LICENCED, RO. L'ESTRANGE,  
October 11. 1677.   

THE Triumph OF LOVE OVERDO FORTUNE.  
A Pleasant Novel.  
Written in French by that Great Wit of France M. St. Bremond.  
AND Translated into English by a Person of Quality.  
LONDON, Printed for James Magnes and Richard Bentley, in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden, near the Piazzas. 1678.   

The Triumph of Love over Fortune.  
THE Sun had newly past the vernal Aequinox, the Earth breathed Sweets, the Air was mild and temperate, the Face of Heaven smiled, and all the World looked gay and youthful, when a King of Spain (whose Name History mentions not) accepting readily the tempting invitation of that charming season, resolved to take the Country-Air, and please himself with those divertisements a short recess from Madrid fairly promised him. He was a Prince famed for Gallantry and Magnificence; and of his Courtiers who could pretend to either, there was not one he took not with him to Aranjues; where, besides the pleasure they frequently took in Hunting, they were entertained with Balls and Dances, Operas, Races, Tournaments, and other rare divertisements, wherein the Lords and Grandees of his Court wholly applied themselves to excel each other.  
Aranjues is a House of pleasure, seated most deliciously, distant from Madrid a short days journey between that City and Toledo, well built and neatly furnished; but neither Furniture too rich, nor Building too Magnifigent for a Palace-Royal and Residence of Majesty. The curious, who travel as far as Madrid, never forget to take a turn to Aranjues to view the Walks and Gardens there, as worth their sight; where the Bowers, the Water-works, the Grottes, the Fountains, Labyrinths, and other Ornaments entertain them with a pleasing verdure; and by the joint favours of Art and Nature appears a charming Beauty. To complete all, what can more delight the Eye than the fair Rows of Trees there of a prodigious height, in a Country which, for twenty Leagues about, scarce produces those of ordinary growth?  
The King took more delight in that house (as fitted more for Liberty) than his Palaces of Prad● del Campo, and the Buen Retiro, standing hard-by the Gates of Madrid. The splendour he lived in there was attractive enough to bring thither all the Nobles of his Kingdom, had they wanted inclination to follow him where e'er he went: But he was a Prince who, to the height of State and Power, added so many charming qualities of personal Excellency, 'twas difficult to judge whether his Subjects love, or duty to him were the greater.  
Never was Reign happier than his. He was a comely Person, handsome and witty to admiration; Young, tall, nimble, and capable of all that's brave, or great; of noble inclinations, worthy the Crown he wore. Those leisure-hours his glory and cares of State allowed him, he bestowed in Love and Gallantry: and no Man ever acquitted himself better, and came off with more applause.  
The Spaniards have in all Ages been observed much inclined to jealousy: the Women there are slaves to that passion, before they know what 'tis to love. Hence it is they are such early Lovers: 'tis natural, especially for Women, to long for that which is forbidden them. Revolt is with them a certain effect of Restraint: and a Husband jealous (though of the most honest Wife on Earth,) is upon the point of being made what he most fears to be.  
In this King's time, the Court of Spain had put on a new Face, the course of things, at least in matters of gallantry, was wholly altered, and Maxims introduced (quite contrary to those formerly in vogue, but) in favour of the Gallants: And their Party being strongest, the jealous were forced to slacken a little the rigour and strictness of Ancient Customs to make way for New. The Ladies had free access to all entertainments, and needed not those subtle Intrigues, and Multitude of Confidents they formerly used to carry on their Amours; the Races, the Walks and the Plays, were the ordinary Rendezvous to make and appoint, and sometimes to complete and perform Assignations.  
What a brave time was this for the Spanish Ladies! they think of it to this day with sorrow 'tis past: and declare with indignation that the Name of this King, which those of his time suffered to be buried in oblivion, deserved to have been engraved in Letters of Gold over the Chamber-Doors of all the gallant Ladies of his Court, and transmitted to Posterity to be had in perpetual Veneration.  
Amidst the pleasures of Aranjues, Love, jealous perhaps to see this Prince so long free, and not sensible of the power of his influence, resolved to find him employment by engaging him in an Amour the more difficult to manage, as having in it no pretence from Ambition or Fortune to countenance the pursuit: And the truth is, it gave him more trouble than an hundred others he had been engaged in. This was not an Amour with the Daughter, or Wife of any Grandee of his Kingdom: He had already past through all the Degrees of his Nobility; not a Lord in his Court, but by a Wife, a Daughter, or a Kinswoman was related to the King. But the present Engagement was more extraordinary, as very remote from any thing of Pomp, or of Grandeur. 'Twas in a Garden, from among the Roses and Lilles, Love picked out a Beauty to charm the King: a Beauty to which Aranjues gave Birth.  
Among the Courtiers (who made it their business to find every day some new divertisement for the King) one resolved to entertain him with a Shepherd who played excellently on the Flute. The King, a great Lover of Music, (especially on those Country-Instruments) took extreme delight in hearing him play.  
And finding that the Shepherd, besides his skill in Music, had in all his actions an Air and Grace free from any clownishness, he was so taken with him, that he admitted him of his Music, and gave him (as the rest) a Pension of two hundred Patacoons a year.  
This generous bounty of the King had put another Shepherd into a transport of joy, but was received by Antonine with a calmness and moderation which astonished that Prince, and forced him, after a stricter examination of his Shepherd, now his new Musician, to say, the Body of that plain Shepherd lodged a large and noble Soul. Some Lords taking notice of the pleasure the King took in viewing him, (though they did not comprehend his thoughts of him) told the King, that to perfect the divertisement, he must see dance to the Flute, the Gardener's Daughter of Aranjues, the prettiest Maid of all the Neighbourhood: The King immediately longed to see her, and commanded she should come before him.  
She came dressed like a Nymph: and Antonine scarce began to play on his Flute, but she fell a-dancing; and with that grace, that cadence, those gestures so proper and so taking, that she charmed the whole Court. She was a Girl about fifteen years of age, having alittle of the Country Mien, and Air, but nothing rustic, and a very pleasing Face.  
The King (none of the most insensible) first felt the force of her charms; every step she made, each gesture, every action of the little Country-Lass were so many Magic Spells to inchant this Prince. He felt his heart seized with an unaccountable sudden joy, as she drew near him in dancing, or looked upon him; and 'twas not in his power to forbear, once or twice, discovering his Passion by Exclamations the whole Court took notice of.  
This was the only pleasure he took all that day; apleasure that troubled all the rest they would have diverted him with at Aranjues. The little Maid was scarce withdrawn with the Shepherd, but the King fell into a deep melancholy, which put him wholly out of humour. He had observed a familiarity betwixt 'em, which, though usual among Countrypeople, seemed to trouble him though he knew not why. The Ladies he had most esteem for endeavoured to divert him, but in vain; for he spent the rest of the day in walking alone, to enjoy the pleasure of his new Ideas.  
He was restless all night, and could not sleep, he thought a thousand times of the little Country-Girl, and indeed could think of nothing else; he fancied her so beautiful and charming, so innocent, so Country-like, that his imaginations finished the work Love had but begun.  
The Sun had scarce appeared in his Chamber, but he got up; and being dressed, went a walking in the Garden, where he sent for the Shepherd to furnish himself with a pretence for seeing the Girl, whom he presently gave order for. Antonine played on the Flute, the Girl danced the king charmed anew with new graces he fancied he discovered every moment in her, was more and more affected, and, in a word, deeply in love with her. No sooner had this Passion taken possession of his heart, but his jealousy of the Shepherd increased. He saw the Girl smile on him, and observed a tenderness expressed in every look she gave him; and that she took pleasure in speaking to him: and that the Shepherd discovered some little complaisances of a Lover, both when he played, and when he came near her, which, convinced the King there was between them a correspondence of affection. This vexed the King at heart, and the more because his passion was so new he durst not yet reveal it: At last, unable to endure the torment of his own impatience, and unwilling to be longer witness of the Shepherd's happiness to which he thought himself contributory, he sent away the Gardener's Daughter, but kept the Shepherd with him. He continued walking without speaking a word to any but Don Augustin, Marques de Las Tarrillas his Confident and Favourite, to whom he revealed the secret of his affection, with expressions and sighs which sufficiently evidenced he had never been so deep in Love. The Marquis having observed the King had till then been taken only with Beauties eminent for Birth and Merit, was surprised to see him on the sudden fall so low. He was a dextrous Courtier, a great Master of the Art of pleasing Princes; but in spite of all his policy and complaisance for his King, he could not forbear telling him (with that liberty which brought him into favour) that an Engagement, that so ill became his Quality and Character, would occasion much discourse in a Country naturally too satirical: There are, Sir, adds he, in your Court more accomplished Beauties, more Noble and Illustrious, whose charms will not slain the splendour of your affection. Yes, replies the King, there are Beauties who love my Quality, not me; whose kindness terminates in themselves, who pretend a passion for me, only to serve their interest, and raise their fortunes. Who consent to my desires out of hopes to be advanced by the affection of a King: Take these hopes away, and assure yourself of a repulse. Ah, Don Augustin, 'tis a misery for a delicate and tender Lover not to know whether he owes his Conquests to Merit, or to Fortune; or at least whether they are not gained more by what appears without, than what moves within. But, Sir, said Don Augustin, consider 'tis a Gardener's Daughter. Yes, a Gardener's Daughter, replies the King; and pray, adds he in some heat, what were such and such, before I made them what they are? And how many Grandees are there this day at Court who own their rise to Love; and had it not been for the gallantries of my Ancestors, had perhaps been less than the Father of this charming Maid. Consider with yourself what pleasure it will be to me to gain the love of that innocent Girl, who peradventure knows not what Love is, till I teach her; who desires not Riches or Titles; whose kindness will be an effect of my passion, and her affection a Creature of mine.  
Don Augustin finding by this discourse 'twould be in vain to endeavour diverting the King from a passion he had so deeply espoused, applied himself wholly (as is usual with those of his Character) to please him in serving his passion, and preserve himself the honour of his Confidence; telling him, he needed only to have the Gardener spoken to, who would think himself too much honoured that his Majesty should vouchsafe his Daughter a look. Yes, replies the King; and should the Father be for me and deliver me his Daughter, think you that Sacrifice would satisfy my passion? No, no, Don Augustin; the passion I have for that amiable Creature is not such as you imagine, which a bare fruition may satisfy, I must have her affection, or nothing, and cannot expect any rest till I have gained her heart. I confess the Enterprise appears difficult to take a Place by formal Attaques, where Art, Wit, and perhaps Merit will be useless: but this, if I succeed, will render the Conquest more worthy my affection, and heighten the pleasure of having obtained my desire. You speak of Beauty, adds he, having walked some paces without saying a word, is there any thing so pretty in all the Court? and had you observed her stature, her parts, her mien, the grace attends all she says, all she does, durst you have told me there is any thing so charming in the World? Examine her better, view her more strictly, and you will see there is not a finer Girl under Heaven. She has not the breeding of our Ladies, but is that a fault? is not pure Nature more amiable?  
After a discourse so full of Arguments of Love, which the Marquis thought not fit to contradict, the King asked who the Gardener was, and whom the Shepherd belonged to. The Marquis being ignorant of both, could not give any satisfactory account; but had order to inform himself particularly where the Gardener dwelled, what Family he had, and how descended; and to take it into his special protection and care: and to inquire who the Shepherd was, and whether he visited the Gardener's Daughter.  
A Master is never served with more cheerfulness than in his Amours, as the best Scene for the Servant to play his own Game in, especially having hopes effectually to answer the Master's expectation, as Don Augustin had. He sent that very day in search of Dorothy's Father, and after several discourses about his Family, let him know he was in a fair way to come to as good fortune as a Man of his condition could wish. He asked him if he knew Antonine; and was fully informed by the Gardener concerning that Shepherd: then he bid him have a care of his Daughter, whom he was to look upon as the Author of his good fortune, without giving further light whether the Marquis, or any other were concerned in the advice. This was so managed by order from the King: And the Expressions (like infallible Oracles) coming from the Mouth of the Marquis de las Torrillas, whose Countenance was sufficient to raise the fortune of the greatest Subject of Spain, so transported the Good Man that he knew not how to make his acknowledgement for joy. The Marquis, to make good his words by suitable effects, put into his hand a Purse of an hundred Pistols, the most certain confirmation he could possibly have given the Gardener of the News he had told him. He returned home, so fully assured by what he had in his hand, of the favourable influence of his Stars, that he thought himself the happiest, if not the richest Man upon Earth.  
The Favourite having executed his Commission, like a worthy Confident, goes to give his Master an account; and acquainting him with the Particulars of the Gardener's Family, told him, he was fully informed he was a very honest Man, who lived very privately, not admitting into his House any one might bring a scandal upon him: And that his Daughter Dorothy had the Reputation of a Maid so free from intrigue that she had never been suspected to have been engaged in one. And what of Antonine, says the King? Antonine, Sir, says the Marquis, is the Son of a rich Shepherd near Toledo, who was recommended to the Gardener, and lodges at his House. Antonine, replies the King sighing, doth he Lodge at Dorothy's Father's? Yes, Sir, said the Marquis, very much surprised to see how the King received the News of it; but I believe there's no cause to fear him. More cause, replies the King, more a great deal than you think. What, a Shepherd, answers the Marquis? Yes, a Shepherd, says the King; a Shepherd who hath all the good qualities requisite to gain the love of a Shepherdess. Had you viewed him with the Eyes of a Lover, you would have quickly discovered what 'tis to be such a Shepherd. Don Augustin, adds he, no Rival is contemptible; to slight him, is to lose all. But, Sir, says the Marquis, you are his Master, and may rid your hands of him when you please: These sort of Lovers have not so strong inclinations as we. Give him but a better Employment in another place than he hath here, he'll yield up his Shepherdess to you, and quit all his pretensions to her. You think so, replies the King, but I do not. But should I comply with my affection in taking your advice, what will the World say of my removing the Shepherd after the favour I have showed him? will they not say I have banished him? And the Wits, who claim a sovereign jurisdiction to censure all actions, when they see me court this Girl; will they not say presently, I was jealous of Antonine? No, no, I am concerned in Reputation to let him stay with her at the peril of having my passion made public by removal of him: if he be a professed Lover of her, 'tis my part to endeavour gaining her from him. But I must first know how far he is advanced, whether she is pleased with his addresses, or barely permits them, or loves him in good earnest. These Mysteries are never well discovered, but by those who have been in Love; a mere Confident cannot penetrate them: Therefore get two Suits made me after the Country-Fashion; and let them be brought me tomorrow at my rising: I will go in Person to the Gardener's, to observe Dorothy and Antonine.  
Any Man but the Marquis would have boggled, and been scandalised at a design so contrary to the Spanish Gravity, and unsuitable to Majesty; but he was so well acquainted with the Gallantries of his Prince, and so versed in the management of them for the King, who loved adventures and disguises, that he was ready to fall a laughing at the Frolic: but reflecting they had no acquaintance, nor correspondence at the Gardener's, he apprehended some mischance which might be laid to his charge. He represented it to the King as he carried him the Habits on the Morrow, telling him he exposed the Majesty of his Person to affront, by adventuring disguised into a Man's House he was not acquainted with. The King who loved not to be crossed, made him a short answer, that in matters of Love he expected from a Person of his Character a great deal of Complaisance, but no Counsel; and that the advice he commonly took in those Cases, was only such as his affection suggested him. He put on one of those Suits, and the Marquis having taken the other, they went down a privy Stair which brought them to a Walk in the Garden; where they were no sooner entered, but they saw Dorothy picking Flowers. The jealous Prince, ravished with joy, made signs to Don Augustin to follow him without noise; and went with him into the Muse's Bower, at the corner of the Walk, where they hide themselves from her. 'tis an excellent opportunity, says the King to his Confident, we must follow her to see who the Nosegay is made for.  
The patience of the Monarch, on this occasion, was admirable; but must be considered as an effect of his Love. At last Dorothy goes out, taking the way of the Long Walks, to the astonishment of the Parties concerned, especially the Amorous Prince, who more curious than ever to know whither she went, followed her with no small perplexity and agitation of heart. It was not long but he might guests at her design; for they were scarce past the second Walk but they heard Antonine's Flute, which the King thought not half so sweet then as formerly. He looked twice or thrice on Don Augustin without saying a word; but not able to conceal his jealousy longer, You see now, says he, whether I have not reason enough to fear this Rival. Ah, Don Augustin, my Curiosity is like to cost me dear: but 'tis no matter, let's go and see all. They went beside the Walks to avoid being seen by her: at last they saw Dorothy making up to Antonine, and presenting him with the Nosegay; which the Shepherd receiving with actions full of Love, and of Joy, took her by the hand, which she permitted him to kiss; a great Favour in Spain, and signifies something more. This vexed the Jealous King at the heart, to that degree of Impatience he was just making up to them. But Dorothy having not stayed a moment longer with the Shepherd, the King advanced no further, but returned towards the Palace.  
He was pensive and melancholy, and past those shady Walks musing of the happiness of a Shepherd, which a King was forced to envy. He acquainted the Marquis with his thoughts; the Marquis told him, the best way to quiet his Spirits was to send away the Shepherd. But who can assure me, replies the King, that by removing him from Dorothy's Person, I shall remove him from her affection. A month's absence, Sir, says the Marquis, will assure you of it. Absence, answers the King, too frequently strengthens affection; and I am not now to learn opposition heightens Love. But I am content for the pleasure of the Experiment, to try the means you propose. Give him a Place at Buen Retiro, and let him be sent away this day.  
Don Austin undertook the business. And having put off his Disguise, went about Antonine's Commission, which was presently dispatched. The Office they gave him was to be Porter of his Majesty's Palace of Buen Retiro, as the most proper for a young Man of his Character. They who carried him the order for it, made him understand it as an effect of the King's Bounty to him; though he did not take it so, but answered those who congratulated his good Fortune, that He knew not what belonged to being a Porter, that the King might honour another with the Employment, who might deserve and perform it better. As for him, he had kept sheep all his Life, and would do nothing else. They pressed him however to undertake the Employ; but the King having ordered no violence should be offered him, and the Shepherd having desired to speak with the King before he should be sent away, they let him go.  
The Shepherd went to the King, fell down at his feet, and with all humility begged of him not to overload and oppress him with his Bounties, but permit him to continue (as he had found him) a Shepherd; and not force him to quit a Condition he had devoted his Life to, and preferred before all others, assuring His Majesty he was content, he was satisfied with what he had, and envied not Man. The King as soon as he perceived Antonine come towards him, fell laughing; but when he heard him speak, he sighed; not for Jealousy, but for very trouble it was not in his power to be so happy as the Shepherd. How happy, thinks he, is this Shepherd, to have all the desires either of Love or Fortune? As he made these Reflections, he viewed him from top to toe. And admiring a young Man of that Condition should have sentiments so extraordinary, he had judged him to be quite other than he appeared, but that he looked upon't as (an effect though) a Miracle of Love. This Prince had a Soul too Noble and Generous, not to make his Jealousy veil to the merit of Antonine; so that he could not prevail with himself to send him away. He called for Dorothy, and the better to penetrate the secrets of her heart, told her, She might now take her Leave of Antonine, for he was sending him away to Buen Retiro, where he had business for him, and had given him a good Employment. The poor Innocent was thunderstruck at this; her Blood flushed into her face to complete the Embellishment of the most Charming Beauty on Earth: She suddenly made answer, She was sure Antonine would not accept of the Employment, because he had promised her he would die rather than part with her. But I would have him go thither, replies the King; it will be his advantage, and the making of his Fortune; And will you be against it? No, Sir, says she; but I humbly beseech your Majesty to command my Father to let me go along with him to look to the Garden there. You love the Shepherd than I see, says the King: And Dorothy making him no answer, he risen; and not able to endure longer so tormenting a Dilogue, left her with Antonine. The Marquis (who was present there) followed the King, admiring no less the patience of his Prince, than charmed at the passion of the two Countrey-Lovers. Well, Don Austin, says the King to him, when they got a little out of the Crowd, was ever Lover so unfortunate as I? Here is a Rival, and a Rival beloved. I must of necessity either conquer my passion, or send him packing. Yet such is my weakness, I cannot do the one or the other. The Favourite complying with the humour of his Master, answered, 'Twas in truth something rare to see a Prince in Love (as he was) express so much Goodness and Favour for a Shepherd, who stood in his way, and might cross his Designs: But that sometimes particular Engagements require particular Conduct. Hitherto, Sir, adds he, you have loved like a King: variety is pleasant, and to change sometimes is very delightful. Perhaps you may find pleasure in divesting yourself of Majesty, and addressing yourself to a Countrey-Girl, after the manner of those of her Character who court her. The King was willing to do it; and to let the Marquis see how kindly he took the overture, he told him, That in Love-Policy the first thing a Lover is to do, is to accommodate himself to the Condition and humour of his Mistress: And that those Charming bonds of Sympathy, which linked hearts into so close an union, had their beginning from thence. However, they concluded Dorothy should be taken from her Parents, and placed with some Lady of the Court, where the King might see her with more convenience and less noise.  
The Marquis willing to have the honour of managing the Intrigue, and loath any other should pretend to the Advantage he promised himself from it, proposed to the King, That Dorothy should be placed with the Marchioness his Wife; her Apartment being next the King's, (who was every day there) and the most convenient of any in the Palace. The King had thought of it before; but the Marchioness, though young and handsome, made great profession of Virtue, and stood much upon her Honour, which made the King fear she would be hardly induced to accept a share in that Confidence he was willing to repose in her. No man knew her better than the King, having been formerly in love with her, though without any considerable success; which had not a little contributed to the haughtiness of this Lady, and gained her the Reputation of an Extraordinary Merit. So rare are the Examples of Beauties whose Virtue is proof against the Passions of Kings: we must seek them in former Ages. In our days faults committed with Princes, are so far from being reputed crimes, that the offenders triumph in their weakness, and make their Infirmity their Glory.  
The Marchioness de las Torillas might have pretended to the honour of the Virtuous Ladies of Ancient Times, and the King after the experience he had of her Virtue, had reason to fear she would not be pleased with the Employment. But the Marquis, the most zealous of Favourites to do a Master service, had that confidence in the kindness his Lady had for him, and made the King believe so much of the power he had over her, that this Prince, who desired it as much at least as the Marquis, gave him leave to propose it to his Lady.  
The Marquis took his time. Man and Wife can guests pretty near the good hour they may obtain what they desire of one another. Don Austin was of opinion the Lucky moment was much about the time of first waking in the morning. After some little endearments and caresses, for prologue to the ensuing discourse, he fell talking of Love; how it takes us when we least think on't, and sometimes by objects that little deserved it: that this had happened to the King, whose affection had stooped so low as the Gardener's pretty Daughter. That in truth it appeared a blemish to his Honour, which till now had not permitted him to place his affection on any object unworthy it. But that Love is Blind, and Kings are Men as well as others. He passed then to the obligations they were under to their Prince, who daily bestowed new Favours upon them: And when he came to the point of acquainting her with the King's desire to have the Gardener's Daughter with her, he endeavoured to gild over the proposal with the advantages it would bring them, to have in their Family a young Innocent thing who would be at their dispose; and by the passion the King had for her, was like to be one of the greatest Ladies at Court, and improve by that means their Credit and Favour. The haughty Marchioness had not the patience to let him finish a discourse so injurious to the Glory she pretended to; but rejecting all that fair show of Honour and Fortune to be purchased on such shameful conditions, she told him, He was a dirty and pitiful Fellow to undertake a business of this nature, and but think a Woman of her Quality and Virtue could act so base and unworthy a part. This confounded Don Austin, and had utterly defeated him, but that the King, who could not sleep, came in to his aid. He was impatient to know the answer of the Marchioness, and entering her Chamber, found her very angry, and little disposed to grant his request. She gave him almost the same Language she had given Don Austin, but tempered with the Civility and respects due to Majesty: But as she complained what small value he had for her, after so many reasons to esteem her, she added he was Master there, and might dispose as he pleased of her Apartment; but she hoped he would give her leave to retire, that he might have the more room, and she not incommode him. The King who never quitted a design he had espoused, heard her without the least interruption. And when she had done, he spoke her so fair, and gave her such smooth and insinuating Language, that he made her believe it would not reflect upon her Honour to grant him his desire. In a word, he obtained her consent to take Dorothy for one of her Maids, and promised her she should be no further concerned.  
The King triumphing for the conquest he had gained over the Marchioness, the most haughty and tender of her Honour of all the Ladies of his Court, told the Marquis, He must go speak to Dorothy's Father. The Gardener brought his Daughter to Don Austin; and thought himself so much obliged for the Present of the hundred Pistoles, that he would in acknowledgement have brought him his Wife had he desired it.  
Antonine was then tending his Sheep, and, at his return home, sufficiently surprised not to find Dorothy there, and to hear she was gone to wait on the Marchioness de las Torillas, he stayed not a moment at the Gardener's, but would go learn of Dorothy what made that Lady take her into her Family. He had discovered it was the Marquis would have honoured him with the Employment of Porter of Buen Retiro; and knowing he was seldom guilty of too much generosity, nor reputed very obliging, he suspected him for the favour he would have done him. And now, thinks he, the King hath the goodness to allow me to stay here, the Marquis must prefer Dorothy to wait upon his Lady?  
Antonine, whose Wit (as well as Birth) was too high for the Condition of a Shepherd, though he wore the habit, presently discovered there was design in the Business: That the love he had for that Maid, and the kindness she expressed for him had been taken notice of: And some were grown jealous of him. But Don Austin was the Man he suspected, having no thought the King was concerned. Antonine goes to Court, enters the Marchioness Apartment, and making use of that liberty the King's Favour allowed him, he runs up and down, and at last finds his Mistress, walking alone in a Chamber, where the Marquis had newly left her. He takes her aside, and being scarce able to speak for the trouble he was in, Dorothy, says he, you know I love you, and therefore may believe none more gl●d than myself for your good Fortune in being placed with the Marchioness de las Torillas. You will never have a Fortune answerable to your merit and my wishes: But, to deal plainly with you, this design of taking you from your Father's bodes me no good. I am too sensible of it; I will not tell you why, nor how, for I cannot if I would: but there is something in it makes me terribly afraid. Nor that I can think you will change your affection with your Fortune: And that being made higher than you were, you will slight a Shepherd, who slights all for you. I have a better opinion of your Kindness and Constancy, and know you better principled than to give me cause to suspect you of any thing so mean. But, Dorothy, the Court is a dangerous place for a young thing as you are, and you quit the Innocence of our Woods to follow the Court. You are here in a House, where doubtless I cannot have the same liberty as at your Father's; nor see you but in the crowd, nor speak with you but before witness: What a torment will this be to a Shepherd that loves you as I do? who desire to see you every moment, and have always something to say to you. To these Amorous reasons he added a thousand considerations, which made great impression on the young Maid, as spoken by one who had the gift of persuading her what ever he pleased. She was just going back with him to her Father's, but Antonine told her she must not be too hasty. And as he was upon acquainting her with the measures she should observe, word was brought her the King would speak with her, and stayed for her in the Marchioness' Chamber. Antonine, who thought himself so much in the King's Favour, that he might without offence bear Dorothy company, was willing to follow her, as well to make an end of what he had to say to her, as to satisfy the curiosity he had to know what the King would have with her. They came to the Marchioness' Chamber, where they found only Don Austin and his Lady, which was no small help to make the Shepherd believe his first suspicions were not ill-grounded, That the Marquis had a mind to Dorothy, and would have got rid of him by sending him to Buen Retiro, and had placed her with his Lady, on no other design but to part him and Dorothy; and to make the easier prey of her Innocence, used the King's Name and Authority against him and her. To complete his trouble, and convince him throughly of the misfortune he dreaded, they were scarce entered the Chamber, but the Marquis took Dorothy by the hand, and led her into another Room where the King stayed for her, unseen by Antonine who was left alone with the Marchioness. This Lady observing the countenance of the Shepherd, fell laughing to see him look so pale and wan at his Mistress being taken from him. And to prevent the suspicion of being party to the design, she resolved to divertise herself with discoursing of it; and to clear her Reputation she came up to a window where Antonine was, and asked him smiling, how he durst trust Dorothy with the Marquis? I know not, Madam, answers he, but believe I must take my measures in that particular from you, who are equally concerned, and (I persuade myself,) have power enough to prevent any thing of that nature you had reason to fear. The Marchioness surprised at the answer, would try a little further, telling him Don Austin was Master there, and his will was a law to her. I may, replies the Shepherd, say as much of Dorothy, and with a great deal more reason: For I have not any right over her, nor is she obliged to give me an account of her actions. But you love her, answers the Lady, and Lovers have great rights to their Mistresss. Don Austin, Madam, replies Antonine, is your Husband, and Marriage hath higher rights than Love can pretend to. The Marchioness, charmed with these repartees so much above the capacity of a Shepherd, looked upon him with admiration, viewing him a pretty while without saying a word. But to bring him in play again: Don Austin, says she, has found a pretty young Girl he likes better than me, and if he loves her, must I take it ill? No, Madam, answers Antonine, if you love him not: But I who love this Girl with an unparallelled passion, should, I confess, be at my Wit's end to see another partake with me the happiness of being loved by her. You are jealous then, Antonine, says the Lady not able to forbear laughing. I really am so, Madam, answers he, not that I think I have any reason for't on this occasion, but that in truth I cannot forbear it on any: And should Don Austin design no more than divertisement and do all this in jest, as I am persuaded he does, yet is he guilty of the highest Cruelty imaginable, in tormenting a poor Shepherd who hath no pleasure of Life but the Love of his Shepherdess, wherein Don Austin gives us disturbance without any reason. The more the Marchioness heard Antonine speak, the more willing she was to give him occasion of speaking. She had heard say he was very gentile in his Expressions, and had a particular grace in speaking, which was reported the reason of the Kings loving him as he did; but she would never have believed he had the Wit she perceived in him, his discourse having more than surprised her.  
Don Austin coming out of the King's Chamber, took his Lady aside, praying her to send away the Shepherd; for if the King found him there, he would think she had kept him with her of purpose to cross his designs. Antonine seeing the Marquis come out, thought Dorothy was alone, and asked the Lady whether he might not be allowed to see her. She told him, No; And that, if he might, she would not advise him to'r. It seems then, Madam, says Antonine, Don Austin hath forbid it, and came in for that purpose, being jealous I would endeavour it; and you are willing to comply with him. No, no, answers she ready to burst with laughing, I'll secure you from Don Austin. He's not the Man ye are to fear: But 'tis enough, Antonine, withdraw. What say you, Madam, you will secure me from the Marquis, and would have me withdraw: Can I be so unfortunate, (adds he with a lamentable tone,) to have any other to fear? I know not, answers she, but should it fall out so, as possible it may, you must be cheerful as you can: 'Tis no news for Lovers to have Rivals, and you may have a Rival may be more for your advantage than misfortune. The Marchioness let fall these last words out of negligence and mere carelessness, to manage (as she might) an affair which procured at once her vexation and her scorn. These haughty Ladies who glory in loving no body, and not admitting love from any, are jealous of all the World, when others are jealous only of those they love. The Shepherd fixed his Eye on her awhile, as if he would have read in her Countenance the truth of what she had said. More for my advantage, Madam! replies he, Can it be for my advantage to be robbed of all I love in the World? The more potent the Rival, the greater the misfortune; and I should be very sorry he should prove such as you say. Oh Heavens! cries he, not giving her time to answer, should he be the Man I imagine! and should I have been born to so much misfortune! He pronounced these words with so vehement action, and so loud a voice, the Lady was afraid the King had heard him; and that she might be charged with having spoken too much, the Shepherd having fully discovered what she thought she had not half told him. She took him by the hand, and moved with the tears she saw him shed, bid him (with an air of Complaisance) trouble himself no further, but come again, and he should speak with Dorothy who could better inform him. Ah! Madam, answers he, I am undone, I know too much from you.  
With that he went out so oppressed with grief he was scarce able to stand: The Marchioness was troubled to see him gone, because she had not given him more comfort at parting; but she was so astonished at what she had heard that she could hardly believe her senses. She had not only never seen a Shepherd who could discourse as he had done, but never known any so tender a Lover. She could do no other all day than think with what grace and what transports he expressed his passion: And she observed in his sentiments something so noble, so rare and so moving, that without being guilty of downright inhumanity, she thought it impossible not to be affected with them. But by persuading herself of this truth, she found her heart unquiet, and did nothing but sigh all the night long. She saw not the consequence of it, or at least would not see it. She who had the haughtiness and height of Spirit to despise and reject the addresses of a Crowned Head, could not fancy her self capable of the weakness to make account of a poor Shepherd. She had indeed pitied his tears, but she thought that was all.  
The King the hottest Lover in the World, being never at ease but when Dorothy was in sight, yet unwilling notice should be taken of his violent inclinations for her, gave order for some days all the Divertisements of the Court should be in the Marchioness' Apartment, where very few had entrance; and of those few who were admitted, poor Antonine could never make one, though he endeavoured to get in all the ways in his power. This troubled him the more, as having not been able to rest day or night since his last discourse with the Marchioness, nor ever likely to be at ease, till he could speak with his Mistress.  
The Marchioness who would have been very glad to see him, admiring he was not come to her for many days, knew not what to think on't. She spied him one morning walking under her windows, and having made signs to him to come up presently, gave order to an old Housekeeper, her Confident, to let him into her Chamber as privately as possible. Antonine, says the Marchioness, methinks of a Lover so passionate as you, y'are soon comforted for the loss of your Mistress. I cannot yet think her altogether lost, Madam, answers he, nor guests at the reason they were so cruel to deny me the favour of seeing her. You must look you out another Mistress, Antonine, says the Lady, and such a Shepherd as you are may have your choice. Look out another, Madam, replies Antonine, with a tone that sufficiently evidenced his grief and surprise, she must be first false to me, and I very clearly convinced of it: Besides, I know not whe●●●● after all I should not rather choose ceasing to live than to love her. But, Madam, adds he like a Man in affright, is it from her you give me this advice; and has she no more mind to me? I do not say so, answers the Lady, I believe Dorothy loves you: But 'twere better for you to think of another in time, and I tell it you as a Friend. As long as Dorothy loves me, replies the Shepherd, 'twill be impossible for me to change. And did you but know what 'tis for a Lover like me to quit his Mistress, you are too generous, Madam, to advise me to't: But if Dorothy, adds he in a very pressing and curious manner, be not false to me, why should I quit her, Madam, unless you take it ill I should make love to her in your Family. No, Antonine, answers the Lady, you are too expert and disscreet a Lover to be found fault with for making Love: I will give you no trouble in't. But—  
She stopped there. Ah! Madam, says the Shepherd, seeing her make a stop, what torment have you put me to for three or four days, that you have left me in doubt whom I am to fear! The Marchioness bid him come again at nine a clock at night, when the King went to Council, and she would let him see Dorothy, who would tell him what she was loath to let him know, being very unwilling to be the first should give him so ill news.  
Antonine content with this hope, though racked with suspicion, returned home to wait with impatience the hour was assigned him.  
The Marchioness was more charmed than ever with the merit of the Shepherd. She found in him the Character of so tender and passionate a Lover, she confessed no heart could be so insensible not to be affected with him. And for her part, her haughtiness in slighting Love, must own an abligation to the Court for producing no Lovers, but what were corrupt: And she doubted now and then, whether it were not pardonable in a Lady of her Quality and Honour, to love a Shepherd as Antonine. These doubts and Reflections were so strong and so piercing, her heart which at first felt only the point of them, found itself at length very deeply wounded: But she would not yet complain of it, because the wound, though dnagerous, had something of pleasure in't which charmed away the pain. In these virtuous Souls so little accustomed to love 〈…〉 touch proves an incurable 〈◊〉 they rely upon their haughtiness and their Greatness of Spirit, which often abuses them, & is sometimes the instrument which betrays them to Love. The fair Marchioness full of her New Ideas, was drowned in an Amorous amusement from morning till night, when the King entered her Chamber with Dorothy by the hand, and prayed her she would for a little while take his little Mistress into her care, and he would presently return. The Lady's thoughts were at that time so distracted, she heard not a word the King said, and knew not what to answer him. He was not well pleased with it; and discovering a coldness and melancholy in her countenance, he would have asked her the reason; but was hastened into the Council by business of extraordinary importance. Dorothy remained with the Marchioness, who taking an exacter view of her than formerly, thought her handsomer than ever; or that she appeared so at least to her who already began to be jealous. She asked her if she had not a desire to see Antonine: to which Dorothy having answered with a blush, 'twas long since she saw him, and she would be very glad to see him. Now, the Lady replied, she should see him that evening, but the King must not know it: she had hardly done speaking, but Alice the Housekeeper came in to let her know Antonine was at the door. The Marchioness bid Dorothy go into the Closet, to surprise him the more. She was willing to have the pleasure of seeing him a moment in private, and make him sensible the obligation he had to her for the goodness she expressed towards him. And it was no small favour for a Lady, who in point of honour had refused to intermeddle with the Amours of a King, to make herself the Confident of a Shepherd and a Gardener's Daughter. So much do we differ from ourselves as occasions moves us, so easy a matter is it to dispense with scruples our passion are inclined to remove.  
You are very punctual, Antonine, says she, as he came in, and if I mistake not, are come a little sooner than I appointed you. Time seems long to those in Love, Madam, answers he; and they are so fearful of coming too late to see their Mistresses, they are always the first at the place of Rendez-vous. I have promised you, says the Lady, to let you see your Mistress this evening, but do you know what a hazard I run, & what trouble I shall create myself, if this should be known? Get you into that Closet for fear of being seen; and if Dorothy comes to you, think very much your Friend. Antonine, not to lose moments so precious, expressed more by actions than words how sensible he was of the favours she did him; and opening the Closet-door was extremely surprised at the sight of the fair Dorothy dressed all over with Jewels. The young Lover ravished with joy, run presently to him. But he received her with that coldness and sadness, her heart was almost freeze with fear: And she forbore her caresses to quarrel him for expressing no more joy at the sight of her after so tedious an absence. He sighed and made no other answer: Dorothy more troubled than before, asked him as one affrighted, what the matter was he used her so: The Shepherd was unwilling to be the first should reproach her for what she perhaps did not yet know; and and he had need enough to be better informed of, not to accuse her without cause. He asked her first, whence she had all those Jewels he saw about her. Dorothy answered the King had given them her, and very ingenuously told him all the Visits and fine promises he had made her, and in a word all that past since her coming to the Marchioness. Antonine heard her out without saying a word, then turning another way in a mortal affliction, he lift up his eyes and hands to Heaven without further explaining himself. But Dorothy frighted at the action, prayed him so earnestly, adding so many caresses and tears to her prayers, that the Shepherd could no longer deny her the explication she begged of him, who was sufficiently concerned without her entreaty to ease his heart a little by speaking his mind. Dorothy, says he, the King is in love with you. Well, I know it, answers she, but if he loves me, he loves you too; and what harm in that? What harm, replies the dejected Antonine with a deep sigh; None, but that I shall never see you more, but die with despair. And why should you die, says she, alarmed at these words; and why see me no more, when the King who loves you, takes so much pleasure to see us together. Yes, replies Antonine, do not you see that these three or four days I am not allowed the liberty to enter this Apartment? But 'tis over, I am undone, and you are to expect no more of me but my death. Poor Dorothy oppressed with grief at this Discourse, gave free course to her tears, and embracing him tenderly, asked him what reason he had to wish for death, since she loved him above her Life. What am I the better for your Love, answers the Shepherd, when my Rival is possessed of you all day, and courts you, and is a King and can do what he pleases. Ah! how unfortunate am I! Never fear the King, says the innocent Dorothy, for he hath promised me he will never do any thing to displease me. Antonine asked her, on what account he made her that promise; she told him, it was upon occasion of some little Favours he would have obtained of her. A cruel explication for one so deeply in Love! He looked upon her with a languishing Eye, and dying away for fear of hearing more than he desired to know, he fell into a mournful and sad silence; he was just expiring for grief, when on the sudden he heard the King's voice in the Marchionesses Chamber. Nothing could have happened more effectual to fetch him again, than the approach of his Rival, jealousy being the passion that best quickens and most heightens the courage of a Lover.  
This Prince was under an Amorous impatience too strong to permit him to stay long in the Council: Affairs of State, and of Love never agree well, not that they are incompatible, or that a Great Genius is incapable to bear at once the burden of both. But this is very rare, and 'tis commonly seen he that acquits himself well of the one, is a little negligent of the other. This Prince having very able Ministers, relied on them for the conduct of the State, that he might entirely apply himself to his affairs of Love. He was much addicted to that passion, and more sensible of the Pleasure that attended it, than ambitious of the Glory of good Government: while they treated in his Closet of the most important affairs of his Crown, his mind was in the Marchionesses Chamber, where he had left his Heart with his Mistress; but he was not a little surprised not to find her there at his return. He asked the Lady what was become of her, she answered very coldly she knew not. I thought, Madam, answers the King, having left her to your Care a few minutes, I might have had a better account from you. I desired it of you, 'tis an innocent Creature, and knows not how to behave herself; you might without wrong to yourself have instructed her a little, and told her she was to wait my coming. But I perceive what the matter is— I did not think, Sir, replies the Lady, that in leaving with me a Gardiner's Daughter, you desired I should be her Governess. No indeed, says the King, but if you should be her Governess, think you that to be employed so on my account could be a dishonour to you. Ah Sir! answers she, with an affected smile, I come of a Blood— And you might have come (says the King, interrupting her angrily) of the best Blood of Castille, and have esteemed it an Honour, to serve a King as I am in any manner whateever. With that he went out very little satisfied with the proceed of the Marchioness, and sent for Don Austin to make his complaints to him. Antonin and Dorothy were in very great perplexity having heard part of the discourse, but the Shepherd was the more troubled of the two. The Lady bid Dorothy come into the Chamber, that if the King came back again, as she feared he would, he might find her there. As for Antonin she thought it not convenient to let him come out for fear of being seen, and perhaps met by the King who was not far off: the mean time she fell to instructing Dorothy what to say to the King, if he should question her for the little Eclipse she had been under: but she was forced to cut off her Lesson short, for the Amorous Prince impatiently desirous to know if she were returned, came presently back and entered the Chamber with anger in his Face and much discomposed, but at the sight of Dorothy his Choler vanished, and he recovered his good humour.  
The Marchioness would have helped Dorothy to make her excuse, and at the same time make her own peace with the King: But he could not hear her, but said he was satisfied; but entreated her to lend him her Closet, to pass a few minutes with Dorothy there. This put the Lady into an extraordinary perplexity, with all her coldness and indifferency she could not forbear blushing; she knew not on what pretence to deny him; the key was in the door, and she was ruined if the King found Antonin in the Closet. Poor Dorothy was no less disordered, and though she thought she had no cause of being in fear for her Shepherd; yet she could not rid herself of the fear that follows things done in private. Had the King taken notice of her looks, they had all been undone. She had not then learned the Art of concealing or commanding her passion: but by good fortune the King's Eyes were fixed on the Marchioness, who assisted with the readiness of Wit, which never fails an able Woman at need, entreated him to stay a moment till she had put the Closet in a condition to receive them, every thing being out of order there. The King though in never so great haste (believing Ladies Closets are often full of several things that belong to their dresses, and they are very willing Men should not see, and that this was the cause of her blushing) gave her leave to put it in order. She went into the Closet, and not well knowing where to hid the poor Shepherd, she put him under a bed of Repose, where he lay cooped up in a very narrow room. This done she came out to make way for the King, who entered with Dorothy and made her sit with him on the same Bed. Well Dorothy, says the King, you will never love me. The poor Girl who knew not what was become of Antonine, surprised to miss him in the Closet, looked all about, sometimes this, sometimes that way, without answering the King, who continued his discourse; I may tell you I sigh and die for love of you, you can give me the hearing without pitying my sufferings for you. Dorothy heard not a word he said, 'twas kindness thrown away; she was troubled for her Shepherd, and her sense as well as mind was wholly taken up with thinking what was become of him. The King thinking 'twas the Ornaments, the guilding and rarities of the Closet amused her, took her by the hand to make her look towards him; Look upon me, and answer what I ask you, you little Baggage, will you never love me? Yes, Sir, says she, if you will promise me not to send away Antonine from Aranjuez. And who told you, replies the King, I design to send him away— No, Sir, says she, I was not told so, but I know not why they will not let me see him, and I am afraid if I love you, you would not have me love him too: And if I allow you to love him, answers the King, will you love me in good earnest, or at least as well as your Shepherd? Dorothy made him no answer, not knowing how to resolve that point without having Antonine's advice in that case. The King fell laughing, and pressing her farther, Is it possible, says he, you should think it so hard a matter to allow a King a share with the Shepherd in your heart. Any other but you would have quickly ended the difference, and no other but myself would be content with what I ask. You are not just, Dorothy, you demand of me what I ought not to grant you, and you make a business and a difficulty to grant me what cannot but be for your Glory. You are afraid I should send away Antonine, you complain you cannot see him; you would, if you love me, have me allow you to love him too: these are strange conditions. And yet if I ask you whether you will love me as much as him, you will not answer me. What are you afraid of? I would not have you consider me as your King: among Lover's matters should be equal at least. Let's come to Articles, Dorothy, adds he smiling, and if I grant you yours, you must not refuse to sign mine. Antonine shall stay at Aranjuez, you shall see him and love him: This is for you. Now for my part, you must love me as well as him, and do me the same favours you do him, and if in time you find my care and my passion for you greater than the duties he pays you, without bringing my Character or your duty to me into account, you will be content to be entirely mine.  
This Prince, who was infinitely witty, would not make use of a Court-gallantry to gain the affection of an innocent Countrey-Girl. He was above it, and made use only of plain native simplicity, so much the more delicate as it suited her capacity and wrought more effectually on her. The truth is, it shook her. So that the Monarch to take th'advantage of the agreement, began with kisses which she could not refuse him after the promises he had made her in favour of Antonine: But the Shepherd scarce heard the smack of 'em, but all in a rage he pinched her by the Leg. This so frighted the poor Girl, that she skricked, which astonished the King. He asked her what the matter was; she told him something had bit her. By good luck for Antonine, there stood between the King and Dorothy a little Bitch of the Marchioness' which came with them into the Closet; the King thought her guilty of the assault, and with great animosity drove her out of the Closet. But Dorothy, having had time to recover herself a little from the fear she had been in, judged her hurt came by the hand of a Man, rather than the teeth of the little Bitch: And reflecting immediately on Antonine, she made no doubt but 'twas he, and that he lay hid under the Bed of Repose. The King having assured her she need not fear being bit any more, would have been at his former sport; but Dorothy would not agree to it, having understood by her Shepherd's action what she had already done had not pleased him. The Prince pressed her, and asked why she would be so cruel; but all was lost labour, she would not be brought to't for fear Antonine should by't her the second time. You know our Agreement, Dorothy, says the King seeing her obstinacy, I shall not be obliged to keep my promise with you if you refuse what I demand of you. You must love me as well as you do Antonine, and express the same complaisance for me as for him, if you have a mind I should allow him a a sight of you, and not send him away from Aranjuez. Dorothy much troubled at these threats, knew not what to answer. In the mean time she granted nothing, but defended herself still against the King's importunity, who thinking her lightness an effect of her humour, and attributing to it her refusing him so obstinately what she had granted at first without any difficulty, he easily flattered himself with hopes to obtain it another time, and without pressing her further that evening, retired.  
Antonine no sooner saw him gone, but he crept out of his prison, grievously tired with staying so long there. Dorothy, to make him amends was liberal of her caresses, but found him not so well pleased with her as to return them: His heart smarted still with the sound of the kisses the King had received of her, or at least given her, which made Antonine requite her caresses with reproaches. The Marchioness came in presently, and observed a little coldness between the two Lovers, which she took no great care to remove. And Don Austin coming in from the King, there was a necessity of parting.  
The fair Ladies went out of the Closet, where they locked in Antonine, and the Marchioness went to Dorothy's Chamber not far from her own; and having resolved to stay there till the Marquis were a-bed, that she might return to Antonine, she made Dorothy relate all that past in the Closet.  
The Shepherd waited with impatience enough to know what they would do with him. He could have been content to pass that night in the Closet, in hopes of an opportunity to see Dorothy in the morning, having not yet told her half what he had to say to her, being just upon losing her, not by any falseness of hers, which he knew her incapable of, but through her innocence which madded him. He had a thousand reflections on what had past that evening, and the conjectures he drew from them were very displeasing: when on the sudden the Marchioness, opening the door softly, entered smiling, and having shut it after her, Well Antonine, says she, with a low voice, you are my Prisoner. 'Tis true, Madam, answers he, I am so, and 'tis no small honour for a Shepherd to have so fair a Lady (as you are) to his Gaoler. This Answer was a little too Gallant for a Lover, who should have then been full of trouble and care, but he thought himself obliged to some sweetness and complaisance, towards a Lady who had been so much his Friend. You are condemned to stay here all Night, says the Lady. I shall not complain of my sentence, Madam, replies the Shepherd, and would to God it were all the ill I am like to suffer here. The Lady presently understood he reflected on the King, but having a design to turn the discourse another way, she made as if she had not apprehended him; there shall not ill befall you here, says she, unless the Marquis chance to awake, and have the curiosity to come and see what I do thus late in this Closet. What would he say to find you alone with me here at this hour, and what would you do, if you had not time to hid yourself? I know not in truth, Madam, says Antonine laughing, what I should do, but what could he suspect of a poor Shepherd? Do you think because you are but a Shepherd, answers she, a Husband could rest satisfied? The Marquis, Madam, answers Antonine, is too well assured of your Virtue, to have any cause to fear the most presumptuous attempts. The most severe Virtue, replies the Marchioness, may be liable to suspicion (with Men less jealous, and less interested than the Marquis) when exposed to a Shepherd, so handsome as you; and really my Judge must be very indulgent and favourable, who knowing you have been alone with me at this hour locked up in my Closet, and my Husband asleep, will do me Justice, and think no more of the business. I must confess I expose myself a little, but I am usually gained by merit, and find so much in you, I do not repent it. Antonine failed not to answer this excess of Goodness, in the most acknowledging, and most obliging expressions. He thought it a great happiness to have gained the esteem of such a Lady. Yet could not this ease him of his sufferings on Dorothie's account, though his pain was somewhat abated by the hopes he had this Lady would pity him, and espouse his interest.  
The Night was far gone, and the Marchioness, who had more than one reason to undress and go to Bed, told Antonine, she had for love of him sent back her Maids to their Chambers, and that for once he must be her Chambermaid. Antonine undertook the Office with a great deal of joy, and did it with so much neatness and Gallantry, that of all she had seen him do, the Lady most admired him for this. Being but a Shepherd, and a Shepherd that pleased her, she was not very shy of him, nor observed the measures she would have done with a Man of another Character. The time, place, and employment she gave him, permitted her not to keep the distance and privacy usual in those cases: And these secret affairs, though innocent, inspire a Liberty into those employed, they believe they are allowed to do any thing. The Marchioness laughed, and so did Antonine; she permitted herself to be undressed, just as he pleased, giving him occasion to press very far, had he had the courage: But he was young, and knew not how to use the complaisance she had for him. He had put her at last into a condition to want her Nightgown; and if the Beauties he saw did not charm him, they at least diverted him, and made him forget for some moments the troubles of that Evening. The Marchioness, though brown, had an excellent Complexion, and a Neck made to inspire Treason into the admirers of other Beauties; Qualities the more esteemed in Spain for their Rarity. Her Eyes were beautiful, and black, but so quick and piercing, you could scarce endure to look steadfastly on them. Her Mouth, her Nose, her Teeth, and the rest of her Face had not the least blemish: Her Height, her Air, her Mien, were answerable, and it was not without reason the King had been in love with her, being unquestionably the handsomest Lady in the Kingdom. She looked from time to time upon Antonine, to observe in his Countenance what effect the sight of some Beauties not ordinary wrought in him; and seeing him one time very busy, she put him back, whether out of anger or shame, I know not, and resuming her serious Mien; I cannot tell, says she, what people would judge of me, if it should be known at Court, I had allowed you this liberty, I were utterly undone. Be sure you let Dorothy know nothing of it, for she is an innocent Girl, and will be presently jealous perhaps, and then tell it the King. Antonine answered her, Discretion was a virtue not altogether unknown to Shepherds: I believe it, says she, especially to such Shepherds as you, who are not born to be unhappy: After this, she bid him adieu, and having locked him up in the Closet, she went to bed where she did nothing all night but dream of him, and sigh. She called to mind all he had said, and all she had seen him do that Evening, and found not his Discourse only, but the least of his Actions were so unlike those of the Character he bore, she could not possibly believe him a Shepherd. Her heart at least too proud to stoop so low, endeavoured to make her believe him a young Gentleman of Quality, who had disguised himself for love of Dorothy. Happy Maid, says she, sighing, how few Women in the World but would be jealous of thy good Fortune, to have the affection of a Lover, the most tender, and most deserving on Earth! Never was Love more gallant and passionate; never were sentiments more elevated and noble than his. Who can but be affected with them? what Virtue can withstand so many Charms? These were her thoughts, of which she was so full, the Idea of Antonine, entirely took up all her reflection, that she minded not her sighs which she gave free vent to, with such violence that they awaked the Marquis; who ask her what she ailed, she was so surprised she knew not what to say, but that she was not very well. Don Austin, who was fond of her beyond measure, and knew her subject to vapours, imagined that hindered her rest, and would have gone to the Closet for a Viol of Essence, very good for that Distemper: but the Marchioness told him that was not the thing that troubled her. But Don Austin would not be persuaded from rising to fetch the Essence, believing his Lady, to save him trouble, would not own her Distemper. This put the Marchioness to her shifts, so that to stay him, she told him, 'twas only a Dream had frighted her, and kept her from sleeping, and that nothing else troubled her. The Marquis having acquainted her there was no notice to be taken of Dreams, being an effect only of a wand'ring imagination, of which no account is to be made, asked her, what she dreamt. She seemed very loath to tell him; but being very much pressed by the Marquis, who said he would ease her of the conceit of it; to satisfy him, she had presently this dream. (For before she had dreamt of nothing but Antonine:) Alas! Sir, says she, with a deep sigh, I thought I was with Child, and brought to Bed of an Infant so big and so monstrous, I died for very grief. With that I awaked, much troubled to know what ill this dream signified; and having prayed Heaven to be merciful to me, I made a Vow not to lie with you for nine days. Don Austin, to comfort her, made the most favourable interpretation he could imagine of the dream, running over all he knew in Story, Sacred and Profane, of the dreams of Daniel, King Ahasuerus, and many others he told her of, to let her see 'twas good to dream of being delivered of an extraordinary Child: But like a good Man he was willing she should perform her Vow, and to have it over the sooner, promised she should begin that very day.  
Any Man but the Marquis would have nullifyed the Vow as against the laws of Matrimony, or at least, suspected it feigned to colour some Amorous treason; but he who was firmly persuaded of the Virtue and Piety of his Wife as an Article of Faith, would have been very scrupulous to entertain the least doubt of the sincerity of her intentions. 'Twas time for him to get up if he meant to wait upon the King at his rising: And as he was dressing, he discoursed his Wife all the while about the vanity of dreams, that she might be undeceived, and make no more such Vows. He gave not over talking till he went out of the Chamber, and had so tired his Lady with the discourse, she wished from her heart she had never spoken to him of a dream. And she was not a little glad to be rid of him. He was no sooner gone, but she took her Nightgown, and slips softly into the Closet where she found Antonine asleep on the Bed of Repose. She would not awake him, that she might view him at more leisure. And sitting on a stool by him, there was not a feature in his Face but she examined narrowly, and Love at the same time imprinted it in her heart. She fancied a thousand things of his Person, imagining sometimes this, sometimes that; and out of love or curiosity did so long to be satisfied, that nothing but the fear of awaking him could have kept her back. At last, between struggling with, and yielding to motions more prevalent than all her considerations of Honour and Decency, she adventured (not without blushing) to kiss him. The Happy Shepherd awaked at it, was surprised at the sight of her, much more at the favour she had done him. You load me with favours, Madam, says he half asleep. If you knew, answers she, leaning upon him in a very languishing manner, all the kindness I have for you! but do not abuse it: For you see, adds she, opening her Nightgown, to let him see she had no more on, with what complaisance and familiarity I use you. You see me just as I came out of Bed, and if you are not discreet, 'tis the last time you shall see me so.  
The troubled Antonine made a sorry return for so Charming Overtures; he put on a very serious face, and full of respect, like a right Countrey-Shepherd. The Marchioness was that day handsomer than ever he had seen her. Antonine wanted neither Eyes not Wit, but he was young and and played the Innocent. So much Favour on the sudden having peradventure confounded him. But by little and little, he began to be familiar, and the Marchioness who was almost out of conceit with him, began to have some hopes of him: but the Housekeeper interrupted very unseasonably, and hindered the consequence of the pleasant Conversation, by coming to tell her Lady, that Dorothy in great haste and earnestness desired to see her. The Marchioness gave her small thanks for her pains, letting her see by her looks how unpleasing her message was. But there was no remedy; she must give place to her Rival: And turning towards Antonine, she asked him, if he would be glad to see Dorothy: Antonine had the civility not to appear very desirous of it, though he longed for nothing more. But the Marchioness who needed no instruction, seeing his Civility, and satisfied with his indifference, (though but affected) to make him sensible what complaisance she had for him, bid the Housekeeper let Dorothy in. Antonine prayed her to stay and hear their discourse: The Marchioness looked upon him, and with a malicious smile, I know, says she, you desire nothing less than what you ask; and if I had a mind to punish you, I would stay; but be not afraid on't, 'tis not my design. And I am more concerned for your Amours than to take pleasure in being an Eye-witness of your caresses to another. With that she went out of the Closet, and got her to Bed again. The Housekeeper let in Dorothy into the Marchioness' Chamber, where having paid her devoirs and desired leave to go into her Closet, she went to her Antonine. The Shepherd received her with a more pleasing air than the night afore: the anger of Lovers is very short-lived; but the truth is, the Favours of the Marchioness had not a little contributed to put him in good humour. In the mean time the Marchioness had a sad part to act, and had dearly paid with sighs and vexation for the imperfect pleasure of that morning, had not the King, who was in search of Dorothy, sent in the Duenna to know if she were with the Marchioness. She could not have wished a better pretence for parting the two Lovers. And not to lose the advantage of it, would have presently sent Dorothy back into her own Chamber to keep the King there; but he came in, telling her (upon the news he had from Don Austin she had had an ill night on't) he thought nothing but Love could have broken ones sleep, but since it happened the most insensible Persons could not rest, it was some comfort to him for the many ill nights that Passion had caused him. The Marchioness, who wanted neither Gallantry nor Wit, returned him an answer suitable to the subject. But the King thinking she needed rest, told her, he would not add a new disturbance to that she had been afflicted with; and taking Dorothy by the hand, led her into her Chamber. The Marchioness happily delivered at once of two Persons who troubled her more than all the World besides, run strait into the Closet to bring her dear Shepherd the news; but he was no less grieved at it, than she was joyful. It was not in his power quite to conceal from her the rage he was in for jealousy of the King. He spoke with some heat of the Amorous persecution that Prince afflicted a young Maid with; insomuch that he let fall a word, That it was the part of a Tyrant rather than a Just Monarch, to force one to love him. The Marchioness did but laugh and railly at him to be so passionate. But taking notice of those last words, and the action he expressed them with, she discovered a boldness and hardiness in his countenance, which did but too clearly evidence the Greatness of his Soul. 'Twas not the first time she had suspected him to be of quite another Quality, than what he pretended to, her passion and opinion of Honour, having persuaded her he was not of ordinary Birth. But in the transport he was in on that occasion, there flashed out such a fire out of his Eyes, which with the liberty he took in speaking of the King, appeared so extraordinary, that she begun thenceforwards to use him as she believed he deserved. And after she had for some moments fixed her Eyes on him, Sir, says she, for I cannot call you Antonine any longer; I am your Friend, and you cannot doubt it: If the freedom I use with you deserve any confidence from you, deny me not a request I am making to you. Let me know the truth of a thing you can no longer conceal from me. This Shepherd's Habit you are in, suit better with your love to Dorothy than your Birth: you have not sufficiently disguised yourself from me, or rather I have too long, and too studiously observed you, not to see your actions, and your words, the Air and Grace of your Person, belie the habir you have taken: Had you confined yourself to playing on the Flute, and keeping Sheep, you might have passed for a Shepherd; but when you meddle with oaths things you are discovered with half an eye. Hid yourself no longer from me, who trust myself with you. I confess, I am much concerned in it, and this makes me so curious: If you fear only my revealing the secret, assure yourself, I will keep it as religiously as you could desire from the best Friend you have in the World, for I am certainly she.  
Antonine, who was a little disordered at the Ladies first words, having by this time recovered himself, fell laughing, and told her it was her excess of goodness made her use him better than he deserved, that he was no more than the Son of a poor Shepherd near Toledo. And that if there were any thing in him extraordinary beyond those of his condition, he was beholding for it to Nature, not Birth. All this could not persuade the Lady from the opinion she had of his Quality; but she told him that she would, if he desired it, still call him Antonine, and use him in public like a Shepherd; but as for her particular, she very well knew the difference she was to make; And that he might have already concluded from the freedom she had used with him, she had not been long deceived. Antonine made but a weak defence, telling her at last, she might rest assured, if there were any thing in his Life that deserved confidence, she should be the first that he would impart it to. The Marchioness understanding what it meant, pressed him no further: And Dinnertime being come, she sent for it into her Chamber, as being indisposed, that she might have the pleasure of seeing Antonine dine with her. The Duenna told them, the King did as much with Dorothy, having dined in his Chamber, to have her Company the whole day.  
The Marchioness was ravished at the News, and Antonine began to be less troubled at it. Not but that his passion for Dorothy was still very great, but that the thoughts he then had of the King, had filled him with rage and vexation, that he was glad of the opportunity he had to be revenged of Dorothy, or at least to be even with her. He saw her Innocence could not long hold out against the love of that Prince; and he was so mad at her for it, he began to form a design to abandon her quite. But how unjust are Lovers in these cases? What could a poor innocent Girl do, that had in a manner not seen the World above three days, who knew nothing of Love, but what he had taught her, nor could distinguish what did, from what did not belong to a Lover; but believed, that, except one thing, all was free for the King, as for Antonine; what could she do? Besides, she was to deal with a King, who was a great Master of the Art of Love, and infinitely witty: which with the advantages of Majesty might have prevailed with a Maid more experienced, and more difficult, than Dorothy to be gained.  
In that unquiet condition the Shepherd's Heart had reason to be in, 'twas no small comfort to have the kindness of a fair Lady, as the Marchioness, to qualify his misfortunes: she was a charming Woman, excellently skilled in the Art of pleasing, and forgot nothing that might tempt him to a desertion; sighs, kindnesses, languishing looks, tenderness, obliging actions, all the most pleasant poisons of Love were made use of, and to very good purpose. Here was cause enough of fear for Dorothy, had not her good fortune delivered her from the King; and 'tis uncertain what would become of her, had she stayed a moment longer out of the Marchionesses Chamber. Such power hath a fair Lady in Love over Hearts, however engaged or indifferent: That Women how deeply soever in Love with another, can resist the Engines and Artifices Love inspires her to make use of.  
The Duenna had acquainted them with Dorothie's coming, that they had time enough to put themselves in order, though any other but Dor. might have however found cause enough of suspicion in the very eyes of the Marchioness: But Dorothy was innocent, and had too good an opinion of her Shepherd, to whom without his ask her, she presently gave account of all that past in the extraordinary visit His Majesty had made her. She was so ingenuous not to conceal from him the favours she was forced to grant him, having terribly threatened to ruin him, and send him away where she should never see him, if she were not as complaisant to him as to Antonine. The Shepherd from time to time shruged his Shoulders as she talked, and when she had done, asked if this were her faithfulness to him. Dorothy who thought she had done nothing against the duty of one in Love, in complying a little to divert the strange menaces the King used, would have justified her conduct with reasons, which quite drove poor Antonine to despair. That is, interrupts he, had the King put it to your choice to have me banished your sight, or comply with his passion; you would have preferred the shame of yielding yourself up to him, to the displeasure of my absence. What would you have had me have done, replies she, with some tears to see him speak as he did. The Marchioness was present at this Comedy, and had all the divertisement of it. Antonine and Dorothy continued long in dispute, without her taking either party. But the King coming so suddenly, that the Duenn● had scarcely time to tell her Lady, he was like to have surprised them all three. He went into the Closet, and having complemented the Marchioness, sat him down on the bed there, and she went out, leaving him and Dorothy together, who resolved to repair her fault: for let the King beg, threaten, fret himself never so much; say, do what he please, she would not so much as let him kiss her hand, which put him almost beside himself; and made Antonine glad at heart. Well done Dorothy, thinks he, this is brave, thou revengest me to purpose for the torment he hath put me to.  
The King finding Dorothies' humour so strangely altered, since he parted with her, being not above an hour or two; imputed it to some ridiculous counsels the Marchioness, with whom he found her, might have given her in some unseasonable Principles and Precepts of Virtue. He turned all his anger that way, and as he went out of the Chamber he made it sufficiently appear to the Lady, he was not well satisfied with the good offices she had done him: He passed by her without saying a word, quite contrary to the obliging carriage he always used towards her. The Marchioness was extremely surprised at it, and applying her fear to that she was most careful of, she fancied the King had discovered Antonine in the Closet, which made him look so angry: she ran straight to Dorothy to know the News, and perceived by the Relation, her rigours had put him out of humour. This was presently confirmed by Don Austin, who came in shortly after to tell her, the King had complained bitterly of her, for the ill instructions she had given Dorothy: And that if she took not heed, she would ruin him. Time was, when a complaint of this Nature would have been very offensive, but it was in the days of Yore; she had now changed her humour, and was become more tractable. She easily defended herself against the King's Charge, and expressed that zeal for the concerns of his passion, that she told Don Austin he might assure his Majesty, it should be no fault of hers, if he were not successful. There was reason enough for it, she did her own business by it: and had the King known how far she was engaged on his part, and concerned to promote his interests, he would never have suspected her of the injury he charged her with. Don Austin went directly to bring the King the News, and the Marchioness stepped immediately into the Closet, to laugh with Antonine, who could not hearty thank her for making a party against him, yet, knowing the reason of it, he could not be much displeased.  
The Marquis came the second time to tell his Wife, the King was well satisfied with the expressions of her good will; and prayed her if she would not do him service, which he would not adventure to desire of her, yet that she would not make a Confederate against him. She not only promised this, but added, that upon all occasions the King should find her for him, and that she would never speak to Dorothy but for his advantage. Persons of her Character, where they allow themselves liberty, become more indulgent to others in like cases. Don Austin was the first that gave her thanks, being so well pleased with her that Evening, that had it not been for her Vow, he would have done somewhat extraordinary that night, to let her know how much she had obliged him, in espousing the interest of a Monarch, whom next her, he loved the best of any living, this was excellent divertisement for the Marchioness: At last the visit and conversation of the too grateful Marquis, was so long, she began to be a weary of him, and very willing to be rid of him. His stay was no less troublesome to Dorothy, who having left the Closet when the Marchioness came forth, wished him gone presently that she might return. But the Marquis having been so taken up all day with State-affairs, that he had not time to pay his Lady the duties of a kind Husband, thought himself that day more than ever obliged to keep her company in the Evening, after the complaisance she had expressed in what concerned the King. The Marchioness and Dor. risen from their Seats, they walked about, they held their peace, but all to no purpose, he stirred not till it was time for his Wife to go to bed, and he would not leave her till he saw her a-Bed, and past some kind compliments to comfort her against the rigour of her Vow, praying her particularly never to make the like again. Dorothy was forced to retire and go to Bed, though much troubled, and angry, she could not see Antonine. But he was reserved for the Marchioness, who had no sooner lodged her Husband safe, and commanded the Duenna to make all the doors fast, but she got up, and told her dear Antonine, hemight come out of the Closet, the coast was all clear, and they had the whole Chamber for themselves. Yes, Madam, answers the Shepherd, but if the Marquis should come on the sudden, and I not have time to hid myself, what would he think? Alas! nothing, says she, what should he fear from a Shepherd, so discreet and so honest? I know not, replies Antonine, laughing; but what you told me yesterday, (it would be very hard not to suspect something, if any found me, (as very a Shepherd as I am) locked up with you at this time of night) made such impression upon me, that I begin in good earnest to be afraid. Fear nothing, says she, laughing also, I am a good virtuous Lady, and Don Austin believes me so, and the pity I have to see you so ill lodged in the Closet, makes me willing to give you half of my Bed if you dare lie there, I mean upon the Bed, for it would not be handsome for a Shepherd as you are, or a Lady as I am, it should be any otherwise. And to let you know what a Favour I do you, I can tell you 'tis more than the King in the height of his passion could ever obtain from me. It was doubtless, Madam, says Antonine, because you were afraid he would not use the Favour discreetly enough, and are well assured of the respect I bear you. 'Tis rather, says she, playing with him, that I loved not the King, that he had not the Art to please me, and that Antonine— She stopped there. Antonine, Madam, answers he, is happier than all the Kings upon Earth, in that he hath gained the Favour of so fair a Lady as the Marchioness De las Torillas: He hath nothing more to wish for but a Heart to offer and dedicate wholly to her. But alas! I have it not. Ah! Cruel, says she, interrupting him, why do you mind me of it? why speak you of a thing I do all I can to forget? Permit me to fancy, adds she, with tender and languishing looks, that you neither love nor will love any but me: And if it be not altogether true, yet allow me to say so, and deceive myself, which in this I am very willing to do.  
I know not what this happy Shepherd thought then, but I believe him in some perplexity. He was forced in honour to answer civilly so much kindness and tenderness! the Lady was the most obliging, as well as the most Beautiful of the Court; and had such a winning way with her, a Man must be very ill-natured to deny any thing she desired: It is easy to guests how two Persons so well agreed, spent the rest of the Night. You may presume Antonine strained a point, and committed a little treason against his allegiance to Dorothy. And if the Fidelity of any Lover be proof against such a temptation, it deserves to be Chronicled.  
The King had not so good a night as Antonine, fretting and vexation fell to his Majesties let, and having not slept till towards morning, he lay a-bed longer than ordinary. Dorothy would fain have made use of that time to see Antonine, but the Duenna had her Lesson; and told her, That her Lady had been ill all night, and must not be disturbed. Dorothy replied, she would make no noise, and only go into the Closet. She might have as well held her peace. The Duenna found reasons enough to deny her, till the King came to talk with her; and soon after the Marquis, who sent in the Duenna to see if his Wife were asleep; she brought him word, her Lady was newly awake; and he entered the Chamber, and told her, she must needs rise, and go to Belviso, where the King dined that day: The Marchioness excused herself, pretending she was indisposed. But the Good Man her worthy Spouse told her, if she would but endeavour to go so far, being but a walk, where the Air and Divertisement would certainly recover her, she would very much oblige the King, who would not go without her, and scarce believe she was ill, having that morning a complexion more fresh and more beautiful than ever. The Marchioness could not forbear laughing to see how Don Austin cajoled her. And finding  she did she was not to expect being at liberty that afternoon, she chose rather to please the King, and avoid the occasion of giving perhaps some umbrage, by pretending an indisposition, which by her Husband's report she could not sufficiently feign. She took her time to give Antonine notice of this Walk, and acquaint him what a trouble it was to her to leave him, putting it to his choice to stay there or go along. Antonine told her, he must needs get forth, and appear at his Lodging, where Dorot. Parents were doubtless much concerned what was become of him, having not lain there these two nights. The Marchioness wished him to come again at night, and she would give the Duenna orders, so that he should need only to apply himself to her for entrance.  
Belviso is a House of Pleasure within two miles of Aranjuez, the most agreeable and charming in all Spain. 'Tis a little enchanted Castle in the middle of a Lake, at the point of a Valley, than which nothing can be more delightful to the Eye. The Castle both without and within is equally rich, painted, and guilded all over, which glitters admirably in the Sun. 'Tis all of wood, and so curiously carved, that there is nothing more rare and more curious for Invention or Work. All the Chambers may be lowered or raised at pleasure, by Screws and Machine's. And though but four, and a Hall in the middle, they have a way to make them appear twelve several Chambers, different not only in Furniture and Ornament, but in Figure.  
The King being arrived at the side of the Lake, embarked in a Canot with the Marquis, his Lady, Dorothy, for whom the Entertainment was designed, with two or three other Ladies, and some principal Lords of the Court to go to the Castle. In the mean time they were troubled Antonine appeared not. 'Tis not the King was so concerned, but Dorothy and the Marchioness, who looked a good while round about them to see if he were come. Dorothy had never been in that Castle, and the King would in Person give her the pleasure of seeing it; and for love of her, set all the Machine's of those moving Chambers awork. He was scarce got to the third, but Dorothy disappeared, not by the force of any Machine, but because she stayed in the second Room; the King not willing some Lords about him should take notice of the concern he was in for her, went forwards, hoping in so small a place he could not long want her. And indeed he found her in the second Room speaking to one of the Pages. He surprised them, and asked Dorothy laughing, if she had any office of Gallantry to employ that Page in, that she was in so private discourse with. She blushed a little, & fell laughing too, at the King's not knowing the Page. This made the King fix his Eye upon him; and with no small surprise discover him to be Antonine. And how long is it, says he to him, that you are turned from a Shepherd into a Page? Antonine answered, But from that very morning, having a desire to see the Castle; and finding there was such order given, that there was no getting in but in his Livery, he had borrowed a Page's Coat for the purpose. The King said no more to him; but scarce took any pleasure the rest of the time he spent there, having almost always this Shepherd in his Eye, speaking constantly to Dorothy: which put the King in no small trouble and perplexity with his forcing himself as much as possible to hid the concern he was in. His passion for Dorothy had not yet been much taken notice of, and he was willing to observe some measures in public; so that he found it very difficult to be in private with her there. Antonine making use of the liberty the King allowed him, followed him wherever he went, as well as the Lords and Ladies of his Train, and seemed to affect keeping close to Dorothy more than ever. The King might have got rid of him by sending him to Land; but 'twould have been too apparent, and what pretence soever he had taken, they would have guessed at the true cause. So that the very maxims of Decency forced the King to permit a Shepherd, under his very nose, to cross his desires, to torment him, and ravish from him undisturbed what he best loved in the World, without the Kings daring to complain of it, or express the least resentment: Only he spoke of it to the Marquis his sole Confident, who had prayed him to let him know the cause of the disorder that appeared in his countenance. This Faithful Minister of Love as well as State, having learned what it was, resolved at any rate to ease him of the sight of the Shepherd, at least for some time. He thought of several ways to do it, but knowing that Women are generally better than Men at such matters, he went to his Wife; and taking her into another Room, asked her, if she could not device some means to take that Shepherd aside, who troubled the Entertainment, and get him kept out of the King's presence, without sending him to Land, which the King for some reasons was unwilling to do. The Marchioness very officiously proposed two or three ways, which indeed were neither proper nor approved by the Marquis. At last she told him, That to disabuse the King, and wipe out the ill-impressions he had taken of her conduct as to Dorothy, she would serve him on this occasion, and take Antonine into another Room, under pretence of making him play on the Flute, and would keep him there as long as he pleased; but she feared 'twould be to his cost, and that the World was malicious enough to talk of such a thing. Don Austin fell laughing hearty at the apprehensions of his Virtuous Wife, and embracing her with extreme kindness, told her, Her Reputation was so friendly established, it would never be suspected, though there were no more Virtue nor Honour in the World. That she might take his word for't, who was most concerned. And that it could not be at least a Shepherd could do him any injury. Having said this, he prayed her to do as she proposed; adding she would do the King a singular pleasure, being no longer able to endure the sight of the Shepherd. The Marchioness failed not to do it; and with an Address her affection, more than any design to please the King or oblige her Husband, inspired with, she drew Antonine aside from Dorothy, and took him to another Chamber, where she stayed with him till they went back for Aranjuez. The King was never the better for it: Dorothy did but fret and vex when she lost sight of Antonine, and her Eyes discovered the trouble she was in, not to know what was become of him.  
The Sun was set when they came to Aranjuez. And the King having a desire to take a turn or two in the Garden, the whole Court followed him, except the Marchioness, who had designs in her Head; and having accompanied her Husband awhile, told him she was not very well and must withdraw. The Marquis more civil and kind than she wished, brought her to her Chamber, and bore her company till she was quite tired with him. She undressed herself, she went to bed, she complained her Head ached, and that she must go to rest; and not knowing what to say or do more, she ordered the Windows should be shut, that the light might not trouble her in the morning; but Don Austin's Love was the same in the dark as in the light. But she must send him away at last, telling him the trouble she was in he should be there in the dark, and she not able to speak to him, increased her malady and kept her from sleeping. The good Marquis charmed with the kindness of his dear Spouse, took his leave of her, praying her she would send for him, if she grew worse in the night. The Marquis was scarce gone, but the Duenna came in to let her Lady know Antonine was in her Chamber; the Marchioness bid her let him into hers, and immediately the Duenna led in a Shepherd who was not a little surprised at the darkness of the Lodging: the Marchioness imagining his surprise at the Novelty, fell laughing as soon as she heard him come near the Bed; and reaching out her hand to him, Fear nothing, says she, this is all done for you, and you know you are not in an Enemy's Country; she made him sit on her Bed, and going on with her discourse told him the Darkness was a Friend to fearful Lovers as you are. But you are very mute methinks Antonine, why do not you answer me? She had scarce said this, but in comes the Duenna almost out of breath, to tell her the Marquis was coming with a Flambo, and was just at the Chamber-door. Go hid you in the Closet, says the Marchioness to her Shepherd: but finding he stirred not, she was astonished, and pushing him with her hand, do not you hear what they say, Don Austin is just here, go hid yourself, unless you will ruin both me and yourself. With that the Marquis entered, who told his Wife he was very sorry he must disturb her, but he had lost a Paper of great importance to the King, and must needs have left it on her Bed. The affrighted Marchioness being then so angry with Antonine she wished him hanged, told him, you come the most seasonably in the World to chastise a Fool; an Insolent Fellow came into my Chamber the very moment you were gone, and has put me into a most terrible fright, sitting upon my Bed, and I cannot remove him. The Marquis astonished at the insolence, ran towards the Beds Feet; and in the Wrath he was in against such an impudent Rascal, not willing to be at the pains of examining who he was, he looked only for a stick, to baste him into better manners, and teach him the respect due to his Wife's Bed; when he heard the King's Voice who was disguised like a Shepherd, and fell a laughing to see himself upon the point of being banged, and bid the Marquis open his Eyes and moderate his fury: What a deadly blow was this to the Marquis! he turned pale and dismayed, he could not speak a Word: at last having recovered his Spirits, Ah, Sir, is it thus, a King as you are keep his Word? Have you done me so many Favours, only to rob me of my Honour? Ah Heavens! (cries he quite distracted,) have I lived thus long to see myself loaded with Infamy by a Prince for whom I would have lost my Blood! Having said this he withdrew. The King would have stayed him, that he might clear himself before the Marchioness of the unjust suspicion he had of him, but he had not the patience to hear him. The King followed him, that he might disengage himself from a Lady, who had more reason than the Marquis to complain of him; though in truth he was not in fault towards the one or the other, as will appear by the truth of the adventure.  
For the King stayed not long in the Garden, having not been well satisfied with Dorothy all that day, and being full of suspicion and jealousy of her, he let her go where she pleased, not doubting but a rendezvouz had been agreed on at the interview between her and Antonine at Bellviso; To see whether his suspicions were well-grounded, he resolved to put a trick on her, and going to his Chamber took the Shepherd's Habit he formerly made use of, and put it on. His design was to go pray the Marchioness to help him to deceive Dorothy, and send her to him under the name of Antonine. He came for that purpose into her Apartment, and within some paces of her Chamber he found the Duenua going in search of the Shepherd; and being prevented by him, mistook him for Antonine; it being then so dark she could not distinguish them, so that she brought him to her Lady in the manner you have heard.  
Don Anstin was so enraged, he resolved to die or retire from Court never to appear there again. The King knew the appearances which deceived him, were enough to give him mortal displeasure, unless he disabused him. But he knew not how to do it, without giving him light into the Correspondence between his Lady and Antonine, which would make the matter much worse and ruin a Lady he had still some respect for. He was sorry he had not hid himself, that he might have diverted himself about the adventure with the Marchioness, without making the Marquis jealous. But that which induced him to be so malicious, as not to get out of the way when she bid him, was the pleasure of being revenged of a Woman who had played the Lucrece with him, and yielded to a Shepherd: If he could have believed she would have put the confidence in him to take their measures together, to disabuse Don Austin on his part, and pass over the adventure in raillery; he had certainly gone into the Closet at first, or advised with her afterwards what course to steer: but he knew her humour too well, and that she would not hearken to his Proposals. Therefore that he might not lose his labour, or oblige people against their wills, he contented himself to tell the Marquis he had not designed him any wrong: that he might believe it when he took the pains to assure him of it: that he had always had a great esteem and affection for him and his Lady, and made it sufficiently appear, that his disguisement was purely on the account of Dorothy, whom he would have surprised, and not the Marchioness. Surprise Dorothy, answers the Marquis sighing, in my Wife's Bed! he stopped there, which made the King laugh, who had the goodness to say a great deal more to undeceive him; but it served only to render him more suspicious. I should never have believed, Sir, says the Marquis, you would have made use of the pretence of an innocent Girl, to oppress me with grief and with shame: this proceeding is not just towards a Servant, who hath made it the business of his life to study your Glory, and the good of your Estate. The King could not forbear laughing at his reproaches, which cut Don Austin to the heart, being mad to see him take pleasure in triumphing to his Face for the injury he had done him; so that he let fall some words which past the respect due to the King. You are a little out, says the King calmly, but I pardon the passion that blinds you; you accuse me without cause, you reproach me unjustly. Had I had designs upon your Wife, I had not need to have disguised myself; I might have hid myself when you came in, and have chosen a better time. But I did not bestow her upon you, to do you this unkindness; I keep my Word to my very Enemies, if you have reason to distrust your Wife's Virtue, inquire better who does you the wrong, and find out the mystery before you accuse any. All men have their failings, much more all women; and he that trusts so tender a Sex, and so capable of a Passion they place their Glory in, is deceived at last. Think of what I say, you may one day find it true. Ah Sir, says the Marquis, I am but too well assured I am deceived; but if not by you, whom should I fear in the Kingdom? is there any other my Wife would vouchsafe to turn her Head for? You see this, answers the King, showing him the Shepherd's Habit, you may guests what it means, and I was mistaken for another. Shepherds, Sir, replies the Marquis, are for Shepherdesses, and I shall never be jealous of them. Were I assured of your part, I would still take my Wife for the honestest Woman of the Kingdom. And I assure you, says the King, as my business was not with the Marchioness, no more was hers with me. And you are to take heed the mischief you fear, if it be not already done you, come not from a party you least suspect. The King did not design to say so much, but the Marquis forced him to it by bringing Dorothy into discourse. And the King being very tender of that point could not forbear speaking his mind. The Marquis stood mute a while, not knowing what to think of the Shepherd's Habit, on which the King grounded his suspicions and conjectures, that he was taken for another, but fancied he meant Antonine, because his Wife had for the King's satisfaction, and almost against her will, past part of the Afternoon with that Shepherd in a Chamber alone. He was about to laugh at the conceit, and resuming the discourse to gain further explication, Can you hope, Sir says he, to make me jealous of any one wears such a Habit as this? the King made no answer, letting him understand by his silence what he was to think. But the Marquis desiring to be further satisfied in a point of this importance, What Man, adds he, of that condition durst once look upon my Wife? That durst Antonine, replies the King somewhat briskly, whom the Marchioness, if you must needs know it, vouchsafes to fix her Eyes upon. If Antonine, answers the Marquis, came into my Wife's Chamber, it was not on her account; and had I seen him set on her Bed, and that he had been with her all day, and all night, it should never have broken my rest. I believe so, says the King, had you seen them in bed together, you would scarce believe any thing. Sir, replies the Marquis, I should take her to be Dorothy; and I must be broad awake to believe her my Wife. The King made him no answer, and the discourse was carried on so far, that at last they promised one another mutual Offices of Friendship, and agreed to watch Antonine narrowly, and give one another intelligence, of all passages that concerned either, to find out who was deceived. The King made the proposal, Don Austin accepted it with a great deal of indifference, thinking the King had done it only to amuse him.  
The King no sooner left him but he returned to his Wife, who at first sight of him fell to exclaiming against that Prince, who not content to have made her Apartment the Scene of an Amorous Intrigue, came disguised to surprise her when he knew she was sick a-bed, and had no help at hand, but her Voice, and her Tears. That it was an action unworthy a King, who had so much reason to know her, by the proof he had made of her virtue: But she saw clearly enough, that the complaisance of a base Husband was the thing encouraged him to make a new attempt upon her honour, and they were agreed together to destroy her. It being impossible the King would have ventured coming into her Chamber, as he did, had he not known the Windows were shut, and no light in the room. And he could not know this but from him. The Marquis much troubled to hear himself charged with so much baseness by his Wife, of whom he thought he had reason to complain, did all he could to justify himself to her. But all to no purpose, the more he justified himself, the more guilty she made him; calling him Traitor, a Man of no Honour, unworthy to possess a Lady so virtuous as she. But all this noise could not keep the suspicious Don Austin from resolving to have the honour to lie with her that night, for he thought her dream of the monstrous Child boded him no good. And a Vow so much to the purpose, attended with a little indisposition, which obliged his Wife to have her Chamber Windows shut up, and the King's coming to her in a Shepherd's Habit, gave cause for conjectures which pointed directly to his Forehead: he needed no more motive to have her absolved that Evening of so delicate a Vow.  
He sent presently to pray the Bishop of Carthagene, his particular Friend, to do him the honour of coming to his Lodgings: the Bishop came, who not only absolved the Lady from her Vow, but according to the duty of his Character, applied himself to make Peace between the Marquis and his Lady, and happily effected it to the satisfaction of both.  
And their Union after the Bishop's Benediction, being greater than ever, they began to ask one another in good earnest, the whole truth of the story. The Marchioness was to speak first, of common right, as having more cause of complaint than Don Austin: She told him it was most true, that in the dark, as he had left her, she heard one come in without saying a word, which surprised her very much: But more, when she found he came and sat on the Bed, which made her, trembling for fear, call in Alice to her aid, and that he came in himself the next moment. Don Austin believed all this to be true as the Gospel, not thinking it possible his Wife could have the Conscience to tell a Lie the next minute after receiving Episcopal Benediction. He told her on his part, the conference he had had with the King, who assured him, he had no other design but to surprise Dorothy, which in truth might be true. But the most pleasant jest of all is, adds he, he would fain have made me jealous of Antonine. And because he hath reason to be jealous of that Shepherd, he would have all the World be so too; And since he cannot get rid of him, he would set on another to do him that piece of service. The Marchioness hereupon played her part excellently well, making a thousand exclamations, clapping her hands, lifting her eyes to Heaven, laughing with all her force, and doing all other Actions of a Woman amazed at the strangeness of the News, which afforded them matter of discourse most part of that Night.  
In the mean time, the Marquis according to the agreement between the King and him, to watch over Antonine, failed not at his rising to give the necessary orders, as to Dorothy; as for his Wife's part he feared nothing. The King on the other side eager for the sport, and desirous at any rate to convince the incredulous Marquis, of the new Title his Wife had given him, placed his Scouts abroad to observe Antonine's motions towards the Marchioness. But she was beforehand with him, having that Evening sent orders by the Duenna to the Shepherd to retire, and not approach the Palace, especially her Apartment till notice from her. So that the Spies for some days could give their Masters no account. But absence is the greatest of torments for Lovers, and the loss of the company of what you love, is little less than the loss of Life. Antonine was in torment not only on the account of Dorothy, but of the Marchioness, who served for a kind of amorous consolation for him, when he could not see Dorothy. The Marchioness was no less afflicted; and Women, as 'tis said, being more violent in their passions than Men, 'tis credible, this Lady, who loved the Shepherd so well, had a very ill time on't. She had none but Alice, her Universal Confident to comfort her. And the poor old Wretch was as much afflicted as her Lady, to see her languish, and grow melancholy: She would by all means go seek out Antonine, to make her cheerful, promising the Marchioness, to bring him in so safe and so secretly, that no one should know of it. But the Marchioness had more Wit than to run such a hazard, and chose rather to go see him at his Lodging, than expose him to discovery, by being surprised in hers. She asked the old Duenna, if ever she had been at the gardiner's? and Alice having made Answer, she was acquainted with him, and his Wife one of her best Friends; I tell you, says the Marchioness, the reason of my Question, and the design I have laid. I know your fidelity, and the affection you have always had for me, therefore I confide in you. I will go see Antonine at his Lodging, I take that to be the surest course: Dorothy is much about my pitch; I will take a suit of hers, and I doubt not but I shall be taken for her, when I am seen go to her Fathers: we need only order things so, that when I am got thither, Antonine may have notice, and the Gardener and his Wife both sent out of the way, for they would wonder at the visit. This must be done to morrow Morning, when the Physicians have prescribed me a Bathing for my pretended indisposition. The Duenna answered, all this would be easily done, that the Gardener went at three a Clock in the Morning to work in the Garden, and she would undertake to give Antonine notice of the honour intended him, and take out the Gardener's Wife along with her a-walking till Dinnertime. All this was accordingly resolved, and executed. The Duenna having the charge of her Lady's Wardrobe, provided that Evening a Suit for the purpose. And at six in the Morning came in to awake her, telling her before Don Austin, that the Water was ready, and she might presently bathe herself. The Marquis who had first advised her to it, encouraged her to rise, because she seemed somewhat loath: with much ado she took her Morning-Gown, and entered the Bathing-room, where she found a Suit of Dorothie's ready for her, which she put on, while the Duenna trudged away to Antonine to dispose things there for her reception.  
The Scouts were night and day abroad, both the Kings and the Marquess', or at least had order to be so. But Favourites are commonly better served than their Masters: Don Austin was fallen asleep again, when one of his Spies came to tell him, he saw Dorothy go in at her Father's. At this time of day, thinks the Marquis, Dorothy takes the pains to go to her Father's, there's design in the case; I must carry the King the News, it is worth the trouble. With that he got up in all haste and dressed himself, for fear of the birds being flown  he could get from the King to the Gardiner's. He had not the patience to carry his Wife the News to the Bathing-room, hoping to treat her with the whole story at his return. He got to the King's Chamber, desired audience about urgent business, was admitted, and immediately fell a laughing; You may imagine, Sir, I would not have come thus early to disturb your Rest, had I not a particular business to acquaint you with. The happy Antonine is this moment in the Arms of the Marchioness. I am not surprised at it, says the King, laughing also, and if you had no more to tell me, you needed not to have taken the pains to be so early up; for I am persuaded, they have been long ago very well agreed. No, no, Sir, says the Marquis in raillery, I am come to tell you, according to my duty, that Dorothy is gone thus early to give her Parents a visit, wherein you may believe Antonine shall have his share. But what, replies the King, if you have for once, taken Dorothy for the Marchioness: I fear no mistake, Sir, answers the Marquis, for besides that, I left my Wife but now in her Bathing-room; the news I bring you, was told me by two of my Servants, who know Dorothy very well, and saw her go in at her Fathers. The King said not a word more, but got up and was dressed, and would go in Person with the Marquis to the Gardener's. They got thither in a moment, and finding a little Girl at the door, asked who was within: She answered, none but Antonine and Dorothy, in a Chamber she shown them. What a transport of Fury did this put the King in, who till than feared nothing! he ran to the Chamber, and finding it shut, knocked at the Door, with that violence, and rage, as if he would have stormed the besieged: no body opened, nor answered; the King extremely incensed, had no longer patience, but commanded two of his Servants to break down the door. He was obeyed, and entered in first, and next him Don Austin. But the Gallant was got out at the Window, and no body left but the fair Lady, sitting in a corner of the Chamber; with more confusion than fear, wrapped up in her Manto, to see the unhappy Catastrophe. The King broke out into bitter Language against her, and had perhaps gone further, but that the Marquis minded him of his Character: However, he resolved toput to open shame that little Traitress (as he often called her) taking her by the Manto, in which she kept herself muffled. At last he snatched it off, but who was more surprised, he, or Don Austin, to see it was the Marchioness? The King was extreme glad, and seeing the Marquis thunderstruck, without speech, or motion, could not forbear laughing. Now, Don Austin, says he, you see how people are mistaken, is this Dorothy, or the Marchioness? With that the enraged Husband, not able to endure the King's Raillery, and the insupportable affront his virtuous Lady did him, fell upon her without respect to the King's Presence, with that violence and anger, the King had much ado to get him from her. He drew him out of that Chamber, and as they went from the Gardiner's, met Antonine in Custody, having been taken by the care of the Marquis, who to make good his News to the King, had given order for apprehending him, if he endeavoured to escape. The sight of Antonine doubled his fury, and he had certainly stabbed him with his Poniard, had not the King, in his turn, minded him where he was, and of the respect due to his Character.  
Poor Antonine was put into the Tower of Aranjuez. The King lost no time to go see Dorothy, and tell her the whole Story, of which he hoped to make advantage. But the poor Innocent having with astonishment heard the King, fell a-crying when she understood Antonine was in Prison. She fell upon her Knees, and prayed him if he loved her, to set Antonine at liberty, and not do him any harm. The King having reproached her, for having so little resentment against a Shepherd, guilty of such falsehood to her, who in contempt of the kindness she had for him, had thrown himself into the Arms of another; told her, he could not set him at liberty so soon, but must give at least so much satisfaction to Don Austin, who had cause to take away his Life, much more to have him kept Prisoner. Dorothy somewhat comforted by the King's promise to do Antonine no further harm, and moved on the other side with the reasons she was told she had to be angry with her Shepherd, was not very earnest for his Enlargement. The King finding her more complaisant than ever, past part of the day with her: While they were together, the Captain of the Guard came to know his pleasure, how Antonine should be used. The King bid him give him what he called for, but not permit any to see him or speak to him, except such only as brought a Ring, which he took out of his Pocket, and showed the Captain, that he might know it. Dorothy having observed all this, waited an opportunity to get that Ring into her hands. By good fortune, the King having slept little the Night before, and been awaked early that Morning by the Marquis, could not forbear falling fast a-sleep in Dorothy's Chamber, who failed not to slip her Hand in his Pocket: And with a great deal of dexterity took out the Ring. The King awaked not long after, and having spent some time with her went to Bed.  
Dorothy was no sooner at liberty, but she went very joyfully to the Tower, where Antonine was prisoner. And having showed the Officer the King's Ring, entered without difficulty: Antonine was surprised to see her; she fell presently to complain of him, but the Cunning Shepherd quickly appeased her; And having real kindness for her, and seeing she slighted the passion of a Great King for love of him, he resolved to marry her, and not part with her till she had engaged herself to be his Wife, and received his engagement to be her Husband; lest the King taking advantage of his Imprisonment (as he had reason to fear) should rob him of her. They were quickly agreed, and past that night like Fortunate Lovers.  
The King slept sound, and little dreamt of the designs against him, of which he was likely to be the more sensible, as the hopes of obtaining his desires were more probable than ever, when he parted with his Mistress. At his rising they told him, a Gentleman prayed Audience upon business of importance. The King ordered him admittance. The Gentleman falling presently on his knees. Great Sir, says he, I come to beg Pardon for a Gentleman, whose Youth hath made him commit a fault pardonable in those of riper Years. You beg my Pardon, Friend, says the King, bidding him stand up, for a Gentleman I know no more than the Fault you have mentioned. Sir, answers he, the Shepherd you committed yesterday to Prison is Don Alphonso de Leon. Antonine, says the King, interrupting him, much surprised at the news, Is he of the House of Leon? Yes, replies the Gentleman, he is a Younger-Brother of that Illustrious Family, who arrived incognito at your Court, came to take a turn at Aranjuez: And as he was walking in the Garden, the Master, as the custom is, presented him with a Nosegay by his Daughter, whom Don Alphonso found so charming, he fell that moment passionately in love with her. We were engaged that very day for Toledo: but he feigned himself indisposed; and having taken no rest that night, he looked very ill the next Morning. We would have persuaded him to return to Madrid, where he might have the help of able Physicians, rather than stay at a Place where he could scarce have one pitiful Chirurgeon to let him Blood. For three or four days he obstinately insisted, the Air at Aranjuez would be enough to recover him. And that he should not want Physician or Chirurgeon. In the mean time he could neither eat nor sleep; he was so tormented with his Love, which was his only Distemper, and at length much prejudiced his health. But fearing the business would at last come to light, and having ever had confidence in me, who am his Governor, he took me one day aside to acquaint me with the Secret, praying me, if I loved him, I would be so kind to him, as to find out the means to stay some time at Aranjuez. I omitted nothing that could be said to divert him from the pursuit of so extravagant a Passion. I represented to him a thousand inconveniences would attend it; I minded him of the Glory of his Birth, and the blemish it would be to him to amuse himself with an Engagement so much beneath him: and at last threatened to write of it to his Parents. But all to no purpose. He fell down at my feet, begged of me upon his knees and with tears in his Eyes, that for a Month or two I would permit him to please himself in his folly, swearing he would die or kill himself, if I forced him from Aranjuez. I knew not what to do; I was almost distracted, and wished I had never been concerned with him. At last, after long resistance, I yielded to his prayers and tears, and consented to one months' stay at Aranjuez; and that he should play what part he pleased there, but not under the Name or Character of what he really was; lest, if that came to be known, it might prove an indelible stain to him and to me. The fifth day we left Aranjuez, with design, according to my Promise, to return both together in a very short time. We went to Toledo, and having sent away all our People to wait our coming at Cordova, in the way to Sevile, where we designed to go; we bought us two Habits of Shepherds, and returned to Aranjuez. Our design was to send him to the Gardener's to live with him, and offer him very good terms, in hopes he would not know him in that disguise. In our way to Aranjuez we lay at an Inn, within two leagues of this Place, where the Host was a friend of the Gardener's, and very ready to serve us, after a small present I made him. This Man recommended him under the Name of Antonine, the Son of a Rich Shepherd near Toledo, who desired to have his Son kept at some distance from him, and offered a very good allowance for his maintenance. Antonine was very well received by the Gardener. I stayed at that Inn, and came two or three times a-week to see the young Shepherd, but could never prevail with him to come away, putting me off still from one Month to another; till yesterday in the evening, the Gardener sent me an Express to bring me the news of his misfortune. I will not trouble your Majesty with the surprise and grief it put me to, I stayed no longer than while. I could put off my disguise, as no longer useful; and resume my former Habit, and came immediately away to the Gardener's last night, where I was told all the passages.  
The King no less charmed than astonished at the circumstances of this Story, resolved to do Justice to the prejudice of his Affections; and to declare that Don Alphonso de Leon, whose passion was so strong and so tender, deserved better than he to enjoy the fair Dorothy; he took the resolution from that moment not to cross him in his Amour. He got himself dressed to go carry the news to that Charming Maid, and to give her full liberty to dispose of her Heart as she pleased; thinking himself obliged by such a Sacrifice, to repair all the trouble and injury he had done that young Gentleman. But he was strangely astonished; when, coming to Dorothy's Chamber, he was told she lay not there that night; and that they knew not what was become of her.  
He thought first she was gone to see Antonine; but then finding little reason for that, he fancied she was gone to her Father's, but could not guests for what end. Yet the jealousy he was not yet rid of, for all his resolution against it, had made that impression within him. It persuaded him against all appearance his first thoughts were true, and that she was certainly gone to Antonine: And to satisfy himself, he must go to the Prison to know the news. He asked the Officer, who had been to see the Shepherd: He told him, Not any but the Marchioness' Maid, (so they called Dorothy) who had been all Night with him, and was there still. The King reddened to hear him, and asked him in some heat, if he had not given him order no body should see the Shepherd? Except those, Sir, answers the Officer, who should show me your Signet, which that Maid brought me. My Signet, says the King, putting his Hand in his Pocket: he found it was gone. And being highly offended with the boldness of the little Lass, he went into the Prison to complain of her, where he saw the two tender Lovers, falling presently at his feet. Antonine was the Speaker, and begged the King's Pardon, for two Loving Youths, who placing all their happiness in the Enjoyment of each other, had united by indissoluble Bonds, what Love had already strongly chained together.  
You should not (answers the King, making them both stand up) by desiring my Pardon, have robbed me of the the glory I designed myself, by preventing your Petition with my Bounty: I am not come hither as a Rival jealous of your Happiness, to cross your Love any more; but I come as a Prince to do Justice to the most tender Passion in the World, which, (however it trouble me) I must own to have charmed me.  
You shall be married, Don Alphonso, adds he, embracing him, and I shall be very sorry (having the esteem I have for Dorothy) to hinder her good Fortune.  
Antonine hearing these last words, could no longer doubt, but the King had been fully informed who he was: and falling the second time on his knees, would have excused what his excess of love made him do. The King embracing him again, answered, He could not condemn a passion himself had been subject to; that the Beauty and merit of Dorothy deserved better fortune than her Birth promised her. That it was no news to see (not Gentlemen, but) Princes to choose Consorts out of Cottages: That Love wrought far greater miracles: and as for Birth, it was no obstacle in their Case, who are in a condition to bestow Honours, and Dignities.  
This Discourse was received with thanks and acknowledgements, from Don Alphonso and Dorothy. After which the King having sent for rich  for the one, and the other, he led them to the Palace, where he was pleased to have their Nuptials celebrated, with all the splendour and Magnificence due to the Quality of a Gentleman of the Ancient and Illustrious Family of Leon. The King Honoured Dorothie's Parents with Titles of Nobility, and made her Father Governor of Aranjuez. The poor Marchioness was put into a Nunnery, and after two years' penance, her Husband who notwithstanding the accident at Aranjuez, had a love for her still, set her at liberty, and took her home to himself, where they lived the rest of their days in a fair correspondence, if you consider with how much reason they had been parted.  
FINIS.   

Books Printed for J. Magnes, and R. Bentley in Russel-street, in Covent-Garden.  

PLAYS.  
TArtuff, or the French Puritan, a Comedy, written in French by the famed Wit of France, Monsieur Moliere, and made English by Mr. M. Medburne.  

Plays written by Madam Behn.  
Forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bridegroom.  
Abdelazar, or the Moor's Revenge.  
The Town Fop, or Sir Timothy Taudry.   

Plays written by Mr. Howard.  
All Mistaken: or, the Mad Couple.  
The English Monsieur.   

Plays written by Mr. Crown.  
Calisto, or the  Nymph, a Masque Acted at the Court.  
The Country Wit.  
The Destruction of Jerusalem, by Titus Vespasian. In two Parts.  
Andromache, a Tragedy.   

Plays written by Mr. Lee.  
The Tragedy of Nero.  
Sophonisba, or Hannibat's Overthrow.  
Gloriana, or the Court of Augustus Caesar.  
The Rival Queens, or the Death of Alexander the Great.  
The Plain Dealer, written by Mr. Wicherly.  
The Mistaken Husband, part of it written by John Dryden, Esq;  
Dryden's Notes of Morocco.  
Madam Fickle, or the Witty False One, written by Mr. Dursey.  
The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters, by Mr. Dursey.  
Generous Enemies.    

Some Engsl●●● Novels.  
Happy Slave, in Three Parts Complete.  
Count Brion: or, the Cheating Gallant.  
Zelinda, a Romance, by Monsieur Sidery in 12.  
Covent Garden Drollery, in 8.  
The Disorders of Love, in 12.  
Mayer's Letters.   

Some Books of Devotion.  
Dr. Andrews Devotions.  
Dr. Hatten's Psalter in 12.  
Moral Essays, on many Importunate Duties in 12.  
Thomas a Kempis.  
Lipsions of Constancy.  
The Education of a Prince in 12.  
The Triumphs of Love, over Fortune, a Novel.  
FINIS.