this. But Hermocrates arriving at Syracuse, obtained without thinking what the other tried to gain by a thousand subtleties: for every one being already prevented with his great reputation, it was acknowledged not to be without cause, that renown had so high advanced him, because his Nobility was accompanied with so many virtues, and he added to his other good qualities so honest a modesty, with a sadness that was still more graceful in him, that there was not a person but bare a love and respect towards him.  
At the same time having been bred under the government of the wisest mother in the world, I made myself also sufficiently esteemed by a great restraint I observed, endeavouring to imitate her virtue, and give her all the contentments she could expect from a daughter. I know not what it was Hermocrates saw in me that pleased him, whether appearance of virtue, or some other thing, but he expressed with a great grace and respect the design he had to serve me. As for me, who had no desire to make a choice, but would leave myself to my mother's judgement, I always feigned not to understand what he would say to me: but for all that I was not sorry when he came near me, and I took the pains to entertain him with the best discourse I was able. Dicearchus was not in that esteem with me; because I knew him to be a violent and an artificial man, and I judged that his humour would never agree well with mine. My mother soon perceived the purpose of Hermocrates, and was well content therewithal; so as she was never displeased that he should speak to me, and the first time he found the occasion to come to our house, she assured him that the entrance to it should ever be open for him. He received this permission with a great deal of respect, and made very discreet use thereof: but Dicearchus could not suffer to see a rival so well entreated, and to find himself so distant from our good graces; believing that he was not so removed but by the advancement of Hermocrates. He had recourse to a thousand devices, and at last counterfeited a letter, which he sent to my mother, as if Eryx (who was Hermocrates father) had written it to her; wherein he advertised her not to receive any more his son at her house, and that he had other designs for him; that if she of her own accord hindered not those frequent visits of Hermocrates, he should himself be forced to do it by a means that would be heard with no very agreeable noise to her. See what a crafty plot here was: see my mother then in a great wonder, and more offended withal. As soon as Hermocrates came to see her, she prayed him to come no more at her house: nevertheless with so much temper, as she expressed no discontentment at all to him, believing that he had no part in what his father had written to her. Hermocrates, although my mother used him with no discourtesy, was yet in a great surprise, and besought her an hundred times to tell him what fault he could commit against the respect he ought us. She would reveal nothing of the matter to him; but in the end she told him that Eryx was not well pleased with their friendship. He confessed that his father indeed had proposed a marriage for him, but that it was a thing so unlikely, that he believed verily he thought no more of it. No, no, Hermocrates, replied she, he has forbidden me by writing to receive you here any more: but I think he might have expressed his aversion to us by something a civiller way. Ha, Madam, says he, is it possible, this you tell me? 'Tis so true, answered she, that without opposing his desire, or my own honour, I can no longer suffer you in this house. Then he went his way, overcome with displeasure, and not knowing how he should make shift to live any more; because that as he had a great respect and love towards his father, so he had also as great a resentment of the injury he thought he had received from him, in such sort that piety and choler began a combat in his soul which gave him no repose at all. When he was at home, he durst not lift up his eyes upon Eryx, for fear of offending him with an ill look; for it had been impossible for him to see him without pain. He would not wish his father any evil, and yet he could not desire any good to him: so as having lived some time in this trouble of spirit he could not rid himself of, at last he fell sick, and the more care Eryx expressed to have of him, the more did his sickness increase. This good father full of grief to see in that danger his son whom he had reason to cherish, as well for the loveliness of his person, as because he was the only one he bade, who for all this gave no comfort to his sorrow, not enduring the sight of him, and refusing from his hand the remedies he offered him, knew not whence this aversion should proceed of his son towards him, and shed tears abundantly. Hermocrates on the other side seeing his father in that perplexity, accused himself for an ungracious son so to torment his own father; and could not tell whether he should wish himself dead or alive, well knowing that if he died, he should but heap sorrows and anguishes upon the old age of those that brought him into the world, and by living he could expect no contentment from them, nor give them any. But at length Eryx prayed his wife to ask him what cause he had not to love him, and if ever he had given him any occasion to be displeased with him; that having received of the gods a son so virtuous and obedient, he should think himself very ingrate towards them, and himself too, if ever it should happen that he gave him any displeasure. His mother laboured to get this secret out of him, but he could never be persuaded to accuse his father; and he was resolved rather to dye, than a word should escape him that showed any want of respect. She forced herself many times to make him declare his grief, which she doubted he concealed, though she knew no cause he had for it; but it was impossible to draw any thing from him. In the end this good father outraged with affliction, could no longer contain himself; but approaching his son's bed, he put himself on his knees before him, and full of tears prayed him to tell him if ever he had displeased him in any thing. Hermocrates ashamed at this submission, and believing he received an injury rather than an honour by it, kneeled him down upon his bed, and bowing towards his father, desired him as he embraced him, to rise up, and not make his pity guilty of shame, by an abasement unworthy of him. No, says Eryx to him, I will never rise, until you have told me wherein I have given you displeasure. Ha my father, says he, must I have been so unfortunate, as not to have inviolably followed all your desires? and that my affections should be repugnant unto yours? What would you say, replied Eryx, speak more clearly, my son; for I do not think you have ever opposed the thing I desi'rd of you, and beside I promise you never to be contrary to any thing you shall desire of me. No, no, father, answered Hermocrates, be well assured, I will never be disobedient to you, and I shall take order with myself for your sake, for ever thinking upon Euphrosyne, but. Then he made a stop, and his father said to him; Go on, son, and fear not to tell me what you desire: you shall learn me what I know not yet, and peradventure what I shall as much desire as yourself. Ha! father, says Hermocrates, if it be lawful for me to put a reproach upon you, your letter made no such expression that you would desire it. What letter? answered he. But not to seem troublesome to you, continued Euphrosyne, the good father knew at last, there had been sent to my mother as from him, a supposititious letter; and without any more delay he comes to our house, and entreated my mother to show it him, and told her it must have been sent by some spirit that was very near to have ruined his son's life. When he had seen it, he expressed in such sort that he was innocent of this letter, and made her so many satisfactions, that she could have no suspicion at all of him, and made it appear that she had much sorrow for Hermocrates sickness, whom she greatly esteemed herself. And for this cause they concluded together our marriage before they parted; and imagining from whence this letter should come, they conceived it must be from Dicearchus, who since that time had expressed a greater passion to me than ever before. See then how Dicearchus willing to hinder our marriage, advanced it: assembling together by his own invention, those that otherwise would have had much ado to have effected it. As soon as Hermocrates learned this good news, it seemed they had restored him his life, and we went oft to visit him until he was perfectly recovered. Then were we married together with a thousand rejoicings, and passed away three or four years with all the contentments can be imagined, without having yet any children. In the mean time Dicearchus not able to endure that our marriage should be made while he were at Syracuse, was gone to Corinth, where he stayed about two years, at the end whereof he returned into Sicily with Acidalia whom he had married. Presently after he declared himself enemy to Hermocrates, who having then lost his father, seemed to hold the first place in the City; he practised the factious men on all sides, to make a league against him, and seemed to have no other end in all his actions than to displease and ruin him, if it were possible. At last he sought out so many means to attain his design, that there was one that succeeded to his wish. You know, it may be, pursues Euphrosyne, how he made arms be carried by night over the walls of our house, and ranged them as in a readiness for an occasion: at the same time he went to advertise the chief of the City that Hermocrates projected to make himself a Tyrant, and that it would appear at his house. They came to our house that very night, and ravished from my arms my dear Hermocrates, for to carry him away prisoner. You may judge what trouble I was then surprised in: nevertheless in this calamity I received some consolation for the innocency of my husband; and when Dicearchus friends solicited on that side to have him condemned to dye, I did all I could to make the villainy of that artifice appear, and what appearance there could be, that a private man would make himself Tyrant over a City that was of the Roman Empire. But all I could obtain, was to moderate the condemnation to a banishment for five years, and to have fifteen days given us to order our affairs in. Nevertheless that time served but to increase our misery: for Dicearchus having known that we were to retire to Carthage, the place of my original, and not content with our banishment, had leisure to practise certain Pirates, who covenanted with him for a great sum of money that they would surprise us in our passage from Lylibeum to Carthage; and after that they would go and sell us apart to some Barbarians, for fear we should ever see one another again, or return into our Country; and because I was very big with child at the same time, he made them promise him to put to death whatever should be borne of me, until we came to be sold. After we had committed the managing of our estate to Diocles our friend for to administer it during the five years' banishment, we departed accompanied with Telephus, not knowing the miseries Dicearchus had prepared for us: but I was so happy as to be brought to bed of you at Lylibeum, said Euphrosyne to Melintus, where I stayed more than fifteen days till I could endure the Sea; and it seemed you were willing to be borne at that time, to retard as much as you could possibly, the miseries that were to happen to your parents. We happily advised to leave you secretly in Sicily, and give you to Telephus; for if we had carried you away with us, you had not been alive at this hour: then took we leave of our Country all in tears, and went to go aboard the Vessel: But there befell me a mischance that was an augury that this voyage should prove very deadly to us: for thinking to enter into the ship, my foot slipped, and I fell into the Sea: the affection of Hermocrates was such, as he threw himself presently after me, ind by swimming saved me, and brought me aboard again. After we had dried us a while, we stayed not our departing, and because the passage is but short, we soon perceived a light vessel that had parted from the coasts, which in a small time set upon us. Hermocrates judged them to be Sea-coursers, and entreated those that were with him, to take arms and defend themselves as well as they might. But their number was but small, and beside they were not in state to fight, never expecting they should have been fought with in the small way they had to pass. Yet for all that they were not wanting to defend themselves courageously, and Hermocrates was not taken until he had laid six of them at his feet. His valour was esteemed of the Pirates, who in consideration of him pardoned those that were with us, and taking what they found best out of our ship, made us enter into theirs. After they had passed us a good way on the Sea, they brought us to a place of their own retreat; and it was strange to see what fidelity these Pirates kept with Dicearchus in that they had promised him; because they might have expected a greater ransom from us, than that they had received of him, and yet in the mean time they failed not in what they had sworn to him. Nevertheless they showed us some favour, for we lived in honour among them, and accommodated with all things necessary. They delayed three whole years to sell us, during which I was brought to bed of two children whom they put to death as they had resolved; afterwards they went to sell my husband into a Country very far removed. As for me they were minded to keep me still by them, what request soever I made not to be separate from Hermocrates, because they had brought me a King's son very young to breed up, whom they had taken in some place or other; and on whom all my affection was placed, being comforted by the nurture was committed to me for our cruel captivity and dead children, attending the change of fortune. These cruel people were never touched, neither with the supplications and advantageous promises of Hermocrates, nor yet with my tears, but in spite of me they carried him away to a place where now I believe he has ended his days. All my entertainment and consolation in the cruel vexations I endured, was in the nurcing I had of the little Prince which was called Eurymedon, who also bore me a great affection, and as he grew gave testimonies not only of the greatness of his extraction, but of a mind very generous also. When he saw me afflicted, he laboured to appease me, and comforted me by the hope he gave, that as soon as he had any power, he would restore my liberty, and endeavour to discover where Hermocrates was, that he might be mine again. Nevertheless when he had the command over all the Pirates, he could not so soon effect what he had promised me, being retained from doing it, for not offending their laws. About a year since, desirous to go to Sea, he promised me that I should go with him: but I fell so sick that it was impossible for me. Some days since he returned for to assemble all the Pyraticke forces with a design to go upon some great enterprise, whence fearing never to return, and willing to deliver me, the Pirates never knowing of it, he entreated one called Amyntas that was come to find him in a Squiffe from some of his friends, to save me secretly with himself when he returned hither to find out those persons he sought for. This Amyntas had a care of me as if I had been his mother, and brought me into this City, where not encountering those he thought to have found, he left me with the people you see, for to serve and accompany me unto Syracuse: Amyntas knowing that Eurymedon was here hard by for to assist those he was in pain for, is gone to find him, and I believe they are gone away together, having heard no news at all of them. As for me attending the recovery of the sickness is fallen upon me, and the labour I endured in my flight, I made a stay in this lodging, where I was in a great wonder to see this same Dicearchus, the author of all our displeasures, all whose wicked practices I learned of Eurymedon, and to whom for all this I cannot wish ill, since he hath restored me my dear Melintus, and makes me conceive some hope, being become our friend, that he will help us to find Hermocrates your father.  
Euphrosyne thus ended, and Melintus told her how they knew who Eurymedon and Amyntas were, and that he hoped very soon by means of Eurymedon to learn what was become of his father; wherein he would employ all the diligence he could possibly use. He entreated afterwards this virtuous mother of his, to pardon Dicearchus for his dear Ariana's sake, which she promised him, and they embraced one another with much affection. He told her then the greatest part of what had happened to them, and among other things the faithful friendship of Telephus, and the infidelity of Diocles, and how he had been known for the son of Hermocrates. Then these discourses being ended, every one retired to go to bed, and to attend with repose the ceremonies and joys of the next day.    

ARIANA. The fifth Book.  
WHile the sage Euphrosyne thus entertained Melintus, Palamede, whom Epicharis loss gave no repose to, would not lose the time he might employ in search of her: he took a horse and road out of Nicopolis, and went into all places thereabouts to see if she might not be retired somewhere out of the Town. In vain he spent all the evening in this search, and a great part of the night that was very dark, and as he returned towards the City, he heard two men on horseback coming to him, who spoke of Melintus and Ariana, expressing a great deal of angry malice against them. He could not know who they were, because the obscurity was so great as he did not so much as see them. But when they were passed, he had a mind to know more of their secrets; and after he had tied his horse to a tree, he overtook them on foot as speedily as might be: then going a light pace by them without making himself be heard, he listened their discourse some while, not able yet to understand any thing: but in the end one of the two replied thus: What? have I brought from Syracuse with such respect and care, this traitorous and perjurious old man? have I so long courted him at Corinth? and since followed him through all the ports of Greece for to revenge his injuries? and now he is satisfied himself, shall he take no care whether I be so too or no? Palamede knew then by this discourse, and by the voice, that it was Pisistratus, who went on: And shall I suffer Melintus to marry her that is promised me, whose love brings so many desires and unquietnesses upon me? Shall they go away together contented, and leave me here full of despite, of shame, of rage? In the mean time must I appear without heart, and not make them feel what a man of my condition is able to do, betrayed on this fashion, and wanting no resentment? No, no, though they have escaped the hands of Trebatius, they are not yet safe from mine; and if they stay here but one day more for to marry together, I am certain to make a funerall-wedding of it. But, answered the other that accompanied him, are you very sure they are still living? I saw this evening, replied Pisistratus, Arcas the freeman of Melintus leading Dicearchus bound, and bringing him into a house. I sent one of my servants to follow them, and commanded him to inquire what they did in that lodging, making as if he had some business there. He brought me word, that he saw Trebatius, Melintus, Palamede, Ariana and Dicearchus at good accord together, and that there was nothing but rejoicing amongst them, and I make no doubt of what he told me, because he knows them all as well as I do. But, returned he whom he spoke to, when you have spoken to the Governor of Epire, to put to death Melintus and Palamede, because they are the Emperor's enemies, and told him how Trebatius had been sent from Nero for the same purpose, do you think he will believe you? Pisistratus answered, you do not know then, how they have been proclaimed throughout all the Provinces, enemies of Caesar, and of the decree that is gone out to kill them in what place soever they be found. No, no, Maxentius cannot defer their putting to death, because he is advertised of the Imperial order, and if he makes any difficulty of doing it, I will threaten to accuse him too before Nero. Palamede knowing in what sort Pisistratus would be revenged, resolved to prevent him by killing him first: presently he drew his sword, and staying him by the reins of his horse, for fear he should escape, struck him a great blow into the body; Pisistratus cried out that they murdered him; he that was with him took his flight, and Pisistratus had never escaped that danger, had it not been for a mischance that befell Palamede; for his foot slipped when he was going to redouble his blow, and he was constrained to quit the bridle of the horse, which carried away his Master so far that he could never overtake him. Palamede was forced to return the way he came, and having found his own horse again, he road back into the City, when the daylight began to appear. Being come to his lodging, he told his adventure to Melintus and the rest, and counselled them that without troubling themselves more about their wedding, they should depart as suddenly as they could: because Pisistratus having escaped out of his hands would not fail to go to Maxentius, if his wounds hindered him not. This news brought no small trouble again to the contentments they expected. Ariana then besought Melintus, that he would no more desire to have their marriage performed, till they were in a place full of repose and security; and said, he should first of all think upon his own safety, and afterward she would endeavour to make his life as happy to him, as she possibly could. Melintus was constrained to obey her, and Euphrosyne approving the wisdom of Ariana, was of her opinion. Instantly they all considered upon the retreat, and they repented them for having sent away the vessel; because they would have saved themselves more certainly by Sea, although the way were longer: nevertheless they were resolved to go by land, and to put their baggage into Carts, and they were persuaded, that there being above fifty of their troop counting the train they had, nothing less than an Army would assault them. So they encouraged themselves to depart, that they might get out of Epire before Maxentius the Governor were advertised by Pisistratus, and having bought as many horses as they needed, they put into the way, trusting in the gods and their own courage. This troop so fair, and so persecuted of men, had the good fortune to pass Epire in three or four days journeys, and at last arrived in Thessaly without any adventure. They wanted no diversions, or pleasures, having at least with them what they made most of; for which they accounted themselves so happy, as it seemed they desired nothing but the continuation of the same kind of life. Yet Melintus gave not over his admiration, that misery should persecute them with so much eagerness, and not permit them so much as one day of repose, for to let them enjoy a blessing they desired, and which ever escaped them when they thought to have attained it; and upon this thought one day he made these verses:  

FOrtune incessantly adverse,  
Eternal source of miseries,  
What meanest thou by a new reverse  
To hasten our calamities?  
O gods! by what severe decree  
Are you enraged so suddenly,  
When we believed you were appeased?  
For me, I can no more complain;  
Think you to make me fear the pain  
Of death which you have me refused?   

'Tis surely some immortal strife  
Whereby the Stars are all conspiring  
To vex the pleasures which my life  
Has been too earnest in desiring.  
These Stars in their malignant spite  
Some storm or other still excite  
Just as I think at Port t' arrive.  
Then forced by my innocence,  
They mitigate their violence,  
And dare not me of life deprive.   

'Tis true the blessing I desire  
Transcends all mortal faculties;  
And I prefer where I aspire  
To that of having sacrifice.  
Heaven be not jealous any more  
If I see her and her adore,  
For there my pleasures all abound;  
Then temper thy excessive rage,  
Since in this blessing I assuage  
My other vast desires around.   

Tedious griefs before her presence  
Durst not make attempts upon me:  
Fierce anger and impatience  
Fly from me when her face I see;  
And then despair as in disgrace  
Forsakes me too, and giveth place  
To mirth; and sports of innocence:  
Love quitting then his envious spites,  
Offers me all the dear delights  
Wherewith he ravishes our sense.   

Alas! one fear does only haunt me,  
I speak too unadvisedly.  
If heaven knows how thus I vaunt me,  
I shall have some new misery.  
Conceal, my soul, this joy of thine,  
That jealous eyes it may decline,  
If long thou wilt thy bliss enjoy,  
Or soon this heaven inexorable,  
To render thee more miserable,  
May take thy happiness away.   
Thus did Ariana's presence give a great ease to the love of Melintus: but in all the troop there was not a more afflicted man than Palamede, who regretted Epicharis, and met not a passenger that he demanded not news of her. Besides, he was in a kind of constraint with Dicearchus, not daring before him to let that affection appear, and so was deprived of this consolation at least, in the power of free complaining. Euphrosyne had no greater pleasure than to make Areas or some other relate the admirable life of her son, and with how many marvellous qualities heaven had furnished him; whereat she ceased not to give the gods thanks, and esteem herself very happy. She had already passionate cares for the fair and virtuous Ariana, whose respectuous duties she received with much contentment. Lepantus and Cyllenia were no small ornament to this fair company, but recreated them with their sweet humour, and gentleness of wit; and all of them together made up a troop of as pleasing travellers as could be found in all the world again.  
Already had they traversed all Thessaly, and were approaching to Larissa which is near the Sea; when they entered a village where they saw all the inhabitants in great trouble. They all ran up and down diverse ways, not able to find security in their own houses, and not knowing to what part they should retire. Melintus addressed him to some of these forlorn men, and asked the cause of this affrighting and disorder. They told him how a fearful number of Scythians, after having crossed Thracia, and passed the Egean Sea, was come to land in Thessaly, and plondered all those coasts in drawing towards Larissa. Melintus' re-assured them the best he could, and was of opinion they should all retire them into that Town as speedily as they could: that to be better received, they were to carry with them the most of the Corn and other victuals they had: he promised he would serve them for a leader, and prayed them to have no fear. This resolution being taken among them, he rallied all those that were scattered, and having made them load into Carts all the provisions they had, he armed the strongest of them, who made three hundred men, besides those were with him: then he appointed to set a good watch all the night, and the next day in the morning he disposed the old people with the women and baggage in the middle, and put those that might serve to fight, part of them in the head, part on the flanks, and the rest in the rear. He gave the vanguard to be led by Lepantus, the rearward to Palamede, and reserved to himself the gross, for to have an eye over all. He would have given the command to Dicearchus; but the old man finding himself then indisposed, because he felt a thousand vexations, and as many sorrows within him, and not able to employ his mind in giving orders, he entreated Melintus to take the charge upon him. In the mean time Palamede and Lepantus had armed them with Melintus, in the fairest arms they had amongst their baggage, and prepared themselves well to defend the persons they led, against all powers that might assail them, and they parted thus in good order, marching towards Larissa. They were no sooner two miles from the village, but they perceived a body of Scythians of about two thousand men coming towards them. Melintus encouraged his soldiers to fight valiantly, and fearing the cowardice which is ordinary with peasants, inflamed them by the consideration they had to defend not only their persons, but their parents, their wives, their children and their goods: that if they ran away, they abandoned them all to the mercy of the enemies; but if they showed themselves to have heart, they would find nothing so cowardly as these Barbarians, who know well to pursue cruelly those that fly them, but yet fail not also to fly from those that dare attend them. After thus animating them, he gave order to Lepantus to go charge the Scythians, who thinking they had been a far greater number by reason of the baggage that took up much place, defended themselves only as being to fight with an equal army of their enemies: nevertheless they failed not, courageously to receive Lepantus, and shot their arrows thick upon his troop. Melintus a while after advanced, and his men seeing so hardy a Captain, were not wanting to follow him. He had commanded his soldiers to join close to the enemies as soon as they could, hoping that the Scythians having no more the space that is requisite for shooting their arrows, would be forced to come to fight with the sword, wherein they were no way expert. This subtlety succeeded to his wish: for the Scythians being neare-hand charged by Melintus, and not able any longer to use their bows, could not sustain the great sword-blowes he assailed them with: wherever Melintus showed himself, the Barbarians vanished: and yet flying none but him, they made some disorder in another part, and so held the victory in suspense. But Palamede who perceived a side of their troop to suffer the worst of it, went presently away, and so opportunely relieved them, that the Scythians could resist no longer. Then they threw away their Arms, and took flight on all parts. Lepantus on his side practised all the valour and good government could be shown; and Melintus apppeared like lightning, to what place soever he spurred his horse, being so provoked by the fair Ariana's presence, as he cut off as many arms and heads as his sword could reach. In the end after having left above twelve thousand men upon the place, they would not pursue the rest, for fear of abandoning the dear treasures that were with their baggage, but returning full of blood, of sweat and honourable dust, they accompanied their troop which were in great fear for them during the fight, and marched on by little and little to Larissa, where they were received with much honour and joy.  
The fray was great within the Town, for it was destitute of a chief that understood the war: so as having learned the defeat of this number of Scythians by the valour of Melintus, they all with one accord submitted themselves to him, and prayed him not to forsake them in this danger, until the Romans sent them a commander with succours. Melintus seeing himself forced to remain there, was constrained to accept the charge, although he were in fear to come to the knowledge of the Romans: nevertheless he hoped to make himself necessary in this occasion, and that the war would change many things, and to the end he might not so soon be discovered by the reputation he acquired, he resolved to change his name with Palamede, following the advice Trebatius had given them, and called himself Alcydamas, and Palamede, Polydore. They were lodged in one of the fairest houses of the Town, where Dicearchus presently betook him to his bed, feeling himself sick, and scarcely able to endure daylight for the griefs that assailed him: Euphrosyne, Ariana, and Cyllenia refreshed themselves after their travels; and their fears were something appeased. The chief of the Town came to receive order from Alcydamas, who having known that the inhabitants could make to the number of five thousand men of war, believed he might with them very well defend himself: then taking Lepantus and Polydore, he went with them and the principal Townsmen to visit round about the City, and see in what manner it was defensible with walls and ditches, and what places were weakest. After he had been assured on all sides, he set men at the ports, and other places which he judged important; and for the soldiers that were not of any guard, he appointed them a continual exercise of arms, of purpose to make them warriors, and that they might serve when he should have need of them; and at the same time he dispatched one of his men to go find Eurymedon in the Isle of Lesbos, and advertise him how they had need of his succours.  
When eight days were spent, only in causing a sure guard to be made, and in instructing his men, he thought it now timely to make a sally out: being willing so much time should slip away without showing himself to the Scythians, to make them slack of their first fury, and believe it was out of a great fear they had of them, that they thus blocked up themselves. That made them more negligent, and so spread them into diverse troops, for to go a foraging about, staying until they resolved to give an assault. Alcydamas took his time, and leaving Lepantus to command within the City, issued out with Polydore in the head of fifteen hundred men, and went to charge the Scythians that were divided and in disorder, whereof he left more than four thousand on the place: then seeing a body of above ten thousand men coming to charge them, he made his retreat, having lost not above thirty men in this combat.  
Alcydamas was received into the Town with cries of joy from all the people, who looked upon him as their god protector: but nothing was so agreeable to him as the caresses of his fair Ariana, who at the return of his sallies whence he came often back with glory, received him victorious, and took the pains to disarm him, finding herself in an excess of joy to see him again, and be delivered from the fears she had, when he was gone abroad. Alcydamas was then in an unparalleled rapture, though he were ashamed for the pain these fair hands took, which were too delicate to handle iron: he kissed them ever as she brought them either to undo his Corslet, or his Gauntlets; and when he was wholly disarmed, he fainted for pleasure in giving her more straight and freer embracements. These kindnesses were shown in presence of the sage Euphrosyne, who was transported herself with joy, considering the perfect union of these excellent souls, to whom she wished a speedy repose in some place of assurance. These were the contentments Alcydamas gave his friends by his frequent victories, thus making the joy of seeing him Conqueror, often succeed the fear they had to see him in danger. But at length he was to yield up the authority he had in the City to one Arimin, who was sent by Flavian the governor of Macedonia and Thessaly: Nevertheless Arimin having understood the great exploits Alcydamas had done, entreated him to continue together with him the cares he had taken over the Town, and still to employ his valour in the defence of it. Alcydamas and Polydore made yet some more sallies, which brought them into such esteem with Arimin, that nothing was done but by their advice. They maintained themselves thus a long time, the Scythians never daring to approach the walls for the scaling of a Town whence such valiant men issued. But in the end their great number having affrighted all Thessaly and the neighbour Provinces, Flavian and the Praetor that governed Epire, were obliged to join together what troops they had to go fight with them. They had in all ten thousand men, and Alcydamas and Polydore having received advice that they would give the battle, demanded leave of Arimin to go thither, and went out in the head of two thousand Gentlemen of Thessaly, and three thousand foot that Arimin sent. Their arrival was extremely acceptable to Maxentius and Flavian, who seeing them of so good a mine, and having been advertised of their valorous actions, received them into the counsel of war, wherein was propounded, in what place they were to fight with the enemy. They were all agreed that because of the inequality of the number, it behoved them to seek out some advantageous place, which made Maxentius & Flavian of the opinion that they should labour to draw them into the covert places of Thessaly, between the mount Olympus and the river Peneus, to the end they might not extend their troops in so straight a place, nor they themselves be encompassed by them. This counsel was ready to be followed: but Alcydamas said, they were to take great heed of drawing the Barbarians into the midst of their Country; because there being no retreats there, they would without doubt obstinately intend the victory, and the greater number might thus carry it away from the lesser. That his advice was, they should go and fight with them as near their shipping as they could, that amongst the rocks the same advantages of straight places were to be found; and that the Barbarians having their retreats so near, would not fail to go seek them in the least fray they had: that since they had no other design but to chase them away, they were to facilitate their flight, and not to reduce them to a place where they should be obliged to kill to the very last man for to vanquish them. For his part he thought it more fitting to go fight with them in the very place where they had seated their Camp, which was between the City of Larissa and the Sea coast; for in case the Romans had not the better, they should have the Town for retreat, and this place was straightened by reason of the rocks, and as commodious as they could desire it. These considerations were found most prudent, and every one having followed this advice, they resolved to fight with them the next day, and to go lodge about the Town for to be near against the morning. In the mean time they ordained their battle thus: It was decreed that the Romans should in the point be commanded by Maxentius, the Macedonians should march on the right side with Flavian in one battalion, and that the Epirotes and Thessalians should be on the left side led by a Knight of Rome called Milo: the Cavalry of the Thessalians was ordered to be upon the two wings, whereof there should be a thousand men on the right wing commanded by Alcydamas, and as many on the left, having Polydore for chief. All things having been disposed in this order, and every one encouraged to do well, they retired them to the places about Larissa: but the Cavalry was lodged in the Town with a command that at the point of day they should join with the body of the Army. Alcydamas and Polydore brought back their troops thither, the first of them retired to his lodging, and the other having had charge to guard the ports on the Scythians side, went to repose himself in the Corpse de guard.  
Alcydamas at this return found Dicearchus very sick, who knowing he was arrived, sent to entreat him to come to him; he told him that he rejoiced to see him before his death, and having made Euphrosyne and Ariana be sent for too, he prayed them willingly to hearken to him, and spoke thus:  

History of Dicearchus and Acidalia.  
SInce my sickness reduces me to extremity, I will not depart the world with the reputation of a man so wicked and cruel as you have reason to esteem me; and to keep my memory from being so odious with you, I am constrained to recite my whole life to you, (which I may call a continual disaster,) without concealing any thing, either of those shameful accidents that happened to me, or the violent and furious resolutions which the cruelty of my fortune forced me to take.  
I confess, ambition has been the outrageous passion that always distempered me, to which that other of love mixing itself too, these two furies together have so cruelly tormented me, that I have not been Master of my own actions, but let myself be governed by them without ever calling reason to my aid. Euphrosyne knows in what sort my youth hath passed: for I doubt not but she knows how from my younger age it was impossible for me to endure an equal in Syracuse, believing that my Nobility and courage gave me advantages, which none besides myself could pretend to Living thus, I had many quarrels to redress with the chief of the young men of the City, over whom I was ever to have the better, or else I had no rest. When I was about the age of twenty years, seeing Euphrosyne to be the best of those that were in consideration at Syracuse, I conceived that there ought to be fixed the end of my desires. At the beginning I was not drawn to the search of her, but through the fear I had that if another came to possess her, it would be a testimony that he were more esteemed than I: but afterwards finding in her excellent qualities, I joined in such sort love to my ambition, that there was not a mean I would not then have enterprised to attain to her good graces. She knows the services I endeavoured to render her, and how many artifices I made use of for advancing my design: one while employing magnificence, to show the grandeur of my estate and birth, another while using an extreme modesty for to gain her mother's heart, who approved not superfluous expenses: In the end I turned me a thousand ways to vanquish her, finding that I was engaged both by honour and love to carry her from all the rest: nevertheless I acquired nothing upon the spirit of Euphrosyne, or her mother. But when Hermocrates was returned from his voyages wherein he had followed Germanicus, I found myself more reculed yet by far from what I pretended: because Hermocrates having prevented the Syracusians by a great reputation they had of him, even before he was returned, every one fixed his eyes upon him as soon as ever he appeared; and it seemed they would not so much as take the pains to regard me. That contempt so animated my jealous ambition, that I feared not to declare myself his enemy; having as than no other cause of hating him but that he was more honoured than myself; and the more lovely he rendered him to all men, the more did I see him with displeasure. But when he attempted to love Euphrosyne, my jealousy went upon a visible foundation, and I practised what I was able both openly and secretly, for to destroy the opinion was had of him. Yet for all this obtaining nothing that way, and perceiving how by my expulsion he was received at Euphrosyne's, I cannot express to you what rage I felt within my heart; at last I found the invention to drive him from that house, by means of a letter counterfeited from Eryx, father of Hermocrates, to the mother of Euphrosyne, wherein he entreated her not to suffer his son at her house, because he had destined him some where else. This crafty device succeeded for a time, every one being ready to resent that which touches upon their honour, and you know that an offence of this kind so surprises, that its impossible one should then think of doubting whether the thing be true or false. Euphrosyne's mother presently banished Hermocrates her house, without hearing any defence he could make. And for me, knowing what had happened to him, I enforced myself to the uttermost of my power for to gain Euphrosyne in that resentment of injury, hoping that to work Eryx despite, they would turn their eyes upon me. But Eryx and Hermocrates having made all clear together, my plot wrought its effect against myself, and in a small time the marriage of Hermocrates and Euphrosyne was agreed on, and soon after accomplished. I conceived such a despite at the contempt they made of me, and at the good fortune of Hermocrates, that a hundred times I resolved to have him dye: but seeing there was no remedy to undo what was already done, I could no longer endure to live at Syracuse, where I should be constrained to see perpetually an object that was so troublesome to my sight, but went my way for a long time to Corinth.  
When I was there arrived, all my acquaintance laboured to divert me, and I sought nothing else myself, but to expel the grief that tormented me: I went often into companies, and at last willing to chase away the passions I travelled with, by one that might be more happy for me, I had a design to make another love, and casting my eyes upon Acidalia that was the fairest of all Corinth, I enterprised to love her. I was willing at my first coming to dazzle the eyes of those of Corinth, by aproud bravery of clothes and train, which made me be honoured throughout all companies. All the Maids that love these external ornaments, regarded me with a desire, and attended with much unquietness the choice I would make of some one of them: so as when I made my addresses to Acidalia, she received me with a great deal of contentment, and I perceived as soon the plots of some other women, that laboured to put me off from this affection, by a thousand malicious inventions against Acidalia: but those attempts wrought no effect upon me: contraiwise, the intelligence I had of their purpose, caused me to be farther engaged with her; and because she was very handsome, by little and little I was taken with a very violent passion. She used much coldness at the beginning, to assure herself the more of me, and confessed not that she would love me but after a long time: But when she saw me entirely submitted, she took a kind of Empire over me; notwithstanding she obliged me with a great confidence, and so mingling her favours to some affected rigours, she made me so in love, as I could not live any where but besides her. At that time a young man called Attalus frequented with us, who was well enough borne, but that made himself so acceptable by many pleasant actions, and jesting humours, that they thought there could be no good mirth if he were not in the company. 'Tis true, he was of so merry a disposition, and so borne to buffonnery, as the features of his face, his arms, his legs, and all the rest of his body were not deficient in executing what everslights his wit ordained them. There was not a ridiculous person that he imitated not, no subtlety he was ignorant of: but he had so studied to counterfeit the discourse of impertinent and stupid people, as it would have been a difficult matter for him to speak seriously. I perceived that Acidalia took a little more pleasure than was fitting in whatsoever Attalus did. As soon as ever he spoke, she admired the quickness of his wit: if he turned but a foot or a hand, she made an observation of the gentleness of his postures, and always gave advice to the very first of his motions, for fear he might lose the praise of any one action. I was angry for that she was something overmuch carried away in the estimation of him, judging it proceeded from a weak spirit, to think that highly commendable, which was simply ridiculous. I endeavoured to make her lose by little and little this good opinion she had of Attalus, giving her to understand that he had reason thus to counterfeit sots and fools, because he could never make a discourse himself that expressed an ability to any thing: that such wits as these were not proper but for laughter, and that we were to have a care of trusting them with a secret, or expecting any counsel from them in a matter of importance: beside, we see ordinarily that women and maids love these persons in public to make them laugh, but for thinking them worthy their affection, they are well aware of; because this sort of men cannot have the conditions that are necessary long time to entertain a friendship: for, said I to her, respect, discretion, and fidelity, are qualities too serious for such ready wits: they are so free and flitting, as they cannot endure a constraint; and rather than lose a good word or a pleasant action, they will quit all considerations of keeping an affection secret. Acidalia knew well I spoke as one interessed, and that made her doubt the goodness of my reasons: and yet she believed me for a while. But at last Attalus having perceived her inclination, which she could nolonger conceal, began to be more sparing of his buffonnery in all companies, and expressed to her that he made use of those actions but only to please her. This obliged her entirely, and Attalus knowing what progress he made in her good graces, set himself forward to take other liberties of her without any great hazard: for if she would not suffer him, it was excused by the free humour of Attalus; and if she would suffer him, he knew well how to use the same favour often. All this I saw with a great deal of despite, but could not remedy it, and still I loved her infinitely; and my love increasing, augmented my rage, to see him receive favours I durst not pretend to. Acidalia let herself be so transported with this foolish love of Attalus, that she could now conceal it no longer: if he were in any place, she must instantly leave what company soever to go to him; and she was so blinded in admiring all he did, as she perceived not the visible appearance she made to every one of her passion. I represented to her as discreetly as I could what injury she did herself, and let her see that she ought to esteem of me otherwise than o● him: but she could not endure to hear me speak any more after that fashion; and I perceived she began to shun me for fear I should importune her with this discourse, and had no care now but for her Attalus.  
I must needs relate to you in the end the cruelest of my griefs, and the subject of all my shame. One day I went to her house something late in the afternoon, and knowing she was gone out to walk, I resolved to attend her in her chamber, and laid me down upon a bed, where insensibly I fell asleep. But yet I awaked when she came in, and saw Attalus alone with her in the Chamber: she knew not I was in the house; so as I removed as far as I could toward the farther side of the bed into the dark, for fear of being perceived, but so as I could see what they did. She took off the handkerchief that covered her neck, and presently Attalus set himself to kiss it freely enough, because she took pleasure in those caresses, and in the conceited flatreries wherewith he admired the beauty of that neck, and confessed himself beholding for the liberty she gave him: then he added in mockery; But truly, Madam, you ought to grant the like favours to Dicearchus that loves you so seriously; and she answered him, If I should permit him the same, he would never take them with so good a grace as you do. I was struck to the quick at those words, but yet I endured far more sensible blows after. They sat them down upon seats that were at the bed, feet, where indeed I could not see them, but I might easily hear what they said. After some discourses expressing that she permitted him great privacies, I heard her say, Ha gods! Attalus, let me alone; are you not yet satisfied? and a while after she added: Well, are you now content? I believe for the present that she only permitted him some liberties, which yet are not to be suffered: but then my jealousy forced me to believe that those words signified he had obtained the very last favours of her, and never casting so much as a doubt of it, I entered into so great a fury, as I repented me a hundred times that I had not a poniard about me for to kill them both: but being unable to revenge myself at that time, my shame and my despite constrained me to hold my peace, for fear they knew I had been a witness of their kindnesses. They went away soon enough for being surprised, and for me, having stayed some time full of confusion and rage, I retired me as secretly as I could, with more fear of being discovered, than if I had done an action myself that were very shameful.  
When I was at home, I shut myself up alone, and there my love provoked by so cruel an offence, abandoned me to fury and despair: I tore my hair, I outrageously struck myself, and acted all that a violent rage forces one to do. I saw well enough that I might despise this Acidalia, and leave her at liberty with her Attalus: but I was so powerfully engaged to love her▪ as I believed I had received as great an injury from her, as if already she had been my wife. I considered her in her fault, and then despised her: but presently I imagined her as handsome as might be, and then I could not so much as endure the thought that another should possess her. But what? said I, shall I love her still, and not rather have in disdain a person defiled? the shame of her sex, and the relics of Attalus? Shall I still continue to desire what I ought to have in horror, and esteem myself miserable for having been a witness of that she endured, in stead of rejoicing for having known her levity and weakness? No, no, let us be more wise, and expel out of our mind this beauty that hides so many defects, and hath not offended my love but in destroying itself. I remained some time in this resolution; and a little after this Acidalia returned into my mind with more charms than ever; and it seemed my imagination was pleased in representing her to me, the more gloriously to keep me from forgetting her, and embroil me in a greater trouble. Then I replied thus: What then, shall I leave her in the possession of another, and while I am in pain to be delivered from so sweet and cruel a remembrance, shall Attalus peaceably enjoy Acidalia, and taste as many delights, as I torments? Whither shall I fly? Wretched man, shall I stay at Corinth, to see continually my own misery, and be the more sensible of it? or rather return to Syracuse, to see on the other side Hermocrates happy with Euphrosyne, whose contentments will every hour renew in my memory those of Attalus with Acidalia? Acidalia, thou cruel, ingrate, foolish, unchaste woman, can I still love thee? But again, Acidalia, full of beauty, of graces, and of charms, can I not love thee? Spirit unworthy to be loved of me: but beauty worthy of all the vows of the earth. O despite, O love, what am I to do? Shall I love her, or shall I not love her?  
My soul was thus agitated with a thousand furious and extravagant thoughts, and my rage so transported me, as I conceived a resolution whereat you will bless yourself, not finding the like to have been taken by any man in all the ages of the world. No, said I, 'tis certain that I ought not to love her; but chose that I am to pursue with a mortal hate, her that hath done me so cruel an outrage: but I ought to provide too, that none else possess her. I will marry her, to the end I may have the power to make her as miserable, as she makes my life disastrous. I will never touch her myself, not enduring any more to come near a person that is defiled: but I shall take order that none else approach her neither, and by this means I shall have but the displeasures for not enjoying her, which every way are unavoidable.  
After having passed away the night in tormenting my mind with these furious imaginations, I fortified me so well in this strange resolution, that the next day morning I went to one of her uncles to entreat him to speak with her mother concerning our marriage, knowing well they would receive me presently; and to oblige him to dispatch this business, I made him a present of a Diamond of great value. I had settled my face as well as I was able, to feign a great affection: and some time after I had an answer as favourable as I desired. Acidalia herself was not repugnant to her friends will, well knowing they would never have consented that she married Attalus. She expressed a reception of me with much contentment, for to abuse me; and I feigned also to desire with impatiency the day of our marriage, making appear all the joy I could; although the more I saw her then, the more I resolved with myself to hate her. Attalus was some days at her house about that time, and I well observed the looks they sent one another, the one envying my happiness, and the other making show that she received me against her will; and they knew not that I was so well acquainted with their intelligence: but I had strange designs within me.  
In the end our marriage-day arrives, and all the ceremonies being performed, at night they brought us to lie together; but that night was a strange one: for as soon as we were left alone together, I said to her; Acidalia, think you I am at this present the Dicearchus heretofore so amorous of your beauty, and so ready to obey your commands? No, no, know that I am your cruelest enemy, and have not married you but to make you the miserablest creature in the world. She began to cry, and asked me why I spoke on that fashion to her. Go, said I, filthy shameless woman, lament your fault only, and never hope to have me moved. Remember yourself what Attalus obtained of you, whereof I was witness, and believe I have not married you to enjoy his leave, but to hinder his enjoying of you, and make you every day feel the punishment of the injury you have offered me. She denied a long time that she had ever permitted Attalus any thing: but at last seeing how I knew too much of that they had said one to another, she was brought to confess to me that she had only granted him some few liberties, for which she demanded pardon of me with a torrent of tears: nevertheless I would not believe her, and she could never make me relent; so as all the night passed in reproaches, in despairs, in sigh and in tears. The next day those that came to visit us, were in a great wonder to see her in the estate of one in desperation, and they knew not what to think of it. I saw well she had a desire to seek to her mother for refuge, and by making her complaints to her, to obtain that I might not carry her away to Syracuse, and that she would take her home to her house; but I prevented that, for the very same day I had made a Vessel be prepared with all my furniture, and having taken leave of my friends in Corinth, I constrained her to depart with me.  
Judge a little what hope I could have of ever enjoying any contentment: I took for my ordinary companion a person that was the plague of my life, and to whom I was resolved to be a perpetual scourge, having attempted never to let her enjoy any repose, since she rendered me the most miserable of men. But when we were come to Syracuse, I was much troubled, finding myself obliged to watch continually over her I could not regard but with sorrow, and whom I feared also to provoke overmuch, for fear she might not be moved once again to take my honour from me, and it may be my life. Yet she neither was of a violent nature, nor able to conceive a daring resolution: only when I was alone, she came sometimes to me, and casting herself at my feet, she implored my pity, and desired pardon of me in shedding abundance of tears, embracing my knees, and making a thousand submissions. Her weeping, and her beauty did a little shake me; but presently I turned away my sight, and full of cruel resolution, said to her; Madam, if you could recover the purity you have lost, you might have cause to expect my friendship; but since that is impossible, believe I have always your fault present to my remembrance, which forbids you to hope for any pardon at my hands. She made me then a thousand oaths, that the fault she had committed was not such as I believed it; but the gods themselves had not been able to have made me lose that opinion. Ha, said she then, since you will believe it, take me out of the world; let me dye by your hand, and finish so cruel a misery. I must of necessity then, answered I, kill myself at the same time, for I am assured never to be cured of the resentment of your offence but by death, and I cannot comfort myself but by the revenge I am to take of you. Then she took herself to injurious speeches against me, calling me cruel Barbarian, Tiger, with a thousand reproaches which her grief forced her to make me. But, neither her submissions, nor her tears, nor her rage, could ever bend me. All the relaxation I gave her, was when I let her some time live apart without seeing her; being assured of her continency, because out of displeasure she had banished herself from all kind of companies. Nevertheless thus giving torment to another, I was not exempt from it myself, and I believe I had my mind at leastwise as much troubled as she, being constrained to lock up my griefs within my soul for fear of expressing them to others, when she gave ease to hers by the tears she feared not to shed.  
When I saw that I was reduced to so miserable a life by my own procurement, and not encountering in my house other than pitiful and funest objects, I resolved with myself for easing of my mind a little by businesses abroad, to employ me in the public affairs; and feeling myself consumed with vexations, I took an hatred against all the world, and wished to have seen all men as miserable as I. Hermocrates was the first object of my fury: the ancient enmity I had conceived against him, caused me to be altogether disposed to wish his destruction, hoping that if I satisfied my passion thus to revenge me on all sides, I should not at least be deprived of all pleasure. I practised all sorts of means to ruin him, and having made a league against him, I possessed my mind with all the designs I could think of upon this subject, to the end it might be entirely busied with those considerations, and I the less thoughtful of my domestic miseries. This league made me powerful, and I found myself in estate to resist whatsoever he proposed in the public assemblies, and to overthrow all his designs: but finding again that he sometimes overruled it by the authority he had acquired, and the love was shown him, I let myself be carried away more than ever with a desire to ruin him entirely. To this purpose I made use of craft to make the Syracusians believe he affected tyranny: and by the Arms I made be found at his house, gave a colour to my accusation, which notwithstanding had easily been discovered false, but for the artifices I employed to make the Roman Praetor judge of this cause; but the Syracusians that loved him prevented me, and yet not daring to absolve him altogether, they banished him only for five years according to their ancient law.  
I was not content with this judgement, but chose I esteemed it advantageous for Hermocrates, whom the Syracusians had expressed so much affection to, I feared lest they recalled him not very soon from his exile, to place him in greater authority than ever. By fortune, a little before, certain Pirates had been taken upon the coasts, and Hermocrates pursuing their punishment, I attemted to save them, only in contradiction to him. I was visited secretly by some Sea courses of their company, that laboured to corrupt the Judges; and who having had intelligence of the design I had to oblige them, offered me all I could desire of them for the safety of those were taken▪ I refused all their presents; but at the same time Hermocrates being condemned to banishment, and knowing how he was resolved to go to Carthage, I sent for them, and bound them by oath faithfully to execute what I desired of them, and I would return into their hands their companions. They promised to serve me against all the world, and presently I made be delivered by my sole authority those that had been taken, because I governed all at that time; and having them all at my house together, I entreated them to join their quarrels to mine, and so to order the matter as they might take Hermocrates their enemy and mine, as he went to Carthage, and carry him away with his wife so far off, that no more should be heard of him within Sicily; that for this cause they were to sell them to some Barbarians, and I desired too of them it might be done separately, to the end I might thus disunite those whose union had given me so much jealousy and torment.  
They all received this entreaty with much joy, as well for having occasion to express in what sort they desired to serve me, as to be revenged upon Hermocrates for having prosecuted their death, and all of them swore to me they would inviolably execute my desire. I prayed them beside, that if Euphrosyne who was very big, should be brought to bed in the time she were with them, they would throw into the Sea what should be borne of her, to extinguish for ever this race. After they had promised to perform exactly all I recommended to them, I made them yet some presents; I received also some of them, for not showing a contempt of them, and after many mutual protestations, they went their way to attend Hermocrates in the passage near the Port of Lylibeum. They failed not to accomplish faithfully what they had promised me: for they took away Hermocrates and Euphrosyne, but they were wanting only in this, that they sold not Hermocrates so soon as they had assured me, but kept him some time with his wife amongst them.  
I had no news what they were all become of, but about four years after, during which time being rid of Hermocrates, that before wholly possesed my spirit, I relapsed into the lively resentment of the evils of my house, and to ease them in some sort, I enterprised to build a stately house in the Country; and at the same time made a Tower be erected, with an intention there to enclose Acidalia the remainder of her days. But at the end of those four years, I heard that certain men demanded to speak with me. I sent for them, and knew them to be the very same Pirates, that came to give me an account of what they had done. They told me they had taken Hermocrates and Euphrosyne, whom they had not yet been able to sell in place whence they might not return again: that when they had Euphrosyne, she was already delivered of the child she had been big with; but that since being with them, she was brought to bed of a daughter, that seemed so fair to them, as they could not resolve to put it to death: nevertheless, for not failing in that they promised me, they had brought it me to dispose of as I should think good. Then they presented me this young girl of about two years of age, whose beauty surprised me: but when she opened her little arms to embrace me in saluting, I was touched with love and pity for her sake, and resolved with myself rather to nourish it, than be so cruel as I had resolved. I am very sorry, pursued Dicearchus, addressing him to Euphrosyne and Melintus, that I cannot at this time present you with this nurse child of my bringing up; 'tis the gentile and courageous Epicharis, who is the daughter of Euphrosyne, and your sister, said he to Melintus. Euphrosyne knew not who this Epicharis was; yet she rejoiced that her child had been preserved: but Melintus and Ariana cried out at the same time: Melintus said, What, is Epicharis my sister? And Ariana, Alas Melintus, my dear Epicharis, is she then your sister? Ah! what joy will this news bring my brother that loves her so passionately; and what grief too will he receive by it for not knowing where she is? Dicearchus caused a little ceasing to all these admirations and joys, in continuing thus: 'Tis true this young child made herself always so agreeable, as I was constrained to love her maugre the hatred I had against those that brought her into the world. She had a wit so gentile and quick, that she forced me many times to laugh, when I had but small cause in Acidalla's presence; and when she was more advanced in age, I was pressed by some of my friends to marry her, thinking she had been a slave, to one called Asylas a servant borne in my house: but I had in horror that proposition; comparing the nobleness of her blood, with the baseness of Asylas; and could not hinder myself from saying, how the gods would never pardon me for mingling her illustrious blood with another so unworthy of her. This speech was well remarked, and often times after I was pressed by many, and by Palamede especially, to tell them of what parents she was borne. Never would I tell them any thing, being willing to reserve to myself always the disposition of her fortune, to render her such as I pleased. In that time Acidalia died, whether she had given herself death by poison, or it had seized on her through displeasure, being unable any longer to support her misery, and chiefly seeing that Tower was prepared for her: but before she died, she made me so many oaths, that she had not committed the fault I had imagined, as I think now the belief I had of it was only founded upon my jealousy. She vowed herself to the furies to be eternally tormented in hell, if it were true; and desired of me no other satisfaction at her death, but this, that I would lose that opinion. I was willing to let her soul depart with this contentment, and I have had as much regret since for having cruelly used her, as heretofore I was pleased with it; and I was tormented with a new kind of punishment, for before I was vexed with the sense of the injury I thought I had received of her; but since her death I have been persecuted with the sorrow for those injuries I made her suffer.  
I had always kept Epicharis with her, but at her death I gave her to my Niece Ariana, because she loved her: Afterwards having known that Melintus had been acknowledged the son of Hermocrates, there was a renewing of my fury against this blood I so hated: I had resolved a little before to give him my Niece in marriage, thinking he had been son of Telephus, and seeing the great affection the Syracusians bore him: but when I knew the truth of his extraction, the consideration of his condition so highly advanced, in stead of serving his desire, made me not only lose the affection I began to have towards him, but also to swear his ruin; and seeing how it behoved me first to be assured of Ariana who loved him, I carried her away to Corinth, hoping after I had married her to Pisistratus, to return to Syracuse and destroy Melintus. He prevented me by the resolution he took to carry away my Niece; and as I was incensed with this affront that made my hatred irreconcilable, I found myself assisted by Trebatius to pursue him, and I refused not his help, though he sought to put my Nephew to death as well as him. Indeed I believed than he had been at Athens, and could not imagine he could be with Melintus; but when I knew that they were together, I would not have doubted in the state I was in, to sacrifice Palamede and Ariana too, provided I might have revenge. I followed Trebatius for this purpose, and animated him as much as was possible for me, to the end Melintus might not escape us: but the gods have rendered all the enforcements of my rage unprofitable, and the graces I have so many times received from him, have forced me to confess, not only that he was beloved of them and in their protection, but besides that, in spite of my hate, my fury, and all my resentments, I was to have an obligation to him for my life, and to love him too.  
It seemed that having driven out of my soul the passions that tormented it, by the reverence I began to bear to the secret decrees of the gods, I might live from henceforth in some repose; but feeling continual seizures of repentings that assail and kill me, I perceive well how the gods have ordained me a life entirely tragical, and will not have me survive my miseries. They are determined for the present, that I die; but since death ought to be the end of my calamity, I pray you let it be also the end of the hate you have cause to bear me. You, sage Euphrosyne, and you generous Melintus, I conjure you by whatever remains dear to you in the world, to pardon me for all the evils I have made you suffer: lament rather the perpetual furies of my miserable life, than accuse my actions, or keep a remembrance of them to have me in detestation. You, my dear Niece, that have sometimes felt the effects of my miseries, pardon me also, and obtain of Melintus and Euphrosyne that they would pardon me. Let me carry at least this consolation down below, that though I lived enemy of all the world, yet I died at leastwise in the favour of those I most afflicted.  
Dicearchus' ended thus in tears, and often interrupting his words with sighs that proceeded from his repentance. Euphrosyne and Ariana could not refrain weeping: but Melintus that had an heart more constant, spoke to him on this manner: My father, for I will so call you, since you serve for a father to my dear Ariana, cease, I pray you, to afflict yourself and us too, by your tears and regrets, that give us a sufficient testimony that you have a good nature, but that the only misfortune of your life has forced you to hate us, and our misfortune alone has rendered us the objects of your hatred. Dicearchus, we see every day the force of the Destinies, that overrule and constrain us to do many times actions our natures are repugnant to. But since the same Destinies permit you for the present to acknowledge yourself, and leave you at your own liberty; you must now act of your own accord with courage, for to expel the train of these first furious passions, as shame, sorrow, and repentance? 'Tis the only evil you are for the present sensible of, and which if you let it take force, will without doubt be your death. Dicearchus, show in this occasion what blood you are come of: appease courageously these little seizures, and enjoy from henceforth with us the repose that fortune prepares us. That same great courage which your cruel fortune constrained to serve your furies, would have been employed in nobler actions, if your life had been more happy. Hitherto you have not used it but against yourself, now make it serve your own turn. Lose you the regret of what is past, since we are willing to lose the memory of it. Euphrosyne commands you this, Ariana entreats you, and I conjure you. Then they confirmed what Melintus said, in embracing, and praying him to take heart: But Dicearchus feeling his evil grown to such a point as he could not now vanquish it, assured them that they were not to hope he could live any longer; yet that he died with much comfort, since with so good a heart they pardoned him.  
After some other discourse, they resolved to leave him to his rest, and every one retired to go to bed; Melintus having judged that he was to have a little sleep, to do his duty the better in the battle that was to be given the day after. Dicearchus died three or four hours after: Melintus, when he knew of this accident, arose to go comfort Ariana, and after having spent some time in that duty, he recommended it to the sage Lepantus, with the guard of what they had both most dear in the City, while he himself thought of nothing but fight. He parted before day to go find Palamede, whom at the same time he told very sad news, learning him the death of Dicearchus; and other as agreeable, relating how Epicharis was his sister. This intelligence made him lose the grief for his uncle's death; and he was so ravished with knowing this good fortune for his dear Epicharis, wherein he had a great participation, that he embraced Melintus a thousand times, and prayed him to promise him she might be his wife. Melintus esteemed himself very happy for having wherewith to acquit himself towards him, for the assistance he had given him besides Ariana; and after some other discourse upon this rejoicing, and some regrets for Epicharis loss, they gave over that entertainment to think of araying their troops in good order, and preparing themselves that day to achieve actions worthy the great reputation they had acquired.    

ARIANA. The sixth Book.  
ALready had the Scouts been sent from all parts, to know what countenance the enemy held, and they reported how the Scythians looked as if they expected the combat, for not daring to scatter any more into several troops to go a foraging, because the Romans were now a body of an army, they had gathered all their forces together, which appeared to be of about forty thousand foot, without any horse at all.  
The Town of Larissa is situate between two hills, the valley whereof enlarging itself by degrees towards the Sea, ends at last in a spacious campagnia. This situation afforded the commodity of choosing the just extent that was necessary to contain the front of an Army, and for this cause after they had taken up that space, they were resolved to go assail their enemies by some skirmishes of horse, to draw them thither in feigning a flight, to the end they might afterwards have such advantage of place to fight in, as they desired. Alcydamas and Polydore were that day armed with the rich Arms those of Larissa had presented them with, and had not forgot to dress them in rich scarves, and to be covered with plumes, that they might be the more remarkable to those they commanded, and in an estate worthy of the brave actions they desired to perform.  
The Army presently took up the place that was destined for the fight, and the troops being embattelled, the Chiefs began to walk about the ranks to encourage their soldiers. The valiant Alcydamas seemed that day higher than usually, and had a certain sparkling in his eyes, and splendour upon his face, that made him appear like unto some god descended from heaven for the succours of Greece, and the Roman Empire. They saw waving his white and carnation plumes over the ranks he exceeded by the head, and his mine alone seemed to inspire a part of his great courage into those that were ready to fight under his command. At length, willing to speak to his men, before sending out a party to the skirmish, he commanded silence, and with an agreeable and assured voice spoke thus to them:  
FEllow Soldiers, if I speak to you, 'tis not that I doubt of your courage, nor that I desire to provoke it more, but rather to express to you the contentment I receive in seeing myself assisted with so generous troops. I hope this day to make the Romans confess, what their good fortune is to have the Thessalians for guards to the limits of their Empire: for I am assured, seeing the ardour of fight which appears on your faces, they will be beholding to us for this day's victory. Remember you, that we are in that Thessaly, which hath always been fatal for great exploits of war, which hath seen heretofore decided the quarrel for the Empire of the Universe, between two of the greatest Captains of the world. Let us show as much valour this day, as those famous warriors did, in fight for causes far more just than theirs: They ruined the world to remain Masters of it, but your fight is to preserve your Country from the fury of Barbarians. They were not moved but by a violent ambition; but you are animated with a generous piety, desirous to conserve your Altars, your parents, and your dearest Country. Let us go then, fellows in Arms, let us on to go swim in the rivers of blood we shall make these brutish Nations shed, whose number will but serve to augment our trophies and our glory. Let us make them feel with our swords, a regret for having dared to assault so warlike a province. Follow me, companions. But what is this? You will be gone already: I will follow you then, and labour by imitating you to serve the valiant Thessalians in the acquisition of an immortal glory.  
When Alcydamas had thus spoken, all his company lift up their swords on high, to express to him the desire they had he should lead them on to the combat: presently he commanded some of his troops to go charge the Scythians, and feign by little and little to fly, that they might draw them to the place where they were. The Barbarians received them with great cries, and seeing they were so few a number, pursued them by shot of arrows with all the body of their Army, that approached the Romans within shot. Then Maxentius sent to command Alcydamas and Polydore to go charge them, to the end the Barbarians should not have the honour of the first chocque. They both parted in the head of their troops, and with such fury rushed upon the Scythians, that they broke through the two wings of their Battalion which they had form in the figure of a Crescent▪ Alcydamas having foreseen that it was necessary for him to make a great slaughter, had provided a broad sword of fine mettle, that no kind of Arms was able to resist: so as being managed by a strong and able arm, it cut off all it reached, and the field was spread all over with heads, arms, legs, and trunked bodies. Polydore also on his side gave no little proofs of his valour, and the Thessalians courageously followed so valiant Leaders, and cut in pieces whatsoever presented itself before them. The Romans seeing so happy a beginning, avanced their point, and went to set upon that part of the Scythians Army that was opposite to them, for to second the happy success of the horse. Alcydamas in the mean time continued his great blows, and put all the encountered either to the edge of the sword, or into disorder: in the end with the assistance of his companions, he was come to the midst of the enemies left wing, from whence he began to perceive somewhat a far off a troop of Scythians that stood close round about one that surpassed them by the head, and had all the marks of being their King. There it was he set up his rest for his designs, and because his horse began to fail being all over pierced with arrows, he mounted upon one of those were held ready for him, and having emboldened his company to follow him, he thrust towards that body which he soon opened by force of blows, and pierced with two or three of his companions only to the very place where the King was, accompanied with the strength of his Army. Then his sword did exploits to be admired, for these great bodies opposed themselves before their King, and he was to kill many of them before he could come near him. But at last he struck down so many at his feet, as he came to encounter with the King, who refused not the Combat: he a long time defended himself with a great deal of courage, and gave Alcydamas many a blow to make him feel the weight of his arm: nevertheless the valiant Alcydamas after he had weakened him by diverse wounds, struck so many blows upon his casque, as it fell in pieces; then he divided in two the head of this barbarous Prince, that fell down at his feet. The rest of Alcydamas company came up at the same time, and admired the great slaughter he had made: Then the Barbarians could no longer sustain them, and took their flight. Alcydamas pursued them, incessantly killing those he could overtake. He chased them as far as to the Sea, where a party of the Scythians saved themselves in their shipping, and this element was the sole bound of his victory.  
The fortune of Polydore had been very near equal to this, for having also broke through those of the point that was opposite to him, he had made a strange carnage of them, and still pursued the remainder that ran away towards the Sea, where they were received by Alcydamas and cut in pieces. These two friends thus encountering, bound themselves together with their victorious arms, and held a long time one another embraced, rejoicing that they met again, and thanking the gods for so great a victory. Polydore only had a wound of an arrow that struck him into the thigh; they stayed the blood of it, and presently after they rallied all that had followed them, and found how they had not lost so many as fifty men of the horse they led: but they saw themselves accompanied but with about three thousand of the foot that had followed them; and wondered to see none of the Romans among them. They resolved to return into the field of the battle, where they found indeed a great number of Scythians slain, but again the greater part of the Romans killed, whose fortune had been very differing from theirs: for they learned of some soldiers that were left for dead, that when they vanquished on their sides, the Scythians battalion that was in the midst, had broken through the battle of the Romans, and after having slain the greatest part of it, pursued the rest into the Town. Then Alcydamas complained at his misfortune, that his heat should so carry him away with the desire of killing with his own hand the King of the Scythians; for had it not been for this encounter, he would never have quitted his care for the gross of the Army, and had not failed to have succoured the Romans, having always before taken heed to what passed. Instantly be entreated them that remained to follow him, and in a short time he came with his little troop into the City, where the Barbarians were pell-mell entered in with the flyers, and began to pillage on all sides, after having slain all that had resisted their fury. There was but the Castle that held out still, whereinto Arimin had shut himself. Alcydamas began to put to the sword all the Scythians he encountered, and made a fearful butchery of them, because they dreamed of nought but pillaging. He bestrewed the streets with bodies of these Barbarians, who feeling an enemy so little expected, betook them to their heels every where. And those very men that kept Arimin besieged, thought them to be gods descended from heaven to the Romans aid, not able to judge from whence these enemies should come upon them, and ran away also. The night approaching favoured the Scythians retreat, and hindered Alcydamas from carrying away with Polydore the honour of two great victories in one day, and of entirely defeating the great number of the Barbarians. They were not willing to pursue them out of the Town, for fear of forsaking it; but taking care for the preservation of what remained, they made the gates be shut up, than they set guards every where, thinking only to defend themselves, and all the Scythians that were then found within the City were taken prisoners. Alcydamas having given order on all sides, went with Polydore to the Castle to find the Commanders, and advise of what was to be done. There he learned how Maxentius, Flavian, and Milo had been slain in the fight; and Arimin told him that he had received certain Romans into the Castle, with whom he had a long time defended himself. That Governor obliged to Alcydamas for his own safety, and the preservation of the Town, received with a thousand embraces this glorious Conqueror, and gave him as many commendations for having done so great exploits: after their kindnesses were ended, they assembled in counsel to deliberate of what they had to do, after so great a defeat on either party. Every one concurred in opinion with the sage Alcydamas, who considering that there remained no more of them but about five thousand men, and that they had not slain above the half part of their enemies, said they were by all means to avoid fight, for fear of hazarding the entire loss of the Town, but that it was necessary to attend the troops that were coming to them out of Achaia, wherewith they might chase away what remained of these barbarous people. When they were upon this resolution, there was brought them a Greek that had been taken amongst the Scythians, who said he had something of importance to communicate with those that commanded the Town. This man being before Arimin, seemed to be an old man of a good aspect, that had saved himself from the Scythians to be delivered out of their hands, and having known that there were so few men left in Larissa, was come to advertise Arimin to keep his men from going out of the City to fight: because there was nothing so dangerous as these Barbarians in desperation, and he was certain that they would depart after so great an overthrow, being not able to vanquish all the forces of Greece. This good old man seemed to have a great care over the Romans and Greeks, and prayed them with earnest affection, that none would endanger themselves, whether out of an hope of defeating the remainder of the Barbarians, or out of vainglory to show their courage in attempting some hardy action, to get themselves a name before their enemy's retreat. But he had no trouble to persuade those that were already resolved not to fight, for putting any thing to the hazard. Then they discoursed of some young men's actions, who to acquire honour had oftentimes endangered their whole party. Thereupon they alleged the laws of the Romans that had provided a punishment for such faults, ordaining death to those that should fight against their general's command, although they returned victorious; and some examples hereof were produced. The old man that had a long time lived amongst the Scythians, who had obliged him to serve for a sacrificer to their gods, said that these Barbarians, although they were unfurnished with learning, were not wanting to establish laws, which, for all they savoured a little of Barbarism, were nevertheless founded upon a great deal of reason; as it might be seen by that they had made against private Captains, who without order should fight with the enemy: for they punished with death their disobedience, although they had been happy in success, and this kind of punishment was very strange and remarkable; for they led this miserable Conqueror in a Chariot through all the City as it were in triumph: The soldiers that had served him in the action went before, and carried the spoils they had gained; after this Chariot followed the Priest with those that were destined for the sacrifice; and a little after the hangman with an hatchet: in the midst of the City was a Scaffold, whereupon stood a little Altar where they laid him that had offended upon his back, and the Priest opened his stomach, and took out his heart to be honourably burned in a fire that was kindled of the enemy's arrows; afterwards his head was cut off by the hangman, to show that the heart which was the seat of courage, aught to be honoured for having done a brave action, but that the head where government consists, was to be punished for having failed to obey the commandment. This law was found to be very fantastical, and yet they said it had in it something very reasonable: whereupon many having made other discourses, Arimin to express he would have a great care of the lives of those Chiefs that remained, swore he would make that Scythian law be observed, if any one should be so desperate as to fight against the prohibition he had given to the contrary. All the Captains to show that they would inviolably obey what he commanded, swore they would not fight but by his order, upon pain of incurring the rigour of that very law. Arimin told them after, that if the Scythians went not so soon away, and he found a fit occasion to make a sally, he would not refuse to give them means to make their valours appear: but that they should not expect any such permission until four days were expired. After this discourse they made the old man be carefully looked to, for fear he proved a liar in the assurance he gave, that the Scythians would be gone before two days: then every man retired to his own home, to repose him after so many travels endured in this great day of battle.  
When Alcydamas and Polydore were come into their lodging, Euphrosyne came to meet her son, to embrace him, and express the joy she had to see him returned from so great dangers. He would have gone into Ariana's chamber, but Euphrosyne told him that she and Cyllenia were asleep together, and prayed him to let them rest after so many pains and fears they had suffered; how the Scythians had assaulted this house before they two returned into the Town, and that Lepantus after he had valiantly defended it, was left hurt of many wounds, which nevertheless were not very dangerous. They would have gone to see Lepantus, but Euphrosyne conjured them to go to their rest, and remit all visits and entertainments till the next day. She obliged them thus to go to bed: for never had they so much need of sleeping as then, and they gave it not over until the day was already well forward the next morning.  
This repose was very necessary for Alcydamas, as well to refresh him after his travels, as to resist the troubles and griefs he was to receive at his awaking. Euphrosyne was then constrained to tell him that Ariana had been carried away by the Scythians, but that she was not willing he should know this news the night before, to give him at least some time to repose in. That after that Lepantus had defended them with a great deal of valour, he had been left for dead, and but for the succours he and Polydore brought into the Town, they had all been taken prisoners: but the Barbarians finding themselves pressed, took away Ariana only. This cruel news seized him with such a grief, as he remained in bed without either voice or colour, and was a good while immovable; but returning out of the astonishment which so unfortunate a blow had given him; Ah fortune, said he, how cruel art thou to me? And have I killed so many of the Barbarians, have I gained two famous victories in one day, and could not keep myself from losing the dearest treasure of my life? Have I preserved a whole Country, and peradventure all the Roman Empire from the fury of the Scythians, and was not able to conserve what was most precious to me upon earth? Ah! Euphrosyne, ah! my friends, why did you not advertise me yesterday of this accident that I might have followed the Barbarians at the same time; and since I knew how to save this City out of their hands, I could as well have delivered Ariana from them. Ariana, my dear Ariana▪ where are you? What will you now say of me, for being so unworthy as not to have come to your aid? Must a Scythian dare to have touched with his profane hands so fair a person? and some execrable Barbarian make her it may be at this present feel the effects of his brutishness? O cruel thought, O grief, O rage! But no, without doubt she is dead by this time: that generous soul would either have prevented so sensible an outrage by death, or else not have survived her honour. Fair Ariana, if it be true that thou art no more upon earth, but either be'st now some new constellation, or received into the company of goddesses, pardon me the cowardliness for not succouring thee, pardon me, dear Ariana. But how canst thou ever excuse this crime that makes me unworthy of the very remembrance to have loved thee? No, 'tis certain, that for the present thou regardest me with contempt: thou seest how little I deserved the honour of thy friendship, and how the heaven alone was worthy of thee. Thou hast reason for this, divine Ariana, and I think myself no more worthy to look up to heaven that possesses thee. I will dye, to take from the world a man so unworthy to live: but first I will avenge thy death upon this beastly Nation. I will erect Tombs and Pyramids for thee with the slaughtered bodies of these Barbarians, and make them wash away their impiety in rivers of their own blood. Great goddess, I will have all places of the earth where I shall encounter them become thy Altars, whereupon I will offer up to thee bloody sacrifices; and after having sacrificed myself too for a final oblation, I will go down below, to mourn eternally for the crime I have committed in abandoning thee. Alcydamas, after having vented in his grief and rage many such like discourses, leaped at once out of his bed, not knowing what resolution he should take upon so cruel an accident. He called for his clothes, and by and by his Arms, continually changing his determination, and appearing as one without all sense. Euphrosyne endeavoured to restore his wits by comforting him, and would have been glad the sage Lepantus had been in state to have moved him to take some constant resolution. She told him that he ought not yet to despair of any thing, and that peradventure Ariana had been left in some other part of the Town; that they were to search in all places, before they lamented this misfortune as certain. So was there a search made with great care; but all that diligence proved in vain. Polydore offered himself to go secretly by night with Arcas into the Scythians Camp, and to look about on all sides, if they might not find her some where among them: Alcydamas himself had some desire to go thither, and try this means; but every one considering how they exposed themselves to manifest danger without any great appearance of finding her, they were desired to stay a while until fortune presented some other occasion, and by hope to moderate the cares and sorrows for so grievous a loss.  
Alcydamas went up to the walls of the Town, that he might discover what the enemies were doing, and he saw how after they were returned into their Camp, they began to remove thence all they had to carry it into their vessels, and looked like people that were disposed to depart the day after. This sight struck a thousand griefs into him: for he imagined they would never suffer him to go out and fight with them, since they made show of going away; and that if Ariana were once carried into Scythia, he should never more hear of her. Then he revolved within his mind a thousand differing thoughts, and cast a thousand designs that were found at last to have no sure foundation at all. In these perplexed studies was he, when one of those that commanded the guard over the ports, brought him a man that desired to speak with him. Alcydamas knowing it was Amyntas, ran to embrace him, sighing. And Amyntas told him in private, that within two days Eurymedon would be with him and three thousand men of war. Alas! said Alcydamas, Eurymedon comes too late for me. Know, dear Amyntas, that the Scythians are gone to morrow, or the day after at the furthest, and carry away Ariana with them. Ariana? replied Amyntas all-amazed: ah gods! what misfortune is this! Alcydamas could not refrain weeping, and conducted him home to his house, making his complaints and regrets to him by the way: nevertheless he entreated him to let no body know for what occasion he was come, because he might some way or other make use of his arrival. Amyntas promised to keep it secret, and told him how Thessaly alone had not been assaulted by these Barbarians, but the Island also whence he came, but that they were happily beaten out of it. They were come into the house, where Amyntas after he had saluted Euphrosyne, rejoiced much to see her again, but more yet to understand that she was mother to Alcydamas, and he esteemed himself very happy for having rendered him this service in her deliverance: but seeing Alcydamas to stand in need of divertments, he resolved to relate what adventures had be fallen him since he left them in Epire. Being set down therefore besides him, Euphrosyne, and Polydore, he spoke thus:  

Continuation of the History of Eurymedon and Pasithea.  
WHen you shall understand what prosperity hath accompanied us in our voyages, I doubt not but you will have cause enough to envy us, and complain against fortune that has so cruelly persecuted you, at the same time she entreated us so favourably.  
At my arrive in Corcyra, I found a great preparation of war was making in favour of Eurymedon, for whose return all the Pirates had been so joyful, as it was no difficult matter for him to have obtained whatever he could desire at their hands. Some were busied in furnishing of ships, others in providing good Arms, and all of them expressed as much joy to go serve their Prince, as if they had been assured of the Conquest of all Asia. I found Eurymedon in the Isle, ranking his men into battle, for to learn them to fight as well by land as they did by Sea. As soon as he perceived me, he came to meet me, and after embracing asked me news of you. I told him in what estate you were, and the need you had of his succours: and for this cause he advertised his men that they were to depart the next day, and told me I might return, and assure you that the day after he would come with his forces to Nicopolis, whence he made no doubt but he should deliver you, and that from thence you might together take the way of Lesbos: nevertheless he would keep me the rest of the day, to the end I might depart by night, and do him a pleasure in my return. I expressed to him how glad I should be to have an occasion of serving him: and about evening he gave me Euphrosyne, and desired me to carry her secretly into my Skiffe, to save her from the Pirates, recommending her to me with as much affection as if she had been his mother. I took my leave of him, and came to Nicopolis, where I found you not in the lodging I left you in, and what care soever I took, I could never know what was become of you. I left Euphrosyne in the house, and the next day I went to the Port, where I saw a ship arriving, wherein was Eurymedon, who came to know what was necessary to be done, before he made the rest of his little Army appear. I told him I could not find you in the City, but that I knew Trebatius was yet there, who had heard no news of you, and that without all doubt you had found some other means of saving yourselves. We thought it in vain to stay there any longer. Eurymedon asked me if Euphresyne were in a sure place. I told him I had left her at the same lodging where we had dwelled together. He gave me some commodities he had sent for out of his vessel, to carry her: then he enquired of me what I meant to do. I signified to him that my friends being departed thence, I had no more business there; and how I should be very glad to wait on him to Lesbos. He was very well content I would serve him in that occasion, and after I had been to see Euphrosyne, and carry her all things she might have need of, I returned to find him, and we parted from the haven together; then having met with his other shipping that attended him, we began to set sail. The wind was so favourable, that in a few days we passed round about the Peloponese, and having passed the Egean Sea, arrived happily in the Island, where Eurymedon advised to land upon the coasts, and not at the haven.  
The shore was so desert, as we had much ado to find a man there that could tell us in what estate the affairs of the Country were: nevertheless in the end we encountered certain persons that sought for a retreat in those inhabitable places, who told us how a great number of Scythians were come to land in the Isle to pillage it, and that the King Archelaus was resolved to give them battle, having many stranger Princes with him that came to the deliverance of the Princess Pasithea, and were opportunely met with for the safety of the Island, and expulsion of the Barbarians.  
Eurymedon learning this news could not tell what to resolve on; he had a great desire to go and present himself to the King, to serve him in the day of battle; but he feared his indignation. Besides, he knew not how to appear at the combat, without being known: On the other side it was impossible for him to stay in the Country and not be met with, either by the Scythians, or Archelaus; and we had in all but four thousand men, with which we could not resist a great Army; at last he bethought himself of this subtlety: You know he is very young, and extremely handsome, he resolved to disguise himself into a Maid, so to go find the King before he could know him, and to tell Archelaus that he was daughter to the King of Thrace, whom the Scythians had massacred, after they had pillaged his kingdom, and how she had found means to save herself out of their fury, with a few soldiers she brought with her; that seeking for refuge at his Court, she was glad to find occasion at her arrive to succour him, and be revenged upon this cruel people for her father's death. His plot being thus laid, he chose out the youngest of his soldiers to be disguised also, and represent the Maids of her train; and because I have yet no hair on my face, he prayed me to be one of that number. By good fortune he had made some provision of women's clothes that were very fine, having a design to carry away Pasithea, fearing she might need them, going so unprovided away with him; and this happened very luckily for him and us too. I swear to you, when he had taken a juppe, and dressed up his hair which he wore very long in tresses, I was deceived in him myself; and I know few women that would have exceeded him in beauty. He armed himself only with a corslet and a cask, having his sword by his side, and a javelin in his hand. He commanded all those that were disguised with him, to put themselves in the same equipage; so we landed some horses out of the ships, whereupon being mounted we went in good order in the head of our troops towards Mitylene.  
We had scarce gone half the way, when we perceived armed horsemen that ran scattered about as if they were sufficiently out of heart; we stayed some of them, that told us how the Armies of Archelaus and the Scythians were joined, and that the King was very near to be defeated. Eurymedon made the place be shown him where the battle was given, and presently he commanded us to advance and aid that Prince. We arrived instantly at a hill from whence we viewed the combat, and having known the King's troops that were in great disorder, we ran to aid them, which we did so opportunely as the vanquished began to take heart again.  
Eurymedon in a moment opened the Squadrons of the Scythians, and his woman's habit made his blows appear more marvellous: I followed him close, endeavouring to imitate his valour, and at last we came to the very strength of the battle, where the King was fallen from his horse, and defended only with two or three soldiers, that with much ado sustained a great number of Scythians. Eurymedon killed four or five Barbarians that seemed to be the most obstinate, and, while I undertook the rest, alighted from his horse, and addressing himself to the King, said to him; Courage, Archelaus, assure thyself thou shalt this day be victor. At the same time he helped him up his horse again, and remounting upon his own, they went together to charge the Barbarians that began to tremble.  
The King had always his eyes fixed upon this unknown warriouresse, and knew not from whence this succours came. He admired the blows were given by the arm of this generous Maid, and could not believe but that it was Pallas herself who was come to his defence. I will not relate to you all the particular encounters of this battle: in the end we remained vanquishers; and after we were returned from chase the flying enemies, the King received Eurymedon with as much respect as if he had been a goddess indeed: but he not willing to keep him in that error, told him, he was the daughter of the King of Thrace, with all he had premeditated, adding that he never received so much joy, as in punishing these Barbarians for the death of his father.  
Archelaus took the boldness then to embrace him in quality of a Princess, and told him that since he had drawn so great an advantage from her father's calamity, and her own, he entreated her in like manner to dispose of all she had conserved to him. Great King, said this disguised Princess, I demand nothing of you but a retreat within your territories, and that I may live with you in a rank worthy of my birth. The Prince that already felt himself touched with love, says to her, that it was in her own power to hold the highest degree in his kingdom her sex was capable of, and that he would make her Mistress of his estates, and of his person too, if it pleased her. Eurymedon would not lose this occasion, and said to him; The fortune I am in forbids me to hope for such an honour: nevertheless since that you are in permits you all things, I accept the offer you make me, and I entreat you well to remember yourself of it, when I shall challenge you of your promise. He swore to her he would never fail her, and that it would be no difficult matter for him to effect what he desired himself with so much passion. Many Princes arrived at the same time, and seemed to desire something of the King, who seeing their impatiency, told Eurymedon (that had named himself Hermione,) how these Princes expected his judgement; because he had promised them, that he that showed the most valour that day, should have in marriage the Princess Pasithea his daughter. Eurymedon blushed at that discourse, being angry he had not appeared at the battle in the habit of a man, because none could more lawfully have pretended this honour, than himself. The King perceived his redness, and asked him the cause of it. I will tell it you another time, answered Hermione: but let us see whom you will give the Princess to. If you were a man, said Archelaus, without doubt she had been won by you, for you are the person that has shown the most valour; but being it is not so, I will not fail for all that to give you the honour of this victory. Then he made sign to the Princes that he would speak to them, and he pronounced these words: Since we are all redevable to the only courage of the valiant Hermione for the Scythians defeat, there is none but she that ought to pretend any honour; and since in the person of my daughter the kingdom of Troas and of this Isle, was destined to him that should have carried away the prize, I am obliged by my oath to make Hermione Queen of my estates, if I were not obliged at all to it by my affection.  
The Princes were greatly amazed; and though Hermione appeared with many beauties and graces, yet they could not be satisfied with her. The King took her then by the hand, and made her be placed with him in a Chariot that attended him for his return to Mitylene, with the victorious troops that accompanied him. The people that was advertised how the King desired to many this Princess, already called her their Queen; whereat Eurymedon smiled within himself. Archelaus having her beside him, would know what reason she had to blush when she heard speak of his daughter Pasithea. Because, answered she, I believed you had had no children, and that word surprised me. I have, says he, but this daughter, though it would be better for me I had her not, for the displeasure I have received by her: then he fetched a deep sigh. Hermione demanded what cause she had given him to complain of her. A while since, answers Archelaus, a young stranger came to land in this Isle, and after I had received him with much honour, he knew so well how to gain her, as he made her in love with him. This villain avoided my anger by flying away, and I was constrained to shut up my daughter for ever in a place where she can never hear more news of him. I pity you indeed, says Hermione, if she were so unfortunate as to have offended her honour. I do not think, replies the King, she has so far forgot herself: but I surprised her one day as this young man, that called himself Eurymedon, was kissing her hand. Ah! great King, returned Hermione, this alone deserves not so cruel a punishment. But, continues she, what was this Eurymedon? was he a Prince, or else a person unworthy of the Princess good graces? He called himself Prince truly, answers the King, and had many excellent qualities; nay, we had some obligation to him, my daughter and I: but very hardly could I have been assured if he were of Royal blood, since he knew it not himself; and it was too much boldness for him to enterprise the search of my daughter without my consent, seeing fortune had given him nothing whereupon he might ground that hope. Love, says Hermione to him, hath not all those considerations, and the faults he is subject to, are rather excusable errors than crimes: and if this Eurymedon had some good qualities, I do not find that the Princess hath committed so great a fault; and entreat you by the affection you express to me, not to be so cruel to your own blood, but to set her at liberty in my favour. Archelaus was willing to oblige Hermione, and promised to deliver her before eight days, because she desired it.  
He led her into the Palace, where she was lodged as if already she had been the Queen, and all the Princesses, and the Ladies came to do their reverence to her. Hermione very well acquitted herself of all those ceremonies, and seemed to have been bred in them all her life; but the time seemed tedious to her until she saw Pasithea. Nevertheless she was afraid to be discovered if she spoke of her too often to the King. He on the other side had no other wish than to be married to Hermione; but there was no appearance of making that marriage, until first he had well provided for the safety of his kingdom on all sides, after the defeat of the Scythians. Yet he gave not over expressing to her his impatience, and Eurymedon called the gods to witness, and prayed him to believe, that he desired the honour of his alliance as much, or more than he himself. Whereupon the King gave him thanks, never understanding the sense of Eurymedons' words, who meant the alliance he desired to make with him by marrying his daughter.  
At length two days after Hermione entered into discourse concerning Pasithea, and expressing a great desire to see her, obtained leave of the King to go visit her in the Castle where she was kept, upon condition she were not accompanied but with her Maids. I was one of that number, continued Amyntas, so as I went with Hermione into that Castle, which within was guarded only with women. They all of them showed a great deal of honour to Hermione, knowing she was destined to be their Queen, and we were conducted to the place where the fair Pasithea was, who came out to meet us, and having heard speak of Hermione, and of all that was said concerning her, she received her with a very great respect, as the person she believed she should one day wholly depend on. Hermione embraced her, and kissed her a long time; then having taken her aside, asked her if she remembered not one she had seen very like her. Pasithea blushed, and durst not tell her she resembled Eurymedon very much, because she feared to produce that name before her that very shortly was to be her Queen. Eurymedon knew the fear she was in, and for her re-assurance said to her; Fair Princess, fear not to discover your secret to me; I am sister of the Prince Eurymedon, that am come into this Isle for no other end but to serve you and my dear brother that dies for your love. I have been so happy as to succour the King your father in the battle, and give him passion enough to make him desire to marry me. But I will never while I live accord to what he desires, until you be first married with Eurymedon. Madam, answered Pasithea something confounded, I should think you meant but to surprise me by these words, if I remarked not in you all the features of Eurymedons' face; and seeing you have been willing to express so perfect a friendship towards him, I will also avow to you the extreme love I bear him, which makes me esteem my captivity very pleasant. Hermione kissed her to show how agreeably she took those words, and prayed her to swear Eurymedon should be her husband. I do swear it, says she, between your hands, and I promise you to give myself to him, as soon as ever the King shall have given his consent.  
Then they gave one another their hand, and kissed a long time: afterwards that discourse being ended, Pasithea spoke of the griefs she had received in this prison, whence Hermione promised she should very speedily be delivered, if the King kept his word with her. Eurymedon was so rapt with seeing his dear Mistress, and for the error he kept her in, that he never ceased expressing a great contentment to her, and failed not to take as many kisses, as by time she gave him occasion. But he would proceed farther yet, and having signified to Pasithea how willing he would be to be delivered of her father's entertainments for a day or two, he so wrought with her, as the Princess thought good he should send to the King to ask leave of him that she might lie that night with his daughter the Princess, because she could not see her sufficiently to her desire. I was, went Amyntas on, the chief Maid of Hermione's train, and was chosen to go to King Archelaus, who willingly agreed to what Hermione desired, upon condition she returned the day after. I brought them this news, that was received with a great deal of joy of them both, but of Eurymedon most, who under this disguise hoped to receive the dearest favours of his fair Mistress. All the evening they ceased not entertaining one another with much satisfaction, and night being come we undressed them. Pasithea's Maids had no sooner taken off what covered her neck, but Hermione brought her mouth thither, and told her that her brother had reason to be so passionately in love with her, and she would never repent herself for having attempted to serve him for so fair a subject. Pasithea received those kindnesses and speeches with a great respect, and at last we put them into the bed together. It had been easy for me to have lain also with one of the Princess Maids: but though my will had been good, I could not have had the leisure: for presently we heard Pasithea cry out. I went with her Maids to see what had happened to her, and when we were about her, I found her in great trouble to know what she should complain of: for Eurymedon having told her what he was, and pressed her extremely to grant what he desired, she thought but to have rid herself out of his hands; yet she would not accuse him before the Maids, for fear the King knew what trick was played upon him. At last she resolved to feign that she was taken with violent pains that made her cry out on that fashion, and she said, that for fear of troubling Hermione, she went to retire into her Maid's Chamber. Eurymedon seeing her resolution, durst not keep her by him, and she getting out of the bed, went and locked herself up in a Chamber, where we could not see her until the next day.  
He imparted to me all his secrets, and told me that very night that having declared himself to the Princess, she was extremely offended with his boldness; and though he laboured to vanquish her, by representing how she had given him her faith, and the King had given them leave to lie together, yet she would never hear him. In the end that having enterprised to employ some enforcements, for not losing so fair an occasion, she cried out to have some body deliver her out of his hands. He was afraid she had been very angry with him: but I assured him he needed not fear it, and that since she had the temper not to accuse him before her Maids, it was a sign she had still a great affection to him. The next day he found to be true what I told him, for feigning to go see how she did, she let herself a long time be entertained by him, and received all his excuses, then resolved to be carried away into what part of the world he would bring her, upon charge that he attempted nothing until they were married together by her father's consent.  
Eurymedon was at last constrained to leave her to go to the King again: we parted from the Castle and went to the Palace of Archelaus, who testifying much joy to see Hermione, asked her if his daughter had entertained her as she deserved. You have, answered she, the loveliest daughter in the world, and you may judge if I were not satisfied with her, when yesterday was not sufficient for me to enjoy her company, but I must have the night added to it. The King replied, Has she not made you many complaints of me? chose, returned Hermione, we ceased not commending you for the permission you gave us, for never had two persons so much inclination to love one another. I rejoice exceedingly, said Archelaus, to have any thing proceed from me, that is agreeable to you, and shall be very well pleased she may keep you company, and serve you all her life time. They had beside some other such like entertainments, after which Eurymedon sent me to his troops, to advertise them to make ready to depart, and that in the mean time they should have a great care not to discover him. I met in the streets with him you had sent us, said Amyntas to Melintus, who had never known me in the habit I was in; but I was very glad to find him, because enquiring after Eurymedon, he might peradventure have given some suspicion. I made myself known to him, and he told me the place where you were, and for what cause you sent him: I promised him to speak of it to Eurymedon, and to dispose him to bring you his forces when we had taken away the Princess, and having conducted him to our shipping, I gave him charge to attend me there.  
When I was returned to Eurymedon, he received much joy to know in what place you were, and to have the means to aid you; for having the Princess away with him, he might commodiously enough go land in Thessaly: nevertheless we referred the deliberation of all things till we saw Pasithea.  
The next day he returned to see her, and after a thousand expressions of kindness, he imparted to her the news he had received from his dearest friends who stood in need of his succours, and told her, that if she pleased, they would go away together into Thessaly, which was a very fit place for their retreat. She consented to all he had a mind to; and because she was the day after to be set at liberty, they advised to send me to you before, to tell you that within two days after they hoped to arrive here, for being both of them at liberty, they might feign to go a walking together out of the Town, and so go aboard the Ships that were kept ready for their depart.  
I was impatient until I saw you, to bring this news to you, in such sort as I took my leave of them instantly, and came to embark me with him you had sent, who made me an account of all that happened to you, since I left you, and how for fear of being discovered, you made yourself be called Alcydamas, and Palamede, Polydore: he showed me a place where we might land in the Country without being seen of the Scythians; and you see I am here arrived without danger. I sent him back in the same Vessel, to the end he might direct Eurymedon that way, when he came. I make no doubt but they will very soon be here, because there is no mistrust at all of the disguised Hermione; and Archelaus is so blinded with her love, as he permits her whatsoever she desires, so as it will be very easy for them to make their escape, and I hope when they are once arrived with their forces, we shall have means to hinder the Scythians from carrying away Ariana, if they stay but here so long, and find some occasion or other to take her out of their hands either by subtlety or open force.  
Amyntas thus ended his discourse, which would have been regarded with a great deal of more pleasure in another season; nevertheless it gave some remission to the pains they endured for the loss of Ariana. But when he had ended, they could scarce declare their opinion upon what they had heard, so afflicted were they; and every one returned to his complaints as before.    

ARIANA. The seventh Book.  
WHile Amyntas recited the adventures of the generous Eurymedon and the fair Pasithea, Alcydamas was in great pain to give him attention, being so cruelly diverted with his misfortune which entirely possessed his mind, that he diverse times made him begin his narration again, to the end he might be perfectly informed of the issue, because his thoughts were still wand'ring after Ariana. But when he had made an end, he drew him aside, and desired him to go with him to the Castle to speak with Arimine. Polydore was advised to keep his bed by reason of his wounds, so that it was easy for Alcydamas to conceal his purposes from him in the present business: and having acquainted Amyntas with his design, he carried him to Arimin, whom he informed that he was a friend of his addressed to him in private from Eurymedon, (of whom he had told him at the beginning of the siege) to let him know that he had sent him by sea three thousand men, who were at Anchor in a road somewhat removed from that where the Scythians Fleet road, and which should that night come into the Town by several ports, to the end their marching in one body might not cause them to be discovered by the Barbarians. Arimin was well pleased to hear of this supply, and Alcydamas entreated him to give order to all the Commanders and guards at the Ports to do what he should require of them. Presently Arimin sent directions all about, that for that night they should obey all the commands of Alcydamas; and within a while Alcydamas left him to go and put in frame that which he intended. Only Amyntas and Arcas were of his privy counsel, with whom when night was come on, he went and drew fifty horse out of every troop of the Thessalians, which none of the Captains refused to give way to, persuading themselves that he had order for it. In this sort he made up a squadron of about five hundred men: then he took thirty Trumpets; and having drawn them all out of the Town without any noise, he told his company he had promised Arimin to give a defeat to the whole Scythian Camp that night, and could not endure to see them depart, carrying away so many persons as they had taken in Larissa, without endeavouring to recover them out of their hands again: that he had chosen out all of them, being persuaded they had courage enough to go charge the Barbarians in their very Camp, when they should be oppressed with wine and sleep; and that a few men falling upon them on the sudden, would do more good, than if there were a multitude of the plot; that they would therefore express their willingness to him, if they had a desire to follow him, and gain as great honour as men of war were able to attain. These Gentlemen of Thessaly so loved the valiant Alcydamas, and were so confident in his direction, that they all cried out to him, to lead them on. Then he signified to them, how this enterprise had been conceived by him in particular, to save certain Ladies that were taken prisoners by the Scythians, so as entering their tents they were to spare this sex, and to take them out of their hands only; and because the chiefest of them was called Ariana, he gave them this cry to terrify the Barbarians at their first assailing them all at once, and prayed them to cry without ceasing, Ariana, Ariana, where are you, when they should once be mingled in the fight with them. It being thus ordered, he went himself, and placed twenty of his Trumpets two by two round about the Scythians Camp, with command to sound when he began the charge on his side. He reserved the other ten to go in the head of his five hundred men, when he should enter with them into the Campe. After he had well encouraged them once again, he made but one whole troop of them, marching very close together; and at the entry of the Camp, he bade his Trumpets sound; the others answered at the instant from all sides, giving a fearful alarm, and suddenly he began to enter the tents every where, and to make a strange butchery of the affrighted Scythians, who thought all the Devils of hell were met together to their confusion. Melintus and his companions had no other trouble but to kill every where as they went, crying out incessantly, Ariana, Ariana, and all places echoed with that fair name. Melintus searching in the very secrettest corners of all, cried still, Ariana, my dear Ariana where are you? Ariana, 'tis Alcydamas that seeks you: fair Ariana, where are you? In the mean time he slew as many Scythians as appeared before him; and he engaged himself so far in this search, that he encountered a body of Scythians that were gathered together, having then none but Amyntas and Arcas on each side of him. His courage suffered him not to retire; but chose he spurred his horse into the very midst of them, and scattered them in an instant. His valour the more provoked by his love, made him give blows that were prodigious, imagining to himself, that every Scythian he struck, was he that had stolen away Ariana. Presently he slew or put to flight this number that had rallied together, and afterwards there was not a man that made any more resistance. He clavae heads, he struck off shoulders, and his enemies cried out, that it was Mars himself that came to destroy them. Amyntas and Arcas killed in like manner as many as they found, and the rest of the Thessalians admiring the dreadful fray of these Barbarians, ceased not to put them to the edge of the sword; in such sort as all the Camp over the dead bodies were heaped one upon another; and in the mean time none of them left off crying, Ariana, Ariana.  
When Alcydamas had visited all the tents, the day now beginning to break, he came at last out of the Camp, seeing no more enemy appear, and himself not able to find what he sought for. He left his men to pursue what remained of the Scythians, who gained their shipping as well as they could; and weary with killing, searching, and crying out, finding himself out of breath too, and all in a sweat, he was constrained to alight from his horse, and laid him down at the foot of a tree. And is this the fruit, says he then to himself, I must reap of all my travels? There remains not a man in Thessaly of so many Barbarians which invaded it. Have I exterminated them all, and yet have not Ariana? Ah unprofitable valour! that sufferest this barbarous people to triumph over me in their very defeat; that wert not able by the death of so many men to redeem the life of Ariana alone. Miserable love, what shall I do? Shall I unworthily survive my disaster; or can there be any hope left me by some means yet untried? Unjust gods, why do ye not render me her? Have not ye yourselves ravished her from me? A god could assume no other shape but a Scythians, for so barbarous an action. Alas, if a god now possesses her, what rage of jealousy; but if a Scythian has stolen her, what horror of shame and infamy must I endure?  
When the miserable Alcydamas was employed in these woeful complaints, he saw passing before him a Scythian that fled, and a maid running after and pursuing him with bow and arrows. Alcydamas was afraid the Scythian might not turn back and do her some displeasure; so as he arose up, and following after her, cried out; Stay fair Maid, you are too valorous: do you not fear the Barbarian? This Maid heard a voice speaking to her, and returning back again, let Alcydamas come near her, whom she presently knew, and said to him: Ha! my dear Alcydamas, is it you indeed? Alcydamas as soon knew the voice and face of Ariana, and opening his arms for excess of joy, held her a long time embraced. They continued thus some while without motion, and unable to speak; at last quitting embracements to look upon one another, and admire their good fortune for being so happily met; Alas! said Alcydamas, is it indeed you I could never find when I sought you in all places, but now do I find you when I sought you not? They were both of them so weakened with travel, and seizure of joy, as they were forced to lie down upon the grass near an hedge, and by and by Arcas (who was wandered from his Master) arrived the same place, and a little after Amyntas, who rejoiced with Ariana for the happiness of seeing her again. As soon as she could speak at liberty, Alcydamas expressed the impatiency he had to understand what her fortune had been, and how it came to pass she heard them not when they called her from all parts.  
To let you know, answered she, in what fort it happened, I must tell you the accidents befell me since I was taken at Larissa. A Scythian that stole me having found an horse in the Town, set me up and road away with me; when he was out of the ports, his purpose was to get to a wood, to be the more removed from encountering his companions. Judge you in what affright I was, and how many shrieks and plaints I uttered all in vain; but when he stayed to alight off a horseback with me, he felt himself struck with an arrow. Presently he turned him, and saw another Scythian that had followed him on foot, whose design being to have me; because he could not so soon overtake him, he thought to have stayed him by this blow shot from a far off. The first that had been struck drawing a shaft out of his quiver put it hastily to his bow, and with it wounded the other also that was coming to him. Then they both threw away their bows and arrows, and took their swords in hand to fight it out, and see whose of the two I should remine. I was so forlorn that I knew not what resolution to take, seeing what accident soever happened I was to remain with one of them. I laboured to get upon the horse that stood near me, to fly away while they fought; but I was never able to compass it; so I was forced to attend the success of this duel. They gave one another furious blows, being both animated with the desire of having me: but the first of them being inflamed beside with anger, and a longing to revenge himself upon the other, seemed to me the most valiant: so he struck down at his feet him that had assaulted him, and lying upon him did his best to take away his life, the other being unable to defend himself but by struggling. Already had the first man struck him twice with his sword into the throat, and I saw that he had even now won me, when a Serpent gliding forth of a bush there hard by, came and bit the leg of him that was uppermost, then went and put herself into the bush again. I thought it presently an advice sent me from the gods, that if I could defeat him that remained, I might save myself. I took courage then, and believing I was assisted by some divine inspiration, took up one of their bows, and putting an arrow upon it, came near them, and bending the bow with all the force I had, I let fly the arrow, and pierced the body of him that had gotten the victory, as the other Scythian, in dying, held him still embraced. I was not content with this, but seeing he could not yet get loose of him he killed, I redoubled my blow so happily with another arrow, that I pierced him to the very heart, and at the same time they both of them expired. I was well pleased to see myself thus delivered: but when I thought to depart, looking up I saw four or five other Scythians approaching to me. These had been witnesses of my action, and (peradventure my face after so much motion having some extraordinary colour,) believed there was something divine in me, for having killed, as they thought, two men at one blow. So they had a respect to me, thinking I was some goddess tutelary of Greece, that took vengeance of them for the spoil they had made in Thessaly. But yet one of them bolder than the rest, came near, and would have touched me, I withdrew me instantly behind the bush where I had seen the Serpent retire, and putting an arrow to my bow, shot it into the bush to make the Serpent come forth, which presently glided out upon them. Then they made no doubt at all but I was a goddess, thinking the arrow I had shot had been changed into a Serpent to devour them. They cast themselves at my feet to adore me, and expressed to me in their language, which I understood not, how they desired I should pardon them, and keep the Serpent from hurting them. It happened by chance that the Serpent went away from them at the same time, to hide herself in the hedges: they signified by their actions, how much beholding to me they were: But when I would make use of this opinion I had produced in them of my being a goddess, to get away from them I found it no easy business; for they came round about me upon their knees, and prayed me not to forsake them. On the other side, I was rather willing to stay with them that were possessed with this error, than fall into the hands of some others, who might not be so mistaken as they were. So I was resolved, because I could do no other, to go along with them, and serve myself of their company for my defence against others. I went in a stately pace, and one while I threatened them with my bow, another while I looked with a more pleasing face upon them, to give them hope of my assistance. At last they brought me into a tent, and presently made it be noised among the Scythians, that they had found the goddess tutelary of Greece: because I saw many of them come and open the tent borders, and to look upon me in great admiration. I was much troubled how to demean myself, that they might not be disabused; and fearing that having known me for one that had abused them, they would make me suffer many indignities, I resolved with myself, since I could not escape from them, to dye by hunger; and this resolution served to confirm their opinion the more; for still refusing them when they offered me any thing to eat, they believed I had no need of the ordinary sustenance of man's life, and I was in hope to dye in this fashion, when they never perceived any thing. So I passed away the night, and yesterday too, without taking any nourishment: but in the evening seeing how they drank more than ordinary, I had some hope to save myself. I provoked them myself to drink and be merry; and in the end they were so drunk, that of seven or eight that were in the tent, there were but two of them yet awake, though their eyes showed they would soon be laid upon the ground with their fellows. Then I still offered them wine, which they received with respect, being very proud, I believe, to have a goddess their Cupbearer; and a while after they fell backward as well as the rest. So was I left alone in that tent with open eyes, and I resolved to save myself: but being as much pressed with hunger, as desire to be gone, I confess I took some pieces of bread and meat before I went out, and as I made my escape, I could not refrain from putting to my mouth instantly what provision I had. But I was no sooner twenty paces out of the Camp, but I heard Trumpets sounding on all sides. I was affrighted at them, and knew not if I should go forward, or else return into the Camp: but choosing all sorts of ill adventures, rather than to come among the Barbarians again, I went onward, and found a cave whereinto I had the assurance to enter, having the bow in my hand, and the quiver on my shoulders, with an arrow in readiness to defend me, either against men or beasts. I kept close a while within this place; but hearing so much noise, I was curious to see what the matter was, and went up to the top of the cave, from whence I perceived all the Scythians running away, and so terrible a fray amongst them, as they thought themselves pursued by those very men that fled. I rejoiced at their defeat, with a conceit I had that Alcydamas was chief in so bold an enterprise. I spent above three hours in considering that sight which was not unpleasing to me, and I began to wonder that all the field over there appeared not a Scythian any more, for now the day began to break. I was lifting up my hands to heaven for so great a victory acquired by the Greeks, when I heard a noise, and perceived two Barbarians that sought where to save themselves. I was afraid they would have seen me and done me some mischief, so as I entered the cave again, and a little while after perceived them coming into the same place with an intention to hide themselves there. Then being unable to avoid their finding me, if they came any further, I resolved, because I saw them, and they were not aware of me, to shoot my arrows, and drive them away by striking a terror into them. The first struck one of them into the throat, and laid him dead upon the earth: the other Scythian hearing it whizz, and believing some enemies were hidden there within, began to fly. His cowardice made me courageous, and I felt myself carried away with a certain ardour of glory, to have the honour of killing the last Scythian. So I set myself to pursue him with shot of arrows, and in the chase I was so happy as to encounter you. And this, my dear Alcydamas, continued Ariana, hath been my fortune since I lost you, whereby you could neither find me, nor I hear you when you called me in the Camp, and I doubt not but you have had fear enough for my sake, and that your enterprise was attempted only for my deliverance. Then they embraced again; and Amyntas related to the fair Ariana what he had heard of the two victories of Alcydamas in the day of the battle; the death of the King of the Scythians by his hand, his regrets afterwards for having lost her, and the strange resolution he took with five hundred men to fight with the rest of the Barbarians Army, that he might deliver her before they departed. When they recited their adventures together, the Thessalians that were scattered on all sides, rallied in that place, when they knew their Captain to be there, and they told him there was not a Scythian left alive in all the coast, and that the few that remained had fled, & gained the plain Sea in their shipping. These Gentlemen were so well pleased at this glorious victory, that they could not contain their joy, for never did so few men defeat so great a number; and Alcydamas having seen some of them too busy in pillaging, prayed them to leave the booty, because they were rich enough in honour: but to make it appear at their return into the Town, how great a defeat was given, and how many men they alone had slain, that they would load themselves with as many bows as each of them could bear, to astonish Arimin & the people with these very spoils in their entry. Every one agreed to his desire, and Ariana being set upon Arcas horse, who went by her side, Alcydamas gave order they should all march three by three, bearing the bundles of bows upon their shoulders, and he put himself into a rank in the midst, and went beside the fair Ariana, who triumphed also over the Scythians, with bow in her hand, and quiver in a scarf. Alcydamas was ravished for having found her, and to see her now in this habit of a soldier, which added a majestuous fierceness to so many graces she had before, and augmented the affection of Alcydamas; his valour even falling in love with Ariana's; and in this equipage they marched all towards the Town.  
In the mean time they were in a great fight within Larissa; for Arimin having sent to know about midnight if the supply were entered; word was brought him, that not a man appeared; but contrarily that Alcydamas was gone out with certain troops he had drawn out of all the companies. This amazed him, not being able to imagine what Alcydamas project was, and having let some hours more pass without receiving any message from Alcydamas; they informed him at length, that without doubt he was gone to save a Maid he loved, whom the Scythians stole away when they were in the Town; because he had done nothing all day but mourn for her, after having searched all places. Arimin could not then persuade himself, that Alcydamas with so few men hoped to make his party good against all the Scythians: but he believed that to redeem his Mistress he would deliver to the Barbarians the best of his men he brought them for that purpose, wherewith the Town being weakened, he might easily also bring the Scythian in, to oblige them still more to render him that Maid. He sent in all haste for Polydore who was in bed; but when he was up and gone to him, Arimin told him that Alcydamas was a traitor and a villain, and that he should answer for him. Polydore, after he was made acquainted with what had happened, assured Arimin that Alcydamas was no traitor; that peradventure he might have attempted something out of despair, because the Scythians carried away Ariana: but he was very certain he would not lose those he took with him, much less sell them: whereof he gave him his own life for caution. Arimin caused Polydore to be surely guarded, and not fully satisfied for what he had told him, went to visit all the Towne-guards; and the people were left in great fear, not having above three or four thousand men remaining to make resistance against so many enemies.  
The Ports were therefore guarded with extraordinary care, when Alcydamas with his troop demanded entrance. They went to advertise Arimin that he was at the gates with those that went out with him, and required to be let in. This news restored the spirits of Arimin, who for all that fearing a surprise, commanded they should not suffer them to enter but one after another. And this order served to make more glory and praise be given Alcydamas; for his soldiers entering thus separately charged with bows, the people gave acclamations to each of them as he came in; and when they were all within the Town, they put themselves into the same order they marched in before, and went to the Temple to thank the gods for so renowned a victory. All the inhabitants for joy lift up their hands to heaven, to see so many spoils, and so few persons to bear them away; and they were in a wonder to behold by Alcydamas side that young Warrioresse, who seemed to have a great share in this victory, and to attract the eyes and vows of all the world.  
After Alcydamas had thanked the gods for the safety of Ariana, and the victory they had given him, he prayed Amyntas to conduct Ariana to their lodging, and gave Arcas charge to accompany them; but he with the rest of his troop went to find Arimin. He besought him to excuse the transport of his affection which had obliged him to abuse him, and go forth without his leave to deliver Ariana out of the Scythians hands; and told him how the victory he had gained was so great, that when he knew the truth of it, he hoped he would easily forget a fault that had been followed by so happy a success, and freed all Greece of so many enemies. Arimin in admiration of so wonderful an effect, though it had cost him many a fear, was constrained to honour Alcydamas, and smother all resentment he might have at his disobedience: and when they had a long time discoursed after what manner the combat passed, he suffered him to retire to his rest, and gave Polydore his enlargement.  
When they were come to their lodging, Alcydamas was constrained to betake him to his bed, and repose himself after so many combats, cares and watchings; Ariana on the other side was received with a thousand joys by Euphrosyne and her dear Cyllenia, who had taken no rest since her carrying away, as well for the regret of her loss, as the danger her beloved Lepantus was in, because of his wounds, which now began to be in better estate. Euphrosyne full of contentment to see them again, ceased not to take care one while of her son, another while of Ariana, and visiting them severally at their Chambers, she obliged them to sleep, though it were then but midday.  
A little while after Polydore and Amyntas hearing a rumour in the street, looked out at the window, and spied a distressed Maid that certain soldiers would have taken, against whom an old man and a youth defended themselves with more courage than force. They presently went down to hinder that un worthy violence, and laboured by words to make those soldiers retire; then seeing they would do nothing by entreaty, but continued to press the old man and the youth, they were forced to take their parts, and defend them: two other soldiers seeing this supply, joined them to the first: but in a short time Polydore and Amyntas killed three of them, and the rest took their heels. Then they desired to see safely bestowed those that had thus been pursued, and going towards the young man, that so courageously had defended himself, Polydore was advised that it was his dear Epicharis. He embraced her in his arms, full of joy to see her again, and for having secured her from that danger. Amyntas had as much cause to rejoice also, seeing she that Epicharis defended was the fair Erycina his Mistress; and the old man was Telephus Erycina's father. Embracements followed their admiration for so happily encountering one another, some to be defended, others to have succoured them; and all of them having great impatiency to know how they were met together, entered into the house, where Polydore receiving her he had so much regretted: Fair and valiant Epicharis, says he to her, for the happiness you give me in seeing you again, I will give you news that will be very welcome to you: but promise me before hand that it shall be happy for me too. Epicharis said to him; You know I am so many ways obliged to you, that you ought to be assured of your being happy, when your happiness shall depend of none but me. I know, replies he, of what parents you are borne. Ah Palamede, says she full of joy, is it possible? of whom might you learn this? I know it, replies he, and demand of you what man of the world you had rather have for your brother. I would have, answers she without much study, such an one as Melintus, whom I have always loved after that sort, although I could never hope for so great an honour. Ah! worthy sister of such a brother, answered Palamede, Remember, Epicharis, that this day I give him you for your brother; and since you could not expect a greater happiness, grant me also the greatest I am able to hope for, which is the honour of possessing you. Palamede, says Epicharis, mock me not, though I have a great courage in me, I have not yet so much ambition. No, pursues he, assure yourself I speak truth, and that you are Melintus sister, and daughter to the sage Euphrosyne, whom we have found in your absence, and she is now here with us.  
Epicharis stood silent, and durst neither contradict Palamede at that time, nor yet believe him: but he seeing how she could not be assured at his words, brought her where Euphrosyne was, to whom he said, he presented her Epicharis, that daughter of hers she had heard such wonders of. Euphrosyne seeing her to be dressed in a boy; What, says she, is this young man my daughter? Yes, answered he, see the generous Epicharis, who under this habit has done braver actions than the valiantest man alive could have done; and whom the gods without doubt had made of my sex, but that they had a design to make me happy. Euphrosyne was thus obliged to believe him, and opened her arms to receive her. Epicharis, although full of joy, was amazed for all that, not able yet to be confident of that good fortune, and ashamed to see herself in this estate, before a mother that had so grave a fashion. Alcydamas and Ariana awaked at the noise of so many gratulations, and being advertized that Epicharis was found, they came running half dressed as they were to see her, so great desire had they to give her the first embrace of brother and sister. They found her in Euphrosynes arms, and then they oppressed her with so many caresses that she was even confounded withal. On the other side Telephus embraced now Melintus, now Euphrosyne. Erycine likewise required her turn to embrace Ariana, and could not give Amyntas the time he desired for her entertainment: nevertheless she acknowledged the great obligation she had to him for her deliverance. They had at one time so many persons to make much of, and so many joys to resent, as they knew not either how to speak to those they desired to see, or how to quit those they had addressed to, that they might see the others. They spent above two hours in dispatching all those acknowledgements; and at last every one having moderated his admiration and joys, they were desirous to know by what means they had encountered in that place. But because at the same time different questions were propounded to all of them concerning their adventures, it was thought fittest to know their several fortunes, that one should speak only; and Epicharis being chosen to relate what she had done, since she lost herself at Nicopolis, she demanded silence, and when every one was set, began to speak in this manner:  

History of Epicharis.  
WHen I shall have acquainted you with all the fortunes I have run myself since I was separate from you, and with all those too I have caused that estate run which upon earth is confessed highest and the most redoubted, you will admire certainly, that a Maid in so short a space could be capable to remove so puissant obstacles, and enterprise to revenge the world of the tyrant that oppresses it, by giving another head to the Empire: but certain it is that there is no power safe, if there be found a person that will abandon his own life.  
After I had escaped Trebatius prisons, by the hardy enterprise of Palamede, I attended him some while at the place we agreed to meet in: but seeing that he came not, I believed he had lost his way by reason of the darkness, and after having thrown away the casque and coat-armour of the dead soldiers I had taken to go out in, and which I wore in pain for the weight of them, I went straight to the lodging where we lay together, but there I found you not, nor could hear any news of you. From thence I went to the haven not knowing what should become of me, and believing you had saved yourselves by some means or other, I resolved also to return no more to the City, for fear of falling again into the hands of Trebatius and Dicearchus. By good fortune I found a little Vessel that was ready to set sail, whereinto I went aboard, never enquiring for what place it was bound, for I thought of nothing then but flying from our enemies. I cannot tell you for what occasion this ship came into Epire, because I had very little conversation with those that were in her, for not discovering myself: but they were going to join with the Fleet of the Emperor's Galleys which ordinarily rides by the promontory of Misena in Italy. It was near upon two days that I had not slept, so as when we were arrived, I was constrained to stay in the ship still, for sleep assailed me with too much violence to be resisted, and I laid me down in a place out of the way.  
I had not quitted my habit of a man since I was taken, and some indiscreet fellow finding me, as I was fast asleep, was very earnest in considering me, and seeing a swelling in my clothes about the bosom, uncovered my neck when I never felt him. After he knew what I was, he went to advertise his companions, who showed themselves as insolent as he, and presently they waked me without any respect, to carry me to him that commanded them. I was in a great wonder at my awaking to see myself in these men's hands, with my bosom open; I demanded of them what they would do with me, and they said, they would know for what design I so disguised myself. So I came before their Captain, whose name was Proculus, and I was more angry at their insolent uncovering of my bosom to let him see what I was, than afraid of being punished. I was so fortunate that Proculus was moved with compassion, and forbade those men to wrong me: then making as if he would examine me apart, he commanded them to be gone. When they were out of his galley, he led me into a Chamber, and asked me for what cause I went in that habit.  
I do not know what it was that pleased him in me, but he showed a liking to me that was too suddenly bred to be founded upon any good design: therefore to take from him the hope he seemed to conceive, of obtaining something of me against my honour, I resolved to express a great courage, and I spoke thus to him: I well know, this disguisement is held a crime, because there have been of my sex that under this habit have concealed their infamy, and made use thereof, to continue with more liberty the actions that were unworthy of them: but it ought to be esteemed commendable when one serves herself of it for an effect quite contrary, as I that have been constrained to take it for the conservation of my honour, and escaping the hands of those that would have spoiled me of it; and if this mean had failed me, I was resolved to lose my life rather. This discourse hindered him from making appear to me then any unlawful desire, and he only entreated me to tell him who they were that would have offered me displeasure. I could not in a moment invent a continuation of falsities, with many names and circumstances, so as having nothing more present in my mind than Trebatius, and the resentment of the injuries I had received, I told him, how being at Nicopolis, I fell by misfortune into the hands of Trebatius, Tribune of the Emperor's guards, who from Nero sought to put to death certain persons with whom I was: that Trebatius after he had a long time kept me in irons, had threatened me with death, if I declared not to him where they were he sought; but in the end seeing so great resolution in me, he had converted his rage into a dishonest affection, which I now feared more than the purpose he had before to have me dye; and having found means to escape his hands by this disguise, I had been in no place since where I could accommodate myself with other clothes. Proculus' willing to oblige me, and being himself not satisfied with Nero, says to me; O gods! how long will this Tyrant find executioners for all his massacres? See how he is forced to serve himself of wicked men to exterminate all the world. Offices are now the reward of crimes, and none is advanced to honour, but according to the greatness of the villainies he hath committed, or of those he is capable to commit. A few days since we had for General of these Galleys one Anicetus, who never had come to this charge, but for killing the mother of Nero. This infamous Emperor willing afterwards to rid himself of his wife Octavia that was of the Caesar's race, to marry Sabina, drew that murderer from hence, for to go before the Senate, and name himself falsely the adulterer of the chaste Princess. And during the reign of so abominable a monster, can it be hoped that virtuous men should attain any honour? I have a long time served in the charge I have here over some vessels, and was never yet able to obtain any favour for my services, but that they still suffer me to serve. Comfort yourself, fair Maid, goes he on, you resent not alone the cruelties of this tyranny; and be assured that if you have suffered some torment, there be an infinite number of persons that groan, and expect but a man that has the courage to take upon him to be their Chief, and deliver the world of so many miseries.  
I was very well pleased, proceeds Epicharis, to hear him speak after that fashion: for I had no less resentment than he against Nero, for the rage he expressed against Melintus and Palamede; and considering with myself how they would never be in safety as long as so wicked an Emperor lived; I would encourage him further, to cause him to attempt something, and deliver us of so puissant an enemy. I told him, that if there wanted but a person to awaken the rest, I offered myself to go into Rome, and make a powerful conspiracy against Nero, and that I would willingly sacrifice my own life for the safety of all the world. Courage, said he to me, generous Maid, begin but so fair a design, and be assured I shall second you well enough. If the Emperor comes hither shortly, as he oftentimes takes his pleasure upon the Sea, I will employ no other man but myself, for the world's deliverance: If you will go to Rome, endeavour to draw him hither by the means of some you may practise for the purpose, and then you shall see, that I can execute what I have attempted. We had beside some other such like discourse together, whereby we emboldened one another in the enterprise. I took a resolution to be gone the very next day to Rome, that I might draw into our conjuration the men that were of most power there; not doubting but there were many of them full of courage, who desired nothing so much as Nero's death, but durst not trust another with so hardy a design, and who would not fail to join their forces together, if they might but communicate their grievances.  
Proculus, who at the beginning had not dared to signify the lewd desire he had to me, because I had spoken with such a boldness to him, thought then, that binding myself to him by this confidence in a secret of that importance, he might have some greater familiarity with me, and said to me; Fair Maid, those that desire to run a hazard together, have ordinarily a friendship one to another, whether there be in them a sympathy that carries them to like designs, or by reason of the mutual assistance they are to give each other, to make an enterprise successful. I pray you, let us join in affection, to the end that if our project happily takes effect, we may enjoy together the repose we shall obtain for all the world. I answered him, that I refused not to bind myself to him in a friendship that were necessary for those that had the same design; and that I promised him all kinds of fidelity and succours. Add hereunto, said he, that after we shall have executed our desire, you will promise to live with me, and we shall never be separate. I returned, that I could not as yet determine of what I was to do, after delivering the world of that tyrant, and entreated him to leave me at my liberty until that time. Then he expressed much passion, and urged me with many words to show a little more affection towards him than so; but I would give him no other assurance: yet I spoke to him in a fashion that deprived him not of all hope, for fear of angering him, or making him alter his resolution.  
The next day I dressed me in woman's clothes, not willing to go to Rome otherwise, for fear of being known in a man's habit by those I had deceived in the prison, and to avoid a second apprehension. Proculus would have given me money, but because I had still about me that I took to gain the Porter of Nicopolis, I thanked him, and taking my leave, put myself in the company of some that were going to Rome. We arrived there in a small time, and I went to lodge at Maximus his, who received me with many testimonies of affection, and told me he had great obligations to Melintus for the remembrance he kept of him; and about evening he showed me the rich presents he had sent him, which he said he received only to keep them as dear pledges of his friendship. I believed that he being loved of the powerfullest of Rome, I might by his means enter into their acquaintance; and when we were alone, I began to tell him how many ways Nero had persecuted us. At first he only pitied our case, afterwards by little and little I so wrought with him, that he discovered himself, and confessed to me, the world would be much at ease to be delivered of so cruel a Prince. Then I feigned not to tell him my design, and that I should want no courage for an enterprise so profitable to all the earth. He fortified me as well as he could in that resolution, and told me he would give me access to persons, by whose intermission he believed my desire might succeed: and because at the same time it was considerable to know who should be successor to the Empire, he said he knew none more fit for it than Piso, both for Nobility and all other qualities requisite, and how that choice would be approved of the Senate, of the people, and of the legions. I told him all the discourse I had with Proculus, and that it should not be laid to his charge, that Nero received not punishment due to his crimes, if he might be drawn towards Misena. Maximus told me, that indeed Nero went often towards Baiae and Puteoli, which were in those quarters, to delight himself upon the Sea, and many times to Piso's house at Baiae, and much opportunity might there be found to kill him: but that he knew Proeulus, and that he was not a man to be trusted, for being both a great talker, and of a turbulent and volaticke spirit.  
The day after he brought me to the speech of two or three Senators, and of some Roman Knights, who received me as if I had been sent from heaven, to assemble what remained of virtuous and courageous men, and by a generous violence to free the world of tyranny. I was well pleased to see so happy a beginning: but I encountered Proculus in the City, who had followed me, and sought me all about, being no longer able to live without me, as he said. After having expressed much joy to see me, he asked me if I had done any thing in the affair we were plotting together: I was very much troubled how I should carry myself to this man, that I might neither discontent him, nor yet give him part in my secret for following the advice of Maximus. I resolved in the end to tell him I had quitted the design we had taken together, and that the difficulties had deterred me. He would have re-assured me to the pursuit of the enterprise; but I told him I would think no more of it. After some other discourse, he obliged me to tell him where I lodged; and afterwards he came very often to visit me at Maximus his: but I ever made him be answered that I was not there, to avoid any further engaging myself with him.  
In the mean time, within three or four days I had drawn to my party more than twenty persons of authority: and at last they brought me to Piso, who after many kindnesses, prayed me to have a good courage, and promised me great rewards when he came to the Empire.  
Piso was a friend to Seneca and Lucan: for Seneca he durst not speak of this conspiracy to him, redoubting his too severe wisdom: but having gained Lucan, Seneca's Nephew, he prayed him to mention it to his uncle for to sound him; that if he disapproved the design, he might at least be retained from revealing it by the consideration of his Nephew.  
I met by chance at Lucan's, when Seneca came to see him: for I went ordinarily to his house, because Attila his mother was of the conjuration, and for the honour of my sex I was well content to be often with her, that I might not seem a sole practitioner of men. Lucan being desirous I should make report unto Piso in what manner he had spoken to Seneca, shut me up in a Cabinet where I could hear what they said; and I was so extremely delighted at this encounter, for having an occasion to hear the discourse of that great Philosopher, whose virtue and learning were of so high a reputation. When they were alone in the Chamber, they spoke at first of diverse indifferent things; and Lucan at length putting him upon the discourse of affairs, and of the life of Nero; Nephew, said he, I can inform you of nothing. Since the Emperor, as you know, would not suffer me to retire into the Country, I have found means to enjoy solitude even in Rome itself, and not daring to remove myself from affairs, I have removed them from me, not suffering them to approach me any more.  
Lucan answered him, Take heed Nero imagines not a disliking you have to his actions, in that you avoid to be a witness of them; and if he takes this opinion once, he that feared not to put his mother, his brother, and his wife to death, will never be afraid to have his Preceptor dye. Ah! my nephew, replied Seneca, do you believe I can be troubled with this fear? to what end served my continual study of Philosophy, if it learned me not to dye? I give not up myself to wisdom for acquiring repose, but I seek repose, to acquire wisdom. I had much rather he should make me dye, than oblige me to participate his crimes. If he takes me out of the world, I shall receive death as a benefit, in stead of the retreat I desired; and he shall give me, without thinking, the same thing he refused me. These be speeches, returned Lucan, worthy of yourself: but should you not express more virtue yet to succour the dying Commonwealth, than not to fear dying yourself? If she reaches out her arms to be sustained by you, when she is ready to fall, will you refuse to lend her your hand? and shall your Philosophy warrant you from the reproaches of having abandoned her? If this succours, replied Seneca, might be given without the death of him I have brought up, and who holds the place of a son with me, I call the gods to witness, I would willingly employ this despicable life of mine, for the universal safety: but what virtue is there so severe, to oblige me to kill my Nurse-child and benefactor? and what wisdom teacheth ingratitude and parricide? Truly I excuse in you this affection for the Republic. I protest if I were not Seneca I should be the first man to give Nero his death. So many crimes, and so much bloodshed have effaced that sacred Majesty which the gods imprint upon the front of Princes; and this abominable man affecting the titles of Player and Harper, hath of himself abandoned those other of Emperor, and Master of the Universe. I believe there will never be another Prince in the world besides this, for whom it may be lawful to break the oath of Allegiance: We ought to reverence those we obey, because we are to believe they are given us from heaven: But that Prince certainly is not given of the gods, who delights himself in the filthiness of the most horrid crimes.  
Lucan having let Seneca speak some time, was very glad that he approved the riddance of a Tyrant; and feigned no longer to discover to him the conspiracy: nevertheless he found it not strange that he refused to lend his hand to the plot. Seneca wondered much to learn that so many persons had been practised in so short a space, and highly commended the enterprise. He advertised his Nephew that they were to make all the haste they could, for fear so many persons participating of the secret, there were not some one amongst them, whose courage might slacken. When Lucan had named him the greater part of the conspirators, he found that they had happily addressed themselves to all those that were capable of keeping a secret, and wanted no courage for the performance of it: yet he judged of the Senator Scevinus what happened afterwards, for he said, he was a man that had spirit enough, but that a small occasion would trouble him; and that having so important a design in his head, he feared lest he might discover by his actions, what his tongue would keep close enough. In the end Seneca going his way, advised his Nephew to go find out Fenius Rufus, one of the Captains of the Emperor's guards, and that he without doubt would join in the combination, because of the jealousy he had against Tigellinus his companion, who had all the credit about Nero; that he it was that had the best means to execute what they desired, and would not fail to have at his disposition the Tribunes of the guards, that sought nothing so much as change.  
When Seneca was retired, I came out of the Closet where I was; and Lucan gave me charge to go tell Piso what I had heard, and he told me he was going to see Rufus, whom he found disposed just as Seneca had described him. When the conspirators knew that one of the Captains of the guards was of the party, they were much the more encouraged by it, especially when he came amongst them; and now they made no more doubt of perfecting the enterprise. All the question was to know in what place Nero might be set upon. One day being at Lucan's, I had a long conference with Rufus, wherein he declared more willingness than I desired: and the second time he saw me there, he drew me from besides Attila, whom I was speaking to; and having taken me apart as if he would discourse upon the subject of our plot, he says to me; I cannot but wonder, gentile Epicharis, that with so much youth and beauty, you can have so great a courage; and when I look upon you, me thinks I see the goddess that takes protection of Rome, and by her presence encourages us to defeat the Tyrant. I answered him, there was no beauty in me, and less Divinity, but that a little courage I had, and took great pleasure to lend my resentments and endeavours to a benefit so necessary for the world. Fair Epicharis, replies he, you oblige the whole earth by this design, but I will take part in the obligation above all others, if you please to add to that general affection you have for all the world, a particular friendship for me. I returned thus; That I was not ignorant in what degree I ought to honour him, and how much every one was beholding to him for being willing to further us with his assistance; that in this respect I should think myself happy to do him service. Leave, says he, these words of honour, respect, and duty, and let us treat, I pray you, with more familiarity: I confess to you that your grace charms me, and that your actions ravish me; and I believe this affection you are breeding, will bring me trouble enough, if you help me not. If you have the pity to consider of easing the whole world, refuse not me alone a comfort, since you may with far less danger effect it. Rufus, said I to him, I understand not what you mean by affection, pain, and comfort: they are words I am not accustomed to, and I verily think it a crime to hearken to them. Let us not, I pray you, make ourselves unworthy of the favour is presented us by the gods, or think they will be served of vicious persons in so glorious a work as the safety of all men. What authority could we pretend to take away disorder if there were irregularity in ourselves? and what grace should we have in going about to punish the crimes of others, if we rendered ourselves in like manner criminal? By this discourse I somewhat moderated his desires; yet he never left importuning me still; and afterwards he often sent to entreat me to come to his house, but I would never go, knowing he had a design to speak of something else to me, beside the conspiracy against Nero, and to tell you the truth, I believe he had conspired against myself.  
All things were then prepared, and it was resolved that one of the Conspirators should cast himself at Nero's feet as it were to ask some favour of him, and then embracing his knees, should give him a fall; and at the same time Rufus with some Tribunes and Centurions of the guard, and the rest of the Conspiracy should fall upon him; Scevinus offered to give the first blow, and to this purpose he wore a poniard which he had taken out of a Temple. I ordinarily retired myself at Maximus his; and one evening I was in a great amaze to see many soldiers enter the house, and lay hold of me to be carried before Nero. I believed then the conspiracy was all discovered, and resolved to dye: but when I was brought thither, I found it was nothing but this, that Proculus having a despite that I would see him no more, had changed his affection into hatred, and declared to the Emperor, how I had told him that there was a powerful conspiracy against his life. They presented me to him, and when I had heard what he denounced, I denied that I ever communicated any conjuration to him; not willing so much as to tell him that he had first spoken of it to me, for fear it should have been demanded why I had not given advice of it sooner, and it might be suspected that I had since had intelligence with some others. Rufus was present by Nero's side, and was in fear both for himself and me, thinking out of weakness I would have discovered the secret: but I asked Proculus whereupon he imagined I had mentioned any conspiracy to him, and bade him name me but a man that were privy to the design, out of my pretended relation. He was not able then to name any body, and they began to mock him that he grounded his accusation no better. Rufus was well satisfied at my constancy; and it increased the affection he had to me: but although I had not been convinced, they were of opinion to retain me prisoner; for they considered that a thing not well averred might not be altogether false for all that.  
Not long after came to pass what Seneca had foretold; for this Scevinus having his mind possessed with the design of Nero's death, troubled himself with the foresight of all he had to do before dying, in case the conspiracy were detected. So impertinent was he as to make feasts for his friend's a● if he were to take leave of them; to make his will, to distribute his goods to his servants; to prepare binding clothes for his wounds, and remedies to stay the blood, to serve him, if he should chance to be hurt in the execution: beside, he wore this poniard he took out of a Temple, and could not refrain giving out, that it was for some great design: but the thing that ruined us was, that this ill advised man gave that same poniard to one of his freed men called Milichus, to sharpen the point of it and make it very keen.  
Milichus having considered all his Master's actions of late, conceived he had some plot against the life of the Prince, and expecting great recompenses, went to advertise Nero of it. Scevinus was presently taken, who denied what his freed man had said, and reasonably well satisfied all they demanded of him touching those preparatives: but when Milichus said, how Scevinus the day before had been long in conference with Natalis the intimate friend of Piso's, and one of the conspirators, Natalis was apprehended, and they were examined apart upon the discourse they had together in that conference. Their answers were different; and then they would have had them to the torture: but they could not so much as endure the sight of it, and confessed all they knew of the conjuration, and named the greater part of the complices. Lucan was taken instantly, and this man that made a show of so much constancy, was so treacherous, and so unworthy, as he accused his own mother. Piso and the other having been arrested, detected their trustiest friends; and about that time they remembered I was in prison for the same suspicion, and they were in hope that having a delicate body, I would never be able to suffer torments, but discover still many others.  
I was brought before Nero, and commanded to name the rest of the conspiracy to him. I would still deny that I had any acquaintance with it; but at last when I perceived the secret was discovered, and Nero himself having enquired of me, what it was that moved me to attempt the taking away his life. Because, said I to him with a confident look and voice, thou art a parricide, incestuous, and an infamous Stage-player; because thou wilt exterminate virtue from the earth: and the world can never be too soon delivered of thy execrable cruelties. He blushed to hear me speak on that fashion; peradventure because he had never heard so free a language before: being indeed accustomed to commit crimes, but not to be reproached for them. He commanded they should make me suffer all sorts of punishment, to get the truth out of my mouth; but as I went out of his presence I bade him be assured that my tongue should express as much courage in saying nothing, as my arm had shown in striking him.  
It chanced that Rufus was not detected by any of those that were taken; and to testify that he was none of the complices, he interposed himself strongly in the Emperor's service to search and examine the conspirators, and prevent the peril of his life. When he saw I was destined to torments, he took upon him the charge of fetching the truth out of me, himself, and commanded his Soldiers to carry me into a private place, where he presently made ready the torture; and some parts of my body were uncovered. Rufus had there only those he commanded, and the greater part of them were of our conspiracy: nevertheless seeing himself reduced, either to put me cruelly to death, or else to run a danger of his own life by endeavouring to save me, he knew not what to resolve on. He betook himself to a corner of the prison, where turning his face from me, and leaning his forehead against the wall, he wept, he tore his hair, and rend his clothes. In the mean while his Soldiers attended his commands to torment me; till at length a Tribune bolder than the rest, that began to have pity of me, went to ask him if he desired I should be saved; and that there was not a man of them who desired it not as well as himself. But, answered Rufus, we are undone if the Emperor knows it. Be confident in us, replied the Tribune: we are to make the world believe she died in the torments, as it was very likely she had resolved to do; and then we will bring her to your house, where you may dispose of her as you please. Rufus let himself be persuaded, and the Soldiers expressing much joy, helped me on with my clothes again, and about evening led me away secietly to Rufus lodging.  
From that time I fell from one misery into another; for Rufus having me in his hands, renewed his evil desires, in the very midst of the unquietness he might have for fear of being accused by the conspirators; and after he had laboured in vain to vanquish me by sweetness, he began to reproach me with the life he had conserved, and to threaten that he would return me to the torture he had delivered me from. I let him see that I was as well invincible to menaces, as to gentler words, yet I believe he would have proceeded unto violence, but for the succours heaven sent me.  
Rufus was ordinarily never from the Emperor, and abusing the good fortune that they had not accused him, showed himself the more cruellin tormenting the conspirators, to the end he might not at all be suspected. In the end those he ordained punishments to, being no longer able to endure that one of the complices should be the cruelest Inquisitor, resolved to accuse him. Scevinus being examined by him in presence of the Emperor, and threatened with greater torments if he declared not the truth, said to him: There is not a man knows more of it than thyself. Rufus stood confounded, and knew not if he should answer, or hold his peace; his fear soon discovered him, and at the same time the others that were interrogated with Scevinus convinced him: the Emperor commanded he should be bound, and a while after put him to death. As for me, I found means to escape out of his house, whilst his wife, his children, and his servants were all in desolation and disorder. I went to Maximus his, who by good fortune had not been accused by any of the conspiracy, and he was very joyful to see me, for it was noised, and certainly believed in the City that I was dead, after having testified an admirable constancy in suffering the rack two days together, without declaring any thing, and that I had strangled myself. But not willing to stay at Rome any longer, my honour having run so many fortunes, since I had been known for a Maid, I reassumed the habit of a man to save myself in. I took leave of Maximus who gave me a little money, and an horse, to go and embark me in some Port or other, and return into Sicily, where I hoped to hear news of Ariana. I made a fortunate voyage, and arriving at Syracuse, I found no body at Dicearchus' house that could tell me any news of you: but going to Telephus his, he was much astonished, with Erycine, to see me in that estate; and I learned of Telephus that the ship that carried us into Epire was newly arrived, and how you had sent it back again, being desirous to go by land as far as the Egean Sea, and from thence to pass into Asia: and withal to advertise Telephus, and those that had charge of the affairs of Dicearchus, Palamede, and Ariana, to send you what money they were able, for the need you had of it, being purposed to remain in Asia. Telephus told me he went to gather together what he was able to bring you as well out of Melintus his, as his own estate, and that he was resolved to go find you out himself with Erycine, who would not abandon him. Very glad was I at so fit an encounter, to come away to you, and two days after we departed with some of Dicearchus servants, that brought him many commodities.  
The wind was so favourable that we soon arrived in Epire, and having landed all our goods, we hired a waggon whereinto we loaded them, and went ourselves on horseback, with a purpose to go the same way you had taken, according to the advice you gave us. We were resolved not to forsake the waggon, for the riches it was charged with, so as we thus passed through the Epire, the mount Pindus, and all Thessaly, going still about it, with Telephus and Dicearchus men, without ever making an ill encounter, but only this day, when we met with certain insolent soldiers who were pleased at Erycina's beauty, and followed us into this City, never ceasing to come about her, to touch her, and affront us with many injurious speeches. We had much ado Telephus and I to make opposition to them, yet we did it with gentleness, for fear their impudence should have proceeded further; and thus we came into the City where our waggon having been stayed at the gate to be visited, by reason of the common practice during the wars, as I believe; we were constrained to leave our men to guard it, & come ourselves away to put Erycine in safety. Those soldiers seeing we were now but three, followed us still, and here hard by seeing themselves before their lodgings, and backed with the presence of their companions, they would have forced Erycine to go in with them, and shamelessly made her come down off her horse. Instantly we alighted, Telephus and I, to hinder this violence, and had our swords in our hands: but to abridge the recite of what you know as well as we, Palamede and Amyntas gave us a timely assistance, without whom we could not have long time resisted. And now you have all that happened to me since I was separate from you: for the present, it will not be amiss to send some body to have in our men and baggage; and afterwards we will advise together in what place the gods will afford us a retreat after so many strange fortunes: for there is no doubt, but as long as Nero lives we are to have a care that the names of Melintus, Palamede, and Epicharis come no more to his ears.  
Epicharis ended thus, and they all wondered at her, that she should conceive so hardy an enterprise, only for the safety of Melintus and Palamede; and that in so short a time she had so greatly endangered the most redoubtable power upon earth. They sent Arcas who was very well known of those that guarded the Ports, to make Telephus people enter, with those of Dicearchus, that knew nothing yet of the death of their Master. After they were come, and all of them provided of goods and servants, advertisement being given to those that were newly arrived of Melintus his taking on him the name of Alcydamas, and Palamedes that other of Polydore; they resolved to depart all together out of Thessaly, and to go live in some place within Asia, so to order themselves that no more news should be heard of them at Rome.    

ARIANA. The eighth Book.  
BUt Pisistratus who had been hindered from going to Maxentius, by reason of a great wound received of Palamede one night, as soon as he was cured, understood that this Praetor was gone with all the men of war he had towards Larissa. He enquired afterwards at the house where Melintus and Ariana had lodged in Nicopolis, what was become of them, and knew they had taken the way of Thessaly. He resolved with himself to follow them, and go give advice to Maxentius in Larissa, that search might be made after Melintus and Palamede, to put them to death. He arrived there just at the time that Melintus, who called himself Alcydamas, returned laden with so many spoils, and brought back Ariana. As he stayed a while to have that little triumph pass, he soon knew Melintus, and Ariana, who went besides him. He heard all was said of them, and learned that Melintus under the name of Alcydamas, had done great exploits the day of the battle, and afterwards utterly defeated the Scythians Camp with five hundred men only. The testimonies of the people's joy for his return augmented the envy and rage of Pisistratus, who having enquired particularly in what sort all had passed, came to know that this Alcydamas without any consideration of the oath was taken by the Captains, not to fight; or regard to the punishment was to follow the contempt of his General, had gone out by night to assault the enemies that carried away Ariana, and had been so valiant and happy as to defeat all that remained of the Scythians within Thessaly. Pisisratus, in stead of admiring the fair effect of so brave a courage, resolved in his mind to make that valour ruinous to him that possessed it: and when evening came, he went to Arimin, and represented to him what fault he committed, to let the crime of this Alcydamas go unpunished; of what consequence it was to suffer the laws of the Roman Discipline to be violated, which until then was not maintained but by severity: that he would remember also, how he made himself forsworn, never thinking to have a law of the Scythians observed, whereto he had bound himself by oath. But that above all these things he declared to him, how he that called himself Alcydamas, was that Melintus destined to death by the Emperor, that had been proclaimed every where enemy to Caesar and the people of Rome; that he would make Nero become such an enemy to him, as would never pardon him, when he knew that Melintus had been in his power, and not put to death; and that he drew upon himself the same punishment he saved Melintus from: as for him, that he was resolved to advertise the Prince of it, in satisfaction of the allegiance he ought him; and that Arimin should not think it strange if he gave advice of Melintus his being in his hands, who to the crime of high treason had added that other of violating the laws of War. Arimin troubled at these words, and entering into the due apprehensions of the fortune he ran, not being able to think his own life safe, as long as Melintus lived, gave over all considerations of the friendship he bore him; and (albeit with regret to see himself forced to destroy such a virtue,) resolved to put him to death: but because he was so valiant, and so beloved in Larissa, he judged that he was to proceed in the design with a great prudence and deliberation. He sent for all the Captains, of whom again he took the oath of fidelity, and advertised them that Alcydamas was that Melintus, enemy of Nero and the people of Rome; that if they let him escape, their own death would be inevitable. After having thus persuaded them, and they had promised to prefer the fidelity they ought to Nero, to the conservation of Melintus, he sent troops that very morning to seize upon his lodging; one of the Captains entered in with his soldiers, and finding him in bed, commanded him from Arimin to dress himself and follow him. That command surprised him, not knowing what change had happened since the day before, and having put on his clothes, without any amazement he demanded whither he was to go. This Captain executed the command much against his will, for the esteem he had of his great courage, and was ashamed thus to surprise without Arms, him that in the wars would not alone have feared the encounter of a thousand enemies; so as by the way as he led him to the place appointed for his prison, he told him, that one Pisistratus was come to declare to Arimin, that his name was Melintus, and that he was the Emperor's enemy, and condemned to dye; that he had withal threatened him, to give Nero advice of his disobedience if he let him escape. Melintus advertised from whence his misery came upon him, was resolved for death, seeing it was now unavoidable; and he was carefully shut up, for fear some violence might be offered on their part that were affectionate to him. In the mean time was a guard also set to keep within their house Palamede, Amyntas, Lepantus, and all those that were able to make any attempt for his deliverance, who knew not how this great alteration should come to pass, and there was nothing but astonishment and crying in that house. The fair Ariana, Euphrosyne, Cyllenia, and Epicharis mingled their tears together, and the less they knew whence their grief proceeded, the more did they resent it. The Gentlemen of Thessaly that loved Melintus dear, were not wanting to him in this occasion, but deputed some to go and obtain his safety of Arimin. Those of Larissa too finding themselves redevable to him for all they had in the world, went and threw them down upon their knees before the Governor to demand his grace for him, but nothing was capable to make him relent, so fearful was he of Nero; and that if he pardoned, they would never pardon him. The people desired but to resist this injustice, yet they were retained by the soldiers they saw in Arms on all sides, and at last the life of Melintus was brought to that pass, that there was no deliberation now but what kind of punishment he should suffer.  
Arimin to make it appear he was no violater of oaths, would needs have that law of the Scythians executed, which he had sworn to observe, if any offence were committed against the prohibition made concerning fight; although it seemed very inhuman to him, that a living man's heart should be torn out of his bowels, to have his head cut off afterwards. Nevertheless he would at once both satisfy his own oath and Nero's desire, knowing how great a pleasure he should do him, to bring him news that his enemy had been punished after so strange a manner, for the love he had to new inventions of cruelty.  
He sent in all haste for the Priest of Larissa who served at the goddess Thetis Temple, telling him how by oath he was engaged to see executed a law of the Scythians, that ordained for the punishment of every man that fought against order given to the contrary, although he had returned with victory, that the criminal having been carried in triumph through the City, should be brought upon a scaffold, where the Priest was to open his stomach, and take out the heart to be burnt with honour, but his head was to be cut off by the hangman. The Priest asked him what reason there was for that barbarous law; he answered him, that the Scythians conceived, how the heart that was the seat of courage ought to be honoured, and the head that had failed in government and obedience to be punished. This Priest of Thetis refused the execution, and said he should think himself polluted by shedding of humane blood, and incapable of ever sacrificing to the gods again, who loved not the murder of men, but were content with the ordinary sacrifices of beasts: especially that effusion of humane blood was forbidden them by a particular Oracle of Thetis, which he could by no means disobey. Arimin when he could not dispose him to serve that execution, sent him away, and called for the old sacrificer of the Scythians who had taught the Law; when he was brought before him, he commanded him to perform the service, since he better knew in what fashion it was to be observed. This good man would have excused himself, and said he knew not the law but by recite, had never seen it practised, and should think himself very unfortunate to lend his hands to so cruel a punishment: but Arimin threatened him with death if he contradicted him any longer. So this old man was constrained to put on his habits of high Priest, and prepare himself for that miserable ceremony. He taught with much regret what was to be done, and presently they sent to gather together all the arrows they could get of the Scythians last defeat; then they ordained they should be distributed to all the Thessalians that had assisted Melintus, every man to carry his load of them at the triumph, and afterwards to put them on a heap, wherein the victorious heart was to be burned.  
Melintus who was advertised of all that passed by him that had him in keeping, seeing that he was to dye, and knowing that Pisistratus alone was cause of his death merely out of malice, sent word to Arimin that he desired but two favours at his hands: the first, that he might fight with Pisistratus before he died, and punish him for his wickedness; and the second, that Ariana might accompany him in the Chariot going in triumph, and that he might have the consolation to hold her by the hand during the punishment, for to dye between her arms. Arimin who was not cruel, nor hated Melintus, granted him these two requests, provided that Pisistratus consented to the first; and he believed Melintus had found out this invention to let himself be killed in the combat rather than endure the shame and cruelty of the punishment; and because Pisistratus might be in fear of Melintus, as a man whose valour was of that esteem, he sent for him, and told him, that Melintus his design was to dye, his arms in his hand, rather than by punishment: that for this occasion he had said, that Pisistratus was a traitor and a base fellow, of purpose to provoke him to fight with him: that he might therefore acquire much honour with little danger, by taking away the life of so valiant a man, that had no other design but to lose it. Pisistratus, who wanted no courage, was easily persuaded by Arimin, finding himself flattered also with the hope of putting his enemy to death by his own hand, and answered him, that he accepted the Combat to make it appear he was neither traitor nor base fellow; the only grief he felt in this case, was to fight with a man condemned.  
All that day passed on in these contestations, and in preparations for the cruel ceremony. Palamede was distracted with fury to be shut up, and not able to know what they did with his friend. All was full of sorrow in that house, and Ariana never ceased pouring forth tears for the fear she had of what might befall her dear Melintus. But the day after when they came for her to go to him, and she knew what passed, though they endeavoured to put a resolution into her, and persuaded her to a constant support of that misfortune, she swooned at the very first hearing of so horrible a punishment. Nevertheless after she was a little come to herself again, they carried her into the prison, and set her beside Melintus, who astonished all the world by his admirable constancy, and seeing her without colour and voice, and so transported with grief, addressed his speech to her thus:  
Fair and dear Ariana, you that have taken part in all the accidents of my life, refuse me not at this last the assistance I desire of you. Since I have been so fortunate as to deliver you from the Barbarians, and return you safe, suffer me some time to enjoy the happiness of seeing you, and assist me also, now death is going to deliver me from the Barbarians, that have ordained it me. Courage, Ariana, let the world see, there never was so perfect a friendship as ours: and that it has been as constant in well suffering, as in well loving. Ariana, have a care you deface not by these tears the glory of your excellent courage. Shall not she that has vanquished the Scythians, overcome sorrow, which is not made strong in us but by our weakness? Dear Ariana, if we have followed all our life the laws of wisdom, let us enforce our virtue in this last action; and in stead of giving pity, give admiration to the whole world. Shake not, I pray you, the force of my resolution by the assaults of your grief; and since the greatness of your merits hath advanced my courage, ruin not you your own work, but find in yourself the same virtue which you have produced in me. Let us go, my dear Ariana, I demand no other favour of you till my death, but that I may hold this fair hand you have given me, and after my soul is departed this body, that you would express love enough to be able to survive me.  
Never had Melintus Eloquence an effect so contrary to his desire, for the more reasons he alleged to persuade her unto Constancy, the more grief had Ariana to see so great a virtue so cruelly outraged. She could make him no other return but deep sighs and tears, being impossible for her to have better answered that she could not be comforted, than by letting it appear that she could not answer.  
When Melintus knew that all things were prepared, he called for his fair Arms that had served him the day of the battle; they were brought him straight, and after he had entirely armed himself, except his head, he entreated Ariana again to resolve to accompany and assist him to the very last breath, since this favour was accorded him by Arimin. She let herself be led away not able to stay her tears, and dying a thousand times for sorrow to see her dear Melintus destined to a death so barbarous, and she alone the cause of it.  
The streets, and the public place were bordered with Arimin's soldiers, to hinder disorders and commotions. The Thessalians who had followed Melintus in that glorious defeat, his only crime, were commanded to go before disarmed, and bearing their bundles of arrows. When all were passed in their order, they set up Melintus in a golden Chariot, armed as he was, having his head only uncovered, and his casque at his feet. The desolate Ariana was set by him, whom he held by the hand. The Priest went afterwards on horseback, and about him, those that were necessary for the sacrifice: the hangman followed on foot, carrying a hatchet, and after him some other officers. So began to march this funeral triumph, that drew tears from all the company; every one considering the glorious cause Melintus was to suffer in. His face so clear, and his countenance so assured near so cruel a death, affected the hardest courages that were present; but the softer natures, as the greater part of the people by their complaints and cries testified how sensibly they were touched with compassion. On the other side, the continued tears and heavy fighing of Ariana broke all hearts with pity, in such sort as the constancy of the one, and the weakness of the other wrought an equal displeasure in all. But the sage discourses of the virtuous Melintus, whereby he endeavoured to resolve her, being heard, added great astonishment to the common grief; and in the end when they had thus passed the streets, and gone round about the place, the Chariot was driven to the foot of the scaffold that had been erected, in the midst of which was an Altar where the sacred knives lay. By and by arrived at the place from another side Arimin, bringing with him Pisistratus all armed on horseback, and sent another horse to Melintus. The Priest and Ariana ascended the scaffold, and sat them down upon two seats that were on each side of the Altar, and Melintus after he had promised Ariana to return presently to her, took his leave of her; and when he had put on his head-piece mounted on horseback.  
Arimin caused the soldiers that were at the ports, and in the streets to come thither and reinforce the guards of the place for fear of an insurrection, seeing the wills of the people hotly inclined towards Melintus, who was placed at one of the ends of the Camp, and Pisistratus at the other, having each of them but one great Javelin in their hand, and their swords by their side. Ariana unseen had seized one of the knives that were upon the Altar, for to kill herself with it if Melintus died in the combat, and full of fear and horror regarded what the issue would be. The trumpets sounded, and instantly Melintus and Pisistratus road one against the other; as they approached, they darted their javelins; that of Pisistratus lightly struck against Melintus Arms, but Melintus his parting from a more dextrous and puissant arm, pierced thorough his Armour, and fastened itself very deep into his left shoulder. Presently they took their swords in hand, Pisistratus inflamed with fury against Melintus, and with despite that he spared him not, and Melintus moved with his own great courage, and a desire to punish the villainy of Pisistratus. Melintus in a moment showered his blows as thick as hail upon the Arms of Pisistratus, without scarcely giving him leisure to lift an arm up, and after he had made fly about the place the pieces of his armour and casque, in the end opened his stomach with a large wound: then seeing he was going to fall, he cut off his head at one blow, and so punished him with the same death he had prepared for him.  
This combat ended, the people began to clap their hands, and cry out, Save the brave Melintus; but he never staying for these acclamations, and hoping for no grace, returned of himself towards the scaffold, whereupon he mounted, and bade they should disarm him to finish what was ordained for him: only he entreated that he might not be bound. In the mean time he comforted Ariana, and prayed her not to envy him by her tears so glorious a death: that nothing but her grief lessened the contentment he went to dye in, after having saved her out of the hands of the Barbarians, after having acquired so many victories, and punished his principal enemy. Well, Ariana, said he, what could we more have desired of the gods, but to let us enjoy our affection with repose? If they refuse me an idle life, and ordain me to dye now there remains no more honour for me to acquire, ought I to complain of them for retiring me in the most illustrious period of my life? No, Ariana, I well see you do not complain for me; contrarily you envy my death: but yet peradventure you mourn for this, to be abandoned by me. Ah! my dear Ariana, comfort yourself, and live without that fear. I will be the happy Genius that shall assist you incessantly until the gods have disposed of you: I will remove all misfortunes from you, I will conduct your ways and your actions, that you may encounter nothing but happiness; and you ought to be assured to have me always at your side; by day I will invisibly assist you, and by night communicate with you in pleasing dreams. Prevent not, my dear Ariana, the Destinies that are ordained you: you are to show as much constancy for life, as I ought to have for death. Adieu, my dear Ariana, be comforted, and live for my sake, as from my heart I am going to dye for yours. Then he came nearer her to give his last kiss: but she not able to endure that cruel farewell, in the midst of her sigh at last let escape these words: O gods! O heaven! ah Melintus, I die; and fell down thus in a swoone upon the scaffold. Nevertheless they brought her again with water they threw upon her face, and opening her eyes she knew what fault she made to let Melintus dye on that fashion without assisting him: then taking courage, she looked whether she had still the knife about her which she had hidden, and when she found it she made a show of resolution. At that time Melintus being undressed to the girdle, and seeing the honourable pile they had prepared of the enemy's arrows for to burn his heart in, he turned him towards Ariana, and said to her: Dear Ariana, I demand yet one grace of you after my death; 'tis that this heart which hath loved you so well, when it shall be taken out of my breast, may be received into your fair hands, and carried by you to be burned upon this pile. Permit not, fair Ariana, that this heart, that feels itself so noble for loving you, be touched by other hands than yours, and see that having never burnt but for you, it be not also burnt but by you. What joy think you will it receive, when after having adored you so much without knowing you but by desire, it shall feel itself carried by these hands so fair, and so beloved? Ariana, promise me this favour: have no horror to touch a thing that hath adored you, and despise not after my death this part of myself, which in its little space contained so much love and affection to you. I give it you, to be sacrificed by you to yourself; and be assured, there never was an offering purer, or presented with more ardour.  
Ariana having other resolutions in her mind, promised the constant Melintus that she would obey all his desires; and after they had a long time embraced one another to give their last adieu, the old Priest with tears in his eyes bade Melintus overthrow himself upon the Altar, that he might open his breast. And then this brave and generous courage quitting at last his dear Ariana, though never letting go her hand, laid himself down backwards upon the Altar, having his stomach all naked, and bade the Priest dispatch. When Ariana saw he had taken the sacred knife, and bend himself down upon Melintus, she could not support the cruelty of that sight, but turning her head, took out the knife she had hid, than she stretched out her hand as far as she was able to strike it with more force into her bosom.  
But the cry which at that time the Priest gave, troubled her, and made her turn her head to see what had befallen him. The good old man that very unwillingly lent his hand to so cruel an office, coming nearer with his eyes to Melintus breast, and seeing the mark of the heart which he had from his birth, fell a crying out, Ah my son, ah Melintus, the true blood of Pyrrhus and Achilles, never will I be your executioner. Then having let fall the knife, he fell down himself too with astonishment and weakness. All the assistants desired to know what it was. Arimin himself came near with his soldiers and officers, thinking this old man out of pity refused to execute what he had promised, and asked him why he dispatched not. The good man not able to speak but with pain, says to him, 'Tis my son, 'tis the divine race of Achilles.  
Presently they heard a man cry out in the press to have place made him, and to stay the execution. This man was known to be Thetis' Priest in Larissa; and Arimin believing, that after he had better considered it, he would not suffer any other but himself to perform the office of High Priest at so solemn an occasion within the City, made him come forward, and ascend the scaffold. But as soon as he was there, he commanded silence, and addressing his speech to the Governor, said to him; Arimin, beware of putting to death this man, for he is of the blood of the gods: then showing an old book he brought with him, he proceeded, that being desirous to review the ancient Oracle wherein was forbidden them to sacrifice men, he had read these verses, which he pronounced:  

LEt all my Sacrificers dread  
The blood of humane kind to shed,  
If from my ancient progeny  
You desire a King to have:  
When so easily you may save  
His heart from Scythian cruelty.   
Then he made Arimin read this Oracle out of the old book, where it was recited how the Kings that were of the race of Achilles, having failed in Thessaly and Epire, the Thessalians had consulted the goddess Thetis, to know whom they should choose for their Commander; whereupon they had this answer, and never a King since. The Priest added, that it was very clear Melintus was meant by the Oracle; and that his heart ought to be preserved from the cruelty of this Scythian law: it remained only to be confirmed how he came of the blood of Achilles: for his part he thought that his valiant actions had already given powerful testimonies thereof. The other Priest who by that time had made himself known to Melintus for his father Hermocrates, that was sold to the Scythians by the Pirates, assured Arimin and the High Priest of Larissa, that Melintus was of the true race of Pyrrhus and Achilles, and that proof of it was easy to be made at Syracuse. Arimin answered them, that admit it were so, yet the Emperor would never suffer the Thessalians to withdraw themselves out of his government. The Priest of Thetis replied, that Melintus might well hold the kingdom upon the same conditions which other Kings did that relieved of the Empire. But Arimin rejecting a thing so far from his intention, and which he believed expressly invented to save Melintus, was resolved to proceed on, and commanded his soldiers to mount the scaffold, and go kill Melintus, who at the same time was left without all motion for astonishment, with Ariana by him, to see so many novelties.  
But a new rumour that was spread about the place hindered the soldiers from obeying Arimin: It was Eurymedon with three thousand men, that had entered the City, having found the Ports without guard, and understanding what danger Melintus was in, marched on towards the place. He began instantly with a cry from all sides made by his men, Save Melintus, or ye die all. Arimin being ignorant what it might be, called all his soldiers, and ranged them about him: then he sent to know who these new arrived were. In the mean time many Thessalians had already mounted the scaffold, and saluted Melintus, in kissing his hands, and calling him their King promised by the Oracles; and told him that as he was heir of the beauty and valour of Achilles, he must be also the legitimate successor of his kingdom. Melintus rejected these submissions and names, and thought of nothing but embracing and honouring his father. Ariana also rendered him her dutiful respects, and they considered all three together the strange event of things, that gave them some hope amidst a great deal of fear. Arimin at that time was much troubled, seeing himself environed with so many people, whose number he thought yet greater: but Melintus, having known of Eurymedon's coming, prayed Arimin to come near him, and says to him, I perceive well many things concur to save me, but I know as well, that if the Emperor desires my death, there is nothing can preserve me. I flatter not myself with the hope of the kingdom of Thessaly; 'tis a thing far from my desires, though it be true that I am of the blood of Achilles: but, Arimin, for the present I counsel you to defer my putting to death, until you hear further of the Emperor's pleasure: not that this delay can promise me any safety, but because you cannot otherwise be assured of your own.  
Arimin agreed to what he said, bearing no ill will to Melintus, and finding himself troubled at all these encounters: then he prayed him to go move those men of war, that they might treat as friends. Melintus went towards them on horseback; and when Eurymedon perceived him, he ran to embrace him, and consented to what ever he desired at his hands: but he would never suffer him to return any more to Arimin. The people joined themselves presently to their party, and they all called Melintus their King and their Protector, and cried aloud, they would protect him well enough, since he had so well protected them. Melintus refused all those honours, and sent to assure Arimin, that he consented not to them, and would never attempt any thing against the authority of the Roman Empire; only he besought him that he would assist him favourably with Nero, to appease his anger. Arimin restored by this assurance, and who desired but peace, promised he would serve him with all affection near the Emperor, and then retired himself into the Castle. Melintus and Eurymedon went away towards the scaffold to take with them Hermocrates and Ariana, who were confounded for joy to see themselves delivered out of so great perils. Eurymedon having saluted the fair Ariana, told her, he had brought a Princess to be her companion: they were then impatient to see the fair Pasithea whom Eurymedon had left behind, when he advanced towards the place to save Melintus. Ariana at that time was set on horseback, and Pasithea in the same equipage coming to encounter her in a guard of soldiers, they would both of them alight for their better receiving of themselves, having heard very advantageously one of another. After the salutations and compliments, every one began to judge of these different beauties, that were both of them marvellous: nevertheless that of Ariana surpassed the other by far, and those that knew the strange effects of Pasithea's, were in a wonder that Ariana being the fairest, was not so generally beloved: but the ablest judgements comparing the majestuous grace of Ariana, with the familiar sweetness of Pasithea, were agreed that the last kindled all desires in an instant, producing hope by this general compleasance: but that Ariana by her beauty indeed stirred up an admiration, but by her gravity accompanied with modesty, struck hope dead, which is the only nourisher of love: in such sort as she could not be loved but by men of great courage that feared not the difficulties, whereas Pasithea facilitated herself the birth of love by her natural sweetness, that gave access to all, and yet with no other design, than nobly to favour those that approached her.  
They all retired to the lodging that was given them at first, which was the most remarkable house in the Town, whence were coming forth the soldiers that guarded Palamede, Euphrosyne, and the rest, for Arimin had sent them a countermand that they should return to wait upon him. There were given in that place embracings without number, for if some of them had run great hazards, the others had been in great fears for them. Euphrosyne was near dying for joy to see Hermocrates, he was a long time also without being able to quit her, after so tedious and cruel a separation from her: afterwards he embraced one while Telephus his faithful friend, another while Epicharis his daughter; and told them how he had been sold to the Scythians, from whom he never could have hoped to be delivered, but for the resolution was taken by a great number of them, to go seek out other Countries, and they had brought him along with them, and constrained him to be their Sacrificer, because they had observed him to have some knowledge in natural things. The others related also to one another their diverse fortunes, and above all Palamede expressed the displeasures he had received with Amyntas, for being kept enclosed during the extreme danger Melintus was in, for which was left them no other consolation than their dear Mistresses Epicharis and Erycine, who nevertheless had no less grief than they, whereof the one was then sister to Melintus, the other had been so heretofore. When Eurymedon knew that his friend Lepantus kept his bed for the wounds he received in defending the Ladies, he went to him into his Chamber, where he found Cyllenia alone with him, assisting him with much affection: but seeing that his wounds would not be cured a long time by ordinary remedies, he caused an excellent drogue to be brought him which he was accustomed to use himself, and two days after his wounds were closed. In the mean while the faithful Arcas kissed his dear Master's hands, being ravished to see him yet living, after so perilous a fortune: There was a general rejoicing in that house, and abroad too, because of the Thessalians that shouted a thousand times for joy to have found a King so wise, so valiant, and so accomplished as Melintus was. They had assembled together, to make a guard about his house, and were resolved to dye all, rather than suffer he should have any displeasure offered him.  
All the fear Melintus had was on Nero's side, whose choler he judged would increase, when he came to know that he pretended to the kingdom of Thessaly. But Arimin the day after sent him word of the happy news were but then brought him, that Nero was dead; and that his memory was cursed all the world over, as of an execrable monster; how Galba had been declared Emperor, and was upon the point to pass out of Spain into Italy. Then their contentments were perfected. All the people ran presently to the Temples, to give the gods thanks for having taken out of the world the Tyrant; and the noblest of the Thessalians entreated Arimin that they might go to Rome and demand of Galba Melintus for their King▪ Arimin willing to serve Melintus in that occasion, that he might give him cause to forget the injuries he had done him, not only granted what they desired of him, but would also accompany them himself to make relation to the new Emperor of Melintus his extreme valour, by whose only means, the Scythians had been profligated, before ever any news came to Rome of their descent. After having visited Melintus, and taken leave of him, he left a Lieutenant in his place, and would be gone: Palamede who had learned that Otho returned with Galba, and at that time had all the power with him, obtained of Melintus and Epicharis that he might also make that voyage, to the end Otho being obliged by their ancient friendship, might favour Melintus with the Emperor, and so they departed all together.  
In the mean time they prepared at Larissa with all magnificence the feasts for the wedding of Melintus, whom already they called their King, and Ariana whom they named the Goddess of the Scythians. An old Pirate that ordinarily accompanied Eurymedon, seeing Hermocrates and Euphrosyne whom he remembered to have been amongst them, and having understood all that had happened to them, and how they were the parents of the brave and noble Melintus the dear friend, and heretofore conqueror of his Master, would give a new supply to their joys by discovering himself to them. He desired their pardon first of all, for having made them endure so many miseries, for which, says he, I can never acquit myself towards you, but in making you a present of incomparable value. I give you, proceeds he, Eurymedon my Master for your son. Every one stood in a great amazement, and Eurymedon too, whom he addressed himself to and said, Eurymedon, that I say is true, and I believe you are not sorry (having always been kept in the opinion of being a Prince) to find yourself now descended of Pyrrhus and Achilles.  
They could not yet comprehend how it might be; but this Pirate continued: I came to know, said he to Euphrosyne, that you understood how Dicearchus had obliged us to put to death what should be borne of you, till the time you were sold. The first child you brought into the world while you were with us, was this Eurymedon, whom we presently took and carried in a little mantle towards the Sea, for to have cast him in. But as we were in the way, there comes an Eagle and takes him out of our hands, when we thought of nothing but carrying him away, and throwing up herself into the air, flew at length stooping down towards a place we marked. We ran instantly thither out of curiosity, and after we had a long time searched, we found the Babe at last, which the Eagle had hid under a laurel. We conjectured from thence that he would one day prove illustrious, since the King of Birds was willing to save him, and had given him for sanctuary the tree ordained to crown the victorious: so we resolved to bring him up, and that he should serve us for our Conquests: but not willing Euphrosyne knew him to be hers, having a purpose to make himself believe one day that he was of Royal blood to heighten his courage; we made him be nursed some days by a woman, and after that we returned him to you, said he to Euphrosyne, to have him better nourished, feigning it was a King's child we had taken; and ever since he lived as you know. As they were upon these rejoicings, and Pasithea in a rapture to know the illustrious and valiant race of her dear Eurymedon, word was brought them that Archelaus had followed them, and was very near entering into the City. Melintus would go forth to meet him in equipage of a Prince, being accompanied with Eurymedon, Lepantus, and Amyntas, to the end he might procure that his new acknowledged brother were received into his favour. Archelaus at his arrival in the Port had learned that Melintus was destined to be King of Thessaly, and that he was of the blood of Achilles and Pyrrhus, so as when they encountered, they saluted as Kings; and Melintus seeing much sadness in his face, said to him: Great Prince, you must here quit all resentments of offence against those you pursue, and keep the promise you have given. See there my brother, said he showing Eurymedon, whom you have promised your alliance, and I pray you receive him into your grace.  
Archelaus knew not what Melintus meant to tell him, but he proceeded; Wonder not if I say you promised my brother your alliance: This is that fair Hermione that had the good fortune to succour you so timely at the day of battle, and whose beauty was able to touch your heart with affection. His name is Eurymedon, and it is he that after having saved the Princess your daughter whom they would have stolen away, was so happy as to be loved of her. He was constrained so to disguise himself, fearing your anger; ascribe to his passion the enterprise he conceived to abuse you, and change I pray you the love you had for Hermione, into a friendship for Eurymedon. Archelaus was so confounded with that he heard, as he stood without all motion; and by this time the fair Eurymedon threw himself down at his feet to desire pardon for the fault he had made in carrying away his daughter. At last the King considering that if he expressed more anger, it would but turn to his own confusion, was resolved to embrace Eurymedon, knowing him of a birth that made him worthy of his daughter; and when the peace was made between them, they brought him into the City, where Pasithea came out to meet him, conducted by the fair Ariana. She cast herself at his feet, and he pardoned her in lifting her up, and was willing to stay in that place to assist at the ceremony of Melintus Coronation, and celebrate the nuptials of his daughter, as well as those of Ariana.  
During some days as they were thus rejoicing together for so many past travels, and the hope of a fortune for Melintus becoming his Heroic virtue, and admirable actions, those that were gone for Rome arrived happily there, and in a small time made the singular services Melintus had done the Empire be in such sort acknowledged, that they obtained what they desired with the assistance of Otho, who showed himself passionate for his friend Melintus, and for the fair Ariana whom he had so suddenly and ardently heretofore loved; and Palamede was made Knight of Rome, and with that title created Governor of Sicily. Arimin, Palamede, and the Thessalians returned in great haste, and brought Melintus the Emperor's letters, with the Decree of the Senate, whereby the kingdom of Thessaly and of a part of Epire was given him, as being the legitimate heir of Pyrrhus and Achilles, to whom they wished all prosperity for the important services he had rendered to the Empire, whereof notwithstanding he should relieve, exhorting him withal to continue the same cares for conserving the Roman limits against the inundations of Barbarians. Then Arimin presented two rich Crowns of gold sent from the Emperor, one to the valiant Melintus, and the other to the fair and virtuous Ariana.  
The Thessalians every where made fires of joy for so happy a news, and to the end so many rejoicings were not made in confusion, but that each of them might be resented in particular, the next day was destined for the Coronation and marriage of Melintus and Ariana: The day after for the Nuptials of the Prince Eurymedon with the Princess Pasithea; and the third day for the marriages of Palamede with Epicharis, of Lepantus with Cyllenia, and of Amyntas with Erycine. The Deputies of all the Cities of Thessaly, that attended at Larissa the return of the Ambassadors, came to congratulate with their King given by the gods and promised by their Oracles, and to take the oath of allegiance to him; and the whole City was full of employment against the next day's Ceremony.  
The inhabitants of Larissa had strewed all the streets with flowers, and crowned themselves with them, to make that the most celebrious and agreeable day they could possibly. Betimes in the morning every man went to dispose himself before Melintus' gate; and they brought him to the Temple with Ariana in this order. The soldiers as well of the City as those that Eurymedon and King Archelaus had brought, were set in rows all along the streets whereby the pomp was to pass to the Temple of Thetis. Many trumpets were in the head of the companies of Thessalian Gentlemen, which Melintus had led the day of the battle: then they caused to march store of Chariots loaden with the spoils of the Scythians. Afterwards were carried in Trophy the arms of their King whom Melintus had slain: then the Barbarian prisoners were led with their hands bound behind them; after them followed on horseback two by two, the five hundred brave Thessalians that had served Melintus in the valiant night-enterprise, having their arms all silvered, and rich comparisons upon their horses: the javelins they carried were inwreathed with flowers, and their heads crowned with laurel. In the midst of them was led in hand of both sides Melintus his horse, that seemed to be grown prouder for the fortune of his Master, so stately was his pace. Fifty white Bulls followed for the sacrifice, having their horns and hoofs gilded their heads adorned with flowers, and covered all over with tapestry of silk training on the ground. The Priests went after the offerings, and carried all things necessary for sacrifice. A little after ten young gentlemen of Thessaly, clothed in white, and crowned with flowers, bare upon their shoulders a kind of Chariot, in the midst whereof was a Carpet of purple, with the fringes of gold training to the ground, whereupon was laid the Crown of gold, and the Sceptre for Melintus: then followed ten of the fairest Maids of Thessaly, clothed also in white▪ with their hair loose and crowned with flowers, that bore up another Chariot beautified with purple, the fringe of gold, upon which was the other Crown and Sceptre for Ariana. Arimin the Emperor's Ambassador, and King Archelaus followed in order on horseback, one beside the other, environed with their Officers. After them marched the triumphant Chariot of Melintus and Ariana, all glittering with gold, and adorned with posies of flowers, drawn by six white horses of Thessaly, that had their manes braided with incarnate ribbons of silk mingled with gold and silver, whereon were mounted six young children winged after the fashion of Cupids. The valiant Melintus then attracted the eyes of all; he was crowned with laurel, and wore a cloak of purple Royal laced with gold, holding the hand of the divine Ariana, that was dressed like a Queen, and whose admirable beauty animated by the joy of so much happiness & applause had a splendour, the beams whereof were yet unsupportable for dazzling the beholders, and giving a delightful ravishment to their eyes. The valorous Eurymedon followed on horseback, by the side of the fair Pasithea, that was likewise mounted a horseback upon a foot-cloth of embroidery of gold, being sustained on both sides by two Lesbian Gentlemen▪ Palamede went in that fashion after and made himself admired of all, as well for his pleasing mine, as the grace he had in managing his horse. The gentile Epicharis went besides him after the same manner that Pasithea, having, I know not what, more gravity in her countenance, since from a slave she became to be a Princess. After them followed Lepantus with Cyllenia, mounted likewise, and then Amyntas with Erycine. Telephus went alone on horseback, and was followed with a Chariot wherein were Hermocrates and Euphrosyne that lift up their hands without ceasing, and gave thanks to heaven for having put so happy an end to their misfortunes. The Nobility of Thessaly marched after, and in their order the Deputies of the Cities, afterwards an infinite number of people.  
Of the spoils there was only the arms of the Scythian King that entered into the Temple, to be left there, and consecrated to the goddess Thetis, the rest passed on. All the train entered, and after the sacrifices were made, Melintus having his cloak Royal borne upon one side by Eurymedon, on the other by Palamede, and Ariana having hers carried by the Princess Pasithea and Epicharis, they were set in a conspicuous place, where kneeling down upon cushions, they were crowned by Arimin representing the Emperor, and by the King Archelaus. Then the chief Priest married them, and instantly all the people fell a shouting, Long live the King Melintus, and the Queen Ariana: Let their reign be happy to themselves and us. These ceremonies being finished, they went out of the Temple, and there was nothing but the accident happened to Hermocrates and Euphrosyne that a little tempered those contentments, for they were found dead for joy at the foot of an Altar, and embraced one of another; nevertheless being judged very happy, they thought it envious against their repose, to have shed so much as a tear for them.  
All the City echoed with songs of joy: the feasts that had been prepared for this Royal assembly, were accompanied with Music of all sorts of voices and instruments. But nothing was more acceptable to these two noble lovers, than the night, which gave an happy conclusion to so many joys. When their senses were asleep with pleasure, their spirits at their turn tasted so many delights, that this sweet transport had made them abandon their bodies, if without them they could have been able to conserve those divine raptures: but for fear some disunion might happen, they held one another so straight embraced, that nothing but the next day's Ceremony could have separate them.  
It was Pasithea's and Eurymedons' day, whose love felt no less impatiency, nor was the accomplishment of their desires followed with meaner pleasures. The day following, Palamede with Epicharis, Lepantus with Cyllenia, and Amyntas with Erycine, having observed the same ceremonies, tasted equal contentments; and after that Arimin, Archelaus, and some others that would retire were departed with a thousand embraces, and many presents, Melintus began to give order for the safety of his kingdom, by fortifying of his ports, and frontiers: and having established his government with sweetness, he peaceably enjoyed the rest of his days with his dear Ariana the delicious fields of Thessaly: as if the gods had destined to the fairest and most virtuous persons of the world, the most agreeable places of the earth.    
FINIS.