SELECT NOVELS. The first Six written in Spanish, BY Miguel Cervantes Sayavedra, Author of that Famous History Don Quixotte de la Mancha; The other by FRANCIS PETRARCH, An Eminent Italian Poet, and one of the first Restorers of Learning.  
All Translated from the Originals By Dr. WALTER POPE.  
LONDON, Printed for Charles Brome, at the Gun at the West End of St. Paul's, and Thomas Horn at the South Entrance of the Royal Exchange, in Cornhill, 1694.   

TO THE READER.  
THese Translations, with some other Things of greater Importance, which may in due time see the Light, were the product of my retirement at Epsom last Summer: There they were begun, and finished. I have not endeavoured to render my Author word, for word, but my Concern was, to make him speak English. In the first Novel, I have taken more liberty, for its Scene lying for the greatest part in England, the Laws and Customs whereof, Cervantes was not very well skilled in, I have changed the Names of some Persons, and Places, which are such in the Original, as were never heard of in England. I have also left out some Paragrafs, which I judged either impertinent to the Story, or repeated. I have added nothing, but here and there a word, to make the Sense more perspicuous. In fine, I have made all of them shorter, if not better, and Brevity is always good.  
May 15th. 1694.   

THE Spanish-English Lady.  
NOVEL I.  
AMONGST the spoils which the English carried from Cales, a certain Captain, by name Manly, Admiral of a Squadron of Ships, took away a young Maid about six years old, without the knowledge of the Earl of Essex, whom the Child's Parents petitioned, That since he had been pleased to take away their Estates, and leave their Persons free, he would not permit their Child should be Ravished from them, and carried into Captivity: Upon which he Issued out his Orders to search all the Ships, and commanded, upon pain of Death, whoever had this Spanish Child should forthwith return her to her Parents. But notwithstanding the said Orders and this Penalty, Captain Manly retained his Captive, so much was he taken with the incomparable Beauty of Izabella, for so was this Child called. In fine, the Parents remained sad and disconsolate for their loss, and the Captain, wonderfully pleased, carried her to London, and presented her to his Wife, as the richest and best Prize he had taken in that Expedition. It happened, that the Captain's Family, though they openly appeared to be of the Queen's Religion, were in secret Roman Catholics; of this number was his Son Ferdinando, than aged about twelve years, being instructed by his Parents firmly to adhere to the Roman Catholic Religion. Captain Manlys wife took so great a kindness to Izabella, that she gave her the best Education she could have done to her own and only Daughter; she taught her to Read and Writ more than indifferently well, and all things commendable in a Gentlewoman; she danced, and played well upon several sorts of musical Instruments, and when she sung to any of them it charmed and enchanted all that heard her. Time and good Usage made our young Captive endure with patience the loss of her Liberty, Parents, and Country, she did not however so wholly forget them, but that she often sighed and lamented her condition: and although she learned to speak English, she did not forget her Native Language; for the Captain took care to bring secretly to his House divers Spaniards to discourse with her, so that not forgetting Spanish she spoke English, as if it had been her native Tongue. All these good Qualities, accompanied with an excellent Humour, caused love in Ferdinando, for whom also she had a great Esteem, as being the Son of her Patron.  
At first he loved her as a Sister, his desires tending no farther; he took great pleasure in being in her Company, to admire her extraordinary Endowments and incomparable Beauty. As she increased in Age, so did she also in Perfections: She was now twelve years old when Ferdinando fell desperately in Love with her, and the good will he had for her changed itself into a desire of possessing and enjoying her; not that he hoped to arrive at this felicity by any other way but by making her his Wife; neither would he, if he might; for he being a Person of Honour, and having such an esteem for her, never harboured a thought unworthy of himself and her.  
He Was a thousand times about to declare his Intentions to his Parents, but as oft changed his mind, knowing their intentions to marry him to a Scotch Lady of a noble Family and very Rich; and believing they would not consent he should marry a Slave, (if that appellation be proper to Izabella) when they had provided a Gentlewoman for him. Being thus doubtful, and not knowing which way to turn himself, he led a painful and troublesome Life, nay he wanted but little to lose it; but reflecting that 'twas a great weakness to let himself die without attempting some remedy, he at last took heart and resolved to declare his mind to Izabella.  
All the Family were much afflicted for Ferdinando's sickness, especially his Parents, he being their only Child.  
The Fysicians could make nothing of his Disease, and he would not, nay, he durst not discover the cause; but at last he resolved to to break through all difficulties, and one day when Izabella came to visit him, seeing her alone, with a weak and trembling voice he spoke to her after this manner; Most beautiful Izabella, you have brought me into this condition, if you do not desire that I should finish my life in unexpressible torments, have pity on me, and conform your will to mine.  
I humbly desire to have you for my Wife, without the knowledge of my Parents, because I fear, that they, not knowing your merits so well as I do, should deny me that boon which I more desire than life itself. If you vouchsafe to give me your promise to be my wife, I from henceforward as a true Catholic, and a man of Honour, give you mine to be yours. Nor will I desire any further Favour from you, till I have my Parents, and the Church's Blessing. I'll satisfy myself in the mean time with hopes, and this will be sufficient to restore me to my health, and to make me contented, till I attain to the highest pitch of felicity, the lawful Enjoyment of my dearest Izabella.  
While Ferdinando spoke this, Izabella was very attentive, and fixed her Eyes upon the ground; showing, by that posture, that her Discretion was not inferior to her Beauty, nor her Honesty to her Prudence; and perceiving he had done speaking, she answered in these Words,  
Since my propitious, or malevolent Stars, for I know not to which to attribute it, have taken me from my Parents, noble Ferdinando, and allotted me to live with yours; being obliged by the many Courtesies and infinite Favours they have showed me, I determined that my Will should never vary from theirs. If therefore, with their Consent, I may be so happy; from this hour I offer myself to you: and, till that be obtained, you may entertain your Desires with Hope, and I will beg Heaven to pour down all its Blessings upon you.  
Here ended the discreet Words of Izabella, and here began the Recovery of Ferdinando, and the Hopes of his Parents to see him return to his Health.  
This said, they parted, he weeping for Joy, she amazed to perceive him so much in love with her.  
Ferdinando risen presently from his Bed, as if he had been cured by a Miracle, and resolved to discover his mind to his Parents without delay.  
He began with his Mother, and after other discourses, he told her, That if his Parents should refuse to marry him to Izabella, 'twould be the same thing as to kill him, for he could not live without her; in fine, he he did so extol her Virtues, that his Mother believed the Match would be more advantageous to Ferdinando, than to the fair Spanish Captive; she gave him good words, and encouragement to hope that she would work so effectually with his Father, as to get his Consent.  
She acquainted her Husband with what had passed betwixt Ferdinando and her; to which, without any difficulty, he consented, and resolved to find some Excuses fairly to break off the Scotch Match, which had not been only treated of, but almost agreed upon.  
Ferdinando was now twenty years old, and Izabella fourteen; but in her florid Spring there appeared a mature Autumn of Discretion. Now Ferdinando's Happiness began to approach, his Parents resolving after four days he should be married with Izabella.  
The Wedding  were made, the Kindred and Friends invited, and there remained nothing but to give the Queen notice of the intended Nuptials. For in that Kingdom Persons of Quality may not marry without the Sovereign's Consent; they not at all doubting, but that the Queen would give them leave, did not ask it, till all things were in this forwardness. In the evening of one of those four days, which were allotted to make preparations for the Wedding, there unexpectedly arrived a Messenger, commanding Captain Manly to bring the Spanish Captive next Morning to her Majesty, the Captain replied, he would not fail to obey her Majesties Commands; with this Answer the Messenger returned, leaving him and all the Guests full of Consternation. Ah Wretch that I am, cried the Captain's Wife, what will become of us, if her Majesty should know, that we have bred this Lady in the Roman Catholic Religion? and thence infer that all our Family is of the same; and if her Majesty should ask her what she has learned these eight years she has been in our house, what can the poor Soul answer, which will not turn to our Confusion! which Izabella hearing, thus replied,  
Madam, trouble not yourself with any such Fear; for I trust in God, he will infuse into me such Answers, that shall redound to your profit, not to your Damage.  
The Captain trembled, his Mind presaging some sinister Accident; Ferdinando endeavoured to keep up his Spirits, and placed his Confidence in the Prudence of Izabella: to whom he recommended above all things, that she would take all possible Care, that they might not be detected to be Roman Catholics; though he was disposed in his Mind to suffer Martyrdom for his Religion, yet his Flesh was weak, and loath to come to that bitter Trial.  
Izabella assured them more than once, that although she knew not what the Queen might ask her, yet she did not doubt but to answer so, that they should have no reason to complain.  
They passed that night, discoursing about many things, and placed their hopes in that, that if the Queen had known them to be Roman Catholics, she would not have sent them so considerable a Messenger, thence they inferred, that her Majesty had only a mind to see Izabella; the Report of whose Beauty and virtuous Qualities might probably have reached Whitehal.  
Tho they were conscious of their Error in not having presented Izabella to the Queen before, yet they thought to excuse it by saying, that from the beginning they designed to marry her to their Son. And although they were  in so doing without the Queen's Consent, yet it seemed to them, that for such a small Crime, they did not merit any heavy Chastisement.  
This afforded them a little Comfort; the next day they dressed Izabella, after the Spanish fashion, in a green Velvet Gown, embroidered with Diamonds, and lined with a rich Cloth of Gold, the Apertures fastened with Buttons of Diamonds; upon her Neck a rich Necklace of Pearl; in her Hand a Fan, one of that sort the greatest Spanish Ladies wear; she had nothing upon her Head but her own yellow Hair, curiously interwoven and stuck with Diamonds and Pearls: with these Ornaments, and her marvellous Beauty and most graceful and sweet Air, she took Coach, drawing upon her the Hearts and Eyes of all that saw her.  
The Captain, his Wife and Ferdinando were in the same Coach; which was followed by many Gentlemen, their Friends and Relations, well mounted, and richly habited.  
This Honour Captain Manly showed the Spanish Captive, to incline the Queen to treat her, as the Person he designed to be his Son's Wife.  
Being arrived at Whitehal, she was conducted into a great Room, where she appeared with so much Splendour, that it exceeds all imagination.  
The Company stopped at the door, and Izabella went before alone, and seemed a Star, or Exhalation moving through the Region of Fire in a serene Night; they thought they saw the Sun-rays darting out between two Mountains, or rather a Comet prognosticating the firing of of as many Souls as saw her. She made up to the Queen, and with great Reverence kneeled at her Feet, and spoke thus,  
Madam, I most humbly desire your Majesty, that you would vouchsafe this your Slave to kiss your Royal Hands, who hence forward shall put a value upon herself, since she has been so happy as to have seen, and been taken notice of by your sacred Majesty.  
The Queen stood a good while looking upon her without speaking one word, being surprised to behold such admirable Beauty; and imagined, as she said afterwards to some of her Ladies, that there was before her the starry Heaven full of Lights, which the many Diamonds did resemble; that her Eyes and Face seemed the Sun and Moon in the same Sphere; that considering her altogether, or part by part, she was a Miracle of Beauty.  
The Court Ladies wished they had as many Eyes as Argus, and might at once behold every part of her, which to view singly, would take up an Age. Some praised the Liveliness of her Eyes, others her Complexion, some the Slenderness of her Waste, and the Proportion of her Body, and all the Sweetness of her Speech; those that envied her, had nothing to say but this, 'tis true, the Spaniard is not unhandsome, but we do not like her Dress.  
After the Queen's Admiration was over, she bid her rise, and said to her, Speak Spanish Madam, for I understand it, and shall be pleased to hear you pronounce it; then turning to Captain Manly, she said, Captain, you deserve blame for having so long hid this Treasure from me: yet I confess that you had reason to guard her with Care:  
You must restore her to me, for she is mine by right. Madam, replied the Captain, I confess my Error, if it was an Error, to have kept her, till she was fit to appear before your Majesty; I humbly petition your Majesty to consent, that she may be my Son's Wife; so that in presenting her to your Majesty, I may give all that I have in the World with Izabella.  
Is she my Namesake, said the Queen, 'tis what I desired, and I now see nothing wanting in her; but Captain, how is it, that without my licence you have promised her to your Son?  
Madam, replied he, I trusted that the Services my Ancestors and myself had done the Crown, might obtain of your Majesty Favours of greater moment than this; but however I have not yet much transgressed, for my Son is not married.  
Nor shall be, said the Queen, till he has deserved her: your Services and those of your Ancestors shall not prevail for your Son, if he does not put himself in a way to serve me, and merit this Beautiful Prisoner, whom I look upon as my Daughter.  
Izabella had scarce heard her Majesty pronounce these last Words, but she drew nearer, fell upon her knees, and spoke thus in Spanish, The Disgraces, Misfortunes and Changes which have happened to me, most serene and most potent Queen, I shall now look upon as Favours from Heaven, since your Majesty has vouchsafed to give me the honourable Title of your Daughter; having this Pledge what Ill can I fear, what Good may I not hope for? Izabella pronounced this with such a grace, that the Queen took a great affection to her, and entertained her in her Service, recommending her to the chief Lady of the Bedchamber to instruct her.  
Ferdinando, who reckoned they had taken away his Life, was ready to sink down void of Sense and Judgement; all in confusion and trembling, cast himself at her Majesties feet, and said, 'Tis not necessary, Madam, that I should be invited to serve your Majesty with any other rewards, than what my Ancestors have received for having faithfully served your Majesty and your glorious Predecessors; yet since your Majesty commands I should render you some new and signal Service: I most humbly crave, you would vouchsafe to tell me wherein it is, that I may obey your Royal Commands.  
Two of my Ships, said the Queen, are going out a Cruising under the command of the Baron of Tinmouth; I'll make you Captain of one of them, and if he should miscarry, for he is fat and not very healthful, you shall command them both, in confidence that the Blood, from which you proceed, will supply your want of Experience and Years. You ought to consider, that I do you a favour in giving you this opportunity to serve your Queen, and to show what you are, what and you can do, and that your Valour is answerable to the opinion I have of it; this is the way to obtain the greatest Reward you can desire. I will take care of Izabella, though she is safe enough under the guardianship of her Virtues, of which her Looks and Actions give sufficient proof. Go, God preserve you, and because you are in Love I expect great things from your Valour; happy is that Prince who has in his Army ten thousand Lovers, who propose to themselves for a reward of their Service, the Glory of Victory, and the Enjoyment of their Loves. Rise, continued the Queen, and dispatch what you have to say to Izabella, for I intent you shall be separated to morrow.  
Ferdinando kissed the hemm of the Queen's Garment, and went presently and kneeled before Izabella designing to speak to her, but he was dumb, and Tears trickled down his Cheeks; which he could not so well dissemble, but that the Queen took notice of them. Be not ashamed, said she of those Tears; for 'tis an easier thing to meet an Enemy, than to part with a Mistress. You Izabella, embrace Ferdinando, and bid him adieu, for he well deserves your Love.  
Izabella surprised to see Ferdinando in that posture, did not attend to what the Queen said, but fell a weeping so bitterly that she could not stir from the Place, but seemed a sweeting or weeping Statue of Marble. This Tenderness of the two Lovers, drew Tears from the Eyes of most of the Spectators.  
In this manner they parted, without speaking one word. Captain Manly and his Company, making an humble Bow to the Queen, departed full of Compassion and Disgust.  
Izabella was left behind like an Orfan, who had newly buried her Parents, full of Fear lest her new Mistress should force her to quit the Religion, wherein she had been educated.  
Two days after Ferdinando put to Sea; being combated amongst other troublesome thoughts, with two especially; one was, that he ought to give such proof of himself, as to deserve Izabella: the other how he could do this and not offend his Religion, which forbade him to draw his Sword against Roman Catholics; if he did not, he should be reputed a Coward, and lose the hopes of obtaining his Mistress; though he determined to prefer his Religion before his Love. He therefore earnestly begged of Heaven to afford him an Opportunity, wherein he might show his Valour, and not expose his Religion; serve the Queen, and not offend his Conscience.  
They sailed six days with a fair wind towards the Isle of Terceras, where they doubted not but to meet with some Portugal Ships, which usually touch there, in there return from the East-Indies, or going to the West: After six days there arose a South Wind and blowed so strong and continued so long, that they could not make to the Land, but were driven towards the Coasts of Spain, near the straits mouth, when they discovered three Vessels, one great, and two smaller.  
Ferdinando made up to the Commander to receive his Orders; but coming near, he perceived a black Flag, and heard Trumpets and Fifes sound dolefully, clear signs some Person of Note was dead in the Ship; being come up to her, they desired him to come Aboard and take possession of her, for the Baron died the day before of an Apoplexy.  
This accident inwardly rejoiced Ferdinando, not that the Baron's death was pleasant to him, but because he was now at his own disposing, having none to be a Spy upon his Actions; he presently went Aboard, and was received with huzzas.  
He put all things in order for a fight, when he perceived two of these Ships to make up to him; and by the Half Moons which they bore, he knew them to be the Turkish Vessels, which caused in him great joy, and to thank Heaven that had afforded him an opportunity of showing his courage, without offending his Religion.  
The Turks imagined his Ships were returned from the Indies, and would make no resistance. Ferdinando let them come within reach of his Guns, than he poured a Broadside into one of them, with such success, that a great breach was made, and she had sunk, had not the other towed her off; Ferdinando pursued them, and reigned his small Shot so thick upon them, that they quitted her, and fastened her to the great Ship, making what sail they could to save themselves; but Ferdinando pressed so hard upon them, that they could not tack or make use of their Oars. The Christian Slaves broke their Chains and entered pellmell with the Turks; Ferdinando ordered his Men to aim at the Turks, and not willingly kill any Christians: in this manner many Turks were slain, but the greatest part of them were cut in pieces, by the Christian Slaves, who made use of the killed Turk's Arms, and laid about them courageously to recover their Liberty. Thus most of the Turks being killed, and the rest disarmed and secured; some persons appeared upon the deck calling Ferdinando in Spanish, to come and enjoy the fruit of his Victory, for they took them for Spanish Vessels, Ferdinando, the better to conceal himself, bearing the Flag of that Nation: Ferdinando asked what and whence they were? they answered, that they came from the Portugal Indies, and that they had aboard in Spices, Pearls and Diamonds, the value of a Million in Gold, that they were forced by stormy Wether upon that Coast, disabled, and shattered, and almost starved; that those Galleys were commanded by Arnaut Mami a Turkish Pirate, who had taken them the day before, and intended to tow them to the Canal of Rascia, not far distant from thence.  
Ferdinando answered that his Ships were not of Spain, but belonged to the Queen of England; which News put them into great Consternation; but he bid them fear nothing, for he would secure them from harm, and give them their Liberty, if they would presently yield without making any resistance. They replied, If we would, we are not in a condition, having no Guns, for we were obliged to cast them overboard in the late Storm; we apply ourselves to your Generosity, that since you have freed us from the intolerable yoke of Turkish slavery you would complete your Benefaction, and not carry us Captives into England.  
Ferdinando called a Council to know what they would advise him to do with the Spaniards and the rest, and how he might convey them to Spain without any danger to himself, and so to secure them, that they might not, when they should find their number, and the paucity of the English, make head against them.  
Some gave their opinion, to cause them one by one to pass into the English Ship, and then cut their their Throats, that one should not know what had befallen his Companion, and then with the rest of the Ships make for London. But Ferdinando answered, Since it hath pleased God to put into our hands so great Riches, we ought not to make him such a return; nor is it convenient to use Extremities, when other means will be as effectual. I will not therefore, that any Catholic die by your hand, not that I have a kindness for their Religion, but for myself; committing such barbarous Cruelty would lay a perpetual infamy upon our Country, and we should be esteemed base Cowards; for Cruelty and Valour are inconsistent.  
None of the Officers contradicted what Ferdinando said; some of them applauding him for a valiant and generous Person, and others thought him more inclined to Popery, as they called it, than they could wish.  
Ferdinando added, My opinion is, that we remove the great Guns, and the rest of the Arms and Provisions out of one of ours into the great Ship, and sail in her to England, leaving the empty one, with as much provisions as are necessary for so short a Voyage, to the Spaniards, wherein they may shift for themselves; to which they all consented. Then Ferdinando with fifty Harquebusiers went aboard the Prize, where were more than three hundred Christians, who escaped out of the Turkish Galleys, he asked for the Captain to give him the Register of the Ship, they answered, the Captain was drowned, and the Register with him.  
Immediately Ferdinando set all hands at work, and in a little time cleared his Ship, and then commanded the Spaniards to enter into it; leaving provisions more than sufficient for their Voyage; for they were so near Spain, that they could discern the Mountains of Culpe and Abila; he gave them also four Crowns a piece, to defray their charges to their homes, from the place of their landing. The last that was to embark, which was the first that spoke in the behalf of the rest, thus accosted Ferdinando, Generous and Valiant Captain, you'll do me a greater kindness to take me with you into England, for I do not desire to return into Spain, though it be my native Country, out of which I have been but six days, I can find nothing in it but what affords me Discontent. Know Sir, that in the Sack of Cales, I lost mine only Daughter and Child, which I suppose your Countrymen carried to England, and with her the Staff of my Age, and the Light of mine Eyes, which have seen nothing they could take pleasure in, since that time. This, and the loss of a considerable Estate at the same time, did so afflict me, that I neither would, nor could, any longer follow my Business, which was merchandizing, by which I had got the reputation of being the richest of that Profession in Cales; and indeed I was so, for besides what I had abroad, which was to the value of several hundred thousand Crowns; my stock at home was more worth than forty thousand Ducats of Gold. I lost all, but should have accounted it nothing, had I kept my Daughter. Besides this general Misery, Poverty came so fiercely upon me, that I could not withstand it, whereupon I resolved to go to the Indies, the usual Asylum of distressed and decayed Gentlemen, and take with me my Wife, which is that poor miserable Woman you see sitting there, we embarked in an Advice boat, six days ago; we were no sooner out of Cales, but we were taken by the Turks; thus renewing our Miseries, which yet would have been much greater, if they had not taken the Portugal Ship, which kept them here, till they fell into your hands.  
Ferdinando asked him his Daughter's Name, he replied Izabella; which made him suspect, that this Spaniard might be Father to his Mistress; but, without giving him any news of her, he said he would willingly carry them to London, where perhaps they might have tidings of their Daughter; so causing them to enter his Ship, and put a guard into the Portuguese Vessel, he set sail that Night, bearing off from the Spanish Coasts, leaving one of his Ships to the Spaniards, amongst whom there were about twenty Turks, to whom he also gave their Liberty: making the Spaniards promise, that after their Landing they should permit them to go whither they pleased. This he did to make his Men believe, that his Courtesies proceeded rather from his Generosity, than from his Inclination to the Roman Catholic Religion.  
The Wind, which at first was good, began to slacken, and, in fine, his Ship was becalmed, which caused great Consternation among the Seamen; fearing lest those they had set at liberty, should, at their arrival in Spain, give advice what and where they were; and if it should so happen, that there should be any armed Galeots in the Port, they might be sent out against them, and, by the advantage of the Calm, either take or sink them.  
Ferdinando did the best he could to settle their Minds; which whilst he was endeavouring, a brisk and favourable Wind arose, that served them to the end of their Voyage, which they finished in eight days, and arrived safe within sight of London; having, in the space of one Month, put a period to that Expedition.  
Ferdinando, because the Commander in chief was dead, would not enter the Port with signs of Joy, but caused his Trumpets to sound sometimes a cheerful and sometimes a sad Tune, and his Drums, which beat merrily, to be answered by Wind-Musick in a hoarse and melancholy Sound; and he caused the Turkish Standard to be hung reversed from his Fore castle, and on the other side another long Flag of black Velvet, whose Bottom touched the superficies of the Water, with those contrary Signs, the valiant Ferdinando appeared, having left the Portuguese Ship lower down in the River, fearing she should draw more Water than he should find there.  
These extraordinary Signs wrought Admiration in all the Concourse of People, which perceived them from the shore, they knew that was the Baron of Tinmouths' Ship, but could not imagine what that great one was which lay at Blackwal. In fine, their Doubts and Suspense ceased, when they saw Ferdinando come off his Ship, richly armed, on foot; and, armed as he was, he immediately went to Whitehal, followed by a numerous Company of People, desirous to know the Adventures he had met with.  
Ferdinando, who was tall, well proportioned, and in shining gilt Armour, appeared very graceful; he had no Helmet on, but a Beaver garnished with a Plume of Feathers of various colours, a long Sword hanging by a rich Belt, his Breeches of the French Fashion; in this manner he appeared. Some compared him to the God of War, others, by the beauty of his face, to Venus, so disguised to put a trick upon Mars.  
Being come to White-Hall, where the Queen having notice of his arrival expected him, environed with a circle of the Court Ladies, amongst which was Izabella dressed after the English mode, and did not appear less beautiful than in the Spanish Garb. Ferdinando drew near to the Queen, and falling down upon his knees, Her Majesty was graciously pleased to let him have the honour of kissing her hand; which done, Her Majesty bid him rise and give her an account of his Expedition; making a low bow, he began thus.  
Most Serene and Potent Queen, after my Commander in chiefs Death, and my succeeding him by Your Majesty's special Grace and Favour, fortune presented me with a welcome occasion of taking and sinking Two Turkish Galleys. I assaulted them; your men according to their Custom, fought valiantly, by force of Your Majesty's Fortune, which I did my utmost to second. We destroyed the Pirates, and took from them a considerable Prize. Upon one of Your Majesty's Ships I sent away the Christian Slaves which were in the Turkish Galleys, to whom, In Your Majesty's Name, I gave liberty. I have only brought with me a Spanish Gentleman and his Wife, who are come out of curiosity to see Your Majesty. The Prize which I took was a Portuguese Ship, who returning from the Indies fell into the hands of the Turks; the Spices, Pearls and Diamonds in it, are worth more than a Million of Gold, as they who came in it affirm; no bulk is broken, nothing is touched, either by us or the Turks: And I commanded that it should be carefully guarded for Your Majesty, of whom I beg only one Jewel, with which I should esteem myself well rewarded, if I had presented Your Majesty with ten such Ships; that Jewel is Izabella; having her, I shall account myself to be richly recompensed for all the services I have yet done, and which I hope to do, to make myself worthy, if not altogether, yet in some part, of so great a reward.  
Rise Ferdinando, said the Queen, and believe me, should I make you pay for Izabella what she is worth, and according to the value I set upon her, you could not purchase her with the Riches of that Ship, nor of the Indies. I give you her because of my promise, and because she is worthy of you, and you of her: You have kept for me the riches of the Ship, and I have preserved Izabella for you. It may be, you think it no great obligation to receive your own, but I know I do you a signal Favour; for things that the buyer has an ardent desire to purchase, are worth the price the seller pleases to put them at. Izabella is yours, take possession of her when you please, 'twill be, I believe, with her good liking, for she can discern how true your Love is. Go home, and refresh yourself, and let me see you again to morrow, and I'll hear the particulars of the Expedition; and bring with you the two Spaniards, who, you said, desired to come to see me, that I may thank them.  
There were some, that envied Ferdinando's reception, who did not stick to say, 'twas vanity and folly in him to appear thus armed in the Court; but others excused him, thinking, it pardonable in a young Soldier and a Lover.  
After this Ferdinando went home, and was received with all the caresses and kindness imainable by his Parents and Kindred. And the Londoners to testify their Joy for his happy success, filled the streets with Bonfires, and the windows with Illuminationss.  
Now were the Father and Mother of Izabella arrived at Captain Manlys House, of whose condition Ferdinando had informed them, but begged they would not tell them any news of their Daughter, but leave that discovery to him. That night they began to unload the great ship, which was eight days a doing.  
The next day Ferdinando went to the Court, taking with him the Father and Mother of Izabella, clothed after the English Fashion, telling them it would be grateful to the Queen. Her Majesty attended by the Court Ladies, as a mark of Her Favour, had placed Izabella close to her, dressed in the same Spanish  wherein she appeared first at Court; her Father and Mother, amazed to see so much grandeur and magnificence; looking about, at last fixed their Eyes upon Izabella with a certain heart-beating, and not an unpleasant trouble, not believing it presaged the good which they so much desired, and was so near to them.  
The Queen asked Ferdinando the particulars of his Engagement, which he told, attributing the success to God, to the happy Stars of Her Majesty, and to the valour of his Seamen, praising them all in general, and particularlizing some who had signalised their selves in that Action. The Queen ordered them all to be rewarded, distributing to some who had behaved themselves extraordinarily, greater marks of her Favour.  
Then Ferdinando told Her Majesty, this Man and this Woman, pointing to Izabellas' Parents, are the two Spaniards I mentioned to Your Majesty yesterday: They are of Cales, and I believe, by what I have remarked in their Discourse and Conversation, of an honourable Quality. The Queen bid them draw near; Izabell'a looked earnestly upon them, hearing they were Spaniards and of Cales, with intention to inquire of them after her Parents; and turning towards her mother, who stood staring upon her, she had a confused remembrance of her, that she had some where seen her: Her Father was in the same confusion, and durst not believe what they saw.  
Ferdinando observed all of them, but was not able to determine whether they knew one another or not.  
The Queen took notice with what attention and concern the Spaniards viewed Izabella, and that she also was in great perplexity, sweeting, and often putting her hand to her head to adjust her hair; longing to hear her speak whom she thought to be her Mother, hoping her Ears might free her from the confusion which her Eyes had brought upon her; good fortune answered her wish; for the Queen commanded her to ask them, why they would not take hold of the Liberty which Ferdinando offered them; that being a good beloved, and prized not only by Men, but by Beasts themselves?  
This did Izabella ask her Mother; who, without answering one word, ran to her, not considering where, and in whose company she was; and putting her hand to her left Ear, perceived there a black mole, which put an end to her doubts; now certainly she knew it was her Daughter, she embraced her most passionately; and broke out into these Words: Oh my dear Life! but not being able to say any more, she fell into a Swond, holding Izabella in her Arms. Her Husband being not less prudent, than compassionate, showed his Affection not with Words, but Tears flowing down from his Eyes.  
Izabella turning her Eyes towards her Father after such a manner, that they showed the Pain and Pleasure that Sight afforded her. The Queen was amazed, and told Ferdinando, this was a Contrivance of his, that it could not be by chance, and that he might have cause to repent of it: for it as often happens that sudden Joy, as surprising bad news, had proved mortal: then she ordered Izabella to be taken from her Mother, who having some cold water spurted in her Face, came to herself; and being recovered, she cast herself at the Queen's feet, and said, I most humbly beg your Majesty to pardon my Rudeness; 'tis not to be wondered at, that the Joy to find my dear Pledge, should make me lose my Senses, and behave myself so undecently in your Majesties presence.  
The Queen replied, 'twas a good Excuse, and that she took nothing amiss, she also appointed them Lodgings in the Court, that they might, with more opportunity and leisure, enjoy their Daughter's Company.  
Ferdinando returned the Queen most humble thanks for this favour, withal desiring her Majesty to give him Izabella, if he had merited her; and if he had not, that she would without delay employ him in some service, which might render him worthy of that he so ardently desired.  
The Queen was well satisfied of Ferdinando's Valour, and desired no farther proof, and therefore told him, that after four days she would be as good as her word Ferdinando went away the most joyful Man in the World, having so near a prospect of Happiness.  
The Queen being well pleased with his Presents, shown him many other signal Favours, which made the Courtiers grumble, and say, the Proverb is verified, Presents break Stones? because Ferdinando's had that effect upon that haughty Queen; but this kind Reception raised him many Enemies: for if a Prince shows any one a particular kindness, it is a Lance and pierces the Heart of the envious.  
The time passed, but not with that Swiftness as Ferdinando desired; for those who expect a great benefice upon a day appointed, always think, that time is so far from flying, that it walks slowly and with leaden Feet. The day came and Ferdinando believed he should accomplish his Desires, and find new Graces in Izabella, which should make him love her more, if that were possible. But in that short time, wherein he hoped the Ship should arrive at the desired Port, his ill Fate raised such Tempests, that he was a thousand times in danger to suffer Shipwreck; and this was the occasion.  
The Countess of Lundy, in whose custody Izabella was, had a Son about twenty two years old, called the Earl of Lundy, the Greatness of whose Estate, the Nobility of his Blood, and the Favour his Mother had with the Queen, made him intolerable haughty, proud and arrogant; this Earl was desperately enamoured with Izabella, and during Ferdinando's absence he had often told her his Desires, and she as often declared his Addresses were very ungrateful to her; though usualy Disdain opposed to young Love, nips it in the Bud, and stops the Lovers farther proceedings; yet in this Earl Izabellas' Repulses wrought a contrary effect, and instead of extinguishing his Love, caused it to flame more. But when he found that Ferdinando and she were suddenly to be married, he almost died with Despair; but at last he resolved to speak to his Mother, and pray her to ask Izabella of the Queen; and added, that if her Majesty denied his Petition, he was a dead Man, it being impossible for him to live without her. His Mother was much surprised at these words, knowing his humour, with what obstinancy he used to pursue his desires, and fearing what might ensue; she as a Mother, to whom it is natural to endeavour to please their Children, promised him to speak to the Queen; not that she had any hopes to speed, for she knew 'twas imposssible to make the Queen break her word, but to gain time, and keep her Son from attempting a more desperate Remedy.  
That morning, by the Queen's Command, Izabella was habited so richly that my Pen cannot describe her Garments, Her Majesty putting about her neck one of the best Necklaces which could be found amongst many, which were taken in the Portuguese Prize, worth five thousand Pound, and on her finger a Diamond Ring of excessive value; and whilst the rest of the Court Ladies were discoursing about the Marriage, which they concluded was presently to be celebrated, behold the Countess of Lundy entered into the presence, and casting herself at her Majesty's Feet, begged that she would defer the Wedding only for two days, which if Her Majesty would grant, she would esteem herself abundantly rewarded for all her services. The Queen would first be informed, what made her so earnestly desire her to do that which was directly contrary to her word.  
The Countess would not answer, till the Queen had granted her Petition; which she did, being desirous to know the reason, which forced the Countess upon such a demand.  
Then the Countess told the Queen her Son's love, and that she feared, that if he did not obtain his desire, it might make him desperate; and that she hoped in two days Her Majesty might find out some expedient to satisfy her enamoured Son.  
The Queen replied, That had she not engaged her word, 'twas possible she might find out some thread to guide him out of that labyrinth, but she could not, neither would she defraud Ferdinando's hopes for all the World. This answer the Countess carried to her Son, who immediately put on his armour, and mounted upon a stately Horse rid to Captain Manlys House, and with a loud voice called upon Ferdinando, who was dressed like a Bridegroom, in order to go to White-Hall to be Married, having heard the voice he went to the Window; as soon as the Earl saw him, he thus accosted him.  
Ferdinando have patience, and mind what I have to say; the Queen our Mistress commanded you to go to Sea, and give such proofs of your Valour that might make you deserve the incomparable Izabella; you went, and returned with a Vessel fraught with Gold, and Spices, and precious Stones, by which Action you think you have deserved her, and believe there is no body in the Court that merits her better than you; in which you are much mistaken. I am of opinion, nay, I affirm, that you have not yet, nor ever can do any thing, that can make you worthy of Izabella. If you say the contrary, I defy you, and shall make my words good with my Sword. Thus the Earl ended, and Ferdinando replied.  
My Lord, your Challenge concerns me not, because I own, that not only I am unworthy of Izabella, but that there is no man living upon the face of the Earth does deserve her; making this acknowledgement I do not see that your defiance touches me, nevertheless I accept of it, that I may chastise your insolence.  
This said, he called for his Arms, whereat his Parents and the rest of the Company were much disturbed. Some who saw the Earl, and heard the Challenge, went immediately and informed the Queen, who commanded the Captain of Her Guard to go presently and Arrest the Earl: The Captain was so expeditious, that he arrived just as Ferdinando was coming out of his House on Horseback and Armed.  
No sooner did the Earl see him, but guessing what he came for, he spoke thus, with a loud voice to Ferdinando; You see what hinders us at present from deciding our quarrel; if you have any desire to see me, you may search me out; and I will not give over looking for you, till I have found and chastised you. Two Persons that hate one another, may easily meet, if they are inclined to it; let us therefore put off the execution of our design, till we meet. I am contented, replied Ferdinando.  
In this instant the Captain arrived, and told the Earl, that he arrested him in Her Majesties Name: The Earl desired him to carry him before Her Majesty; which the Captain granted, and putting him in the midst of his men, guarded him to White-Hall, and brought him into Her Majesty's presence, who had been informed by the Countess of Lundy also of what had happened; and who earnestly petitioned for his pardon, as one carried ●y the heat of Youth and Passion to commit this Fact. The Earl was brought before the Queen, who without entering into any discourse with him, commanded that his Sword should be tak●n away, and he carried to the Tower. All these things caused great inquietude in Izabella and her Parents, who in so little time found their affairs so much embroiled; the Countess endeavoured to persuade the Queen to send Izabella to Spain, and so taking away the cause, put an end to the bad consequences which might arise: she added, that Izabella was so stiff a Roman Catholic that no body could prevail with her to quit that Religion.  
I have, replied the Queen, a greater esteem for her, because she is steadfast in the Religion wherein she was educated; neither can I think of sending her to Spain, for that would be to deprive myself of the pleasure which her company, her virtues, and her beauty afford me: Instead of that, I intent either this day, or to morrow at farthest, to see her married to Ferdinando.  
This answer afflicted the Countess with so much sorrow, that she was not able to reply one word; and believing there was no other remedy for her Son's Malady, but to remove Izabella out of the way, she resolved to put in practice one of the greatest wickednesses and cruelties, that ever entered into the thoughts of a Person of her Quality, which was to Poison her: and as it is natural to all Women, when they have fixed their resolutions, especially if they are bad ones, not to defer the execution of them; that very night she gave her the Poison in C●…serve of Roses, forcing her to take it, telling her 'twas a sovereign Remedy for the Heart-beating and Qualms, to which Izabella was subject; presently upon taking of it, she began to swell, her Tongue, her Neck, and her Lips grew black, her Voice hoarse, her Eyes dim, and she was short-breathed; all which were evident sign of her being poisoned.  
The Ladies repaired presently to the Queen, and informed her, that the Countess of Lundy had poisoned Izabella. The Queen went immediately to visit her, whom she found senseless, and at the point of death; she presently sent for her Fysicians, but before they came, she gave her Powder of Unicorns horn, and other Antidotes, which Princes are usually well stored with: when the Fysicians came, they applied the same again, and prayed the Queen to ask the Countess, what sort of Poison she gave her; which when she had declared, they now knowing the Cause, prescribed so many, and so efficacious Remedies, that by their means and Gods help, Izabella remained alive, or at least in some hopes of Living.  
The Queen committed the Countess to the Tower; who to excuse her fact, alleged, that She thought in removing Izabella any way, it would be a grateful Service to Heaven, in ridding the World of a Roman Catholic, and the Cause of difference betwixt her, and her Son.  
When Ferdinando heard this News, it almost distracted him, he did extravagant things, raved, and lamented immoderately. Izabella did not die, but the Hair came off from her Head, Eybrows, and Eyelids, her Head and her Face swelled, her Colour became squalid, her Skin scurfy and yellow, her Eyes red, running: in a word the Poison left her so ugly, that whereas before she was a Miracle of Beauty, she was now become a Monster of Deformity; those that saw her in this plight, thought that she lost more by her Recovery, than she would have done by her Death.  
This notwithstanding, Ferdinando came to visit her constantly, and at last he supplicated the Queen, that he might have her home to his Father's house, saying, He did not esteem her so much for the Beauty of her Body, as of her Soul, which she retained still.  
Ferdinando, said the Queen, carry her to your house, and esteem her as a most precious Jewel, in a Case of low value: God knows my heart, I would have returned her in the same condition she was delivered me; but since that is now impossible, you must arm yourself with Patience. I hope the Punishment, which I shall inflict upon the Author of this mischief, will make you some satisfaction for the Loss and Displeasure you have received.  
In fine, Izabella and her Parents were consigned into Ferdinando's hands, who carried them to his Father's house.  
The Queen added to her former Presents, a rich Apparel, and many other considerable Gifts, as a Mark of her Favour.  
Izabella continued two months in that Deformity, without any sign of Recovering her former Beauty, after that time the rough Skin began to peel off, and her Countenance was a little clearer.  
But Ferdinando's Parents, accounting it impossible, she should ever be again what she was, before resolved, without their Son's knowledge, to bring on again the Treaty with the Scotch Lady, not doubting, but that the present Beauty of his new Mistress, would make him forget the deformed unfortunate Izabella, whom they resolved to send into Spain, together with her Father and Mother, giving them so much Money and Provision, as was more than necessary for such a Voyage. Within six weeks Ferdinando's new Mistress arrived at London, he knowing nothing of it, and was invited to lodge at Captain Manlys house.  
Ferdinando fearing this sudden accident might cause Izabellas' Death, or at least retard her Recovery; to prevent this, he went to her Bedside, and in the presence of his Parents, spoke thus to her,  
My dear heart Izabella, my Parents not being sufficiently informed of the infinite Love I bore you, have brought into the House a Scotch Gentlewoman, with whom, before I knew you, they had agreed to marry me; thinking, as I suppose, that the present Beauty of this Lady will efface my Love to you. From the beginning, my Love was not of that sort, which designs only to satisfy its sensual Appetite, if the Beauty of your Body conquered my Senses, your infinite Virtues enslaved my Soul; so that if, when you were beautiful, I loved you, now you are far from being so I adore you; and to confirm this, give me, I pray you, your hand: which she did, and then he continued his Discourse, in this manner.  
By that Faith, in which my Parents have educated me, I say, by the Roman Catholic Faith, which I believe and profess; by the True God, who sees and hears me, I promise thee Izabella to be thy Husband, and from this moment am so, if you consent to exalt me to so great Felicity. At these solemn Protestations, Izabella was strangely surprised, and his Parents astonished and confounded; she could not tell what to do or say, she only kissed his Hands, and with a weak Voice, interrupted with Sighs, she answered, that she accepted him for her Husband, and gave herself to him for his Slave.  
Then did Ferdinando kiss that homely and deformed Face, which he never durst presume to do, whilst it was beautiful.  
Izabellas' Parents did solemnize this Feast with Tears of Joy; Ferdinando told them what way he would take, and if in the mean time, his Parents would send them all three into Spain, they should make no difficulty of going; that they should expect him within two years at Cales or Sivil, if he came not in that time, they might conclude, that some great Impediment or Death had retarded him.  
Izabella replied, she would expect him not only two years, but all her Life.  
Then Ferdinando told his Parents, that he could by no means either promise or marry the Scotch Lady, before he had made a Journey to Rome, and visited the Relics and Shrines of that holy City; he founded the necessity of his Voyage, upon such Reasons, that his Parents, and those of Christiana, for so was his Scotch Mistress called, being Catholics, believed all he said, and were forced to consent to what they could not hinder; and Christiana was content to remain in her Fathers-in-law house the space of one year, hoping in that time Ferdinando might return. This being agreed upon, Captain Manly declared his resolution to send Izabella and her Parents to their own Country, if he could obtain the Queen's permission, alleging that her native Air might perfect the Recovery of her Health, which now sensibly began to return.  
Ferdinando, not to discover his Intentions, answered coldly, that he might do as he pleased; and few hours after Captain Manly went to the Queen, to ask her Majesties leave, to marry his Son to Christiana, and send back Izabella, with her Parents; the Queen granted his Petition, and the same day, without ask the opinion of the Judges, or forming any Process against the Countess of Lundy, she condemned her to pay ten Thousand Nobles to Izabella for the loss of her Beauty, and the danger she put her in of losing her Life; besides this, she turned her out of her place, and forbade her the Court for ever; she also banished the Earl of Lundy for six Years; in four days time the Countess paid her Fine, and the Earl was prepared to go into Exile. The Queen paid the ten Thousand Nobles to a Merchant in London, who had very considerable Deal in France and Italy, and by his Correspondents there, in Spain, and took a Bill for the payment of the Value to Izabellas' Father in Sevil or Cales, or in what other part of Spain he should reside. The Merchant replied, He would draw a Bill upon a Correspondent of his at Sevil, and order him to write to Paris, and get a Bill thence, that it might appear to be done in France, and not in England; because there was then no Commerce betwixt England and Spain; and that it should be sufficient for them to carry Letters of Advice without specifying the place, to which he would put such Marks and Counter-signs, that his Correspondent should not fail to pay it upon sight.  
This satisfied the Queen; then she sent for a Master of a Flemish Ship, to whom she recommended Izabella and her Parents, charging him to land them in what part of Spain they should desire, and to take care they wanted nothing. The Master being very willing to please the Queen, answered, He took it for a great Honour to serve her Majesty, and that he would land them in Lisbon, Cales, or Sevil, or what other Port they pleased.  
Then her Majesty sent to Captain Manly, commanding him not to take any thing from Izabella which she had given her.  
Next day Izabella and her Parents took their leave of the Queen, who received them with more than ordinary Kindness and Respect; besides the Bill of Exchange, which she put into Izabellas' hands, she made them Presents of Money, and Provisions for their Voyage. Izabella returned her Majesty Thanks in so judicious and discreet Words, that her Majesty resolved to continue her Favour to her, and to seek occasions of doing her more good. Izabella took her leave also of the Court-Ladies, who now wished hearty she would stay amongst them; her Beauty being gone, their Envy was dead also. The Queen embraced them all three, recommending them to God's Protection, and the Care of the Master of the Ship, desiring Izabella to send her a Letter, as soon as she should arrive in Spain.  
That very Evening they embarked, not without Tears of Captain Manly and his Wife, and all the Family, by whom Izabella was very much respected and beloved.  
Ferdinando would not be present at the parting, but went that day, with some Friends, a hunting, the better to conceal his Thoughts.  
The Regales which Madam Manly gave Izabella were many, the Embraces infinite, the Tears in abundance, and the Prayers, that she would write to her, numberless. The Thanks of Izabella and her Parents were not inferior to these Courtesies; and though they left them in Tears, yet they were well satisfied.  
That Evening the Vessel put to Sea with a prosperous gale, and touched at France, to get the necessary Attestation; and within less than a Month they reached Cales, and there landed. Izabellas' Parents were known by most of the City, and were received with great Joy, which was made the greater, when they understood that they had found their Daughter, in whom now there appeared great hopes that she would recover her former Beauty.  
They congratulated them also for their deliverance from the Turks and English; for they had been informed of this by the Slaves which Ferdinando set free. They stayed something more than a Month at Cales, to recover the Fatigue of their Voyage. Afterwards they went to Sevil, to get the Money due upon their Bill; the Merchant said he knew the Hand, but could not safely pay it till he had received Letters of Advice, which he expected daily.  
Izabellas' Parents hired a Palace over against Santa Paula, in which Nunnery they had a Niece, to whom they desired to be near; she was remarkable for having the sweetest Voice, and being the best skilled in singing of them all; but especially, because Izabella had told Ferdinando, He should inquire for her of that Nun.  
'Twas forty days before the Letter of Advise came; two days after, the Merchant sent to Izabellas' Parents, and paid the Value of Ten Thousand Nobles; with this Money, and what her Jewels were sold for, her Father set up again, and traded very considerably, to the great admiration of those who knew what Losses he had sustained.  
In few Months Izabella recovered her Beauty; and in two Years successful Trading, her Father was as good a Man as before the Sack of Cales; and Izabella bore away the Bell from all the Beauties of Sevil, being called by all, the fair SPANISH-ENGLISH LADY.  
Izabella and her Parents wrote to the Queen of England, giving her Majesty Advice of their Arrival, and thanking her in a most humble and submissive manner, for the many Favours they had received from her Royal Bounty. She wrote also to Captain Manly and his Wife, calling them Father and Mother.  
They had no Answer from the Queen; to the other Letters they had, which imported, that the day after they departed, their Son began his Journey, adding many kind Expressions of their Love, to which they returned as courteous Answers.  
Immediately Izabella imagined that Ferdinando had left England to find her out; with this hope she lived the most contented Person in the World, and took care to behave herself so, that at his Arrival he should hear the Report of her Virtues before he knew where she dwelled: She never went out of doors but to the Monastery, and that seldom; never confessed any where else; every Friday in Lent, and in the holy Week she went to the most holy Station of the Cross; she never walked to the River, or to the Triana, nor to the Feast in the Field of Tablada, nor to the Gate of Xeres upon S. Sebastian's Day, whether so many People resort, that they are in apperrances numberless: In a word, she went to no Ball or public meeting, but stayed at home retired, and virtuously employing her time in expectation of Ferdinando's Arrival.  
This Demeanour procured her many Admirers, every day some passed on Horseback before her Window, others serenaded her, but she never shown herself; many Bawds attempted her, but in vain; she stood like a Rock, beaten by the Winds and Waves, but not moved.  
Now one and an half of the two Years were expired, and she began to be in great trouble; sometimes she imagined Ferdinando was come, and made Excuses for his so long delay; and that she approved of them, and pardoned him. Whilst she was in this confusion of Thoughts, there comes a Letter from Captain Manlys Wife, dated at London Fifty days before, in these words:  
Dear Daughter, You cannot but remember my Sons Valet de Chambre, who waited upon him in his Voyage, as I informed you in my last, and that they left London the day after you embarked.  
'Tis a Year and four Months since we heard from him; yesterday his Servant returned with the sad News, that the Earl of Lundy had treacherously murdered him. You may easily imagine with what Sorrow his Father and I, and his Spouse, received these Tidings. Prithee, my Dear, pray to God for his Soul, who hath merited that pious Office, by the Love thou knowest he had for thee. Pray to God also to give us Patience and a happy Death, and we will supplicate him, to give thee and thy Parents a long and prosperous Life.  
Izabella knew the Hand, and doubted not of the truth of the Contents, she knew his Servant was no Liar, and would not forge this News, and that Ferdinando's Mother had no reason to invent it; she concluded therefore that Ferdinando was dead. After she had read the Letter, without shedding Tears, or showing any Signs of Grief, with a constant Countenance, and a quiet Heart, in appearance, she risen from her Chair, and retired to her Oratory, then kneeling before a Crucifix, she made a Solemn Vow to take on her the Habit, and strict profession of a Nun; her Parents with great Discretion concealed their Grief, that they might comfort Izabella, who, as if she had digested and overcome hers, by that Holy and Christian Resolution, was more able to comfort them, than they her.  
Having told them her Intent, they advised her not to put it in Execution before the end of two Years, for she was engaged to expect Ferdinando so long. She was obedient to their Counsel, and spent the six Months and a half, which were wanting to complete the two Years, in Prayers and Religious Exercises, as if she were already a Nun.  
The Nunnery she made choice of, was that of Santa Paula, wherein her Cousin was.  
The term of two Years was now exspired, and the time come when she was to take upon her the Habit, which she concluded, that now she might securely do, not doubting but that she was a Widow.  
This News fled like Lightning all over the City, the Monastery, and all the way betwixt it, and her House were full of People, some whereof had only seen her, but most having only heard the Fame of her Virtues and Beauty, her Parents desired their Friends, and they others, to accompany their Daughter, and take their leave of her, as one going out of the World.  
It was one of the most honourable Appearances that ever was seen, upon the like Occasion in that City. There was the Vicar of the Archbishop, the Assistant, and the Provedor, and all the Principal Persons of both Sexes, so much did they all desire to see that radiant Sun, which had been so long eclipsed. It being the Custom of young Ladies taking the Habit upon them, to appear in the richest and most glorious Apparel, to evaporate the last Flame of worldly Splendour, which blazes most, just before its extinction. In conformity to this Custom, Izabella dressed herself in her richest Garments, and put on the same  wherein she first appeared before the Queen of England, what they were, we have mentioned before; these Ornaments, together with her Beauty and graceful Deportment, drew from the admiring People a Thousand Benedictions. She chose to go on Foot, because the Monastery was not far off, but the throng of the People was so great, that she could scarce pass, which made her repent she had not taken the convenience of a Coach; some blessed the Parents that begot her, some the Heavens that had endowed her with so admirable Beauty, some stood on Tiptoes to see her, others having had one view of her, ran before that they might have one sight of her more, and amongst this great Number, there was one whose eagerness, and pressing to see her, together with his remarkable Dress, drew the Eyes of most of the Spectators upon him; he was in the Habit of a Slave, and upon his Breast was a Badge, which showed he had been freed from Turkish Captivity, by the Fathers of the Redemption.  
Now, Izabella, had one Foot within the Gate of the Monastery, the Abess and the Sisters with a Cross born before them were come to receive her according to Custom, when the Slave cried out with a loud Voice, Hold, Izabella, stop, proceed not one Inch further, for as long as I live, you must not, you cannot be a Nun: Hearing this Voice, Izabella and her Parents turned their Heads towards it, and perceived the Slave making his way through the throng, in his striving, his Turkish Hat fell of, and discovered a yellow neglected Head of Hair, curled in Rings, and a white and Vermilion Countenance, certain Signs that he was a Stranger, he sometimes falling, then rising again, made a Lane through the Press, and took Izabella by the Hand, and spoke thus:  
Do you know me Izabella? Look attentively upon me, I am Ferdinando your Husband; I know you, replied Izabella, if thou art not some Fantome, that appears to disturb my repose; her Parents viewed him wishfully, and upon Consideration, were convinced that it was Ferdinando. He then with Tears in his Eyes, fell on his Knees before Izabella, beseeching her, That the lowness of his Fortune, nor the meaness of his Habit, might not prevail with her to break her Word, and render those Vows ineffectual, which they had both interchangeably made.  
Izabella giving more Credit to what she saw, than to what she had heard, embraced him, and replied; You, Sir, are without doubt the only Person in the World that can make me alter my Resolution, you are my better half, you are my Husband, whose Image I carry deeply engraved in my Soul; the News of your Death, being, against my will, not able to procure mine, made me resolve to end my Life in this Monastery, but since God by this just Impediment declares it is not his will, I cannot, neither aught I resist his Pleasure: Come, Sir, let's go to my Father's House, which you may call your own, and there with the Licence of the Holy Church, I will give you entire possession of my Person and my Estate.  
At these Words, the Vicar, the Assistants and the Provedor were wonderfully surprised, and desired to know the History of that Slave, and of the pretended Marriage. To whom Izabellas' Father replied, That Discovery required another place and time, and invited all who had the Curiosity to know it, to accompany him to his House, which was not far off, that there they should be no less satisfied of the Truth, as than they were astonished at the strangeness of what they had seen.  
Then one of the Company cried out aloud, Gentlemen, this young man is a Famous English Pirate, the same that about two Years since, took from the Algerines a great Portuguse Ship, no doubt but 'tis the same. I am sure I have reason to know him, for he gave me my liberty, and money to bear my Charges hither; and not only to me, but to all the rest of the Slaves, who were more than three hundred. Thus he bawled, but the Company told him, he was an ungrateful Rascal, and ought rather to thank, than accuse him, for his generous Action.  
In fine, the principal Persons accompanied Izabella to her House, leaving the Abbess and Nuns lamenting their loss. She desired the Company to seat themselves in the great Hall, whereunto she had conducted them.  
Ferdinando, who was about to begin his narrative, thought it would be more expedient to trust it to the Words and Discretion of Izabella, because he did not speak Spanish fluently.  
The Company were silent, and attentive, expecting what Izabella should say: She began with her being carried Captive, and how many years she lived in Ferdinando's Father's House; of the beginning of their Love, of the progress; and that they mutually engaged to be Man and Wife; she told them of her being Poisoned, and of her wonderful recovery; of Ferdinando's leaving England, and her promise to expect him in two years; of his Engagement with the Turks, and the Liberality he used towards the Christians; then she proceeded to tell them the News she received of his Death, upon which she resolved to turn Nun, which she was just now, as they all knew, upon the point of putting in execution; she praised the Liberality of the Queen of England; and the most Christian Affection of Ferdinando's Parents to her; and finally she concluded, praying Ferdinando to tell the company what happened to him since he left London, till the time of his arrival at Sevil.  
I will, said Ferdinando, in few words declare the wonderful History of my many and great Misfortunes. As soon as I left London, taking with me my Valet de Chambre only; I passed through France to Rome, in seeing of which my Soul was rejoiced, and my Faith confirmed; I kissed the Pope's Feet, and confessed to the grand Penitentiary, who absolved me, and gave me a Testimonial thereof in writing. This done, I visited the seven Churches and other holy Places, whereof there are many in that City. Of Two thousand Crowns in Gold which I had, I reserved four hundred for my present occasions, the other sixteen hundred I paid to a Merchant, and took his Bill upon one Rocci a Florentine in this City; I carried the other four hundred to Genoa, from whence I was informed, two Galleys were ready to departed for Spain, upon one of which I designed to Embark. I and my Servant came to Acquapendente, the last City in the Pope's Dominions in the Road betwixt Rome and Florence. Having lighted at an Inn, I saw there my mortal Enemy the Earl of Lundy with four Servants in disguise, who was going to Rome, rather out of curiosity, as I suppose, than Devotion; and lest he might know me, I locked myself in my Chamber with my Servant, designing to change my Lodgings, as soon as it should be dark, but I altered my intention, perceiving the Earl and his Servants remained quiet in their Chambers, concluding he did not know me.  
However I supped in my Chamber, made fast the Door, and commending myself to God, but suspecting the worse, I would not go to bed, but slumberd in a Chair, my Servant falling fast a sleep.  
A little after midnight the Earl and his Servants wakened me, in order to make me sleep eternally, discharging upon me four Pistols, and leaving me for dead, and, as I knew afterwards, mounting their Horses, which were in readiness, they told the Host that he should take care to bury me, for I was a Person of Quality; and then they betook themselves to flight.  
My servant leaped out of the Balcony, as my Host told me, and crying out, they have killed my Master, run away with so much fear, that I believe he never turned his Head, till he came to London, whither he carried the News, and the manner of my Death.  
The people of the Inn came up to my Chamber, and found me shot through with four Bullets; I confessed, and received the blessed Saerament, then sent for a Surgeon to search and dress my Wounds. After two months I was able to pursue my Journey to Genoa, where I could find no passage but in two Felucas, which I, and two Spanish Gentlemen hired, one to go before as a scout, and the other to carry us: We Embarked, and sailed terra terra, keeping near the shore to avoid danger, yet notwithstanding our caution, near the Three Maries, a Port of France, two Turkish Galleys came out of a Creek, and were not discovered by our scout, till 'twas too late; one kept betwixt us and the shore to cut off our Landing, and the other assaulted and easily took us; we were no sooner entered into the Galley, but they stripped us to the Skin, and took out of the Felucas whatever was in them, and then let them go, saying, they would serve to bring them more HENS, for they term the Prizes they make upon Christians.  
You will easily believe I was grieved to my heart to see myself a slave, and above all things, that I had lost my Testimonials I brought from Rome, which, together with my Bill for sixteen hundred Crowns I carried in a little Tin Box, but it was my good fortune that they fell into the hands of a Spanish Slave, who kept them safe; for had the Turks known of them, they would have made me pay for my Ransom at least as much as that Bill was for, understanding by it of what Quality I was.  
We were carried to Algiers, where I found the Fathers of the Trinity redeeming of Slaves, I spoke to them, and informed them what I was, and moved their compassion; and although I was a stranger, they were so obliging as to redeem me; which they did in this manner, I was valued at three hundred Ducats, which they undertook to pay, one hundred in hand, and the other two when the Ship should arrive, to free the Fathers, who were left in Pawn for four Thousand Ducats, which they had borrowed and laid out more than what they brought with them; for the mercy and charity of these Fathers is so great, that they lose their own liberty, to set others free, and become Slaves themselves to redeem Slaves.  
To augment the joy of my liberty, I found my Tin Box, and in it my Roman Testimonial and Bill of Exchange, which I shown the Father, who redeemed me, and proffered him five hundred Ducats more than he paid for my Ransom, to help to disengage him, but I could fasten nothing upon him.  
The Alms Vessel stayed almost a year before it arrived; to tell my adventures in that interval, would be to begin another History. I will only add, that one of the twenty Turks I set at liberty knew me, but was so honest, and so grateful, as not to discover me. For had the Turks known, that I sunk their two Galleys and took their Prize from them, they would have either put me to death, or presented me to the Grand Signior, which would for ever have deprived me of hopes to obtain my liberty.  
The Fathers and I, and fifty more Ransomed Slaves, arrived in Spain; in Valentia we walked in a solemn Procession; then every one of us took our leave, and went whither we pleased, carrying with us the badge of Liberty, which is this I wear upon my breast. This day I came hither, and was going to the Monastery to inquire after my Wife; the rest you know. It remains only, that I show you my Testimonials; which seen, and believed, you must acknowledge, that my story is no less true than marvellous.  
This said, he put them into the hands of the Grand Vicar, who, together with the Assistant perused and examined them, and were convinced, that all that Ferdinando said was true. And for a farther confirmation of it, it pleased Heaven, that the Florentine Merchant, upon whom this Bill was drawn, was present at this Narration, and desired to see it, and when he had, he accepted of it, acknowledging he had received advice of it many months before, and that he would pay it whenever Ferdinando would come, or send for it.  
The Vicar courteously embraced Ferdinando, the Parents of Izabella, and her also; the other two Prelates did so likewise, and prayed Izabella to put in writing the particulars of the Narration they had heard, that the Archbishop their Lord might have the pleasure of reading it.  
The great silence which all the bystanders observed, during this Narration, was succeeded with their giving thanks to God for these stupendious Mercies; from the lowest; to the highest, they all congratulated Ferdinando, Izabella, and her Parents. Then Ferdinando desired the Grand Vicar to honour their Wepding with his presence, which they intended to solemnize within eight days; which he courteously granted, and upon the day appointed, he did not only come, but he was pleased to read the Office of Matrimony himself, and to join them with his own hands, which they took for an extraordinary Favour; for this he did in the presence of of the principal Persons of that rich and famous City. Ferdinando made an excellent Husband, and Izabella an exemplary Wife; and they lived together with such mutual conjugal Affection, that they were envied, and admired by all.  
Thus Izabellas' Parents recovered their Daughter, and she her Beauty; her Father gained a greater Estate than he had lost, and paid all his Debts without any Composition, and his Credit was greater than ever.  
The fair Palace, which till then they only hired, now they purchased of Don Piedro de Zifuentes, a Gentlemen of Burgos, in which they lived in great Esteem and Veneration, at the time of writing this Novel.  
The End of the First Novel.   

THE Liberal Lover.  
NOVEL II.  
OH the sad Ruins of miserable Nicosia! scarce yet dry from the Blood of your valiant and unfortunate Defenders! Why have you no Resentment? Why cannot we two, in this solitude, intermingle our Complaints, and bemoan our hard Fates? that each of us having a Companion in our Miseries, they may seem more tolerable. One day your Towers, which are now equal with the Earth, may be built again; but, Wretch that I am, what Relief can I hope for, in the miserable Straits wherein I am immersed! How can I return to the same Condition wherein I was before this Calamity fell upon me. My lot is very hard; I was unhappy in Liberty and am so in Slavery, without hope of mending my Condition.  
These lamentable Words were uttered by a Christian Slave; who, from the top of a neighbouring Mountain contemplated the Ruins of Nicosia.  
Thus did he talk to them, as if they were capable of understanding, making comparison of their Miseries with his; a thing usual in afflicted Persons, who, transported with their Imaginations, frequently speak things not agreeable to Reason and sound Judgement.  
In that instant a young Turk, of good Stature and Presence, came out of one of the four Tents, which were then pitced upon that place, and drawing near to the Christian, thus bespoke him,  
I dare hold a wager, Friend Ricardo, for this was the Slave's Name, that your ordinary Thoughts have brought you to this place.  
'Tis true, answered the Slave, but what good does it do me? let me go wherever I please, I can no where find any Truce or Repose, and the Ruins which I see from hence, double my Sorrows.  
You mean, said the Turk, those of Nicosia. What other could I mean, replied the Slave, have we any other before our Eyes?  
In truth, said the Turk, you have reason to lament, if you enter into those Contemplations: for whoever had seen, two years ago, the famous and rich Island of Cyprus in its Tranquillity; and its Inhabitants, who enjoyed all, that human Felicity could aspire to, should see them now, some forced out of the Country, some made Slaves, how is it possible, with dry Eyes, to behold their Calamity? But let's leave these things as they are, it being not in our Power to remedy them, and speak of your concerns, and try whether I can be serviceable to you in bettering them. I pray you, by the good will I bear to you, and by the tie of our Country wherein we were born and educated, that you would declare to me the cause of your excessive Sadness; for although Captivity alone is sufficient to dull the cheerfullest Soul in the World, yet I believe the stream of your Disgraces is derived from another Fountain: for valiant and generous Souls, as yours is, will not let themselves be so much cast down by common Misfortunes; but there must be something extraordinary, which has this effect upon you.  
This I believe, because I know that you are not so poor, but you can easily purchase your Liberty; besides you are not kept close, as a considerable Slave, in the Dardanelli, who late if ever, recover their Liberty; so that your ill Fortune not being so great, as to take from you all hopes of seeing yourself free, yet since it does so overwhelm, and oppress you, as your Lamentations evidence; you ought not to wonder if I imagine, that your Trouble proceeds from some other Cause.  
I therefore again supplicate you to discover it to me, and I promise to do my utmost to procure your Ease: for who knows but Fortune has forced me to wear this Habit, which I abhor, to put me in a Condition to serve you.  
You know, Ricardo, that my Patron is Cady of this Territory, which is the same thing as a Bishop amongst Christians; you know also, what Interest and Authority he has, and how much I can prevail with him, and besides 'tis well known to you, with what ardent desire I wish not to die in the Religion, which I appear at present to profess: I cannot believe but that I shall in a short time confess and publicly own the Christian Faith, from which my want of years and judgement have hitherto separated me; though this Confession should cost me my Life, I should esteem it well lost, to save my Soul.  
From what I have said, I would have you understand and consider, that my Friendship may stand you in some stead; and that to know what Remedies or Comforts may lighten the weight of your Disgraces, it is necessary, that you discover the Cause, as a sick Man tells his Malady to his Fysician, I assure you I will deposit it in Secrecy and Silence.  
Ricardo harkened to him with great Attention, and being obliged to answer by these kind Words and his Need of him, he replied thus,  
As you have hit upon the cause of my Misfortune, Friend Mahomet, for so that Turk was called, if you could also find a Remedy to it, I should esteem this my Captivity, the greatest Felicity in the World. But, alas, my Condition is such, that every one may know from what Cause it proceeds, yet none can make it more Easy, I do not say Remedy it. That you may be satisfied that this is true, I will declare it with as much brevity as I can. But before I enter into the intricate Labyrinth of my Misfortunes, I would desire you to inform me, why Assan Bassa, my Patron, has pitched his Tents in this Plain, and did not enter into Nicosia, where he as Bassa is to reside.  
I will give you Satisfaction in a few Words, replied Mahomet. It is the Custom of the Turks, who go Bassas into any Province, not to enter the Capital City, before his Predecessor comes out, and when this New Bassa is entered, the Old one stays in the Field, expecting the Event of the Informations which will be made against him for Misgovernment, which are put in in his absence, lest he should suborn or bribe Witnesses in his Favour.  
After these Informations are made, they are written in Parchment, folded up, and sealed, and delivered to the New Bassa, who presents them to the Grand Signior and the Divan, when the Prime Visier and the other four inferior Bassas have seen, read, and considered them, they reward, or chastise, as they see cause. And if he is found Faulty, for a sum of Money, he escapes any further Punishment. If they have nothing against him, and they do not reward him with Donatives and Presents, as it most often happens, he makes choice of what Charge or Office he pleases, of which he has the Pre-emption, for in that Court, Places are not bestowed on them that deserve them best, but upon those who give most Money for them, every thing is Bought and Sold there.  
Those who have Offices, are oftentimes spoiled even to their Skins, by those that procured them for them, and he that has bought a Place, makes it his business to get what he can out of it, to Buy a better.  
All in this Government is Violent, a sign of a short Duration, yet I believe that our Sins made it continue so long; I mean their Sins, who impudently offend God, as I do, but I pray Him to make me better.  
For this Reason, your Patron Assan Bassa has stayed these four Days in the Fields, and the Bassa of Nicosia is not come out, as he ought, because he has been indisposed, but now is better, and will without doubt, either this Day or to Morrow at furthest, and Lodge in his Tents pitched behind that Hill, and then your Patron will take Possession of Nicosia. This is all that I can say in answer to the Question.  
Harken then, said Ricardo, but I fear I shall not be able to include in a few words my Misfortune, which is so great and immensurable; this, notwithstanding, I will do my utmost to end my Narration in that space of time we shall be permitted to discourse together.  
Tell me then, Do you know in our City of Trepani, a young Maid who has the Reputation to be the most Beautiful, and most Perfect of all Sicily; a Maid, I say, whom the most elevated Wits, and eloquent Tongues, affirm to be the most complete and exquisite Beauty of all that the passed Ages have had, or that present and future can hope to have. A Maid of whom the Poets sing, that her Hairs were of the finest Gold of Arabia, her Eyes two shining Suns, her Cheeks white Lilies and purple Roses, her Lips a beautiful Circle of Rubies, with whose live Vermilion that of Aurora cannot stand in Comparison, her Teeth more white than Oriental Pearls, her Breast Alabaster, whose Parts with the Whole, and Whole with the Parts make a sweet and marvellous Harmony; Nature having endowed her with so lively Colours, that Envy could never find the least thing to carp at; But how is it possible, Friend Mahomet, that after all this thou hast not told me her Name? I believe that either thou hast not minded me, or wert not in thy Senses when thou didst live in Trepani. If she whom you have painted with so much Perfection, replied Mahomet, is not Leonisa the Daughter of Ridulfo the Florentine, I cannot guests who it should be; in her, I confess, there are all these marvellous Graces.  
'Tis the same, replied Ricardo, she is the principal Cause of all my Good, and of all my Ill For her, and not for my lost Liberty, my Eyes have, and do, and will, without end shed Rivers of Tears. For her, my ardent Sighs set the Air a Fire all around me; for her my Lamentations annoy the Heavens who see them, and deaffen the Ears of those who hear them; in fine, it is for her sake that you judged me to have lost my Senses, or at least to be of a low Spirit, and little worth.  
Leonisa is for me a Lioness, a meek Lamb for another; she it is, for whom I languish in this miserable State. Know then, that from my first Youth, or at least ever since, I made use of Reason; I did not only love her, but waited on her, and served her, with so prompt Obedience, as if there was no other Felicity to be attained, or wished for upon Earth, but serving her.  
My Love was known to her Father and Mother and all her Kindred, they never showed any sign of their dislike, knowing my Intent to be Honourable; nay, they have often solicited her to accept of me for her Husband.  
But she who had fixed her Thoughts upon Cornelio the Son of Ascanio Rotolo, a young Gentleman well dressed, of delicate white Hands, of an effeminate Voice and affected, enamoured, suggard Words, a Man in short, made of Jasamine and Amber; she would not deign to look in my Face, 'twas not so smooth, so Baby like as Cornelio's, neither took she any pleasure in my constant Service, but instead of that, paid me with disdain and abhorrence. Notwithstanding this, the Affection I bore to her was so great, that I should have thought my Life well lost, upon Condition she would abstain from showing Favours openly to Cornelio, though they never exceeded the Bounds of Honesty.  
Think now in what Condition I was, contesting with the anguish of her Disdain and the Rage of Jealousy, two such powerful Passions. Her Parents were pleased with the Favours she showed Cornelio, believing, as they had reason, that the young Gentleman being not able to resist the Charms of her invincible Beauty should be prevailed upon to Marry her, and so they might have a Son in Law, whose riches exceeded mine.  
But they could not have had one, if I may say it without Vanity, of a better Quality, of more elevated Thoughts, and of more approved Valour.  
It happened, that whilst I was pursuing my Pretences, I was informed, that one day of the Month of May last, which was precisely one Year, three Days, and five Hours ago, Leonisa, with her Father and Mother, and Cornelio, with his Parents and the Servants of his Family, went to recreate themselves in the Garden of Ascanio, near the Sea, in the Country of Saline.  
I know that place well, said Mahomet, I have often passed my time with great pleasure therein, pray go on with your Narration. Having notice of this, pursued Ricardo, the Fury, the Rage, the Hell of Jealousy tormented my Soul with such vehemency, that it deprived me of my Senses, as you will find by what I did on that occasion.  
As soon as I knew they were met, thither I went, and found them all solacing themselves under a Walnut Tree, Cornelio and Leonisa sitting together at some distance from the rest, I cannot tell you what they thought when they saw me: I seeing them so close together, stood like a Statue, without Motion or Voice; but it was not long before my Grief awakened my Choler, and that my Heart, and that my Anger, and that my Hands and Tongue.  
But my Hands were as it were chained, out of the respect I bore Leonisa, whose Beauty overawed me; but I could not refrain my Tongue from uttering these Words.  
You are then pleased, O mortal Enemy of my repose, to see, with so much gust, the cause that makes my Eyes shed inexhaustible Fountains of Tears.  
Go nearer, go nearer, and cling, like Ivy, about that sapless Trunc, which is so fond of you. Comb and curl those effeminate Locks of thy Beau, who so coldly, so foolishly makes his Court. Give thyself wholly up to that young Fool, that I, in losing the hope to possess thee, may also lose my Life, which is hateful to me. Perhaps you think, O proud and inconsiderate Maid, perhaps you think, for your sake, that the Laws of Nature will be broken: I mean, you believe that this young Fellow, whom his Riches have made arrogant, and his smock-face proud, his few years unexperienced, and his Nobility of Blood haughty, will be always in the same mind, and constantly love you: Do you think he knows how to value that which is inesteemable? Can he know as much as those who have more Years, Wit, and Experience? Do not believe it; there's nothing else good in the World; but that the Actions of Men keep always the same tenor, so that no body can be imposed upon, but by his own Ignorance: Young Men are light, changeable, and inconstant; rich Men are proud and vain, boasting and arrogant; beautiful Women disdainful; and in all these Folly, the Mother of ill success.  
And thou, Youth, who hast no Leaven or Salt in thee, dost thou think to rob me so easily of the Reward justly due to my Services; thy Lazyness cannot pretend to deserve any thing; why dost thou not rise from thy flowery Seat, where thou loll'st at thy ease? Why dost thou not come and take away his Life, who so much hates thee? Not that thou offendest me, but because thou hast not sense to value the Prize blind Fortune has put into thy hands; 'tis evident thou esteemest it not, because thou darest not move to defend it, for fear of disobliging thy Cravat, or disordering the Curls of thy Jessamine-buttered and perfumed Locks.  
If Achilles had been like thee, of such a reposed flegmetic Constitution, Ulysses might have been certain never to have effected his design, though he had showed him the beautifullest Armour in the World, the most curious wrought and garnished Scimetars. Rise, rise, get upon thy feet, go, and play at Blind-Man-Buff with thy Mother's Maids, let them adjust thy Curls, furnish thee with Powder of bitter Almonds, and Dogskin Gloves to lie in a Nights to preserve thy effeminate, white, soft Hands, fit for a Distaff and Needle, than to manage a Sword.  
But whatever I could say, would not provoke Cornelio to rise from the Grass; he lay still looking me in the Face, as if I had enchanted him: Because I spoke aloud, they that were walking in the Garden drew near, and heard those and many other reproachful Words which I used to him.  
At last, when he saw so many near him, all, or the greatest part whereof, were his Kindred, Friends, or Domestics, moved rather by Shame than any other Motive, he began to rise; but before he got up, I drew near him, and not him only, but all the rest, who came to defend him. As soon as Leonisa saw the glittering of my Sword, she fell into a Swoon, which increased my Courage, and filled me with Anger and Disdain. I cannot tell you, whether so many as I assaulted, took no other care but to defend themselves, as against a Fool or a mad Man; or whether it was my good Fortune or Skill, or that Heaven had reserved me for some greater Evil; it happened, that without being wounded, I hurt Seven or Eight which were next to me; in which time Cornelio took Counsel of his Feet, and running away, escaped my Fury.  
Then finding myself in manifest danger, being encompassed by my Enemies, behold Fortune sent me a Succour, which was worse than Death itself could have been; for if I had lost my Life, it had been better for me, than to have preserved it to lose it a thousand times every hour.  
It was thus: A company of Turks landed in a Creek near the Garden wherein we were, and came upon us on a sudden, without being discovered by the Sentinels which watched upon the Towers near the Sea, nor by the Horsemen, whose employment it was guard the Coast; when my Adversaries perceived them, they left me, and by flight secured themselves. Of all that were in the Garden the Turks could take but three, and Leonisa, who was still in a Swoon; of this number I was one, being able to make no more resistance, having received four dangerous Wounds, which I had revenged upon four Turks with so many Strokes, laying them dead at my feet.  
The Pirates made this Assault with their usual quickness, and suddenly embarked, and by the help of their Oars and Sails, reached Fabiana; but not much pleased with their success: for calling over their Men, they found that there were wanting four of the best Soldiers, which they call Levantines', resolved to revenge their Deaths upon me, and ordered me to be hanged presently: While they were preparing for this Execution, Leonisa, who was not yet quite come to herself, seeing that she was in the power of the Pirates, shed abundance of Tears from her fair Eyes, and wrung her Hands, without speaking one Word, attentive to understand what the Turks said; but one of the Christians who was tied to the Oar, told her in Italian, they were going to hang that Christian, pointing to me, having understood what the Slave told her: And this was the first time that she shown any respect for me; she prayed him to tell the Turks, that they should not hang me; for in so doing they would lose a good Sum of Money, which they might receive for my Ransom, but to return to Trepani, where I should suddenly be redeemed.  
This, I say, was the first Charity which I received from Leonisa, and will also be the last, and all for my greater Misery.  
The Turks heard, and believed what the Slave said, and the hopes of touching Money blunted their Fury and cooled their Wrath. In the Morning of the next day they hung out a white Flag, a sign of Peace, and returned to Trepani.  
I'll let you imagine in how much pain I passed that night, which was caused not only by my Wounds, but by considering the danger in which my cruel Enemy was, in the Hands of those Barbarians.  
Being approached then, as I have said, to the City, one of the Galleys entered the Port, the other stayed without, when suddenly there appeared upon the Dock, and all along the shore, a great number of Christians; but the perfumed Cornelio kept at a distance, looking at the Galley.  
Then my Major Domo came to treat about my Ransom, but I ordered him not to meddle with that, but only about the Redemption of Leonisa; and that, if it were needful, he should give for her all my Estate; and tell her Parents, they need not trouble themselves, for I would procure their Daughter's Liberty.  
After this, the chief Commander, who was a Grecian Renegado, by name Isuffo, demanded for Leonisa Six Thousand Crowns, and Four Thousand for me; adding, he would not part with one without the other: He put this so great Price upon us, because, as afterwards I understood, he was enamoured with Leonisa, and did not desire that she should be ransomed, but intended to give me to the Captain of the other Galley, who was to go equal shares in the Prey, intending to let him have Four Thousand Crowns for my Ransom, to which he would add one more out of his own Pocket to make up the Sum Five Thousand, and keep Leonisa to himself: And this was the reason why he asked for both of us together Ten Thousand Crowns, believing we should never be ransomed, and that it was impossible for our Friends to raise so vast a Sum.  
Leonisas' Parents proffered nothing, trusting to my Promise; neither did Cornelio open his Mouth to assist her. At last, after much ado, my Major Domo agreed to pay Five Thousand Crowns for her, and Three for me.  
Isuffo consented to this Bargain, being forced to it by the Persuasions of the Captain of the other Galley, and the Clamours of the Soldiers.  
But because my Major Domo had not so much ready Money, he desired the term of three days; intending to sell my Estate, and so raise what was wanting. Isuffo rejoiced at this delay, hoping that something might intervene to break off the Bargain, and said, that he would return to the Isle of Fabiana, and come back by that time.  
But my cruel Fortune, not yet contented with what I had suffered, brought it to pass, that one of the Turks who stood Centinel upon the highest part of the Isle, discovered six Christian Vessels sailing towards them, and guessed them to be a Squadron of Malta or Sicily, as in truth they were, came running to give this information; they in a trice embarked, leaving behind them some of their Company boiling their Victuals, others washing their ; and having with incredible speed weighed their Anchors, they rowed out of the Port; then hoisting their Sails, they steered to the Coasts of Barbary, and in less than two hours lost the sight of the Galleys; and being under the Covert of the Island and the Night, which approached, they were quit of their fear.  
I refer it to you, Friend Mahomet, to consider in what condition I was, seeing myself making a contrary Voyage to what I hoped; and especially the next day, when the two Galleys arrived at Pantalarea; upon the South side whereof they went on shore, to provide themselves with Wood and Flesh, as their Phrase is, and to divide their Prey.  
Isuffo gave to Fetala, for this was the Name of the Captain of the other Galley, six Christians, that is to say, four Rowers, and two handsome Boys, Natives of Corsica, and me also to boot, and kept Leonisa for his share.  
Fetala was satisfied with this Division; and although I was present at the making of it, I understood nothing of what passed, till Fetala told me in the Italian Language, Christian, you are mine, you cost me two Thousand Crowns in Gold, if thou desirest to have thy liberty, thou must give me Four Thousand, or die in captivity.  
I asked him, Whether the Christian Gentlewoman were his too? He answered, No, that Isuffo had retained her, with intention to turn her to Mahometanism, and marry her: And it was true; for so one of the Slaves told me, who well understood the Turkish Language, and had heard the Agreement made betwixt Isuffo and Fetala. I then spoke to my Patron, that if he could get Leonisa to be his Slave, I would give him for her Ransom ten Thousand Crowns in Gold.  
He answered, that he could not do it, but that he would let Isuffo know, how great a Sum he might receive for her, possibly so much Money might make him change his mind, and be willing to part with her. He told Isuffo what I had offered, but 'twas in vain.  
Afterwards he commanded all those of his Galley presently to embark, because he was bound for Tripoli, of which place he was.  
In like manner Isuffo resolved to sail to Biserta, and embarked with that speed, as they used to do, when they run away from the Christian Galleys, or pursue them; and they made the more haste, because they perceived the Wether began to change, and feared a Storm.  
Leonisa was on the shore, but where I could not see her; but when we were to embark, we arrived at the same time to the Sea side.  
Her new Patron, or rather her new Lover, lead her in his hand, and when they came to go into the Galley, she turned her Eyes to see me, and mine were fixed upon her with so much Tenderness and Grief, that I am not able to express; in that instant came a Cloud over my Eyes, and a Darkness, which deprived me of my sight, and without Sense I fell backward upon the shore; I was afterwards told, that the same Accident befell Leonisa, and that she fell into the Sea from the Plank whereupon she was going up to the Galley, and that Isuffo leapt in after, and caught her in his Arms, and brought her back into the Ship.  
This was told me in the Galley of my Patron, whether they had carried me in my Swoon; but when I returned to my Senses, and saw myself there separated from Leonisa, and that the other Vessel stood another Course, and went farther and farther from me, carrying away the half of my Soul, or to say truer, my whole Soul, my Heart sunk in me, and I began afresh to curse my ill Fortune, and with a loud voice to call for Death.  
My Complaints were so many and so great, that my Patron was almost deaf with hearing them, and came to me with a good Battoon in his hand, threatening to use it upon my back, if I did not hold my peace; I repressed my Tears, and witheld my Sighs, thinking, that using this Violence, would make me burst, and open a passage to my Soul, which was so desirous to abandon my miserable Body.  
But Fortune, not yet contented to have brought me to these straits, was resolved to fill me with Bitterness, takeing from me all hopes of Remedy. The Storm of which they were afraid, and the Southwind were so furious, that we were forced to let our Vessel drive at the discretion of the Wind.  
The Captain designed to weather the Point of the Island, and shelter himself under the North side of it, but he could not effect it; for the Wind bore so hard upon him, that all that which we had got in two days we lost in fourteen hours, and were driven back within three or four Leagues of the place from whence we set out, and were in great hazard of being forced upon it, not upon a plain Shoar, but upon dismal Rocks, which threatened us with inevitable Death.  
We saw not far from us the other Galley, wherein was Leonisa: All the Turks and Slaves endeavouring by their Oars to keep it from falling foul upon the Rocks.  
All that were in ours did the same, but with more Vigour and Advantage, as the Event demonstrated; for those of the other Vessel, tired with the Fatigue, and overcome by the obstinate Fury of the Wind, and Fortune abandoned their Oars, and making no more resistance, committed themselves to the disposal of Fate.  
But that having no pity for them, we saw her strike upon the Rocks, and break into a hundred Pieces.  
Now the Night began to cast her black Veil over the Horizon, and so great were the Shrieks and Cries of the drowning Persons, together with the Fright, Confusion, and Apprehension of those of our Galley, who, having before their Eyes the horror of Death, could neither hear nor execute the Commands which the Captain gave, only they did not quit their Oars; and for our last refuge, we turned the Poop of our Ship to the Wind, and cast two Anchors into the Sea, to put off, if it were possible, a little farther from us the Death which seemed very nigh.  
Thus every one, besides myself, were in the fear of Death; but I, who desired nothing more; for the false hope of seeing her again in another Life, who had but just now lost this, worked so much upon me, that every moment the Galley deferred sinking, or striking against the Rocks, was to me an Age of suffering the Agonies of Death. When the foaming Waves came over our Deck, and often washed my Head, I stood attentive to contemplate, and see if the Corpse of the unfortunate Leonisa should be cast up with them.  
I will not hold you longer, Friend Mahomet, in telling you, part by part, the Fears, the Anxieties, the Imaginations, the Thoughts, which I had in that bitter and long night: Not to break my promise, to couch in few Words my sad Story.  
Let it suffice, that my Misfortunes were so many and great, that if Death had come, it should have been very welcome. The day broke with appearance of a greater Storm, and we found we had made a great way, and had got clear from the Rock, and were near a Point, or head Land of the Island, which the Turks and Christians seeing, took Courage, and renewing their Strength and Labour, in six hours they weathered it, when we found a calmer Sea, wherein we could make use of our Oars. When we were got under the shelter of the Island, the Turks took the opportunity, and landed, to see if there were any Wreck of the Galley, which was dashed to pieces the Night before: But Heavens would not grant me the Favour which I hoped for, in seeing in my Arms the Corpse of Leonisa, which, though dead, I should have been glad to have embraced; but the ill influence of my unfortunate Stars hindered my joining with that so beloved Body. I also entreated a Christian Renegado, that he would search whether she had been cast up on the shore; but herein also Fortune grew adverse to me; for the Wind being stronger and stronger, at last was so furious, that we could no longer abide there.  
Fetala considering this, resolved no longer to strive with Fortune.  
She was presently so far from Land, that he was secure, that no Impediment could put him out of his designed way. The Oars were laid two and two upon the Deck, the Rowers sat upon the Benches, the Soldiers were under Deck, so that tho' there were so many Persons in the Galley, there appeared none but the Steer-man, who for greater security had caused himself to be tied fast. The Galley sailed with such swiftness, that in three Days and Nights we passed within sight of Trepani, of Velasso and Palermo, and came into the Fare of Messina, with great fear of those who were in it, and of those also who saw us from Land.  
But because my Narration shall not be as long as the Storm, I conclude we arrived at length in Tripoli, hungry and tired, by the long run we had made almost round Sicily, where my Patron before he had divided to the Levantines their Part, or paid the fifth to the King as the Custom is, fell ill and died of a Pleurisy.  
Immediately the Bassa of Tripoli, and the Fiscal, who has the inspection of Goods left by the Dead, seized upon all the Estate of Fetala in the Name of the Grand Signior, who is the sole Heir of those who die without bequeathing him the fifth Part; I fell to the Bassa of Tripoli, who fifteen Days afterwards received Orders to be Bassa of Cyprus.  
I am come hither, but not with intention to redeem myself, though he has several times told me, I might, if I pleased, for the Soldiers had informed him that I was rich, but I assured him, that they who had told him so, were deceived theirselves, and had also deceived him.  
If thou desirest Mahomet to know my Intention, I will tell it thee. I will never return to any place which may afford me Comfort; my desire is, that the bitter Memory of Leonisas' Death, together with the misery of my Captivity, should deprive me of all Pleasure, or Gust, as long as I live. And if it is true, that great Griefs must quickly have an end, or they will bring them that suffer them to theirs, I hope, mine will not want that effect. For I intent to give myself over to them, that in a short time they may ease me of this troublesome Life, which I so much hate.  
This is, Friend Mahomet, the lamentable Story of my Misfortunes, this is the cause of my Sighs and my Tears; consider now whether this is not sufficient to draw them from the bottom of my Heart, and cause a Drought in my afflicted Breast.  
Leonisa died, and with her all my hope, though that, whilst she was living, hung by a small Hair, nevertheless, nevertheless; speaking this Word, Nevertheless, he became dumb, and could not retain his Tears, which fell in such abundance, that they moistened the Ground, neither could Mahomet abstain from weeping.  
But as soon as Ricardo was recovered out of the fainting Fit, this Narration had put him in, Mahomet endeavoured to comfort him with the best Arguments he could think of, but he interrupted him, saying, the best and most profitable advice you can give, Friend Mahomet, is to instruct me by what means I may come to be in my Patron's displeasure, and be hated by all those with whom I must of necessity Converse, that my ill Treatment may add Sorrow to my Sorrow, and I arrive sooner at my desired Port, which is to go out of this miserable Life.  
Now I find 'tis true, replied Mahomet, what is commonly said, that that makes itself be felt, will make itself also be expressed, tho' sometimes Grief strikes those dumb upon whom it seizes. But if your Pain does equal your Expressions or exceed them, you ought to believe that you shall always find in me a faithful Friend, both to counsel and assist you. And altho' my want of Years and my inconsiderateness in putting on this Habit, may advise you not to trust either my Words or Actions, yet I doubt not but to carry myself in such manner, that you shall be convinced that you had no reason to harbour any such distrust. And tho' you will not admit of my help either by Counsels or Actions, yet I will not fail to do what is convenient for me, and what I shall believe conducible for your good  
There is no Person in all this Country who has more Interest than my Master the Cady; your Patron, tho' he is Bassa of Cyprus can never have so much.  
This being granted for Truth, as it is, I may say without vanity, that I am the Man of the greatest Power in this City, because I can do what I please with the Cady. I tell you this, that if we can find any opportunity to make you his Slave, and so we both being in one House, time will instruct us what we ought to do, as well to comfort you, if you will accept of it, as also that I may turn to a better Life, or at least in some part, that when I lose it, my Soul may be secure.  
I hearty thank you, replied Ricardo, for the Favour you offer me, yet I believe all that you can do, will be to no purpose.  
Nevertheless, for the present, let's leave off this Discourse and go to the Tents, for I perceive a great number of People coming out of the City, without doubt the Bassa is coming into the Field to leave the entry free, for my Patron to take possession of the place of his Residency.  
You are in the right, said Mahomet. Let's go, for I doubt not but you will be pleased to see the Ceremonies which the Bassas use on that Occasion, withal my heart, replied Ricardo, perhaps I may have need of your Interest with the Guardian of the Slaves of my Patron, who is a Renegado and an unmerciful Corsican, who may treat me ill, finding me discoursing with you.  
Thus their Converse ended, and they arrived at the Tents in the same time, when the Bassa was come thither, and his Patron went to the entrance of the Padiglion to receive him.  
Ali Bassa, for that was the Name of him who quitted the Government of the City, accompanied with all the Janissaries who made up the Garrison of Nicosia, to the number of Five Hundred, who had been there ever since the Turks took it, marched in two Bodies, one with Harquebuses, and the other with naked Scymitars in their Hands, to the Tent where Assan the New Bassa was, and made a Guard round about him; then Ali Bassa bowing low, made a great Reverence to Assan, and he with a lesser bow resaluted him; then presently Ali entered into Assans Padiglion, who immediately mounted a stately Horse richly equipped, and after having waited upon him round his Tent and a good part of the way towards the City, with Acclamations and Applause, crying out in their Language, God save Sultan Solyman and Bassa Assan. They repeated these words many times, crying louder and louder till he arrived at his Tent, where Ali Bassa waited for him; within that Tent the Two Bassas and the Cadi stayed above an hour.  
Mahomet, told Ricardo, that they were locked in there to treat concerning what was to be done in the Reparations of the City, which were begun by Ali Bassa. Then the Cady came to the entrance of the Padiglion, and cried with a loud voice in the Turkish, Arabic and Greek Language, That all those who had any Complaint against Ali Bassa might have free access, because Assan Bassa whom the Grand Signior had constituted Bassa of Cyprus, was there ready to hear them, and do them all Justice.  
This leave being granted, the Janissaries left the Passage free, that whosoever pleased might enter; Mahomet took with him Ricardo, for he might go in being Assans' Slave. Some Christian Greeks, and some Turks demanded Justice, but their Complaints were of so little Importance, that they were soon dispatched by the Cady without the trouble of making Acts or writing the Interrogatories and Answers, for amongst the Turks all Causes, except those which concern Matrimony, are determined upon the spot, according to the Judgement and Conscience of the Cady, rather than by any Law.  
For amongst those Barbarians the Cadi, or if you please, you may call him the Bishop, is Supreme Judge of all Causes and Differences which he summarily decides, and without delays, as he thinks fit, and from his Decree there is no appealing to any other Tribunal. Then there entered a Chiaus, which is with us a Commander, and after him an ancient Jew leading a young Maid richly dressed after the Moorish Fashion; the richest Lady of Fess or Morocco, who much exceed the rest of the Africans, even the Algerines, who are adorned with so many Pearls, could not appear in a better Garb; her Face was covered with a crimson Velvet Veil, she wore upon her Legs and Insteps, which were a little discovered, Bracelets of Gold, and on her Arms two such enameled and set with Pearls, which she wore under a fine transparent Smock, easily to be seen; in fine, her Garments were rich, fashionable, and becoming.  
The Bassa and the Cady were astonished at the first appearance of her, but before they asked any questions, they commanded the Jew to lift up the Veil that they might see the Christians Face; he did so, and discovered a Countenance which dazzled the Eyes, and rejoiced the Hearts of the bystanders, as when the Sun after having been obscured with a black Cloud, shows himself to the Eyes of those that desire to see his Splendour, so exquisite was the Beauty, and the Grace, and the Behaviour, of that Christian Slave.  
But Ricardo penetrated furthest into that marvellous Light, as one that knew it better than the rest, for it was his Dear and Cruel Leonisa, for whom so many times he had shed Rivers of Tears, believing her dead.  
Ali was struck through the Heart, and quite overcome at the sight of the singular Beauty of that Christian, neither was the Cady exempted from the Wounds of those Eyes, whereupon, fixing his, he appeared as if he was without motion, and more to express the Power of Love; you must know, that all at one time, the three equal Rivals nourished a firm hope to obtain and enjoy her; and without further enquiry, when, and how she came to be in the Jews possession, they demanded what he would take for her.  
The covetous Jew answered, he would take no less than four Thousand Dubloons in Gold.  
He had scarce set his Price, but Ali told him he would give it, and that he should come to his Tent and receive it.  
But Assan, who was resolved Ali should not have her, tho' it cost him his Life, replied, that he would give for her the sum which the Jew demanded, adding that he would not have proffered this, nor opposed Ali, but that the Slave was too good for any but the Grand Signior, and that he would therefore purchase her for his Highness.  
Let me see then if any one dares to be so bold as to take her from me. I am that rash Person, replied Ali, for I bought her with the same Intention, and it is fit for me to make the Grand Signior this Present, because I have convenience and opportunity to carry her presently to Constantinople, and by her, engratiate myself with his Highness, and obtain a better Employment, for having none now as you Assan know, no Office, I ought to look after one, which is not your Case: You being provided for three Years, from this day, whereon you begin to govern this rich Kingdom of Cyprus. So that I being the first that offered the price, there is all the reason in the World, that you Assan should permit me to have my purchase without contestation.  
Nay, rather, replied Assan, it is most proper for me to send her, and it will be more pleasing to the Grand Signior, because I do it without design: And whereas you pretend to have more commodious means for her Passage to Constantinople, I will set forth an armed Galley, manned with my own Soldiers, and rowed with my own Slaves.  
Ali was much incensed hearing this, and standing up, and drawing his Scymitar, said:  
It being my Intention, Assan, to present this Christian to the Grand Signior, and I being the first Buyer, it is reasonable that you should lay down your Pretensions, but if you will not, with this Sword, I will defend my right, and chastise your temerity.  
The Cady, who heard their contest, and was not less enamoured with Leonisa, being afraid to be deprived of her, began to think how he might extinguish this Fire, and make himself Master of the Christian Slave, without giving any suspicion of his foul intention, raising himself upon his Feet, and interposing between the two concurrents, who were also standing with their Swords drawn, he said to them;  
Keep the Peace, you Assan, and you Ali, I can accommodate the differences so, that both of you may have your design, and the Grand Signior have the Slave.  
They presently were obedient to the Cadys' words, which they would have been, had the affair been of greater importance, such respect do the Mahometans bear their Priests.  
The Cady continued his Discourse in these words; You say Ali, that you will have the Christian to present her to the Grand Signior; Assan says the same. You allege, that she ought to be yours, because you first proffered the price demanded for her. Assan on the contrary, for though you spoke first, it was at the same time in his mind; without doubt both your intentions were born the same time, because both of you resolved to buy the Slave for the same end.  
'Tis true, you have this advantage to have first declared your intention, but such a precedence is not valuable enough to defraud him of his good intention. I think I can make you both agree, if you'll stand to my arbitration.  
The Slave shall belong to you both, but the disposal of her depends upon the Grand Signior, for whom she is bought. Till we know that, you Assan shall pay for your share two thousand Doubloons of Gold; and you Ali, the like sum; and she shall be consigned into my hands, that I may send her to Constantinople in both your Names; and I also shall not be without some recompense, for the expedient I have found out. I proffer you to conduct her at my proper Charges, with that decorum and respect due to the Person to whom she is sent.  
I will also write to the Grand Signior an account what passed here, and of the great desire which both of you shown to his Highness' service. The two enamoured Turks could not, and would not contradict what he said, but with patience submitted to his Verdict.  
Yet both of them were in hopes to procure Leonisa to themselves.  
Assan, who stayed to be Bassa of Cyprus, resolved to give so many presents to the Cady, that being obliged, and mollified by them, he might deliver him the Slave; and Ali trusted in a design which he was determined to put in execution.  
So both thinking themselves secure of what they wished, were easily brought to acquiesce in the Cadys' advice; and by a common consent they put the Christian into his hands, and paid the Jew two thousand Doubloons, each of them.  
The Jew said, he did not intent to part with her in those  at that price, for they were worth two thousand more. And it was true, for she had bound up in her hair, of which one part was dischevaled upon her shoulders, some in pleats upon her forehead, strings of orient Pearl, exceeding costly; and she had Bracelets upon her hands set with Pearls; she was in a garment of green Satin, after the Turkish mode, and richly embroidered.  
It appeared to them all, that the Jew lost by selling them at that price. And the Cady, who would show himself as liberal as the two Bassas, told the Jew, he would pay him that sum, that he might present her to the Grand Signior in those Vestments.  
The two Rivals approved of his design, both of them believing, that the Slave and furniture would fall to their share.  
It remains now, to tell Ricardo's Sentiment, having seen his Mistress sold. I leave the Reader to imagine what, and how many troublesome Thoughts tormented his Soul, with what fears he was assaulted, of losing that Jewel again, which he had but just now found; he could not tell whether he was awake, or in a dream; he did not believe his own Eyes, because it seemed to him an impossibility, believing so firmly that she was dead.  
Then turning to Mahomet, he said, do you not know her? He replied, I do not; then know, replied Ricardo, that 'tis Leonisa,; what says Richardo, answered Mahomet? that which Mahomet hears, replied Ricardo.  
Hold your Tongue then, replied Mahomet, and discover her not, for fortune gins to favour you, she is to be my Master's Slave.  
Do you think convenient, said Ricardo, that I may place myself so, that she may have a sight of me?  
By no means, answered Mahomet, for fear of troubling her, or yourself, and give some suspicion that you know each other, for this may be very prejudicial to my design.  
I will follow your advice, replied Ricardo, not to let my looks meet with hers, who, whilst this business was acting, held her Eves upon the ground, shedding some tears. The Cadi accosted her, and taking her by the hand, delivered her to Mahomet, and commanding him to conduct her into the City to his Wife, and bid her treat her as a Slave of the Grand Signors.  
Mahomet did so, leaving Ricardo alone, who with his Eyes followed his Star, till the Walls of Nicosia, like a cloud, took her from his sight.  
Afterwards the Cady demanded of the Jew where he bought that Slave; he answered, in the Isle of Pantalarea of some Turks, who had suffered Shipwreck there; and as he was going on with his narration, some came from the Bassa to call him, who desired to know of him the same, and so the Jew left him.  
In the way, as Mahomet conducted Leonisa to the City, he enquired of her in Italian, whence she was; she answered, of Trepani; he asked her if she knew a Gentleman of that place of an illustrious Family, and rich enough, whose Name was Ricardo.  
Leonisa hearing these words, fetched a deep sigh, and replied, I know him to my cost. How, to your cost, replied Mahomet? Because my knowledge of him has been unfortunate to me, and his knowledge of me to him.  
It may be, Madam, you know another Gentleman of the same City, added Mahomet, young and handsome, and the Son of a rich Father, valiant, discreet, and no less liberal, called Cornelio.  
I know him too, replied Leonisa, and that has done me more hurt, than knowing Ricardo; but who are you? that are acquainted with these Persons, and inquire concerning them?  
I was born in Palermo, replied Mahomet; various accidents have forced me to put on this Habit, different from what I used to wear; but I know those, of whom I inquire, for they were lately both in my power.  
Some Moors of Tripoli took Cornelio, and sold him to a Turk, who afterwards brought him into this Island, with Merchandise, and trusted all his Estate in his hands.  
He knew well how to keep it, said Leonisa, for by nature he is very thrifty. But pray, Sir, tell me, how Ricardo came into this Island?  
A Pirate brought him, answered Mahomet, who took him in a Garden near the Sea in Trepani; and he said, that with him they took a certain young Lady, whose Name he would never discover.  
He stayed some time here with his Patron, who went to Medina to visit the Sepulchre of Mahomet; but a little before he was to go he fell sick, and his Patron left him to me, because I was his Countryman, to look after him till he returned, and if he should not come back, I should send him to Constantinople; and that he would give me advice, as soon as he should arrive there. But the Heavens were pleased to ordain otherwise. The miserable Ricardo, without having a Fever, ended his Life in a few days, having always in his mouth one Leonisa.  
Tell me, I pray Sir, did Cornelio in his Discourse with you, ever mention Leonisa. He did, Madam, replied Mahomet, and he asked me, whether I knew of any Christian Slave in this Island, so called, and gave several marks of her, saying, he could find in his heart to Ransom her, if her Patron would not ask him too dear, but perhaps, said he, her Patron has enjoyed her, and therefore I do not esteem her so much as I once did. But if her Ransom does not exceed three or four hundred Crowns, I will be so liberal as to disburse them, remembering that once I had some affection for her.  
It was but little, replied Leonisa, which at the dearest is not worth more than three, or four hundred Crowns.  
Ricardo was more liberal; God forgive the Person who was the cause of his Death. Woe is me! I am that unhappy Maid, whom he lamented as dead; God knows how much I wish that he was living, that he might perceive I laid his Death as much to heart, as he did the report of mine.  
I am, Sir, she that was so little beloved by Cornelio, and so much lamented by Ricardo; many, and various Accidents have brought me into the condition wherein you see me; and although it has been in much hazard, I have hitherto, by the Favour of Heaven, preserved my Honour, with which I live contented even in this Misery.  
I know not what will become of me, who is to be my Patron, whether my adverse Fortune will hurry me; therefore I pray you, Sir, for the sake of those Christian Parents who begot you, that you would assist me with your Counsel in these my Troubles, which every moment come so fast upon me, that I know not which way to turn myself. Mahomet answered, That he would give her the best Counsel he could, and always assist her with all his Industry and Power.  
Then he told her of the difference betwixt the Bassas upon her account, and that she was to remain in the Power of the Cady his Master, till he would convey her to the Grand-Seignior. But nevertheless, he hoped in the true God, in which he also believed, though but a sad Christian, that before this took effect, his divine Goodness would dispose better of her.  
In the mean while he advised Leonisa to get into the Love and Good-liking of Alima the Cadys' Wife: And for that purpose he acquainted her with her Conditions, and many other things conducing to her profit. Then he put her into Alimas' custody, and told her what his Master commanded him.  
Alima received her with a cheerful Countenance, seeing her so handsome, and so richly apparelled. Mahomet returned to the Tent, where he told Ricardo from point, to point, all that had passed betwixt him and Leonisa; but when he came to declare what Sentiments she shown at the hearing of his Death, the Tears came into his Eyes; he told him, that he had feigned the Captivity of Cornelio, to see how she would bear it, and advised him with what Coldness and Disdain she spoke of him; a great Comfort to the afflicted Heart of poor Ricardo. He further added, I did not understand what the Bassas had agreed upon amongst themselves; but a Venetian Renegado told me afterward, who was present during that Negotiation, and very well understood the Turkish Language. So that it is necessary, in the first place, to invent something to prevent Leonisas' being sent to the Grand Signior.  
Then the first thing that is be done, said Mahomet, is to find some way, that you may be my Patron's Slave; that once obtained, we will take that Counsel which shall be most expedient. Whilst they were thus discoursing, there came to them the Guardian of Assans' Slaves, and took away with him Ricardo.  
The Cady returned into the City with Assan, and in a few days made him all his necessary Dispatches, giving him them folded up, and sealed, as I said before, to carry to Constantinople: Upon which he suddenly began his Voyage, recommending earnestly to the Cady, that he would send the Slave, and write to the Grand Signior to favour his Intentions.  
The Cady promised him, but without intention to perform it; for the Love he had for the Slave, had burnt his Soul into Ashes.  
Ali departed full of fallacious Hopes, and Assan stayed behind, not empty.  
Mahomet got Ricardo into his Master's Family; several days passed, and the unquiet desire to see Leonisa did so much afflict him, that he had not one moment of Repose. He called himself Mario, lest his own Name should come to Leonisas' Ears, before he saw her.  
Now 'twas a difficult thing to do that, the Moors being extraordinarily jealous of their Women, and will not let them be seen by any but Christians, esteeming them to be frigid, and impotent.  
A day after Alima saw her new Slave Mario, and gazed upon him so long, that that sight pierced through her Soul, and rooted itself in her Memory: It might be she was not well satisfied with the cold Caresses of her old Husband, and therefore gave easy entrance into her unchaste Mind to that adulterous Desire; she resolved to discover her Design to Leonisa, whom she had for a good while loved for her good Conditions, being of a benign and affable Humour, and of much Discretion; she treated her very obligingly, knowing that she was designed for the Grand Signior; she told her that the Cady had a Christian Slave in his House, endowed with such a graceful Appearance, and of so gentle a Behaviour, that she had never seen the like; and that he was a Chilibi, as much as to say, a Gentleman, and Mahomet's Countryman; that she knew not how to discover her Inclinations, fearing he might despise her for loving him so soon, Leonisa asked her the Christian Slaves Name, Alima answered, that he was called Mario.  
If he was a Gentleman of that place, replied Leonisa, I should know him, but of the Name of Mario I know not one in Trepani: Nevertheless, Madam, let me see him, and speak with him, and I will give you an account what he is, and what you may hope from him; I will, said Alima, next Friday, when the Cady goes to his Prayers, you shall discourse him, and, if you think convenient, you may discover the Kindness I have for him; I leave the whole Affair to your Discretion.  
About two hours after the Cady called Mahomet and Mario, to whom, with the same Fervency, Alima had done before to Leonisa, the enamoured old Man discovered his Love, and asked their Counsel, how he might enjoy the Christian-Slave, what good Invention could be found out, or what Excuse to content the Grand Signior; for he was resolved to lose his Life a thousand times, rather than present her to the Great Turk.  
In this affectionate manner did the enamoured Moor discover his Passion to those, who had other thoughts than to procure his Satisfaction.  
At last he resolved, that Mario, who was of the same City with Leonisa, although he said he did not know her, should take the Charge upon him, to declare to her, the good Will his Patron had for her, and solicit her to answer his Affections; and if he could not prevail by this way, he would use Force, since that she was in his Power: And this being done, they would spread a Report, that the Christian Slave was dead, which would be a sufficient Excuse for not sending her to Constantinople.  
The Cady remained much contented with the Counsel of the two Slaves, and the Joy of his imaginary obtaining his Mistress was so great, that from that time he gave Mahomet his Liberty, with a Promise to leave him half of his Estate, at his death; and to Mario, if by his means he obtained his Desires, to give him his Liberty, and so much Money, that he might return to his Country rich, honourable, and contented.  
If he was large in promising, his Slaves were prodigal in offering to put into his hands the Moon out of the Heaven, not only Leonisa, if they might be permitted to speak to her. I will suffer Mario, said the Cady, as often as Alima shall be out of doors; to which purpose I'll send her into the Country to see her Kindred, who are Greek Christians, and I'll order the Porter to let Marie enter as often as he pleases; I'll also tell Leonisa, that as often as she has a mind, she may speak to her Countryman.  
Now began the Wind of Ricardo's good Fortune to blow favourably, and his Patron took no notice of the Design that they had laid.  
This Resolution then being taken betwixt them Three; although Alima was she that first proposed it, as a Woman changeable in Nature, easy and affable in her Pleasures.  
The same day the Cady told Alima, that if she had a mind to recreate herself amongst her Kindred, she might, and stay with them as long as she thought fit. But she, who was intent upon the Hopes Leonisa had caused in her, would not have been content to go to Mahomet's Paradise, much less into the Country; therefore she answered, that for the present she had no such inclination, and that when she should be so minded, she would give him notice, and take with her the Christian.  
That you must not, said the Cady; for 'twill not be convenient, that the Grand-Seigniors Slave should be seen by so many, nor converse with Christians; for as soon as she arrives at Constantinople, she must be shut up in the Seraglio, and made to deny Christ, whether she will or not.  
If she goes with me, answered Alima, and stays in my Parent's House, it does not follow that they will do her hurt, in fixing her in her Faith; for I that am so often there, am nevertheless a good Turk. Besides, I intent to stay there but four or five days.  
The Love I bear you Signior Husband, will not suffer me to be longer without seeing you.  
The Cady made no reply, fearing to cause Suspicion of what he designed.  
In the mean time the Friday came, and he went to the Mosch, where he stayed four hours, or little less.  
Alima scarce saw him out of the doors, but she sent for Mario.  
A Christian Slave of Corsica, who was Porter, would not let him enter, but Alima commanded he should be admitted; so in he came confused and trembling, as if he alone had been to fight with an Army of Enemies  
Leonisa was in the same  she wore when the Jew brought her into the Bassas Tent; she sat at the bottom of a pair of Marble Stairs, and leaned her Head upon her right Hand, her Elbow upon her Knee, her Looks were towards the parts opposed to the Door by which Mario entered; so that going towards the place where she was, he did not see her.  
Ricardo looked round the Room, and discovered nothing there, but a dumb and profound silence; but at last he cast his Eyes where Leonisa sat.  
In that instant the enamoured Slave was assaulted with so many Thoughts, that betwixt Fear and Hope he became amazed, and rejoiced at the same time, finding himself not more than twenty Steps, or thereabouts, distant from his chiefest Felicity.  
He considered he was a Slave, and that he was in the Power of another; with these Thoughts he drew near softly, with Fear and Trembling, joyful and sad, fearful and bold, to the place, where was the Centre of his Desires; when on a sudden she turned her Face towards him, who stood attentively with his Eyes fixed upon her: Their Looks meeting gave evident signs of their Thoughts.  
Ricardo stood still without any power of motion, and Leonisa, who, according to the Report of Mahomet, believed him dead, seeing him unexspectedly before her, and alive, was in such a fright, that without taking her Eyes off from him, or turning, she went backward up four or five Stairs, and then pulling out of her Bosom a little Cross, kissed it many times, and Crossing herself, as if she had seen a Spirit, or some Apparition out of another World.  
Ricardo taking notice of this fear, and guesing at the cause of it, spoke thus to her.  
I am very sorry, oh most beautiful Leonisa! that the News Mahomet told you concerning my death was not true, for than I should have been out of doubt whether that rigour and disdain you always used towards me, did last still.  
Fear not Madam, and come down, and if you will vouchsafe to do that which you never yet did, come near me, and touch me, I am no Spirit, I am Ricarde, who desires no other fortune, than what you please he shall have.  
Here Leonisa put her finger upon her lips, which Ricardo understood to be a sign, that either he should not speak, or at least softlier.  
This encouraged him to draw so nigh to her, that he could hear these words; Speak more softly Mario, for I understand you are now so called, and meddle with no other discourse, but what I shall put you upon; I give you this advice, for if we should be overheard, it may hinder us from ever meeting again.  
I believe Alima our Mistress stands listening, she is in Love with you, and hath employed me to be her procuress, if you will correspond with her, let it be with your Body, not with your Mind, and if you will not be in earnest, fain at least to love her, I pray you, by that which the desires of a Woman discovered in confidence, can merit.  
I could never imagine, oh Leonisa! replied Ricardo, that it should be impossible for me to obey you in any thing, but what you command me, does undeceive me: Is one's will so light that it may be transported whether we please? Can it become a Man of Honour to dissemble in a matter of so much importance? If it is your opinion, that such things ought to be, command them, for you are Mistress of my will; which if you had ever known, you would not employ me in such an affair. Nevertheless because you shall not say, that I denied to obey your first command, and because I shall obtain by this the happiness of seeing you, I am content to comply with yours, and Alimas' desires.  
Do you then fain, what answers you please for me, I promise to make them good. And in recompense for what I do now for your sake, I pray you tell me, how you escaped out of the hands of the Pirates, and came into the Jews.  
It will require much time to recount all my misfortunes, answered Leonisa, yet notwithstanding I will satisfy you in part.  
Know then, that the day after we separated, Isuffos Vessel was driven back by contrary winds to the Isle of Pantalarea, where ours, do what we could to preserve her, struck upon the Rocks.  
My Patron seeing his destruction certain, with great haste emptied two Barrels, and tied them together, and bound me upon them, and with an undaunted courage threw himself into the Sea, and drew me after him: I fell in, deprived of my Senses, and recovered them not, till I found myself in the hands of two Turks, who held me with my mouth downwards, to make me cast up the great quantity of water which I had drunk, I opened my Eyes with confusion and astonishment, especially perceiving Isuffo dead by my side; his Head was broken to pieces, as they told me, against the Stones, as the Waves threw him on shore; and the Turks drew me to Land half drowned; only twelve Persons of that Galley were saved. We stayed eight days in that Island, during which time the Turks used me with as much respect, as if I had been their Sister. They lay hid in a Cave, fearing lest some Christians should come out of the Fort of that Island, and make them Slaves, sustaining themselves with wet Biscuit, which the Sea cast up, and which they gathered in the Night, and brought into the Galley.  
It pleased fortune, for my greater misery, that the Fortress had no Captain, for he died a few days before, and there were left in it none but private Soldiers.  
This we knew by a Boy whom the Turks had taken, going to the Sea shore to gather shells.  
Eight days after there came upon that Coast a Moorish Vessel, which they call Carmosalles: They saw her, and went out of the Cave, and made such signs, that those who were therein, them to be Turk's. These told them their misfortunes, and the Moors took them into their Vessel, in which was a Jew, a rich Merchant, to whom all the Freight of that Ship, or at least the greater part of it belonged, and they were the best Commodities, which are usually brought from Barbary to the Levant.  
In the same Vessel the Turks went to Tripoli, and in that Voyage they sold me to the Jew for two thousand Doubloons, an extraordinary price, but the Love he bore to me made him so liberal.  
After the Vessel had landed the Turks at Tripoli, it followed its Voyage, and the Jew began impudently to tempt me, I showed him such a Countenance as his wicked desires merited, so that despairing to obtain his will, he resolved to sell me upon the first occasion which would proffer itself. And knowing that the two Bassas Ali and Assan were in this Island, and that he might as well sell his Merchandizes there as in Chio, he came hither with intention to sell me to one of the Bassas, and for that purpose he clothed me as you see, that they might have a greater Appetite to buy me.  
I understand that the Cady has bought me for the Grand Signior, which puts me into an extreme trouble. Here I heard the report of your feigned Death, and I tell you, if you believe me, that I was very much concerned for it, and I rather envied than pitied you, not that I wished you ill, for altho' I am not in love, yet I am not ungrateful, but because you had finished the Tragedy of your Life.  
You say well, Leonisa, replied Ricardo, if Death had robbed me of the gusto of seeing you again, for I esteem more the instant of Glory, which I enjoy in seeing you, than any other Felicity except, what is Eternal.  
The Affection of my Patron the Cady is to you the same that Alimas' is to me, he has chosen me to be Interpreter of his Thoughts, and I have taken it upon me, not to please him, but to make use of this occasion to speak to you.  
Now you see, Leonisa, to what pass our Disgraces have brought both of us, for you to be a Bawd, and an Instrument of procuring that which you know 'tis impossible for me to grant, and that I should be employed to desire that of you which is so far from my desire, that rather than you should comply with it, I would lose my Life, which now is dear to me, because I enjoy the happiness of seeing you.  
I know not Ricardo, replied Leonisa, what to say, nor how we shall be able to get out of this Labyrinth, I can only say this to you, it is necessary in this occasion, for us to use means, unbecoming our Qualities, Dissembling and Deceit.  
I will carry Alima such an answer concerning you, that may keep on the Treaty, and not make her lose her Hopes.  
And you may say of me what you please to the Cady, my Honour preserved; and since I trust it in your Hands, thence you may conclude that I possess it still, tho' you may have reason to suspect the contrary, considering how many Voyages I have made, and how many Assaults I have sustained. It will be easy for us to speak together, and to me particularly very grateful, but with this Condition, that there never slip out of your Mouth the least word of declaring your Intentions: If you do otherwise, know for certain, that from that hour I will abstain from ever seeing you more: For I would not have you think that I am of so mean a Spirit, that Captivity should make me do that which Liberty could not.  
By the help of Heaven I will be Gold, and become so much purer by passing so many times through the Fire: Content yourself, that I tell you, I shall not be offended to see you, as I have been heretofore, for I will not conceal it from you Ricardo, that I always took you for a proud disdainful Person, and that you had better thoughts of yourself than you deserved.  
But I confess, nevertheless, perhaps I was deceived, and that it may be, upon experience I may find it otherwise, and for this reason still preserving my Honour, I have showed myself benign to you: Now begun, for I fear, lest Alima should overhear us, for she understands well enough the Christian Language, or at least the Lingua Franca, which we use.  
You speak wisely, replied Ricardo, and I return you infinite thanks for being so free with me, I esteem it equal to the good I enjoy in seeing you, perhaps as you said, experience will convince you, that I am humble and sincere, especially in serving you.  
As to my Words, Discourses and Proceed, they shall be so honest, altho' you had not limited them, and so respectful, that you cannot desire them more; and for what belongs to the management of the Cady, be secure.  
Do you the same with Alima, and know, Madam, that from this moment of our interview, I find in me a hope, nay, an assurance that we shall shortly recover our wished for Liberty: Adieu, till another time, and when we have more opportunity, I will declare to you the several obliqne ways, whereby Fortune conducted me since I parted with you, or to say better, was forced from you.  
Then they took their leaves, and Leonisa rested most contented and satisfied in the real proceed of Ricardo, and he was the joyfullest Man in the World, for having once heard words out of Leonisas' Mouth, wherein there was nothing of rigour, or disdain.  
In the mean while Alima was shut up in her Chamber, praying Mahomet, that Leonisa would return, and bring her good News of the Affair she was entrusted with.  
The Cady in the Mosch, was as thoughtful and as full of hopes as his Wife, he expected Marios' answer, which by the help of Mahomet might be communicated to him.  
Leonisa increased the furious Desire and Love of Alima, by giving her hopes, that Mario would do whatever she should please to command him, but not till after two Mondays were passed; desiring so much time to pray to God, he might return into his Liberty.  
Alima was satisfied with this Excuse, and the relation given her of her beloved Mario, to whom she promised Liberty before the term of his Devotion should be expired, if he would consent to satisfy her will; wherefore she prayed Leonisa to solicit him to make use of his time, and to anticipate the fixed term, offering to give him down what Money the Cady should demand for his Ransom.  
Before that, Ricardo would tell his Patron what he had done, he resolved to consult with his Friend Mahomet.  
They both agreed, that they ought to make him despair, and counselled him with all speed to carry Leonisa to Constantinople, and that in the Voyage, either by Love or Force, he would easily obtain his desire: And to prevent any hurt that might arrive from the Grand Signior, they might secure theirselves, by purchasing another Slave, and then give out, that Leonisa was dead, and in the Night throw her overboard, and tell all in the Vessel it was Leonisa.  
They told him, this was easy to be done, and that they would so manage it, that the Truth should never come to light, so that they had traced him out a sure way to obtain his desires, and not incur the displeasure of the Grand Signior.  
And that afterwards they would not fail to find out certain, and infallible ways to make his pleasure durable.  
The poor Grey-headed Cady, was so blinded with his Passion, that if his two Slaves had told him designs unprobable, and unreasonable, he would have believed them, he therefore greedily swallowed this, wherein a way appeared leading to a happy Success.  
And the Proposition was not without the foundation of verisimilitude, if the two Counsellors had not designed to make theirselves Masters of the Ship, and to kill the Cady in recompense of his foolish intention.  
There was yet a greater Difficulty to be overcome, his Wise Alima would not let him go without her, to obviate that, he found this expedient, that Alima might serve instead of that Alima might serve instead of the Christian, whom they had thoughts to buy, and kill, for the Cady was very desirous to be freed from her.  
With the same facility that he found it out, Mahomet and Ricardo approved of it, for a subtle and excellent expedient.  
This resolution being then taken, the same day the Cady advised Alima of his design to go himself, and present the Christian Slave to the Grand Signior, by which liberality he hoped to be Cady Major of Grand Cairo, or Constantinople.  
Alima replied, that she much approved his resolution, hoping he would leave behind him Ricardo; but when he told her, that Mahomet, and Mario must go with him, she changed her mind, and advised him against what she had before approved. But at last she concluded not to let him go, without he would take her with him.  
The Cady was pleased to let her have her will, designing in a little time to ease his shoulders of that troublesome burden.  
During this, Assan Bassa, pressed the Cady to let him have the Slave, for besides that he gave him Ricardo, who was worth two thousand Crowns, he offered him mountains of Gold, and shown him how easily, and safely he might do it; for he would testify, that she was dead, if the Grand Signior should inquire after her.  
All these proffers made the Cady hasten his departure, so that being instigated by his own Lust, and pressed by the importunity of Assan, and also by that of Alima, who fed herself with hopes in the Air; they prepared in twenty days a Brigantine, and man'd it with some Christian Greeks and Moors; he Embarked therein all his Treasure, and Alima left nothing of value behind, and she prayed her Husband to take her Father and Mother with him, that they might see Constantinople.  
The intention of Alima was the same with Ricardo's and Mahomet's, in the Voyage to seize on the Brigantine; but she did not discover it to either of them before they were Embarked, hoping to get into Christendom, and there to be Married to Ricardo, who, she thought, would not refuse her, being so very rich, and resolved to turn Christian. In the mean time Ricardo spoke again to Leonisa, and declared to her his whole design, and she told it to Alima; after having charged each other to be secret, and recommending themselves to Heaven, they stood in expectation when they should begin their Voyage.  
That day being come, Assan went out of the City to the Seashore, and accompanied them with all his Soldiers, neither could he leave them, till he saw them Embarked and under Sail, neither did he ever take his Eyes from the Vessel till it was out of sight.  
The wind of the Sighs of the enamoured Moor seemed to fill the Sails of the Brigantine, which carried from him his Soul. But he as one, whom Love for so long time had deprived of repose, stood thinking, and pondering what was to be done, to prevent his dying in the heat of his desires, suddenly put that into effect, which by a long train of Distcourse, and a constant Resolution he had determined to do; and it was this, with a Vessel of seventeen Oars on a side, which he had Armed in another Port, and Man'd with sifty five Soldiers, whom he had won with many gifts and promises, he resolved to pursue with all speed, and take the Cadys' Brigantine with all his Riches, and to kill all they should find therein, except Leonisa, whom he would only have for his share, giving the rest to the Soldiers; he commanded besides, that they should sink it, that it might be thought to have been casually lost.  
The hopes of so great prey, gave wings to his Men, and redoubled their courage, although they knew the Vessel would make no great defence, because it was not Armed, and suspected not such an accident.  
The Brigantine had now sailed two days, and they seemed to the Cady so many Ages, so that without any farther delay, he resolved to put his intention into execution.  
But the two Slaves advised him, that first he ought to give out, that Leonisa was sick, and that this Report should continue for some days, in order to prepare the way for the belief of her death. This Counsel did not please him.  
He was of opinion, that it should be given out, that she died suddenly, that he might the sooner be rid of his Wife, for he could not longer suffer the amorous Fire, which by little and little, had reduced his Soul to Ashes.  
Notwithstanding this, he was forced to acquiesce in the opinion of the Slaves.  
Already Alima had declared her thoughts to Mahomet, and Ricardo, and they prepared to execute their designs, as they passed by the Crosses of Alexandria, or in entering into the Castles of Anatolia; so great was the impatience of the Cady, and hastening the Slaves to effect what they had promised, and what he so much desired, with the first occasion.  
The day being now come, which was the sixth from the time of their setting out, the Cady was of opinion, that Leonisas' sickness had been long enough, that therefore the next day they should throw Alima into the Sea, wrapped up into a sheet, and give out, that that was the Slave of the Grand Signior.  
Upon the break of that day, in which Mahomet, and Ricardo ought to have fulfilled the Cadys' desires, or send him out of this World, they discovered a Vessel Sailing and Rowing towards them, in order to attack them.  
They were afraid it might be some Christian Pirate from which neither Turks nor Christians could hope any good; the Turks and Moors feared to be Slaves, and the Christians, though they should get their liberty, to be plundered and spoiled.  
However, Mahomet and Ricardo comforted themselves in hopes to obtain Leonisas, and their own liberty, but this hope did not exempt them from the fear which they had of the insolency of these Pirates, who, of what ever Nation and Religion they are, as soon as they turn Pirates become insolent and cruel: wherefore all of them put themselves into a posture of defence, still plying their Oars, neglecting nothing, which they hoped might conduce to their safety.  
After two hours the Vessel, by the force of its Oars, fetched them up, and was within Canon shot, upon which they quitted their Oars, and furled their Sails, and betook themselves to their Arms, though the Cady cried out, they should fear nothing, because it was a Turkish Ship.  
He commanded, that they should presently hang out a white Flag, a signal of Peace, but they being instigated with desire of prey, came on with great fury to attack the weak, and ill defended Brigantine.  
In this instant, Mahomet, looking Westward, spied a Galley with Twenty Benches of Oars make towards them, of which he advised the Cady, and some Christians who were at the Oars, said, that the Vessel which they saw approaching was a Christian, this News increased the fear and confusion wherein they were, they stood astonished, and not knowing what to do, hoping, and fearing the Success.  
In this pinch, the Cady would willingly have renounced all his hope of pleasure, that he might be safe again in Nicosia, so great was his fear, but the first Vessel suddenly robbed him of that hope, for without having any respect to the white Flag, nor their Religion, assaulted that wherein the Cady was, with so much Fury, that they wanted but little of sinking of it.  
At their first coming within ken, the Cady knew them to be Soldiers of Nicosia, and gave himself over for a dead Man.  
There would not have escaped one Man of the assaulted Brigantine, had not the Soldiers been more greedy of plundering, than killing, whilst they were thus busied, a Turk began to cry out, To Arms, to your Arms Soldiers, a Christian Vessel approaches; for that which they discovered, carried a Cross in her Standard, and came with great impetuousness to attack the Brigantine of Assan, but he first haled her, demanding in the Turkish Language, whence the Ship was, it was answered it belonged to Assan Bassa, Viceroy of Cyprus.  
How, said the Turk, are you Mussulmans, and assault and attack the Brigantine, upon which you know the Cady of Nicosia is?  
They replied, that they knew nothing of that matter, only they had Order from their Commander to take it, and as Soldiers they were obedient to their superiour-Officer.  
The Captain of the second Vessel having received Satisfaction to what he required, he left Assans' Vessel, and attacked the Cadies, and at the first assault, killed ten of the Defendants, and presently entering it with great bravour, he was no sooner entered, but the Cady discovered it was Ali Bassa enamoured of Leonisa, who, as also Assan had watched for him there, and that they might succeed in their Rape more securely, made use of this Stratagem to  their Soldiers after the Christian Fashion.  
The Cady thus knowing the Intentions of the Lovers and Traitors, fell into great exclamations, upbraiding them with their base wicked Actions, What's this, said he, O Traitor Ali Bassa, that you being a Mussulman, assault me as if you were a Christian, and you Assans Soldiers, rather Assassins; what diabolic Spirit moves you to commit this insolence can you fight against your Prince and natural Lord in compliance with the lascivious and irregular Appetite of your Commander.  
These words were so prevalent, that the Soldiers were quiet, and laid down their Arms, and looking upon one another, found they were all under the same Captain. The just Accusations and Reproaches wherewith the Cady loaded them, and which their Consciences allowed to be true, put them into such confusion, that it blunted the edges of their Scymitars and bated their Fury: Ali alone shut his Eyes and stopped his Ears, and assaulting the Cady, gave him such a terrible blow upon the Head, which would cut it into two pieces, had it not been wrapped up in more than a hundred Yards of Cloth, yet notwithstanding that, it made him fall headlong upon the the Oars, being down, he cried out aloud in these words, Oh cruel Renegade! Enemy to my Profet, how couldst thou find in thy wicked and cursed Heart to assault thy Cady, a Minister of Mahomet, it is not possible that thy cruelty and insolence should remain unpunished.  
These Reproaches added force to the first, so that the Soldiers of Assan who heard them, fearing that those of Ali should take the Prey out of their Hands, which they believed now to be in possession of, resolved to try their utmost, they began therefore some of them to charge the Enemy, and others following altogether, fell upon them with such force, and speed, and valour, and treated them so, that tho' they were more in number, in short time they reduced them to a few; yet for all this, those that were advanced, were not discouraged, but rather renewing their Strength, did revenge the Death of their Companions, scarcely leaving four of Assans' Soldiers alive, and those wounded and disabled.  
Mahomet and Ricardo stood all this while at the Window of the Poop, looking upon them, desirous to see what would be the end of this Scufflle; and observing that almost all the Turks were dead, and those that were alive in such plight, that they might easily silly and safely master them.  
Ricardo called Mahomet, and the two Nevews of Alima, which she had caused to embark with her, to help to navigate the Vessel: These four, with the Father of Alima, seizing on the Scymitars of the slain, leapt upon the Deck, crying, Liberty, Liberty; suddenly the Greeks, and other Christian Mariners came to their aid; so that with Facility, they being vigorous and fresh, soon dispatched the rest of the Turks.  
This being done, the Conquerors leapt into the Vessel of Ali, which was left without any to defend it, and made themselves Masters of it, and of all that was in it. Amongst those that were killed in the second Assault, was Ali, whom a Turk, to revenge the Cady, killed with a Scymitar.  
They all were of opinion, according to the Advice of Ricardo, to put into the Vessel of Ali whatever was of Value in their Galley, and in Assans, because it was greater and fit for such a Voyage, and because all the Rowers were Christians, who being overjoyed for recovering their Liberty, and pleased with Money which Ricardo distributed amongst them, offered to carry him not only to Trepany, but if there was occasion, to the World's end.  
Then Mahomet and Ricardo, full of Joy for their happy Success, went to Alima, and told her, if she had a mind to return to Cyprus, they would equip her Galley, and she should have the same Mariners; and besides, they would give her half of the Riches which was in it.  
But she, who notwithstanding this Calamity, had not forgot her Love to Ricardo, answered, that she would go with them into Christendom, at which Resolution her Father and her Mother were exceeding joyful.  
The Cady recovered of his hurt, using what Medicaments the time and place would afford; to him they gave the choice, either to go into Christendom with his Wife, or to return to Nicosia in his own Vessel.  
He answered, that since Fortune had brought him into that condition, he thanked them for their so great Liberality, and that he was resolved to go to Constantinople, and complain to the Grand Signior of the Injuries that Assan and Ali had done him; but when he understood that his Wife would abandon him, and become a Christian, they had much ado to keep him in his Senses.  
In fine, they made ready for him his Brigantine, and provided it with all things necessary for his Voyage, giving him some of his own Checkeens. He took his leave of all of them, with a design to return to Nicosia; but before he set sail, he begged the favour of Leonisa, to embrace him; for he said, such a Favour would be sufficient to make him forget all his past Misfortunes  
All of them desired Leonisa, that she would be pleased to grant him his Request, that in so doing, she would not in the least diminish her Reputation: Leonisa consented. After that, the Cady beseeched her to lay her Hand upon his Head, that by that he might hope a speedy Recovery of his Wounds; in all which Leonisa contented him.  
This being done, they bored a hole in the bottom of the Vessel of Assan, and sunk it: Then they set sail with a good East-Wind, which proffered itself, and seemed to invite them: So in a little time they lost the sight of the Cadys' Galley, who saw the Wind carry away all his Goods, his Wife, his Pleasure, and his Soul also.  
Ricardo and Mahomet sailed with Thoughts far different from those of the Cady, and without touching any where, they passed within sight of Alexandria; and without making use of their Oars, they came to the strong Island of Corfu, where they watered; then passing by the infamous Acroceraunian Rocks, Two days after, they discovered, at a great distance, the Cape Passaro, in the most fertile Isle of Sicily, within sight of which, and of the famous Isle of Malta, they passed as it were flying; for the prosperous Vessel seemed to sail with no less speed.  
Afterwards leaving that Island, in four days they discovered Lampadosa at a little distance from the Island, whereupon they had suffered shipwreck; at sight of which Leonisa trembled, it bringing into her mind the great danger wherein she was there. The day following, they saw their beloved and desired Country.  
Then their Joy renewed, and they were filled with unspeakable Pleasure, the greatest that can arrive to Men in this Life, to return to their native Country safe and in good health, after a long and miserable Captivity; or if there is any Joy comparable to this, 'tis that of a Victory obtained over an Enemy.  
There was in the Galley a Chest of Banners, and rich Silks of various Colours, with which Ricardo adorned his Galley. A little after break of day they found themselves within two Miles and an half of Trepany, towards which they sailed with a quarter Wind, making great Acclamations and Shouts of Joy.  
In a moment the Port was full of People which came thither from the City, in which there was scarcely one left who did not come to the shore; because they had seen the Vessel so gloriously equipped approach the land. A little before Ricardo prevailed with Leonisa to dress herself as she was when the Jew brought her into the Bassas Pavilion, he having a mind to put a pleasant Trick upon her Kindred.  
That she did, and adding Pomp to Pomp, and Pearls to Pearls, and Embellishments to Beauty, which set it off the better, and augmented the Pleasure of the Beholders; so that it caused a new and marvellous Admiration in the Spectators.  
In like manner, Ricardo and Mahomet, and all the Christian Rowers, were in the Turkish Garb, which they easily might be, for the slain Turks had left them  more than sufficed for that purpose, 'twas about seven a Clock, when they reached the Port, and the Heaven was so clear, as if had a mind to see that joyful entry.  
Ricardo, before he cast Anchor in the Haven, discharged the Artillery of his Galley and two Falconets, which were the chase Guns. The City answered him with as many.  
But when they were very near, and they saw 'twas a Turkish Vessel, by the white Turbans, which the seeming Moors wore, they feared some Stratagem, and presently stood to their Arms, the Foot of the City drawing to the Port, and the Cavalry extended itself upon the Sea Coast.  
This effect which their fear caused, afforded great pleasure to them, who by little and little drew near, then casting Anchor, and pulling out a Bridge of Planks, all at once they quitted their Oars, and came out one by one on the Shoar, as in a Procession, and for Joy kissing the Earth many times, they made the Spectators know, that they were Christians, who made their Escape.  
The last that came out, were the Father and Mother of Alima, and her two Nevews, dressed like Turks, as we have declared before, and after them the fair Leonisa, whose Face was covered with a Crimson Veil, betwixt Ricardo and Mahomet.  
This sight turned the Eyes of all the bystanders upon them, and as the other had done defore, they fell on their Faces and kissed the Earth.  
Then the Governor of the City came to welcome them, having understood that Ricardo and Leonisa were the principal Persons who arrived in that Galley; he presently knew Ricardo, and with open Arms run to embrace him: There came also with the Governor Cornelio, and his Father, and the Father and Kindred of Leonisa and Ricardo, all of them Persons of the best Quality in that City.  
Ricardo embraced the Governor, and gave obliging answers to his courteous Congratulations, and grasped Cornelio by the Hand, who, when he knew him, and finding himself held so fast, changed Countenance, and trembled with fear, with the other Hand he took Leonisa, and began thus to speak:  
I pray you Gentlemen, that before we enter into the City, and the Church, to return thanks to God for all his many and great Favours, you would be pleased to hearken to what I have to say.  
The Governor replied, he might say what he pleased, that they were all attentive.  
Then he turned himself to the chief of them and lifting up his Voice he began in this manner.  
I believe, you may remember, Gentlemen, the disgrace that some Months since happened to me and Leonisa in the Gardens of Saline, and also the diligence I used to procure her Liberty, for neglecting mine own, I offered for hers all my Estate; yet this, which has the appearance of Liberality, ought not to be praised in me, because I gave it to redeem my own Soul; as to the particulars, which happened to us both since, 'tis a Story, that requires another time, and a more convenient place, and another Tongue not so disturbed as mine.  
Let it suffice, that I tell you now, that after various and strange Accidents and Despair, ever to find Remedies to our Misfortunes, it pleased the piteous Heaven, altho' we did not deserve so great Favour, to return us to our Native Country in Safety, Health, and loaded with Riches.  
But the unparallelled Pleasure, which I enjoy, proceeds not, either from my Riches, or my recovered Liberty, it only springs from that Joy, which I imagine will fill the Heart of this my sweet Enemy, not only to see herself free, but to have before her Eyes the Object of her Love, which stands there, pointing to Cornelio.  
But however, I take my share in the common Joy, which they feel, who have bore me Company in Misery; and though it usually happens, that Misfortunes and unhappy Successes change the Conditions, and render the generous Souls vile and abject, they had not, however, the same Power over me, when I saw myself abandoned of all my hopes, for I have passed the Shipwreck of my Disadventures and funest Disappointments of my no less honest, than ardent Importunities, with the purest and unexpressible Integrity, and have made that false, that those who change Climates, change their Minds.  
From what I have said, I would infer, that I offered for Leonisas' Redemption all my Estate, and I gave her my Soul and all my Desires; I found a way to set her at Liberty, in doing which, I had greater respect for her, than for my own Life, and if for all these things, which in another occasion might be looked upon as Obligations, I do not pretend, that she is obliged to me: I only intent, that she should acknowledge herself beholden for what you shall see me do now.  
This said, he lifted up his Hand, and with much Modesty and Reverence, took off the Veil that covered the fair Face of Leonisa, which appeared with radiant Light, as the Sun freed from a dark Cloud.  
Ricardo continued his Discourse, saying, behold Cornelio, I consign into your Hands a Pledge, which you ought to esteem above all things.  
And you, oh beautiful Leonisa, behold, I give you him, whom you preserved always in your Memory.  
I would have this published for a Liberality, with which the gift of Estate, Life or Honour, is not to be compared.  
Receive her, oh Fortunate young Man, receive her, I say, and if thou hast so much judgement to discern so great a Good, call thyself the happiest Man that lives here below; with her also I give thee my share of what Heaven hath bestowed on us in this Voyage, which is more than Thirty Thousand Crowns, you shall enjoy it all with security, and without any Disturbance; I pray Heaven to make you happy many and many Years.  
Having spoke this, he was silent, but a little while after, before that any one began to speak, he added, Oh God How much do troubles disturb our Understandings: I, Gentlemen, being inclined to do good, have not considered, what I said, for it is not just that I should be liberal of what belongs to another, what right have I in Leonisas, or how can I dispose of that which is so far from being mine, she is only her own, and so much, that had she not a Father and Mother, to whom may Heaven give many and prosperous Years, her Will can meet with no opposition. And if she reckons upon the Obligations she has received from me, which she being Discreet and judicious, cannot but own, from this hour, for ever, I disclaim, quit, cancel, and annul them.  
As to what I said about Cornelio, I unsay it, not intending to give him any thing, because I cannot give that which is not mine. I can confirm only the free Donation of all my Goods to Leonisa, not pretending any other recompense, than her honourable esteem of my honest Thoughts, and that she would believe, they never had any other end or aim, than what is due to her incomparable honesty, to her many Virtues, and her exquisite Beauty.  
Here Ricardo ended, and Leonisa answered in this manner. If you imagine, Ricardo, that I showed any Favours to Cornelio in that time, when you showed yourself so much enamoured with me, and so jealous, imagine also, that they were honest and not unbecoming, and that I did them in obedience to my Parents commands, who desiring that he might be my Husband, ordered me to treat him so.  
If this can satisfy you, you may also be convinced, by what you have found by Experience concerning my Honesty, and Modesty: I say this, Ricardo, to let you know, that I have been always mine own, and not subject to any one, except my Father and Mother, whom I now humbly beseech, as it is my Duty, to give me Licence and Liberty to dispose of that, which your Generosity and Liberality has granted me.  
Then her Father and Mother, replied, that they left her to herself, and that they would confirm what ever Election she should make, trusting she would do nothing, but what should be for her Honour and Advantage.  
Then with this Licence, continued the discreet Leonisa, I shall not incur blame, if I freely discover my Thoughts, and show myself not to be insensible of Obligations, or ungrateful.  
Wherefore, oh generous Ricardo, my will, which hitherto has been perplexed, and confused, finally declares itself in your Favour, that Men may be convinced by my Example, that all Women are not ungrateful.  
I, Ricardo, bestow myself upon thee, and will be thine, till Death, and if thou dost not reserve thy Hand for some other Lady, whom thou valuest more, I pray, give me your Hand, as a Pledge, that you will be my Husband.  
At those words, Ricardo was confounded, and stood, as if he was out of his Wits, not being able to answer Leonisa one word, he only fell upon his Knees, and taking her Hand, as it were by force, kissed it many times, and bathed it in amorous Tears. Cornelio also shed Tears, but of anger and vexation, the Father and Mother of Leonisa, wept for joy, and the bystanders for pleasure and admiration.  
They were married shortly afterwards with great Solemnity, it was celebrated for many Days with Feasting, Revelling, and Balls, where were present most of the best and principal Persons of the City, invited by the Kindred and Friends of Ricardo and Leonisa, thinking they could never do enouf to express their Joy.  
Mahomet and Alima were reconciled, and returned into the Communion of the Church, and perceiving, there was no possibility for her to be married to Ricardo, she contented herself with being Mahomet's Wife.  
Ricardo gave so large a part of the Spoil to her Father, Mother, and Nevews, that 'twas sufficient to make them live commodiously.  
In fine, they all remained free and satisfied, and the Fame of Ricardo passing beyond the Bounds of Sicily, spread itself through all Italy, and in many other Parts of Europe, under the Name of the LIBERAL LOVER, and to this Day it remains in the many Children, which he had by Leonisa, who was a rare Example of Honesty, Discretion, and Beauty.  
The End of the Second Novel.   

THE Force of Blood.  
NOVEL III.  
ONE Evening in the hottest time of the year, an old Gentleman of Toledo returned from walking by the Riverside with his Wife and a little Boy his Son, a Daughter of sixteen years old, and a Maid-Servant. The night was clear, and 'twas eleven a-clock, and there was no Company upon the way; they walked softly, not to buy too dear, with weariness, the pleasure they took on the River's side, and upon the plain of Toledo.  
The good Gentleman esteeming himself secure, by his own innocence, and the careful Government of the City, he proceeded with his honourable Family without thoughts that any disgrace should happen to him, but as all accidents cannot be foreseen by human Prudence; there succeeded one to him, which disturbed his joy, and made him a sorrowful Man for many years.  
There lived then in that City a Gentleman of about twenty two years old, of illustrious Blood, and great Riches, but of an irregular Inclination; too much liberty, and the bad Company he frequented, made him commit such Extravagances, as very ill suited with his Quality, and acquired him all the City over, the appellation of Neck breaker.  
Now this Gentleman, whose true Name, out of respect to his Family, we conceal, calling him Ridolfo, with four of his Companions, all like himself, ready for any ill rencontre, was walking down the same way, by which the old Gentleman was returning home, and the Lambs met with the Wolves.  
Ridolfo and his Companions, in an insolent manner, looked on the Face of the old Gentlewoman, the Daughter, and Servant; the old Gentleman was much disturbed, complaining of their rudeness; but they made no other answer, but laughing at him, and without doing any thing more walked on.  
But the admirable Beauty, which Ridolfo had seen in the face of Leecadia, for this was the Name of the young Gentlewoman, began to imprint itself in such manner in his mind, that he remained ardently kindled, and procured in him a resolution to enjoy her, let the consequences be what they would, and in that instance he communicated his thoughts to his Companions, who resolved to go back, and carry her off by force, in complaisance to the Lust of Ridolfo.  
It always was, is now, and ever will be, that those who are rich and liberal, sh'all find assistants in what they attempt, be it never so villainous, and those that will approve and applaud their unjust Actions.  
The thought, the communicating, the approving, and putting in effect the Rape of Leocadia, were, as it were, all in one time.  
They covered their Faces with their Handkerchiefs, and with drawn Swords turned back, overtook them, who had scarce ended their thanks to God, for freeing them from those Ruffians.  
Ridolfo seized upon Leocadia, took her in his arms, and carried her off; she had not strength enough to defend herself, and the suddainess of the assault took away her voice, and the sight of her eyes, and put her into a swoon, that she knew not by whom, and whether she was carried.  
Her Father cried out, her Mother skreeked, her little Brother fell a weeping, and the Servant-maid tore her face; but the cries, the Skreeks, the lamentation, and the tearing of the Face, availed not, for this desert place, the silence of the night, and the cruel Hearts of these Villains, had no ears, or compassion.  
In fine, these went away triumphing, and the other remained afflicted, and disconsolate: Without any impediment Ridolfo got to his House, and the Parents of Leocadia to theirs, being as it were desperate through their exceeding grief.  
Being deprived of their Daughter, they were become blind, for she was the light of their Eyes, and not having her sweet and grateful company, they were, as it were alone; in a word, they were in a confusion, not knowing whether they ought, or not, complain to the Justice, but they were not willing to publish their dishonour; They saw they wanted Friends, being poor Gentlemen, and they knew not of whom complain.  
In the mean time Ridolfo, being cunning and wary, carried Leocadia to his own Chamber, and when he found she was in a swoon, as he carried her, he covered her eyes with his Handkerchief, that she might not take notice of the Streets by which she passed, nor the House, nor the Room into which he had brought her; for his Father had given him an Apartment, whereof he kept the Keys, a great error in Parents, who think to keep their Sons within limits, and yet let them live separately. Before Leocadia returned to her Senses, Ridolfo had satisfied his Lust.  
For the Impetuousness of lascivious Youth, seldom considers what they are going about, but when occasion proffers, execute their designs; so he, being deprived of the light of his Understanding, in the obscurity of the night, robbed Leocadia of her most precious Jewel; and as the most part of the Sins of Sensuality pass not beyond the effect, Ridolfo wished Leocadia were removed at a greater distance, and he had thoughts of putting her out into the Street, whilst she lay in a Trance.  
But going about to effect this Barbarity, she recovered, saying, Wretch that I am! where am I? what darkness is this? am I in the limbus of my Innocency, or in the Hell of my Sins? Jesus, who touches me? am I in a Bed? Miserable that I am! do you hear Mother? do you hear me dear Father? now I perceive one, nor the other hears me, and that I am in the hands of my enemies.  
How happy should I be if this darkness would last Eternally, and my Eyes should never see light again? that this place was the Sepulchre of my Honour; for dishonour unknown, is better than Honour, which consists only in the opinion of Men. But I remember, and would to God I did not, that a little while since I was in the company of my Parents, and that I was assaulted; and now I imagine and perceive, that 'tis not convenient I should be seen any more.  
Whoever you are, that are now with me, (and in saying this, she clasped the hands of Ridolfo,) if you have a Soul capable of granting me a favour, I beseech you, since you have robbed me of my Honour, that you would take away my Life also; take it from me presently, for she, who has lost her Honour, is not worthy to enjoy her Life. The cruelty which you have used towards me, will be excused, by the pity you will show in giving me my death, in so doing you will be both cruel and compassionate.  
These words of Leocadia, put Ridolfo into a confusion, and being young and unexperienced, he knew not what to say: his silence caused great admiration in Leocadia, and she stretched out her hand to try, whether that which appeared at her side, was a Spirit, or a Body, but finding that she touched a Body, and called to mind the violence used towards her, she was convinced of the disgrace which had befallen her. With this conviction she returned to her lamentable complaints, which many sobbings, and sighs had interrupted; and thus she spoke.  
Rash young Man, for this act of yours shows you to be so, I pardon what you have done, if you promise, and swear to me, that as it has been covered with this night, you will also conceal it under perpetual silence.  
Know, and consider, that I never saw your Face, neither will I, for although I shall never forget the injury, I will not however remember the offender. My Lamentations shall be betwixt me, and Heaven, the World shall not know them, who judge not according to Truth, but their own Opinion. I know not, how I come to tell you the particulars of this Truth, those being founded upon the experience of many accidents, and in the course of many years, and mine are not yet arrived to seventeen.  
But now I know, that grief loosens the Tongues of the afflicted. But whether I speak, or be silent, you ought to believe and afford me remedy. Not to believe me were ignorance, and 'twould be too much cruelty not to endeavour my cure, although, alas, my ill is incurable.  
I will not despair, for 'twill cost you very little to give me some ease in my intolerable Affliction; and this it is, I desire of you, do not expect, or believe, that time can mitigate my just disdain, nor augment my grievances. Do you reckon, that by chance, and without premeditation, you have offended me, without giving yourself time to consult your Reason, and I will esteem myself never to have been born in the World, or at least, only that I might be miserable. Pray presently put me into the middle of the Street, near the Domo, that I may return to my House. But you must Swear not to follow me, nor to ask mine, nor the Name of my Parents, who, if they were as rich, as they are noble, would not, without revenging it, see the unhappiness of their Daughter. Answer me; if you fear, I should know your Voice, believe me, for 'tis true, I never heard any Man's Voice, but my Fathers, and my Confessors, so few have I heard, that I cannot distinguish Voices.  
Ridolfo made no other answer to the discreet words of the afflicted Leocadia than to embrace her, with intentions to renew his pleasure and her dishonour. But she perceiving his wicked Design, resisted him with more force, than one would have thought, such tender years had been capable of, she defended herself with her Feet, her Hands, her Teeth, her Tongue, thus speaking to him.  
Ah Traitor! ah inconscientious Villain! the Spoils which thou hast ravished from me, are no more, than if thou hast taken them from Tree, or an insensible Stone. That Victory, that Triumf, redounds to thy dishonour and infamy, what you pretend from me now, you shall never obtain, but by my Death, you have abused me, when I was in a Swoon, but now I have recovered my Senses, and Strength, you shall sooner kill me, than conquer me. If now I should not to Death resist your abominable attempt, you might have reason to believe, that I feigned myself in a trance, to give you an opportunity to ruin me.  
In fine, Leocadia, so valiantly, and constantly defended herself, that the second attempt of Ridolfo was successless. For as the insolence, he had committed, was not caused but by a lascivious impetus, from whence true Love never proceeds, for that always continues in the same force, but the lascivious fury goes off suddenly, leaving behind it repentance, or at the least coldness, and indifferency.  
Ridolfo became weary, and cool, and without saying one word, left Leocadia in his Bed, and locking the Chamber Door, went in quest of his Companions, to advise with them what to do in this emergency.  
When Leocadia perceived herself alone, she got out of the Bed, and went round the Chamber with her Hands upon the Wall, trying to find the Door, and go out, or some Window out of which she might cast herself into the Street, she found the Door but locked, and afterwards a Balcone, which she opened, throw which the Moon shined so clear, that she could discern the colour of the Tapestry, she perceived the Bedsteed richly gilded, and the Bed so sumptuous, that it seemed rather the Bed of a Prince, than of a private Cavalier, she counted the Chairs, Stools, and Cabinets, and took notice on what side the Chamber the Door was, she also saw some Pictures, but could not discern what they were: The Window that looked into the Garden, was large, but with Iron Bars, and the Garden closed round with high Walls, these Difficulties hindered her from casting herself into the Street.  
The greatness of the House, and the rich Furniture convinced her, that the Master of it was some Person of Note, and very rich, whilst she was considering, and looking about, she saw upon a Cabinet, by the Windows side, a little Crucifix all of Silver, which she took, and put into the Sleeve of her Gown, she was not moved to it by Devotion, and much less with a design of robbing, but with hopes it might be some time or other serviceable to her, this done, she locked the Window, and laid herself upon the Bed, expecting what end her Misfortune would have, which began so ill.  
Scarce, as it seemed to her, was half an hour passed, when she heard the Door open, and saw a Person draw near to her, who, without speaking one word, blinded her with a Handkerchief, and taking her by the Hand, led her out of the Chamber, and then went back, and locked the Door.  
It was, Ridolfo, who, although he went out with design to find his Companions, as we have said, yet did not look after them, thinking it was not convenient to acquaint them, what had passed betwixt Leocadia, and him, for there was no need of Witnesses, resolving to tell them, that he repent his Undertaking, and being moved to compassion by the Prayers and Tears of the young Lady, had let her go untouched.  
Having thus resolved, he returned to convey Leocadia, as far as the Domo, according to her request, before , fearing he could not do it in the Daytime, for he must have then been obliged to have concealed her till the next Night, in all which time he had resolved not to return to use more force, and give occasion of making himself known; he led her to the great Piazza, called the Piazza of the Lords, and there with a counterfeit Voice, and in a Language betwixt Spanish and Portugese, he said to her, she might go home without fear of being followed by any body, and before she could take the Handkerchief of, he was out of sight.  
So Leocadia remained alone, and in a place she knew, she looked round about and saw no body, but fearing to be followed at a distance, she frequently stopped, in her going towards her Father's House, which was not far off.  
And to deceive the Spies, if there should be any, she went into a Neighbour's House, which she saw open, and thence, after a little stay home.  
There she found her Father and Mother, in great Sorrow, having passed that Night without undressing theirselves, and also without hope of finding any remedy for their Grief: When they saw her, they ran to embrace her with Tears in their Eyes.  
Leocadia, prayed her Father and Mother, to retire with her into a private place, which they did, and she in a few words gave them an account of her Misfortune, and of all the circumstances of it, and that she had not the least Light, who it was that ravished her; she told them, what she had seen in the Theatre, wherein the miserable Tragedy of her Disgrace was represented, the Windows, the Iron Bars, the Garden, the Cabinets, the Bed, the Tapestry, and finally showed them the Crucifix which she brought away.  
Before which, they renewed their Tears, they made Imprecations, they begged revenge, and miraculous Punishments upon the Perpetrator of that enormous Crime.  
Then she said, that though she had no desire to know the Offender, yet if it seemed good to her Parents, they might possibly, by the means of that Crucifix, find out the Ravisher, making the Curates of all the Parishes in the City publish in their Pulpits, that whoever had lost a Crucifix, giving the Marks of it, might receive it again from such a Priest.  
This way might succeed, dear Daughter, answered the Father, if Malice could not easily defeat it, but 'tis credible, that the Crucifix is already missed, and that the Owner will conclude, that you have it, so that instead of coming to the knowledge of him, to whom it belonged, it will only discover the Person in whose Hands it is: For it may be, that some other, to whom the infamous Ravisher has told its Marks, may come and own it, and so instead of informing ourselves, we shall be more at a loss. Your business, Daughter, is carefully to keep it, and recommend yourself to him, whom it represents.  
And since it has been a Witness of thy Misfortune, God may make it a Proof of thy Innocence. Know, Daughter, that one Ounce of public Infamy over-weighs many a Pound of secret Dishonour: And since you can live with Honour publicly, and in the sight of God, let not this secret Dishonour trouble thee, not having wilfully offended.  
True Dishonour consists in Sin, and true Honour in Virtue: God is offended with Thoughts, Words, and Actions, but since thou art guilty in none of these, esteem thyself Honourable, as for me, I shall always believe you so, and behold you with the Eyes of a loving and compassionate Father.  
With these prudent Words the Father comforted his Daughter, and the Mother did the like, in tenderly embracing her, she sighed, and fell a fresh into Tears, and brought herself to live retired under the Protection of her Father and Mother, in a neat, but humble Dress.  
In the mean time, Ridolfo returned to his Chamber, and missed the Crucifix, and guessed who had it, but he valued not the loss of it, being rich, and not fearing his Father would would inquire after it; three Days after, being to undertake a Voyage, he gave a Note to one of his Mother's Maids, of what things he left in his Chamber, not inserting the Crucifix: long before Ridolfo had determined to go into Italy, upon the persuasions of his Father, who had been there; telling him, they were not to be esteemed well bred Gentlemen, who had never been out of their own Country; this, and such like Reasons disposed Ridolfo to conform himself to the Will of his Father, who gave him Credit for great Sums of Money in Barcelona, Genua, Rome, and Naples.  
A little while after, he parted with two Companions, who were incited, by what they had heard from some Soldiers, of the plenty in Italy, and the Liberty the Spaniards had there.  
These Words were pleasing to their Ears, to behold the good Pullet's, the good Pigeons, the Gammons of Bacon, and the Saucidges, with other such like Dishes, which the Soldiers used to talk of at their return from those Parts into Spain, where they suffer so much inconvenience, and misery; finally he parted with as little Memory, of what passed betwixt him and Leocadia, as if there had no such thing ever been.  
In the interim, she lived so strictly retired, that she saw no body, fearing they might read her Disgrace in her Forehead, but in a few Months she found that she must do that by force, which till then she had done willingly, perceiving herself with Child. This caused her Eyes, which were yet scarce dry, to return to Tears, her Sighs and Lamentations began again to fill the Air, neither was the Discretion of her Mother sufficient to comfort her.  
Time passed, and the hour of her being delivered came, which was so private, that her Mother herself did the Office of the Midwife, not daring to trust any other: She brought forth the beautifullest Boy, that ever was seen; with the same secrecy, that it was born, it was nursed in a Country Village, for the space of four Years, at the end of which, his Grandfather took him home, and bred him tenderly, they called him by his Name, Lewis; he was Beautiful, of a mild Humour, and sharp Wit, and all his Actions in that tender Age, were evident Testimonies, that he was begot by a Noble Father; so that his genteel Deportment, Beauty and Discretion, made his Grandfather, and Grandmother so much enamoured with him, that they esteemed their Daughter's Disgrace to have been an happy Accident.  
As he walked in the Streets, showers of Benedictions reigned down upon him, some praised his Beauty, others blessed the Father that begot him, others the Mother who brought into the World such an admirable Creature, others, those who had given him so good breeding.  
With this Applause of those that knew him, and those that knew him not, the Child arrived to the seventh Year of his Age, at which time he could read Spanish and Latin, and write more than indifferently well.  
The Intention of his Grandfather, and Grandmother, was to make him Virtuous, for they could not make him rich, as if Virtue and Knowledge were not riches, upon which Thiefs have no Power, nor that which the World calls Fortune.  
Now it happened, that one Day the Child was sent on an Errand by his Grandmother, and going by the Street, where some Cavaliers were running at the Ring, he stopped to see them, and to get a better place, was crossing the Street, but he could not do it so quickly, but one of the Horses, against the will of the Rider, run over him, and left him stretched upon the Ground, as if he was dead, there issuing out of his Head a great quantity of Blood: Scarce had this Accident happened, but an Old Gentleman, who stood to see the Courses, with incredible swiftness lighted from his Horse, and ran to the place where the Child lay half dead, and without considering his Age or Quality, which was very Eminent, he took him in his Arms, and went a great pace to his Palace, and sent away a Servant presently to call a Surgeon; many Gentlemen followed him, being much concerned for the Misfortune of so beautiful a Child; presently it was noised about, that he that was overrun by the Horse, was Luisetto, Nevew of such a Gentleman, nameing his Grandfather, this passed from Mouth to Mouth, till it came to the Ears of his Grandfather and Grandmother, and his concealed Mother, who being informed of this unhappy Accident, as if they were distracted, ran out of their House to seek their dear Pledge.  
And because the Gentleman, who carried away the Child, was one of the Chiefest of the City, many that met them, directed them to his House, where they arrived, just as the little Boy was under the Surgeon's Hands, the Gentleman and his Wife, Master and Mistress of the House, comforted those whom they thought to be Parents of the Child, desiring them not to weep, and take on so bitterly, for it would do the bruised Child no good.  
The Surgeon, who was a very Famous one, having with great Care dressed him, said the Wound was not mortal, as he at first feared: In the dressing, the Child, who seemed senseless, recovered, and returned to himself, and rejoiced to see his Grandfather and Grandmother, they asked him mournfully, how he did, he answered well enouf, were it not for a great pain he felt in his Body and his Head, the Surgeon commanded, they should let him sleep, which was done, than his Grandfather humbly thanked the Master of the House, for the great Compassion, and Charity he showed to his Nevew.  
To whom the Gentleman answered, that he did not deserve those thanks, and told them, that when he saw the Child fall down upon the Ground, and trampled upon by the Horse, he thought, he saw in him the Countenance of his own Son, whom he loved equally with his Life, and for this reason he took him into his Arms, and carried him to his House, that he might remain there, till he was cured, and that he would treat him with all imaginable Care. His Wife, who was a Noble Lady, said the same, and yet more.  
The Grandfather and Grandmother of Luisetto marvelled at so much Charity, but his Mother more, her mind being something quieted, by the hopes the Surgeon gave her, she began to view the Chamber, wherein her Son lay, and concluded from many Marks, that it was the same, wherein she had left her Honour, and although it was not hung with the same Tapestry, yet she knew it by the Window, that looked into the Garden, as she was told by some; for than it was darkened, because of the wounded Child, but it made her more certain, seeing the Bed was the same, and the Cabinet standing in the same place, as it did, when she took thence the Crucifix; in fine, the Stairs from the Chamber to the Street, which she had carefully counted, when she was lead out of it, cleared her of all Doubts, she counted them again, as she went home, and found their number to be the same, so comparing all these Signs, she was thoroughly convinced that she was in the right: of all this, she gave a particular Account to her Mother, who being a prudent Woman, resolved to inform herself, whether the owner of that House had now, or ever had a Son; she found he had one named Ridolfo, who was in Italy, and computing how long he had been out of Spain, she found 'twas something more than seven Years, which agreed exactly with the Age of Luisetto, she told all this to her Husband, and they resolved all of them, the Father, Mother, and Daughter, first to expect how God would dispose of the wounded Child, and afterwards consult what was farther to be done.  
In fifteen Days he was out of danger, and in so many more perfectly well, during all which time, he was daily visited by his Mother and Grandmother, and as much Care was taken of him by the Master and Mistress of the House, as if he had been their own Son.  
One time as Signora Stefana, for this was Ridolfos Mothers Name, was discoursing with Leocadia, told her, that that little Boy was so like her Son in Italy, that when she looked upon him, she imagined her own Son stood before her Eyes: Leocadia took this hint, they two being alone, to let her know, what with her Father and Mother she had agreed, and it was in this manner.  
That Day, Madam, when my Father and Mother received the News of what befell their Grandchild, they concluded, that Heaven was locked up from them, and that all the World would fall upon them. They imagined, that they had lost the Light of their Eyes, and the Staff of their Old Age in losing this Child: So great is the Love they have for him, that it exceeds what Parents usually have for their own Children; but 'tis proverbially said, When God sends a Disease, he also sends Remedy; this the Child has found in your House, of which I shall preserve a grateful Memory as long as I live. I am, Madam, a Gentlewoman of a Noble Stock, as my Ancestors were before me, who, though not abounding in the goods of Fortune, have nevertheless happily preserved their Reputation in all places where they have lived.  
Signora Stefana wondered to hear Leocadia speak so well, and that so much Discretion should be in so few Years, for she seemed not to pass Twenty, without speaking to her, or replying one Word, she expected the end of her Discourse.  
Then Leocadia told the insolence, and unworthy proceeding of her Son, that he had ravished her, blinded her with a Handkerchief, and left her in the middle of the Street, and told what Marks she had observed, whereby she knew that 'twas he. And for a greater Confirmation, she drew out of her Bosom the Crucifix, and looking earnestly upon it, thus said, O Lord, thou who wast a Witness of the Force which I suffered, be now a Judge of the Reparation which ought to be made to my Honour. I took thy Image from that Cabinet with intention to put thee always in mind of my wrong, not to beg Vengeance, which I do not pretend to, but that thou wouldst afford me some Consolation, that I may with patience bear my Disgrace.  
This Boy, Madam, towards whom you have been pleased to exert so much Charity, is without doubt your true Grandchild, I believe the Heavens have permitted that the Horse should run over him, and that he should be carried to your House; and brought me hither to visit him, with design that I should find a satisfactory Remedy, or at least some Reparation for my lost Honour, saying this, and embracing the Crucifix, she swooned in the Arms of Signora Stefana.  
Who as a Noble Lady, in which Quality and Sex, commiseration is as natural, as cruelty in Men, as soon as she perceived her fall, joined her Face with Leocadias', shedding upon it so many Tears, that there was no need of throwing any other water upon it to bring her to herself.  
While they remained in this posture, behold Stefanas' Husband entered into the Chamber, bringing Luisetto in his Hand, and seeing his Wife weeping, and Leocadia in a Trance; asked what was the matter. The Boy embraced his Mother, as his Cousin, and his Grandmother, as his Benefactress, and asked of them, why they wept.  
Signora Stefana, replied, speaking to her Husband, I have great things, Sir, to tell you, but I will not now use many words, in short, this afflicted young Lady is without dispute your Daughter in Law, and this Boy your Grandchild, she has convinced me of this Truth, and besides what she has declared to me, is confirmed by the Child's likeness to our Son.  
The Gentleman answered, Madam, I understand not what you say, pray explain yourself.  
In the interim, Leocadias' spirits returned, and embracing the Crucifix, she appeared changed into a Fountian of Tears.  
All these things increased the Gentleman's amazement, but he soon came out of it, upon his Wife's telling him the story, which she had heard from Leocadia, and it pleased God, he believed it as much, as if it had been sworn by Witnesses of unspotted Reputation.  
He comforted Leocadia, and embraced her; he kissed his little Grandchild; and the same day he and his Wife sent an Express to Naples with Letters to their Son, commanding him to return with all speed, for they had found out a Match for him with a Noble Lady of exquisite Beauty, which he could by no means dislike.  
In the mean while they would not permit Leocadia, nor her Son, to return to their Parents, who being overjoyed at the happy success of their Daughter, returned them infinite thanks.  
The Courier arrived at Naples, and Ridolfo swallowed the bait his Father laid for him; two days after the receipt of the Letter, took the opportunity of four Galleys which were going to Spain, embarking himself, and his two Companions upon one of them: With a prosperous Voyage in twelve days he reached Barcelona, where he took Post, and in seven more arrived at Toledo, and came to his Father's House in a Garb so rich, and becoming, that all the Gallantry in the World seemed to centre in him; his Father and Mother received him with all imaginable joy.  
Leocadia betwixt fear and hope, looked upon him, from a certain place where Signora Stefana had posted her, that she might see, and not be perceived.  
Ridolfos two Companions would presently have retired to their own homes, but Signora Stefana retained them with courteous Invitations, thinking them necessary for her design.  
It was almost Night when Ridolfo arrived, and whilst Supper was making ready, Signora Stefana desired the two Gentlemen to speak a few words in private with them, which they readily consented to; she making no doubt but that they were two of the three, that assisted Ridolfo in the Rape: she conjured them with earnest Prayers to tell her, if they remembered, that her Son had such a night, and in such a place, Ravished a young Lady; for upon the knowledge of the truth of it, depended the honour and quiet of all her Relations, that therefore they should not be shy of freely declaring the truth. In fine, with good words, and assuring them, that it should not be in the least prejudicial to them, she prevailed upon them to confess.  
They said, that one Night of that Summer, and in the place she named, they two and one more walking with Ridolfo, seized upon a young Lady, that Ridolfo carried her away, whilst they stayed to stop the rest of her Company, and that the day after he told them, he had carried her to his House, and that this was all they knew of that matter.  
The confession of these two was a Key, which opened all her doubts.  
Then did Signora Stefana resolve to prosecute, and bring to an end her good intentions. This was the manner she used.  
A little before they were to go to Supper, she called her Son apart, and put into his hand a Picture, saying, Ridolfo, I give you something to whet your stomach, and procure you a better appetite to your Supper; behold, here is your Wife we have a design to make you happy with; this is her true resemblance; but you must consider, that the Beauty which is wanting, is abundantly made amends for by her Virtues; she is nobly Born, very Discreet, and indifferently Rich; and since your Father and I have made choice of her, you may be secure, she will make a convenient Wife. Ridolfo attentively considered the Picture, and thus replied; If Painters, who usually are prodigal, in making their draughts handsomer than the Originals, have done the same here, without doubt she, whom this Picture represents, must be ugliness itself.  
Upon my Faith, Madam, although it is just and reasonable, that Sons should be obedient to their Parents in all that they command, yet it is also as just and reasonable, that Fathers and Mothers should provide for their Sons something which should be more pleasing to their Senses: And since Matrimony is a knot, that when it is once tied, nothing but death can undo it, it is necessary to make it tolerable, that the Bonds should be equal, and weaved with the same thread, Virtue, Nobility, Prudence, and the Goods of Fortune, may rejoice his mind, who has a Wife endowed with them.  
But that the ugliness of a Wife should content the Eyes of an Husband, seems to me altogether impossible. Tho I am young, yet I am not ignorant, that the chaste pleasure which Married Men enjoy, by the Sacrament of Matrimony is not incompatible with the Duty of an Husband, but if that is wanting, Matrimony is lame, and answers not its end. To have an ugly Face always before our Eyes, in the Hall at Table, and in Bed, who can think it pleasant?  
I say again, that I conclude, it is impossible. I desire you, Madam, to give me a Companion in whom I may delight, and not one whose sight I shall not be able to endure, so that without one drawing one way, and the other an other, we may both support in the right way the yoke laid upon our necks.  
If this Lady is noble, wise, and rich, as you say, she cannot want a Husband which shall be of another humour than I am. Some seek Nobility of Blood, others Prudence and Discretion, others Money, others Beauty, and I am of the humour of the last, for as to Nobility, my Ancestors, my Father and my Mother thanks be to Heaven, have given it me by Inheritance, for Prudence and Discretion, as long as a Woman is not a changeling, and does not render herself ridiculous by her folly, it is sufficient; as to riches, those that you and my Father will leave, will put me in a Condition never to fear Poverty: I am for Beauty, I set my Mind upon that, I desire no other Portion, always, provided it be accompanied with Honesty and good Humour.  
If the Wife, you design me, has those qualifications, I will serve God with all my Heart, and be a comfortable Stay to my Parents in their Old Age.  
Signora Stefana was very well pleased with this Discourse, finding by it, that she should succeed in her Design. She answered, she would marry him according to his Desires, and bid him be of good Heart, and contented, for 'twas an easy thing to break the accord they had designed with the Gentlewoman, for whom that Picture was drawn.  
Ridolfo returned her thanks: 'twas now Supper time, and they were set down at the Table, when Ridolfos Father and Mother, and he and his two Companions had taken their Seats, Signora Stefana, as if she had forgot herself, cries out, where's my Breeding, in truth I carry myself very handsomely towards my Guest, go, says she to one of her Servants, and tell Signora Leocadia, that I entreat her without making any scruple, to be pleased to come and Honour this Table, for there is no body but my Family and Friends.  
This was her Invention, and done upon design, and Leocadia was instructed what she was to do.  
She presently came in, and appeared so unexpectedly, that they were all amazed to see so much natural Beauty so well adorned; she wore, for it was Winter, a black Velvet Gown, embroidered with Gold and Pearls, a Girdle and Necklace of Diamonds, her own Hair, which was very long, and of a pale yellow Colour, and she had nothing else upon her Head, the pleasantness of the Curls, and the glittering of the Diamonds, which sparkled in every part of her Hair, dazzled the Eyes of all that saw her.  
Leocadia was beautiful and slender, and of a good deportment; she led in her Hand her little Son, before her went two Maids bearing Wax Candles in Silver Candlesticks: All rose to do her Reverence, as if she had been sent from Heaven, and by a Miracle appeared there.  
None in the whole Company had the Courage to speak the least word, they were so much astonished in beholding her.  
Leocadia with much Grace and Humility made her Reverences to them all, Signora Stefana taking her by the Hand, placed her next to herself, just over against Ridolfo, and the little Boy sat next to his Grandfather.  
Ridolfo eyed her most attentively, admiring her incomparable Beauty, and said within himself, If the Lady my Mother would have me marry, had half so much Beauty, I should think myself the happiest of Men; O God what do I see, is not this an Angel?  
Whilst he thus discoursed within himself, the Image of Leocadia penetratred through his Eyes, and possessed itself of his conquered Heart.  
Leocadia seeing herself so near him, whom she loved more than her Eyes, with which sometimes she stole a look upon him, began to revolve in her Mind, what had passed betwixt Ridolfo and her, so that the hopes which his Mother had given her to be his Wife, began to vanish, fearing those Promises would be rendered ineffective by her bad Fortune.  
Considering how near she was to be Happy or Miserable for ever, she was so intent upon this Consideration, and so much immersed in it, and her Thoughts were so much upon it, that it stopped the circulation of the Blood in her Heart, that she began to sweat, to look pale, and swoon away, and was forced to lay her Head in the Arms of Signora Stefana, who sustained her.  
They were all much troubled at this Accident, and risen from the Table to assist her.  
But Ridolfo showed himself more concerned than the rest, and running hastily towards her, he stumbled and fell down twice, he unlaced her, and threw water in her Face, but this did not make her return to her Senses, but the palpitation of her Heart, and the cessation of her Pulse gave evident Signs of her approaching Death, so that the Servants of the House began to cry out, that she was dead.  
This bad News came to the Ears of the Parents of Leocadia, whom Signora Stefana had caused to be concealed, that when things were ripe, they might augment the common joy; they and the Parish Priest, who was with them, came running into the Room, against the Orders that Signora Stefana had given them. He drew near to her to see whether he could perceive any signs of Contrition or Repentance for her Sins, that he might give her Absolution, but where he thought to find one in a Swoon, he perceived two, for Ridolfo was in the same Condition, his Head hanging down upon Leocadias' Breast. His Mother gave him the opportunity of approaching so near to Leocadia, as to one which was to be his own, therefore when she perceived, that he also had lost his Sense, she had almost lost hers, and had certainly, if Ridolfo had not recovered; he returned to himself again, but full of Shame and Confusion, for having behaved himself so unmanfully; but his Mother, who guessed at the cause of his Confusion, said to him, be not ashamed Ridolfo, that thou hast showed so much weakness, you will have reason to repent, that it was no more, when you shall understand what I am about to declare to you, I will no longer conceal, what I reserved to acquaint you with, upon a less sad occasion.  
Know then, dear Son, that this disconsolate Lady, which I hold in my Arms half dead, is your true and lawful Wife; I call her so, because your Father and I have pitched upon her for our Daughter, the Picture I showed you, was only an amusement, and a fiction of mine.  
When Ridolfo perceived this, he was so much transported by his amorous, and ardent desire, that the name of Husband taking from him all Considerations and Impediments, which the Lady's Honour and Decency might have obliged him to preserve, he joined his Lips to Leocadias', expecting to receive her last Breath, but whilst all of them were in Tears: The Father and Mother of Leocadia, tearing their grey Hairs, and the cries of Luisetto penetrating the Heavens; Leocadia returned to her Senses, and restored the joy to all the bystanders, which that funest Accident had deprived them of: She opened her Eyes, and saw herself in the Arms of Ridolfo, and endeavoured to get out of them.  
No Madam, no, said he, do not strive to free yourself from his Arms, who holds you yet faster in his Soul.  
These last words made Leocadias' lost Spirits return entirely, and Signora Stefana would not prosecute her Design any further, but spoke to the Curate presently to marry them, which he did; finding there was no impediment either in time or place, or want of Consent of Parents, and consequently no necessity of those forms of proceeding, which are for the most part practised.  
I leave it to a better Pen than mine, to describe the Universal Jubilee of all those who were present, the Embraces, which Leocadias' Parents gave to Ridolfo, the Thanks which they returned to Heaven, and Ridolfos Parents, the interchanged Compliments, the admiration of Ridolfos Companions, who saw unexpectedly the same Night that they came to Town, so noble a Wedding. But they were much more surprised, when Signora Stefana acquainted them, that Leocadia was the Lady, whom her Son had ravished.  
This was no less wonderful to Ridolfo, who the better to inform himself concerning the Truth of it, desired Leocadia, that she would be pleased to give him some Signs, whereby he might arrive to the clear Knowledge of that, of which he made no doubt, because he believed his Father and Mother had thoroughly informed theirselves in the matter. When I recovered, answered Loocadia, from my Swoon, I found myself in your Arms, but without Honour, nevertheless I esteem it well lost, because in returning out of this, I found myself in your Arms, but with Honour.  
And if this is not sufficient to convince you, I will add the Evidence of the Crucifix, which no body but I could rob you of, and 'tis the same which your Mother has in her possession, having heard these words, he embraced her again with infinite Affection and Tenderness, and all the Company renewed their Benedictions, and joyful Congratulations.  
Supper was brought in, and the City Music hearing of this Wedding, gave their Attendance, and played, and sung, all the while they sat at the Table.  
Ridolfo beheld his Face in Luisettos, as in a Glass.  
The four Parents shed Tears for Joy, upon this occasion, there was no Corner in that spacious Palace, but was full of Joy and Content.  
And although Night came flying with her black and nimble Wings, she did not appear to Ridolfo to approach with that swiftness, but that she walked slowly upon Crutches, so great was his desire to be alone with his beloved Consort.  
At last as there is nothing, but has its end, the longed for Hour arrived, and they went to sleep, all the House was buried in silence, but so shall not this Story: For the illustrious Progeny, and the many Children, which this happy Couple left in Toledo, will not permit it There they live this Day, having enjoyed one another many Years, and seen their children's Children.  
These Events proceeded from the permission of Heaven, and THE FORCE OF BLOOD, which Luissettos illustrious Grandfather saw shed upon the Ground.  
The End of the Third Novel.   

CORNELIA.  
NOVEL IU.  
DON Antonio of Izunza, and Don John of Gamboa, Eminent Gentlemen near of equal Age, very Discreet, and intimate Friends, being Students in Salamanca, determined to leave their Studies, and take a Journey into Flanders, being incited to it by the hot Blood that boiled in their young Veins, and by Desire and Curiosity to see the World; and besides, because it appeared to them, that the Exercise of Arms, though it is laudable in all Persons, yet it was more proper and necessary for those who are descended from Illustrious Ancestors.  
They arrived in Flanders in a Season, when all things were quiet, or at least, when the Treaties were so much advanced, that there was an indubitable prospect of Peace.  
At Antwerp they received Letters from their Fathers, signifying their great Displeasure, that they had left their Studies, without first giving them Notice of it, that they might have taken Order to provide Necessaries for their Voyage, as became Persons of their Quality; so finding they could not stay in Flanders without offending their Fathers, they resolved to return to Spain, but first see all the most Famous Cities of Italy; having done so, they stopped at Bolonia, and being taken with that Famous University, they resolved there to finish their Studies, which they had began at Salamanca, and of this their Resolution, they gave their Fathers an Account, who received it with exceeding Pleasure, and showed it by the plentiful Allowance they gave them, to live like Sons of so rich Noblemen. The first Day they appeared in the Schools, all esteemed them Gentlemen well Born, and well Educated.  
Then Don Antonio might be Twenty Three Years old, or thereabouts, and Don John pass d not Twenty Seven; besides, their Quality and flourishing Age, they were Valiant, Dextrous, and had other good Parts and Endowments of Mind, which made them be Honoured by all, so that in a very little time they had many Friends, as well Spaniards, whereof there were many in that University, as Bologneses and Strangers, showing theirselves Liberal, and Courteous, and far from Arrogance, which is usually said to be in Spaniards, and being sprightly Men, and good Companions, they did not abstain to make theirselves known to the fair Ladies of that City, and above all, though there were many Maiden Ladies, and married Women who were Famous for their Beauties. Signora Cornelia bore away the Prize; she was descended of the Ancient and Noble Family of the— she being infinitely Beautiful was in the Custody of her Brother, an Honourable, and Valiant Gentleman, they were both left Orfans, but rich, a Condition, which renders Orfanity more supportable; Cornelia was so much retired, and with so great Care did her Brother guard her, that she did not let herself be seen, and neither would he permit, that any one besides himself, should come near her. The Fame of her Beauty, and the strict Watch over her, kindled a Desire in Don John, and Don Antonio, to get a View of her, but 'twas in vain, as was also all the diligence they used, the impossibility of succeeding cooled their Desires, and took from them all their Hopes, so that minding their Studies, and sometimes using some honest Recreation, they lived a cheerful and honourable Life.  
They went out but seldom a Nights, and then both together well armed.  
Now it happened, that one Night when they resolved to take a turn in the City, Don Antonio told Don John, that he had a mind to be alone for some time to say the Prayers of his ordinary Devotion, and desired him to go before, promising that he would soon follow him. Nay rather, replied Don John, I will stay for you, but if you think so, it imports not whether we take a ramble this Night or not.  
Not so, replied Don Antonio, we must needs go Signior Don John, and take the Air, go you towards that place, where we use to take our walk, I will be with you presently.  
So Don John went before alone. It was dark, and near midnight, and after he had walked thorough two or three Streets, his Companion not coming, he had thoughts of returning home, as he was doing so, he passed a Street, and at one of the Porticos he heard some People whispering, and perceived that they called him; the darkness increasing by that of the Portico, hindered him from perceiving, whence that whispering came.  
He stopped to hearken, and perceived a Door to be half opened, and drawing near to it, he heard a low Voice, saying, Are you there Fabio?  
Don John not caring what the Event might be, replied, yes.  
Take this, said they, and secure it, and return presently, for 'tis of great Importance.  
Don John stretched out his Arm, and perceived a Bundle, so that he was forced to make use of both his Hands, and so he took it, which he had no sooner done, but the Gate was shut, and he found himself loaded, but did not know with what, but presently he heard the cry of a Child new born, proceed out of his Bundle.  
At which he was confused, not knowing what to do, or what ply to give to that Affair; he thought to go back, and tell them, they were mistaken, would be to put the Mother in danger, and that to leave the Babe in the Streets, would be barbarous, and hazard its Life.  
And if he should carry it home, there was no Commodity to Nurse it, and he being a Stranger, did not know in all the City any one, in whose Hands he might consign it.  
Nevertheless, remembering that they bid him secure it, and return suddenly, he resolved to carry it to the House of a Woman that served them, that she might look to it, and return and see whether they had any more need of him, though he very well knew, they had given it him by a mistake.  
At last he carried it home, and found that his Companion was gone out, he called up a Maid-Servant, and opened his Pack, and discovered the most beautiful Child, that ever was seen, the  wherein it was rapt, showed, that 'twas born of rich Parents, and when she had undressed it, she found it was a Boy, we must get a Nurse, said Don John, for this Child, take off these rich , and put it in ordinary ones, and without telling how I came by it, put it into the Hands of a Midwife, she will presently inform you what is to be done, how much Money by the Month, you shall agree for, and you may assign what Father and Mother you please.  
When Don John had given these Orders, he returned to the same place, to see whether they would call him again.  
But before he got thither, he heard a great clashing of Swords, he stood still to listen, but could not hear the least word, for they fought without speaking, but by the light which the Swords made by striking upon the Stones, he thought he saw that there were many assaulting one, and afterwards he knew it to be so, hearing these words; Ah, Traitors, so many of you against one, but this Cowardly Action shall not avail you.  
Don John being carried on by his Courageous Soul, with two Leaps, put himself by the Side of him, who was assaulted, and taking his Sword and Shield in his Hand, spoke to him thus in Italian, that he might not be known to be a Spaniard, Doubt not valiant Cavalier, nor let not your Noble Courage be cast down, here is a Succour come to you, who will sooner lose his Life, than abandon you; manage your Weapon, fight stoutly, for Traitors, though numerous, cannot do much.  
Thou liest, replied one of the Aggressors, for to repair injured Honour by what ways soever, does not make the Undertakers Traitors.  
He replied nothing, having greater concerns upon his Hand, his Adversaries plying him hard, and six of them seized upon his Companion, giving him two stabs, which made him fall upon the ground.  
Don John thought they had killed him, and putting himself with great Quickness and Valour, at the front of them all, by the Fury of his Strokes and Thrusts, he made them retire.  
Nevertheless, his Valour and Skill in Fencing would have nothing availed him, if his good Fortune had not made haste to secure him, for the Neighbours put Lights in their Windows, and cried out aloud to the Watch, which the Assailants perceiving, betook theirselves to flight.  
Now was the fallen Cavalier got upon his Legs, for the Swords could not penetrate his Coat of Mail.  
Don John in this bustle had lost his Hat, and searching for it, found another, and put it on, without knowing whether it was his own or not.  
He whom he had succoured, drew near to him, and said, Signior Cavalier, I acknowledge, I own my life to you, which, and all that I have, I will spend freely in your Service, oblige me, I beseech you, Sir, continued he, with your Name, that I may know to whom I am indebted.  
To satisfy you, in what you demand, and upon no other Account or Thoughts, to oblige you for my past Service, replied Don John, know, Sir, I am a Spanish Gentleman, a Student in this University, if it was of any Importance to you to know my Name, I would do it willingly, but nevertheless, if you should have need of me in any other Occasion, I am call d Don John of Gamboa.  
You have done me a particular Favour, answered the other, though I must not make known the occasion of this Danger, from which you have rescued me, but I will take care, you shall know it by some body else.  
Don John asked him, whether he was wounded, he answered, by God's help, and by the means of a good Coat of Mail, and his opportune Succour he was preserved without being wounded, whilst they were discoursing, they perceived many people approaching them, and Don John said to him, if these are your Enemies, that return upon you, stand upon your Guard, and show what you are.  
I rather believe, said he, that they are Friends, as they proved: then they, who were eight in number came up to him, and whispered into his Ear so softly, that Don John could not understand what they said; then he turned to him, and said:  
If these my Friends had not come, Signior Don John, I would have desired the Favour of you to have conducted me safe to my House, but now it is needless, and I you, that you would leave me with them, saying this, he put his Hand to his Head, and missed his Hat, and turning to his Friends, he desired one of them to supply him, because his was fallen in the bustle. He had no sooner spoke this, but Don John offered him that he had found; he handling it, answered, this is not my Hat, I beseech you Signior Don John, wear it home, and keep it for a Trofy of your Victory, because I believe it is known.  
They gave him another, and Don John to oblige him, after several refusals, accepted of it, and left him, not knowing who he was, and returned to his House not by the Street, wherein the Infant was given him, because he believed, they were all awaked, and up, because of the scuffle, but by another.  
It happened, before he got half way home, he met with Don Antonio, he knowing him, said, come Signior Don John, and in the way I will tell you an Accident, that happened, the like whereof I believe, you never heard.  
And I can pay you in the same Coin, replied Don John, I pray first tell me your Adventure. As they walked. Don Antonio began thus.  
Know them, that within an hour or little more, after you went out, I followed to look after you, and about thirty paces from this place, I perceived something coming towards me in black, and walking apace, when 'twas near me, I knew it to be a Woman by its long Gown, which with a mournful voice, interrupted with sighs, asked me.  
Are you, Sir, a Stranger, or of this City? I answered, I am a Spaniard.  
God be praised, replied she, who has let me light into so good Hands, for my Remedy.  
Are you wounded, Madam, said I, or do you feel some mortal Grief.  
That which I fee, may prove so, said she, if there is not a Remedy suddenly applied. I pray you, Sir, by that courtesy, which is natural to our Countrymen, that you ll carry me out of this Street, and with all possible speed, conduct me to your House, and there, though at the expense of my Honour, if you desire to know it, I will tell you my Name, and who I am, and what affection I lie under. Having heard this, and perceiving that she stood in great need of what she desired, I took her by the Hand, and without speaking a word, I led her to our House. My Page opened the door, whom I made retire, that he might not see me lead her into my Chamber, wherein as soon as she entered, she cast herself upon the Bed, and fell in a Swoon, but I drawing near, and discovering her Face, I saw such Beauty, that I firmly believe, no mortal Eyes ever saw the like; she seems to be about Eighteen Years old, I was wonderfully surprised, in seeing such a beautiful Spectacle, I threw water upon her Face, she returned to her Senses, and asked me, whether I knew her, I answered, no, 'twould be too great a felicity, and that I was unworthy to know so much Beauty, she replied, she is unhappy, to whom the Heavens had given it, to increase her Infelicity, but, Sir, this is not a time to discourse of Beauty, but to remedy my Disgrace, I pray you leave me alone locked in, and permit no body to see me, return to the place, where you found me, to see, if there be any quarrelling there, if there is, do not assist one side or other, but if you can reconcile them: for the hurt, that shall accrue to either of the Parties, falls upon my Head.  
I left her locked in, and went to pacify the Combatants.  
Have you no more to say, Signior Don Antonio, replied Don John?  
Do you not think this enouf, answered Don Antonio, in having told you, that I have under Lock and Key in my Chamber, the most exquisite Beauty of this World.  
It is without doubt a strange Adventure, replied Don John, but now hear mine.  
Then he told, what had happened to him, and besides, that he had given the Babe to a Maid in the House, and had ordered to change the rich Swaddling , and put poor ones upon it, and carry it to a Nurse, to provide for its present wants, he told him besides, that the Quarrel, which he went to pacify, was over, and that those who were concerned in it, by what he could judge, were Men of Quality, and much Valour.  
They both marvelled at each others Success, and went home to see whether the imprisoned Lady had need of any thing.  
Don Antonio told Don John, that he had promised to let no body see her.  
However, you may find out some Invention, that I may have a sight of her, answered Don John, since you Signior Don Antonio have kindled that desire in me, by crying her up for such an admirable Beauty.  
Thus discoursing, they arrived at their House, and by the light of a Torch of one of their Pages, Don Antonio saw something sparkling in Don John's Hat, and taking it into his Hand, perceived, that the glistering came from the Hatband richly garnished with Diamonds, they looked upon it again and again, and concluded, that if those Stones were all true, the value of them would exceed Twelve Thousand Crowns, whence it appeared, that the Persons concerned in that Quarrel, were of the highest Quality, especially he whom Don John had succoured, calling to mind what he said when he gave it him, that he should take that Hat and keep it, because it was known.  
Antonio commanded the three Pages to retire, afterwards he opened the Chamber Door, and found the Lady upon the Bed, resting her Cheek upon her Hand, and shedding Tears.  
Don John came to the Door, which was so much open, that he might put his Head betwixt the Wall and it, and the light of the Diamonds darted upon the Eyes of the weeping Lady, who perceiving it, said, Enter my Lord Duke, why do you peep in, and not allow me the full sight of you, in which I so much delight.  
Don Antonio then answered, here is no Duke, Madam, who refuses to see you.  
How, is there not, replied she, I saw him look in at the Door, and knew him by that rich Hatband.  
Upon my Faith, Madam, answered Don Antonio, he that wears that Hatband, is no Duke, and if you will see the Truth of this, and him that wears it, give him leave to come in.  
Let him enter, said she, but if it is not the Duke, my disgraces are the greater. All these words were heard by Don John, with this leave, and his Hat in his Hand, he entered; when he was come in, and she perceived 'twas not the Duke, with a troubled voice she said, Wretch that I am, pray Sir, hold me not in suspense, but tell me, do you know him, to whom that Hat belongs, is he alive, and where did you leave him, and how came you by that Hat? Is that the token he sends me of his Death! ah! What Successes are these? Here I see thy Pledges without thee, I find myself shut up, and in the Power of those I know not. Did not I find them Gentlemen, the fear of losing my Honour would take away my Life.  
Possess your Soul in quiet, answered Don John, for neither the Master of this Hat is dead, neither are you in a place where any hurt shall come to you, but we will repair your Injuries, if it should cost us our Lives: It shall never be, that the hope you have in Spaniards, and Gentlemen as we are, shall be vain; therefore assure yourself, that we will behave ourselves to you with such respect, as a Person of your Quality, and Presence deserves.  
That I believe, said she, but tell me Sir, how you came by that Hat, and where now its Master is.  
Then Don John to hold her no longer in suspense, told her, how he found it out, whilst he was assisting a Cavalier, who, as she said, aught to be the Duke, his own Hat fell, and he took up that, thinking it was his, and that the Cavalier, whose it was bid him keep it, because it was known.  
That the Quarrel ended without any of their Party being wounded, and that suddenly after, there arrived some Gentlemen, which were either Friends or Servants of the Duke, who prayed him to leave them with him, after having thanked him, and testified with very efficatious words, the Obligations he had to him for his so opportune Succour; behold, Madam, this Hat came into my possession after this manner, and if it is the Dukes, as you say, 'tis not yet an hour, since I left him safe and sound. And let this Truth comfort you, if you have any Interest in his preservation.  
That you may understand, said she, that I had reason to ask you that question, I desire your attention to the sad Story of my misfortune.  
Whilst they were in this Discourse, the Servant Maid had changed the Child's rich  for ordinary ones, and was carrying it to a Nurse, passing by the Chamber Door, just as she was going to begin her Story, she heard the Babe cry, and standing up, she listened, and hearing it plainer, she asked whose Child that was, which seemed to be few hours old.  
'Tis a Child, replied Don John, which this Night was laid at the Church Gate, and the Maid is going to carry it to a Nurse.  
Pray, Gentlemen, do me the Favour, replied she, to let the Maid bring it hither, and I will do that Charity for the Children of others, since the Heavens will not permit me to do it for my own.  
Don John called the Servant, and taking the Child, put it into the Arms of the Lady, saying, behold Madam, the Present, which was made to us this Night, and this is not the first, for few Months pass without such Adventures, she took it into her Arms, and looked wishfully upon it, and upon its poor , she covered her Breast with a Veil, and joining hers to the Child's Face, put herself in a posture to suckle it, weeping, and not lifting up her Eyes.  
All that while they four were very silent, while the Child endeavoured to suck, but could not get one drop, for those, who are newly delivered, cannot give suck, which, when she considered, she gave back the Babe to Don John, saying, I would have showed my Charity, but it is in vain, but this shows that I am not versed in these Affairs.  
Command, Sir, that they rub the Palate of this Child with a little Honey, and let them not at such an unseasonable hour carry it thro' the Streets, but let it be Day first, and before you remove it, let me have another sight of it, for I take much Pleasure in looking upon it.  
Don John returned the Child to the Maid, ordering her to take care of it, till the Morning, and then to dress it in the rich , but not carry it to the Nurse, till she had farther Orders.  
Then entering the Chamber, and there being only they three, than the disconsolate Lady thus began. If you would, that I should entertain you with the sad Narration of my Affliction, it is necessary that you first give me something to eat, for I am in so great need of it, that I am ready to faint.  
Don Antonio went presently, and brought some Sweetmeats, of which she eat a little, and afterwards drank a Glass of Water, with which being refreshed, she proceeded, and said, sit down, gentlemans, and be attentive; they sat, and she lay upon the Bed, letting her Veil fall upon her Shoulders, and discovered her Head and her Face, which appeared like the Sun shining in its greatest Splendour. The Tears fell from her beautiful Eyes like liquid Pearls, bathing her Ivory Cheeks, which she wiped with a white Handkerchief, and such a Hand, that 'twas impossible to know, whether it or the Handkerchief were whitest.  
In fine, after many Sighs, with which she a little quieted her afflicted Heart, she thus began. I am, gentlemans, one, whom without doubt you have heard much of, for there are few Tongues, which have not published the Fame of my Beauty, though perhaps without reason: In one word, I am Cornelia— Sister of— and perhaps in these few words I have declared two Truths, the one of my Nobility, and the other of my Beauty.  
From a Child, I remained subject, and under the Guardianship of my Brother, being an Orfan, he left me to the Government of my own Honesty, in which he put more confidence, than in his vigilancy.  
Finally, at home, and in solitude, accompanied only with my Maids, my Years increased, and with them also the Fame of my Beauty, which being spread about, as well by the Servants of the House, as by a Picture, which my Brother caused a Famous Painter to draw, to that end, as he said, That the World should not be wholly deprived of me, after I had passed to a better Life; though this had not been enouf to ruin me, if the Duke of— had not done the part of a Father in giving a Cousin of mine at a Wedding, whether my Brother carried me, thinking thereby to honour my Relation.  
There I saw, there was I seen, and as I believe captivated the Minds, and subjugated the Wills of divers Gentlemen, there I first felt the pleasure of Praise, although proceeding from lying and flattering Tongues; there, in one word, I saw the Duke, and he me, which sight has brought me to the Condition, wherein I am.  
I will not tell you, gentlemans, for fear I should appear talkative, the Means and Inventions by which the Duke and I, at the end of Two Years, brought the Designs to their desired end, which took their beginning from this Wedding.  
For neither Guards, nor Shutting me up, nor kind Admonitions, nor Threats, all which my Brother made use of, nor any other humane Diligence, was sufficient to hinder our coming together, he gave me his Promise and Solemn Engagement to be my Husband, without which it had been impossible for him to have obtained his End.  
I desired him a thousand times to ask me of my Brother, for it was certain, he would not refuse him, and take no heed what the People should say, he Married below his Condition: For the Nobility of my Family was not inferior to his, to which he answered with many Excuses, which I allowed, so that Reason could no longer defend me against Love, I rendered myself to his importunity, by the persuasion of one of my Maids, who was more wrought upon by the Duke's Presents, than by the Duty she owed my Brother.  
Some Days after, I found myself with Child, and before that my  should make manifest the Liberty I had taken, to give it no worse a Name, I feigned myself sick, and prevailed with my Brother to remove me to the House of my Cousin, whom the Duke gave in Wedlock, when I let her know, in what a Plight I was, and the Danger I was in, if my Fault should come to the Ears of my Brother, we agreed, that the Month before I expected to be delivered, to give the Duke Notice to come with a Band of his Friends, and take me thence, and carry me to his own House, and publicly own me for his Wife.  
This was the Night appointed, and whilst I was expecting him, I perceived my Brother pass by with many others, and I thought I heard the clashing of Swords, which put me into such a Fright, that I presently fell in Labour, and brought forth a Son.  
This Servant, my Confident, dressed the Child, and gave it at the Door, as she told me, to one of the Duke's Servants, shortly after, dressing myself with great haste, as well as I could, I came out of the House, forced by the incumbent necessity of my Affairs, which I ought not to have done, before I had been certain of the Duke's being come, but the fear which my armed Brother, and his Company had put me into, believing that now his Sword was upon my neck, took away my Reason, and in this Fright, like a Madwoman, I ventured into the Street, and what succeeded to me there, you know.  
And though I find myself without my Son, and without my Husband, and still fearing some worse Misfortune, yet I cannot but thank Heavens, who made me fall into your Hands, from whom I hope, what can be expected from the known Courtesy of Spaniards, and particularly of that which your Noble Aspects gives me assurance of, saying this, she fell down upon the Bed, and the two Gentlemen drawing near to her, to see whether she was in a Swoon, or not, saw that she wept bitterly.  
Then Don John spoke thus to her, If hitherto, Madam, Don Antonio, and I, have had Compassion of your Fate, seeing you to be a Woman, and now knowing your Quality, that Compassion is become an Obligation.  
Take heart, Madam, be not afraid, and although you are not accustomed to such Accidents, show yourself to be what you are, by your Patience and Constancy in supporting these your Afflictions: I am confident, that these your strange Adventures will have a happy end, for Heaven will never suffer so great Beauty illustrated with such admirable Accomplishments to be a Prey to Disgraces.  
Go to Bed, Madam, and take care of your self, there shall be nothing wanting on our Parts.  
Our Maid shall wait upon you, whom you may confide in, as much as in ourselves, she shall keep your Secrets, and obey punctually all your Commands.  
Since 'tis your pleasure, Gentlemen, replied the Lady, let her come in, she must of necessity be good, because she is given me by your hands, but I desire that no Person, besides her, may be permitted to see me.  
It shall be so, answered Don Antonio, and left her.  
Then Don John bid the Maid go into the Chamber, and take with her the Babe dressed in the rich .  
She went in being instructed how to answer what Questions the Lady should put to her.  
When Cornelia saw her, Come hither, said she, come hither in a good hour, give me the Child, and bring the Candle nearer to me.  
The Maid did so, and Cornelia took the Babe in her Arms, looking attentively upon it, and seemed much disturbed, and said:  
Tell me, Sweet heart, is this the same Child which you showed me?  
'Tis, Madam, replied the Maid.  
How comes it to pass then, said Cornelia, that you have changed his : these are not the same , or this is not the same Child.  
That may be, said the Maid.  
Jesus! What say you? That may be, answered Cornelia; tell me dear Sister, how can that be, my Heart will burst, if I am not saddainly informed, how comes this change, tell me, whence, and by what means you got those Swadling-Cloaths, they are mine, I am sure they are mine, if I have not wholly lost my Sight and my Memory.  
Don John and Don Antonio, having heard these words, would not permit her to proceed, nor continue any longer in suspense, wherefore Don John said, These , Madam, and this Child, are yours, and then he told her from point to point, how he was the Person, to whom the Woman gave it, mistaking him for Fabio, how he had brought it home, and why he had changed its Garments.  
And although, that they knew, 'twas her Child, after that she had told them, that she had been delivered, they had not discovered this before, to make her joy the greater in knowing him, after a suspension of knowing him not.  
Infinite were the Tears of Cornelia, infinite were the Thanks to her Protectors, calling them her Guardian-Angels in the shape of Men, and giving them many other Titles, which made appear, the Obligation she had, for having by their means received so great a Benefaction.  
Then they left her with the Maid, commanding her to take great Care of the Lady, and went to Bed to sleep the rest of the Night, with intention to visit Cornelia no more, unless she sent for them, or upon some urgent occasion. When 'twas Day, the Servant-Maid brought a Nurse secretly into the Chamber, who suckled the Child in the dark, the Windows being shut.  
The Gentlemen asked, how the Mother did, and being answered she was asleep, they went to the Schools, passing by the Street, wherein the Night before the Scuffle was, and before Cornelia's Door, to learn what was said of her absence, but they could not inform theirselves.  
Being returned, Cornelia sent to call them, they answered, that they had thoughts not to enter any more into her Chamber, to keep the decorum due to her.  
But she answered with Prayers and Tears, desiring them to continue their Visits, as before, that 'twould, if not remedy, yet at least be a consolation in her misfortune.  
They came, and she received them with a cheerful Countenance, and desired them to take a turn about the City, to try what they could hear concerning her.  
They replied, they had done so already with all diligence, and punctually, but they could not discover any thing.  
In this interim, behold one of their Pages comes, crying out, At the Gate below, stays a Gentleman, who says, his Name is— and desires to speak with Don John of Gamboa  
Hearing this, Cornelia trembled, and wrung her Hands, and putting her Finger to her Mouth, she said with a low and frighted voice, my Brother, gentlemans, it is my Brother, without doubt he knows that I am here, and now he is come to kill me: Help me, gentlemans, help me for God's sake.  
Trouble not yourself, Madam, fear nothing, said Don Antonio, you are in such Hands, who will not suffer, that the least Affront shall be offered to you: Go Signior Don John, and see what the Gentleman's Business is, I'll stay here to defend the Lady, if there should be occasion.  
In the mean while he charged a brace of Pistols, commanding his Servants to take their Swords, and be in a readiness.  
The Maid seeing these Preparations, fell a trembling, as also did Cornelia. But Don Antonio and Don John, stood firm, having resolved how to manage the Affair.  
Don John went down the Stairs sedately, and found the Gentleman at the Door, who, when he saw him, spoke thus: I desire you would do me the Favour, to walk to the next Church, hard by, where I will declare to you the affair, wherein my Life and Honour is deeply concerned.  
That I will do, replied Don John, let's go, Sir: They went, and setting upon a Bench at some distance from the People, that they might not be overheard, the Gentleman thus began.  
I am, Sir,— if not of the richest Family, yet of one of the Noblest of this City, let Truth speak for me, without my having any need to praise myself. For some Years, I have been an Orfan, and have had under my Government a Sister, whom if she was not so nearly related to me, I might praise so much, that I should be put to it, to find words to do it according to her deserts, my Honour, and her being young, and extremely handsome, obliged me to look after her with all possible Care, but all the Diligence, which I employed, was not sufficient to preserve her, she was too cunning for me, and frustrated my Care, and gave herself over to her unruly Desires. But not to tyre you with a tedious Story, I'll only tell you, that the Duke of— with the Eyes of Lynceus, was too hard for those of Argus, and triumfed over my Industry, conquering my Sister, whom he has taken from her Lodging this Night, and I am told, she has been delivered of a Child. As soon as I knew this, I went in search of him all about the City, I found him, and assaulted him, but some Angel assisted him, and would not permit, that with his Blood he should wash away the Stain, which he has put upon my Honour.  
My Cousin, who told me this, told me also, That the Duke had drawn my Sister in, with the promise of Marriage, but I believe it not, considering the inequality betwixt them, as to the goods of Fortune. For as to Blood, all the World knows, that the Family of— is inferior to none in Bolognia.  
But I believe, he, like other Grandees, when they would deceive any retired Maid, they lay before their Eyes, as a Bait, the sweet Name of Husband. And tell them for certain weighty Considerations, they cannot Marry them yet, and these are Lies, which carry appearance of Truth, and Falsities which cover a bad intent.  
But be it as it will, I find myself without a Sister, and without Honour, but I'll not make a public Business of it, till I have tried to remedy it some other way, for 'tis a lesser Evil, that one should be presumed infamous, than publicly known to be so.  
In fine, I am resolved to go to the Duke, and demand Satisfaction, for the injury he has done me, and if he denies it, I'll instantly defy him, not to fight with Troops, but Body to Body. In which I shall need your Assistance, if you are willing to accompany me, I promise myself, that you will favour me in this Occasion, being a Spaniard, and a Gentleman, as I am informed: I have not consulted my Kindred and Friends, from whom I can expect nothing but Counsels and Diswasions to turn me, from what I am resolved upon: From you, Sir, I look for Counsels, which will be as Honourable as Dangerous.  
Do me the Favour, Sir, to go with me, for when I shall have on my side a Spaniard, and such an one, as your Noble Presence shows you to be, I shall think myself as secure, as if all the Army of Xerxes were my Guard. I ask, Sir, great things, but the Fame of your Nation obliges you to much greater than this I demand.  
It is enouf, Sir, said Don John, who had not interrupted him, till then, it is enouf, from this hour I take upon me the charge of your Defence, and to get Satisfaction, or Revenge the wrong that is done you, because I am a Spaniard, and a Gentleman, and because you are of a Quality and Rank as you have declared, and as it is well known: Let's be going, the sooner the better, Iron is to be struck while hot, and the Ardour of Choler increases Courage, and fresh Injuries call for sudden Vengeance.  
The Gentleman risen, and obligingly embracing Don John, said, to so generous a Heart, as yours is, Sir, it is not necessary to propose any other Interest, than the Honour you will get in this Occasion, if you come off successfully, and besides that, I offer you whatever I have, and what I can do, myself also.  
I desire, that we may set out to morrow, and this Day I will provide all things necessary for our Voyage.  
I agree with you, replied Don John, but pray give me leave to communicate this to a Gentleman, my Companion, in whose Valour and Fidelity you may confide as much, as in mine.  
Since you have Signior Don John taken upon you the Defence of my Honour, dispose of it as you please, replied the Gentleman, and if you think fit, declare it to the Gentleman you mentioned, who being your Friend, must needs be a Person of Note and Valour; then they parted, having agreed that the next Day he would call upon Don John, and go together disguised.  
Don John returned, and told Don Antonio and Cornelia, what passed betwixt the Gentleman and him, and what they resolved upon.  
My good God said Cornelia: Signior Don John, How great is your Courtesy and Confidence? to have so suddenly obliged yourself in an Affair so difficult, and so full of inconveniencies, how know you that my Brother will have you to meet the Duke, or somebody else, but whether soever he leads you, doubt nothing, for you may be certain, that Fidelity itself accompanies you, but as for me, I am afraid of my shadow, and unfortunate as I am, I stumble at the Atoms of the Sun; have not I reason to fear, since upon the Duke's answer my Life and Death depends, and how can I be sure, that he will answer so discreetly, as not to transport my Brother's Choler beyond due limits of Reason, and if this should happen, the Duke will not have to deal with an inconsiderable Enemy.  
And do you not believe, that till you return, I shall be in a dreadful suspense?  
Do I love the Duke or my Brother so little, that I ought not to fear a Disgrace, that should arrive to either of them?  
You argue well, and you fear too much, Madam, replied Don John, but in the midst of these, find a place for hope, and trust in God and in my Industry, and in my good wishes, to see you advanced to the highest Felicity you desire and deserve.  
The Voyage cannot be put off, and I will not fail to accompany your Brother, yet we do not know the Duke's Intention, nor whether he is informed, that you have left your Lodgings; we ought to have it from his own Mouth, and no body is fit than myself to ask him these Questions.  
Therefore rest satisfied, that the Safety of the Duke, and of your Brother, is as dear to me, as the Apples of my Eyes, and I will not take more care to preserve these, than them.  
If Heaven will give you Power, Signior Don John, answered the afflicted Lady, to remedy my misfortunes, as it has to comfort me in the midst of them, I shall call myself happy, and I could wish you gone, and returned, though I cannot bear your absence without much regret.  
Don Antonio commended the Resolution of Don John, especially that he so readily corresponded with the Confidence Cornelia's Brother placed in him, and more he told him, that he would accompany him.  
That must not be, replied Don John, for 'twill not be decent to leave Signora Cornelia alone. I would not have her Brother imagine, that I should be forced to make use of another Man's Valour in his Defence.  
Mine is yours, replied Don Antonio, I will go incognito, and at a distance, I desire to follow you, which Signora Cornelia, I suppose, will think convenient, neither will she be so much alone, but she will always have near her enouf to serve, protect and accompany her.  
It will be, said she, no small Comfort to me, to know, that you go both together, or at least so near, that you may assist each other. And because you put yourselves upon a dangerous Enterprise, accept, I pray you, gentlemans, these Holy Relics, and in saying this, she took out of her Bosom, a rich Cross of Diamonds of inestimable value, and an Agnus of Gold, not less rich.  
They looked attentively upon them, and esteemed them to be much more worth, than the Diamond Hatband, than they delivered them again, and would by no means be prevailed upon to accept of them, telling her, they carried with them other Relics, though not so rich, and well garnished, yet as good in their kind: Cornelia was displeased, that she could not fix them on them, but she was forced to submit to their Will.  
The Maid being very attentive to serve her, and knowing of her Master's intended departure, of which they had informed her, without letting her know, whether it was, or upon what Business, took upon her to look so well after her, though she did not know her Name, that at their return they should have no reason to complain.  
Next morning early, the Bolognese Gentleman was at the City Gate, and Don John putting on his Diamond Hatband, which he covered with a black and yellow Plume, and a black Veil, took his leave of Cornelia, who knowing her Brother to be so near, was so affrighted, that she could not bid them adieu.  
First went Don John with Cornelia's Brother, and in a Garden without the City Walls they found two Servants, with two good Horses, waiting for them, they mounted, and by byways they drew near to the place, where they expected the Duke  
Don Antonio followed them at a distance in a disguise, but because he thought, they shunned his Company, especially the Bolonese, he took the right way, not doubting but to find them.  
Scarcely were they out of the City, when Cornelia began to tell the Maid, that waited on her, what had befallen her, and how that the Child was hers by the Duke of— with all the Circumstances, which we have mentioned before, and she told besides, that her Masters in her Brother's Company were gone to challenge the Duke.  
Which when the Maid understood, as if the Devil had put it into her Head to intricate the Affair. Ah, Madam! said she, have all these things befallen you, and do you stay here, as the saying is, with your Hands in your Pockets? Either you have no Soul, or it is so blinded, you understand nothing.  
Can you believe, your Brother is gone to look out the Duke? Believe it not, 'tis only a pretence to get my Masters out of the House, and in their absence, to return and kill you, which they may, as easily as drink a Glass of Water: Consider, what a good Guard we are left with, three Pages only, which have enouf to do to scratch theirselves, they are so over gone with the Itch, without minding your Protection.  
As for me, I must tell you, I do not intent to stay and expect the ruin that threatens this House. Is your Brother an Italian, and can he confide in Spaniards, and beg their Aids? I'll be hanged before I'll believe it.  
But if you, Madam, will hearken to my Counsel, I'll give you such, which will serve you for a Star to guide you out of this troubled Sea, and bring you into a safe Port.  
The astonished Cornelia was frighted out of her Senses, hearing the Maid say this with so much earnestness, and fear, imagining all that she said was Gospel, and that it might be, that Don John and Don Antonio were both already killed, and that her Brother was coming to stab her; upon which she presently replied, What Counsel, Dear Friend, canst thou give me, which will be able to prevent this incumbent danger?  
I'll give you such, said she, that 'tis impossible to find better: I was once, Madam, a Servant to a Priest in a Village not far distant from hence, who is a holy, and a good Man, and will do for me, whatever I shall desire, for he is obliged to me: Let's go to his House, I'll find those, who shall presently convey you thither, and for your Son's Nurse, she is a poor Woman, and will willingly go with you to the World's end, and if you should be found, 'twill be better in the House of an old Priest, a Man of Honour, than with two young Spaniards, for such Blades will not let escape the least occasion of satisfying their Pleasures.  
Now you are ill, they show you respect, but if you recover in their House, only God knows, what will ensue.  
For in truth, if my Disdains, my Repulses, and my Integrity, had not preserved me, they had long before now ruined my Person and my Honour, for all that shines in them, is not Gold, they say one thing, and think another.  
But they have missed their aim in me, who am as cunning as the Devil, for I am one of the sifted and refined Milanese, and I keep my Honour ten Miles high in the Clouds, very secure from such Youths: Hence you may perceive, Madam, the Calamities I have undergone, which have reduced me to serve these Spaniards, though I have no reason to complain of them, for as they say of the Devils, they are good, when they are not vexed. And this shows them to be Biscayners, as they say they are: But who can assure us, that they are not Galicians, and of a contrary humour.  
In short, such, and so many Reasons did she urge, that she brought Cornelia to follow her Opinion, and in less than four hours, the Servant ordering, and the Mistress consenting, they with the Nurse and Child, got into a Coach, without being taken notice of by the Pages, and set forwards for the Village, wherein the Priest dwelled.  
This was done, not only with the persuasions of the Maid, but also with her Money, for a little before, her Masters had paid her a Years Salary together, so that they had no need of the Jewel which Cornelia had given her to pawn.  
And because they had heard Don John say, that he would go by some byways, they resolved to go the direct way, and softly to shun meeting them, and agreed with the Coachman so to do.  
Let's leave them upon the Roads, and tell, what succeeded to Don John and Cornelia's Brother, who understanding upon the way, that the Duke was not at his House, but at Bolognia, they left byways, and made to the great Road, expecting to meet him in his return, and looking that way, they perceived a Company of Horsemen coming towards them.  
Then Don John desired the Bolognese Gentleman to withdraw, for if the Duke was in that Company, he would speak with him there, before he went into his Castle, which was not far off.  
The Bolognese did so, approving his Advice, and Don John took the Scarf from the Hatband.  
In the interim, behold the Horsemen drew near, and with them a Lady upon a dapple in a Campaign Habit, a Veil before her face.  
Don John made a halt, expecting they should come up to him, as they came near, his Garb, his good Horse, his proper Apparel, and his Diamond Hatbands lustre drew the Eyes of all of them upon him, but especially the Dukes, who was chief of them, he presently by the Hatband knew Don John, and spurred his Horse towards him, saying:  
I believe I shall not be mistaken, Signior Cavalier, if I shall call you, Don John of Gamboa, for your Presence, and the Ornament of that Hat, persuades me, that you are the same.  
It is true, replied Don John, I never did, nor will deny my Name. But be pleased, Sir, to tell me yours, that I may commit no error thorough my not knowing your Quality.  
That you can never do upon that account, nor any other, replied the Duke, nevertheless, Signior Don John, I am the Duke of— who remembers, that he is obliged to serve you as long as he has life, for 'tis not yet four Days, since you gave it him.  
He had scarcely said this, but Don John, with admirable swiftness dismounts, and came to kiss the Duke's Hand, who was just off the Saddle, and lighted in Don john's Arms.  
The Bolognese Gentleman, who at a distance perceived these Ceremonies, thinking they proceeded from Anger, and not from Kindness, made towards them, but stopped, when he saw the Duke, whom when he was so near, as to know, embracing Don John, which very much disturbed him. Whilst they were thus embraced, the Duke asked him, whether that Gentleman was of his Company.  
Don John replied, if your Excellency will please to go a little aside, I will tell you stupendous things.  
The Duke walked off, and Don John said thus to him; That Gentleman whom you see there complains very much of you; he says that you have taken away Signora Cornelia his Sister; that you have deceived her and robbed her of her honour, and he would know what satisfaction you intent to him and her, and has desired me to be his Protector, which I have undertaken, because I guessed that this was your Hatband, whose liberality and courtesy forced it upon me: I promised myself that no body could accommodate this business better, or so well.  
I desire you Signior to tell me what you know of this matter, and whether the Gentleman's story is true or not.  
Ah dear Sir! replied the Duke, I have not the forehead to deny it if I had a mind; I have neither deceived nor carried away Cornelia, although I understand she is not at her lodgings now; I say I have not deceived her, for I account her my Wife. I have not carried her away, neither do I know where she is, and if I have not celebrated my Marriage publicly, it is, I wait till my Mother, who is now in the confines of great Age, and designs to marry me to a Princess, passes to a better life; and for other causes perhaps more efficacious than this, and, which 'tis not convenient now to declare.  
It is true, that that very night when you so valiantly defended and succoured me, I designed to have carried off Cornelia, because the time was come, when the Pledge she had received of me, was ready to be brought to light. But when I enquired for Cornelia, I was told she was gone out, after having been delivered of the beautifullest Boy in the world, which Sulpitia put into the hands of one of my Servants whose name is Fabio; Sulpitia is she you see there, and Fabio is also here, but we know not where Cornelia or the Child are. I stayed in Bolognia two days to inform myself what was become of them, but could get no intelligence.  
But Signior, said Don John, if Cornelia and the Child should appear, would you own her to be your Wife, and the Child to be your Son?  
With all my Heart replied the Duke, for though I value myself as a Cavalier, I esteem it more to be a Christian; besides Cornelia deserves to be a Queen, would to God I could see her, for whether my Mother live or die, the world shall know how much I love her, and that the faith I plighted to her in secret, I will publicly observe.  
Will you please then Signior to say so much to her Brother.  
I am displeased, said the Duke, he should be so long without knowing it.  
Then Don John made a sign to the Bolognese Gentleman, that he should alight and come to them, which he did, far from expecting the good entertainment he found. The Duke stepped forward to embrace him, and the first word which he spoke to him was Brother.  
The Gentleman knew not what to answer to so sweet a compellation and so courteous entertainment, being in a great confusion, and before he was recovered out of it, Don John began to speak.  
Sir said he, the Duke confesses he has had secret conversation with your Sister, he owns also that she is his lawful Wife, and what he says here, he will say publicly when there shall be occasion; he grants that four Nights ago, he designed to carry her from her Cousin's house into his Dominion, and to celebrate his Nuptials, which he is obliged to delay for most just reasons he has acquainted me with.  
He says moreover, that coming from the Skirmish he had with you, in search of Cornelia he met with Sulpitia her woman, which is she you see there, who gave him to understand, that about an hour before, Cornelia had brought forth a Son, which Sulpitia had given to one of his Servants; and that Cornelia believing the Duke was come for her, went out of the house, fearing what had happened might come to your knowledge: Sulpitia thinking she gave the Babe to one of the Duke's Servants, gave it to another, Cornelia appears not, but when she shall, he says, he will own her for his Wife.  
Now Gentlemen, consider, is there any thing more to be said or desired, than to have found two so rich, and so dear pledges.  
Then the Gentleman answered, My Lord, and Brother, my Sister and I could not expect less, than that it has pleased your Generosity to favour us both with, in making her your Equal, and me a Relation to your Noble Family; at saying this, the Duke and the Bolonese Gentleman's Tears stood in their Eyes, one for having lost his Wife, the other for having found so good a Brother, but considering it was weakness to show such tender sentiments, they retained their Tears.  
They were in this posture, when Don Antonio de Izunza, whom Don John knew at a distance by his cropped Horse, drew near to them, and seeing the Horses of Don John and Cornelia's Brother, held by their Servants, at some distance from them he stopped, not knowing which was the Duke, and enquired of the Duke's Servants, who that Cavalier was, pointing at the Duke, discoursing with the other two, answer was made him, that it was the Duke of— which put him into so great a confusion, that he knew not what to do.  
But Don John perceiving it, called him by his Name, seeing them all a foot, he dismounted, and walking towards them, was received courteously by the Duke, whom Don John had informed that he was his Comrade.  
In short, Don John told him what had succeeded betwixt the Duke and him.  
Don Antonio received the News with much Joy, and said to Don John, Why do you not render this Joy complete, communicating to them the good News, that Cornelia and the Child are safe in your Custody.  
I would have done so, answered Don John, if you Signior Don Antonio had not arrived so opportunely, now I'll leave it to you.  
As the Duke and his new Brother heard them speak of finding Cornelia, and of good News, they asked what it was.  
What can it be else, answered Don Antonio, but that I will make a happy Catastrofe to this Tragedy, by telling you, that Signora Cornelia and the Child, are now at my House, telling all the particulars beforementioned, in which they took so much gusto and pleasure, that the Bolognese Gentleman embraced Don John, and the Duke Don Antonio, offering them his Estate, and Life, for such happy News.  
Then they called the Maid, who gave away the new born Babe at the Door to Don John, but when she saw Cornelia's Brother, she trembled for fear.  
They asked her, whether she knew the Man to whom she gave the Child, she answered no, but that she asked whether Fabio was there, and was answered yes, upon which words she gave it him.  
It is true, replied Don John, and you presently after giving me the Child, and bidding me take care to lodge it safely, suddenly returned, and locked the Door.  
It was so, Sir, answered she, weeping. Maid, 'tis no time to weep now, replied the Duke, but to laugh, and be joyful: I'll return to Bolognia without going to my House, though it is so near, for all these are but shadows of Content, till Signora Cornelia, with her Presence, makes them real.  
Then all of them by a common Consent, turned towards Bolognia.  
Don Antonio went before to give Cornelia Notice, lest the unexpected appearance of the Duke and her Brother, might put here into a Fit.  
But not finding her, and the Pages not being able to tell him any News of her, he became the most sorrowful Man in the World, and finding the Servant missing also, he imagined, that by her means Cornelia had changed her Lodgings; the Pages told him, That the Maid went away the same Day he set out, and as for the Gentlewoman, they never saw her since.  
This unexpected Accident put Don Antonio into a great Confusion, fearing the Duke should think, he had imposed upon him, or imagine something worse, which might redound to his, and Cornelia's dishonour. He was in this perplexity, when the Duke, Don John, and Cornelia's Brother entered, having left the rest of their Company without the City.  
They found Don Antonio sitting in a melancholy posture, leaning his Cheek upon his Hand, and as pale as Death.  
Don John asked him, What ill had befallen him, and where Cornelia was.  
What ill has not befallen me, he replied, since Cornelia does not appear, she went away with the Maid, the same Day we set out.  
The Duke, and the Brother of Cornelia were ready to sink down, hearing this, they were so troubled, and full of confusion.  
In the interim, a Page whispered Don Antonio in the Ear, Sir, said he, Santo Stefano, Don John's Page, from the Day you went hence, has kept locked up in his Chamber, a handsome Gentlewoman, whom I heard him call Cornelia.  
This News disturbed him much more, and he desired rather that Cornelia should never have been seen more, than found in such a place, for he believed 'twas she whom the Page concealed, he said nothing, but went up softly to the Pages Chamber, and finding the Door locked, drawing near to it, he said in a low voice, Open the Door, Signora Cornelia, and come down to receive your Brother, and the Duke your Husband, who are come to give you a visit.  
You think, I warrant you, replied the Woman in the Chamber, you jeer me, but I'll have you know, that I have not so bad a Face, but that Dukes and Counts Mouths water at me.  
By these words, Don Antonio was convinced that it was not Cornelia, as he unjustly suspected.  
In the mean while, Santo Stefano came up to his Chamber, and finding Don Antonio at the Door, who demanded the Key of him, the Page kneeling at his Feet, with the Key in his Hand, said, Sir, your absence, or to speak truer, my wickedness has made me bring hither a Woman, and keep her these three last Nights. I beg of you Sir, not to tell my Master, and I'll bring her out presently.  
And what is your Woman's Name, said Don Antonio. The Page answered Cornelia.  
The other, who had discovered this Fact of Santo Stefano, came down to the Rome wherein the Duke, Don John, and the Bolognese were, crying out, Oh brave Page, you'll pay dear for your Pleasure with Signora Cornelia, you locked her up, and wished our Master's absence long, that your Pleasure might continue.  
The Bolognese Gentleman hearing these words, cried out, Page, what is that you said, where is Cornelia? She is above, replied the Page.  
Scarce was this spoke, but the Duke, who heard it, runs up Stairs to see Cornelia, believing she was found, and going into the Chamber, where Don Antonio was, Where is Cornelia, said he, where is my Life?  
Here Cornelia is, said a Woman in the Bed, wrapped up in the Sheets, and hiding her Face, and proceeded, What a stir do you make, is it a new thing, and to be wondered at, that a Page should lie with a Woman?  
The Bolognese Gentleman, who was present at this Farce, with great despite and wrath, lays hold of one of the ends of the Sheet, and pulls it, and the Bed-cloaths off, discovering a young Wench handsome enouf, who for shame, covering her Face with her Hand, and reaching her  with the other, which were under her Head, and served for a Pillow, there being no other, which discovered her to be a Two penny Harlot.  
The Duke asked, whether her Name was Cornelia, she answered yes, and that she had many honourable Relations in that City: The Duke was confounded, imagining the Spaniards, had put a Trick upon him.  
But not to manifest this Suspicion, he mounted on Horseback, and went away being followed by the Bolognese, without taking his leave, and left Don John and Don Antonio, in greater confusion, but resolved to use all diligence to find Cornelia, and assure the Duke of their veracity. They put Santo Stefano out of their Service, and turned out of Door the Harlot Cornelia.  
Then it came into their Minds, that they had forgot to tell the Duke of the Agnus and Crucifix of Diamonds which Cornelia had offered them, fearing he might guests, that they had them.  
They went out to tell him this, but he was not in the House of the Bolognese, as they thought, and from him they understood, that the Duke without making any stay, went his way, desiring him to use his endeavours to find Cornelia.  
They told him, what they designed to have acquainted the Duke with, but he answered, That he was well satisfied with their proceed, and that both of them attributed the flight of Cornelia, to her fear, and doubted not but to find her: For 'twas not credible, the Earth had swallowed her, the Maid and her Son.  
This afforded them some Comfort, and because no body but her Cousin knew that she was missing; they would not make it public, but all secret ways of inquiry were made use of, lest Cornelia's Honour should suffer by them, who knew not the Duke's intention, for 'tis a hard thing to take away suspicions when they have taken a deep impression.  
In the Duke's search, good fortune conducted him to the house where they were:  
Cornelia had informed the Curate of her affairs, and desired his advice therein. The Curate was an intimate Friend of the Dukes; he was rich and a Virtuoso, and his house was well furnished, the Duke often visited him to see his Curiosities, and enjoy his Conversation, and for the pleasure he took in Hunting, for which that place was convenient.  
So that the Curate wondered not at all to see him, for as we have said before 'twas not the first time, yet he was troubled to perceive by his countenance, that some extraordinary Grief possessed his Soul.  
Cornelia understood that the Duke was there, and was extremely disturbed, wring her hands, and running from place to place as if she was mad, because she knew not the reason that brought him thither; she would have enquired of the Curate, but he was taken up in entertaining the Duke, who spoke thus to him.  
I am come hither reverend Father very full of grief, and for this night I intent to be your Guest, for I have no mind to return to my house. Pray bid Fabio send away the rest of my Servants, I will have no body stay with me but him. Which the Curate did, and came to give order for Dinner, which occasion Cornelia laid hold on to speak with him, and taking him by the hand. Ah dear Signior and reverend Father, said she, what's the Duke's Business? For the love of God will your Reverence give him a touch concerning me, and sound his intentions; I leave the managment to you, do as in your wisdom it shall seem best.  
To which the Curate replied, that hitherto the Duke had not told him the cause of his melancholy.  
But that which you have to do Signora Cornelia, is to dress the Child in its richest , and adorn it with Jewels especially those that the Duke gave you, and then leave the rest to me, for I hope to do you no small service.  
Cornelia went to make her Child ready. Whilst that, and Dinner were dressing, the Curate returned to entertain the Duke, and falling from one discourse to another, he at last asked, if 'twas possible to know the cause of that great melancholy, which was to be read in his Forehead at three mile's distance.  
'Tis true Mon Signior, said he, 'tis difficult to make the grief of the heart not appear in the face, and the eyes usually discover the soul; the worst is, that I at present cannot manifest mine any other way.  
Will your Highness be pleased to see a sight to divert you? said the Curate.  
With all my heart replied the Duke, I should not count him wise, who in my condition, would not lay hold upon any occasion to meliorate it. I pray you Mon Signior show me that you speak of, I believe 'tis some of your Curiosities, in which I have often taken much delight.  
Then the Curate went to Cornelia, took the Child, and brought it in his arms to the Duke, who took it into his, and viewing the Jewels and knowing them to be the same he had presented to Cornelia, he stood amazed, and looking upon the Child with great attention, he imagined he saw in him his own picture, and demanded of the Curate whose Child it was, who by his  seemed the Son of some Prince.  
I cannot tell answered the Curate; some nights since, it was brought me from Bolognia by an unknown Gentleman, who earnestly prayed me to take care of it, for it was born of a Father of the highest Quality, and of a most noble and most beautiful Mother.  
And with the Gentleman there came a Woman to give it suck, of whom I enquired if she knew the Child's Parents, she answered no.  
But if the Mother is as handsome as the Nurse she must be the beautifullest Lady of all Italy.  
Can I not have a sight of her replied the Duke, you may Sir said the Curate; come with me, and if the beauty of the Child and the riches of his  have caused your wonder, I am certain it will be much augmented, when you shall behold the Nurse.  
The Curate would have taken the Child from the Duke, but he would not part with it, but kept it in his arms, giving it many Kisses.  
The Curate went before a little to tell Cornelia, that she might securely meet the Duke, who presently entered with the Child in his arms.  
When she saw him, such a blushing came into her face, that it made her Beauty more beautiful.  
The Duke at the first sight of her was ready to swoon; and she cast herself at his feet.  
Immediately the Duke returned the Child to the Curate, and without speaking the least word, went out of the Chamber in great haste, which when Cornelia perceived, Ah said she! turning to the Curate, is it possible that the Duke should be so suddenly weary of seeing me, am I so much hated by him? am I so ugly, does he after this manner pay the obligations he has to me. Not to speak one word, did the weight of his Son appear so burdensome to him, that he must deliver it to another?  
To all which the Curate could make no reply, admiring the Duke's flight. But he went out only to call Fabio, to whom he said, Fabio return immediately to Bolognia, and desire in my name Cornelia's Brother, and the two Spanish Gentlemen, Don John of Gamboa, and Don Antonio of Isunza, that without any excuse they come presently hither, you must fly, and not return without them, their presence is of equal importance to me as my life.  
Fabio was not flow in executing his Master's commands, and the Duke returned to Cornelia, whom he found in tears; he embraced her, and mingled his tears with hers, receiving in his mouth the sighs which the afflicted Lady breathed out.  
So great was their content that they were not able to utter one word; so with honest silence, the two happy Lovers, and true Man and Wife, enjoyed theirselves a little while.  
The Nurse, and the Servant of the Spaniards who saw what passed betwixt Cornelia and the Duke, being transported with joy, leaped up and down, as if they were mad; the Curate gave a thousand Kisses to the Babe, whom he carried in one arm, and with the other hand as many Benedictions upon the embracing Lovers, who continued in this posture till Dinner was set upon the table, and a Servant sent to call them, which made them for the present loosen their arms.  
The Duke took his Son and kept him in his arms all dinner time; the Dinner was not sumptuous, but very polite and savoury.  
Whilst they were at table, Cornelia told him all that happened to her, till she left Bolognia by the advice of the Spanish gentlemen's Servant; she acquainted him that they had served, protected, and guarded, her with all imaginable honour and respect.  
And the Duke related his adventures.  
There were present the two Women which had accompanied Cornelia, to whom the Duke promised great rewards.  
They were all much pleased with this happy success, and there was nothing wanting to complete their felicity, but the presence of Cornelia's Brother, Don John and Don Antonio, whom the Duke expected with much impatience.  
After three Days they arrived, big with expectation to know, whether the Duke heard any News of Cornelia; for Fabio, who went for them, could tell them nothing, for he knew not that she was found.  
The Duke went out to meet, and receive them in a Hall facing the Chamber wherein Cornelia was, without showing any sign of Content, which caused grief in the Gentlemen, who looked upon it as an ill omen; making them sit down by him, and turning his Face towards Cornelia's Brother, he said these words.  
You know well, Sir, that I never deceived your Sister, of which the Heavens and my Conscience are true Witnesses, you know also, the diligence I have used to find her, and the great desire I had to marry her according to my Promise.  
But since she appears not, 'tis not reasonable, that my Promise should eternally oblige me to live unmarried: I am young, and not so entangled with the Affairs of the World, that my Pleasures should have no Power over me, the same Affection, that made me promise to espouse Cornelia, had before obliged me to do the same to a Country Gentlewoman of this Village, which I designed to leave for the Love of your Sister, a great evidence of my Affection to her, though I could not do it with a safe Conscience.  
Since then none can marry a Woman, that is not to be found, 'tis not just, I should search for her, that flies me, and endeavour to find one that hates me. I think, Sir, this aught to satisfy you, for a wrong I never did, nor ever had in my Mind to do: I desire therefore, you will give me Licence to make good my first Promise to the Country Gentlewoman, who is now in the House.  
While the Duke spoke thus, the Bolognese Gentleman changed his Colour a thousand times, and could not sit still upon his Chair, evident Signs, that he was full of Indignation.  
In the same Condition were the two Spaniards, who resolved rather to lose their Lives, than let the Duke do as he said.  
He perceiving their Minds by their looks, proceeded thus: Quiet yourself, Sir, and before you answer me, I'll try, whether the Beauty which you shall see in her, may oblige you to give me your permission to marry her, she has a Beauty capable to excuse greater Errors than this.  
Having said this, he risen and went into Cornelia's Chamber, who that Day was richly dressed, and pompously adorned.  
The Duke being gone out, Don John stood up, and leaning both his Hands upon the side of the Chair, upon which the Bolognese sat, he spoke thus in his Ear:  
By St. James of Galitia, and by the Faith of a Cavalier, I will as soon turn Moor, as permit the Duke to do thus, he shall die by my Hands, or make good his Promise to Signora Cornelia, or at least allow us so much time, as we shall think sufficient, to find her, or till we are convinced she is dead.  
I resolved so too, answered her Brother, and of the same Opinion is my Companion, replied Don John: In the midst of these their Resolutions, Cornelia enters betwixt the Duke and the Curate, who led her; behind her followed Sulpitia, whom the Duke had sent for to his Castle, the Child's Nurse and the Spaniards Maid.  
When the Bolognese saw his Sister, and was certain it was she; for at first he doubted it, he ran to the Duke, and in his haste, his Legs crossing, stumbled, and fell at his Feet, who raised him, and put him into the Arms of his Sister.  
Don John and Don Antonio, told the Duke, that he had put upon them the most surprising, most discreet, and most grateful Trick in the World.  
The Duke took the Child out of Sulpitias Arms, and gave it to Cornelia's Brother, saying, Take your Nevew, and my Son.  
What say you now? Shall I have your leave to marry this Country Lady, who was the first that I promised?  
I shall never make an end, if I should tell you Cornelia's Brothers Answers to the Duke, and his Questions to Don John, and the Thoughts of Don Antonio, the Jubilee of the Curate, the Joy of Sulpitia, the Gusto of the Maid that counselled Cornelia's flight, the Pleasure of the Nurse, the Admiration of Fabio, and in fine, the Content of all.  
Without losing time, the Curate married them, and Don John gave Cornelia, and they were all desired to keep it secret, till the event of the Sickness of the Duke's Mother was known, who lay desperate; in the mean time, Signora Cornelia and her Brother, returned to Bolognia; soon after the Duchess died, and Cornelia made a public entrance into the Duke's City, changing her Mourning into Wedding-clothes.  
Sulpitia was married to Fabio, and the other Women made rich, and Don John and Don Antonio, were well satisfied, that they had been serviceable to Cornelia, her Brother, and the Duke, who offered them two of his Cousins with great Portions, but they answered, That for the most part, the Gentlemen of Biscay married amongst theirselves, not that they slighted such a Relation, for they would never be guilty of such a Fault, but to observe the Custom of the Country, and to be obedient to the Will of their Parents, who, it might be, had already promised them; for these Reasons they could not accept of this offer, which they esteemed a great Honour, and for which they rendered him a Thousand and a Thousand Thanks.  
He accepted of their Excuses, and sought, and found honourable ways of sending many Presents to them at Bolognia, some of them very rich, in such times and conjunctures, as they could not be fairly refused, which would at another season have looked like Rewards, especially those they presented them at their return into Spain, and those the Duke gave them himself, when they came to take their leave of his Highness at his own City, where they found Cornelia a Mother of two Daughters, and more than ever beloved by the Duke.  
The Duchess presented Don John with the Cross of Diamonds we have before mentioned, and to Don Antonio the Agnus Dei, who, notwithstanding all their Excuses, were at last forced to receive them.  
They arrived in Spain, and were there married with noble, rich, and beautiful Ladies, and always preserved the Love and Kindness of the Duke, and the Duchess his Consort, and the Friendship of her Brother, to the general Content of all of them.  
The End of the Fourth Novel.   

THE Rival Ladies.  
NOVEL V.  
ABout Twenty Miles from Sevil, there is a Village called White-Castle, into one of the Inns whereof, about the close of the Day, there arrived a young Gentleman mounted upon a beautiful Horse, without a Servant, who not staying to have his Stirrup held, threw himself lightly off the Saddle.  
The Host, who was a diligent Person, took notice of him, but before he could come to him, he was seated upon a Bench at the Inn-door and began to unbutton himself with great haste, and presently let fall his Arms, and gave manifest signs of swooning.  
The Innkeeper ran to him, and throwing Water in his Face, caused his Senses to return, and he showed himself very much displeased to have been seen so disordered.  
He began again to button his Coat, and spoke to the Host to show him a Chamber to lie down in, and that he might have it wholly to himself, if it were possible.  
The Host answered, That in his House there was but one, which had two Beds in it, and if another Guest should arrive, he must accommodate him with one of them.  
The Traveller answered, I'll pay for them both, whether another Guest comes or not, and put a Crown into his Hand.  
The Host was contented, and promised, that no body else should have the void Bed, or part of the Chamber, although the best Man in Sevil should come hither that Night.  
The Host asked, whether he would sup, he replied, no, but desired him to take care of his Horse, then calling for the Key of the Chamber, and the Host carrying up the Portmanteau, he went into it, and locked himself in, and set two Forms against the Door.  
The Host went to take care of the Horse, and to give order for a Supper, lest any other Guest should come that Night.  
Presently after, they beheld coming another Gentleman, a little older than the first, but not less handsome.  
Upon which sight, the Hostess began to cry out, Jesus! What do I see? Do Angels come to Lodge this Night at my House?  
Why say you so? demanded the Gentleman.  
I say it not without cause, replied the Hostess, but I say to you, put not yourself to the trouble of lighting, for I have no Bed for you. A Gentleman in that Chamber, although he is alone, hath taken both, and paid me for them, that no body besides, should enter the Chamber, it seems, he delights in solitude, but I know not why, for upon my Soul, he has a not a Face or a Garb, which ought to be hid, but rather be seen, and blessed, and admired by all the World.  
Is he so very handsome, replied the Gentleman.  
Handsome, says the Hostess, yes handsomeness itself.  
Ho Boy, said the Gentleman, here take my Horse, I will see this Person you praise so much, though I lie upon the bare Ground all this Night  
Then bidding his Servant hold his Stirrup, he lighted and entered, and called for Supper.  
A Sbirro entered, and sitting down, fell into discourse with him, while he was at Supper, and being unwilling to lose time, drunk off three Bottles of Wine, and eat the Breast and Body of a Partridge, which the Gentleman gave him: In recompense whereof, the Sbirro asked the Court News, and what was done in Flanders, of the Motion and Descent of the Turks, not forgetting the Affairs of Transilvania.  
The Gentleman eat on in silence, for he had no inclination to answer such Questions, coming from such a Person; the Host added himself a third to their Company, and tasted his Wine with such Draughts, as the Sbirro had done before, and at the end of every Glass, he distorted his Body, and turned his Head to his left Shoulder, praising the Wine, and giving to it so many attributes and epithets, that he exalted it to the Clouds.  
In the circle of his discourse, he returned to the praises of his Guest, who was locked in, telling how he fainted, and that he locked himself in his Chamber without any Supper, he told that his Portmanteau was well furnished, as he guessed by the weight of it; he praised the goodness of his Horse, and the fashion, and richness of his , which were too good to be worn by one who was not attended by a Servant, for he came only with the Vetturin. All these exaggerations doubled the Gentleman's desires to get a sight of him, and to that end he prayed the Host to find some means to let him lie in the other Bed, for which he would give him a Crown.  
The greediness of Money inclined the Host to comply with him, but it seemed impossible, because the Door was locked in the inside, and that he durst not disturb him.  
But to all this, the Sbirro undertook to find a remedy in this manner: I will go, said he, and knock at the Door saying, 'tis the Constable, who by order of a Justice of Peace, commands, that they Lodge this Gentleman. To which the Host should answer, That they would do him injury, because that Chamber, and both the Beds were taken, and paid for by him who was in it; by this the Host shall be disobliged from his promise, and you, Sir, will obtain you desire.  
This Invention was approved, and put presently in effect, and the Sbirro received from the Gentleman half a Crown, with which he was well contented. The first Guest was much troubled, hearing he must open to the Constable, the second asked him pardon for interrupting his repose, and went immediately into the void Bed.  
The other replied not one word, nor would not permit him to see his Face, for as soon as he had opened the Door, he went to Bed, turning his Face towards the Wall, and pretended to fall asleep.  
Now the second Guest was got into his Bed, but with this hope, that the next Morning he should have a view of his Chamber-Fellow at his rising. It was December, wherein the long, tedious, dark and cold Nights adds to weariness, usually invites Sleep.  
But the first Guest could not get that benefit, a little after midnight, he began to sigh so bitterly, as if with every one of them he was breathing out his Soul, so that he wakened the other, who admiring the Sobs, which accompanied his dolorous Sighs, harkened to understand the Lamentations, which this afflicted Person murmured to himself.  
The Beds were at some distance, nevertheless, he heard amongst others, these words pronounced with a weak and mournful Voice.  
Ah wretch, that I am! Whether does the invincible force of my Destiny hurry me? What Path do I take? What Thread will guide me out of the Labyrinth in which I am? Ah few Years, and small Experience, incapable of Consideration and Counsel! At what end will this my vagabond wand'ring arrive? Ah despised Honour! Ah sincere Love ill recompensed! Ah respect of my Kindred laid aside, and trod under foot, woe is me! that have thus let lose the Reins, and suffered myself to be carried away by my desires: Oh false and flattering words, which have obliged me to answer in Deeds.  
But of whom do I complain? Am not I she that would cheat myself? Am not I she who took the Knife to assassinate with my own Hands, my Honour, my Reputation, and the good Opinion which my Parents had of my Virtue? Oh perjured Marc Antonio! How is it possible, that the gall of Ingratitude should be mingled with the sweetness of those Words which thou spokest to me? Where art ungrateful? Whether art thou fled? answer, for I speak to thee; stay, for I follow thee; hold me up, for thou hast made me fall; pay what thou owest me; secure me, because I have obliged then. After these Words, she was silent, expressing her Sorrow only with Sighs and Tears.  
The second Guest listened to all this with great silence, and concluded, that 'twas a Woman that thus lamented, which increased his desire to know her, and often resolved to rise, and go to her Bedside, and would have done so, had he not perceived she was got up, and had opened the Chamber Door, calling the Host to saddle her Pad, for she would be going.  
The Host let her call a good while, and then answered, That 'twas scarce Midnight, and so dark, 'twould be madness to set out.  
This answer satisfied her, and she locked the Door, and returned to Bed, bitterly sighing.  
It appeared then to the Gentleman, who heard her, that 'twould not be amiss to speak to her, and offer her all Service and Aid, and to oblige her to discover her Misfortune, therefore he spoke thus to her.  
In truth, Sir, if your Sighs, and the Words which you have spoke, had not moved me to Compassion, I should think, I had a Soul of Stone in a Body of Brass, and that both of them wanted that sentiment which Nature has endowed even Beasts with.  
But if this sympathising with your Grief, and the great desire I have to remedy it, although at the expense of my Blood, deserves any Courtesy in exchange, I pray, you use it towards me, by declaring the cause of your so great Lamentation.  
If my Grief, answered the dolorous Gentleman, had not taken away my Senses, I might have remembered, that I was not alone in this Chamber, and have refrained my Tongue, and allowed some truce to my Sighs. But since my Memory has failed me in a place, wherein I stood in most need of it, I will to punish it, content you in what you demand, because it may be, that telling the sad Story of my Disgraces, the touching my sore Wound, may renew, and add force enough to my Grief, to take me out of the World, and rid me of my hated Life.  
But before that I satisfy your desire, you must promise me by that Faith which you show in offering me your help, and by what you are, which the greatness of your promise shows to be more than ordinary, that for what ever I shall say, you shall not come out of your Bed to mine, nor inquire more of me, than what I shall tell you, and if you shall do contrary, in the same instant I perceive you moving, I'll run myself throw with my Sword, which is ready by my Bed's head.  
The other, who to know what he desired so much, would have promised any impossibility, answered, That he would not break the Articles in the least point, and confirmed it by an Oath.  
Then answered the first, Upon this Security, I will begin the sad Story of my Misfortunes: Know, Sir, that though I came into this Inn in Man's Habit, yet I am an unfortunate Maid, or at least, I was a Maid within these eight Days, but now I am not, by trusting the feigned words of a young Man. My Name is Theodosia, and my Family is one of the Noblest in Andalusia, whose Name I mention not, because it is of more importance to me to conceal it, than to you to know it; my Parents are Noble and Rich beyond mediocrity: They had a Son and a Daughter, him for their Content and Honour, her for the contrary.  
He was sent to Study at Salamanca, I stayed at home, where I was educated with that care and punctuality: And I did not think it troublesome, but was obedient, and conformed mine always to their Will, but either my ill Fortune, or my too much exstravagance made me fall in love with a young Man, a Son to a Neighbour of ours, who is as Noble, and exceeds my Parents in Riches.  
The first time I saw him, I perceived nothing but a certain complacence to behold him, and this ought not to be wondered at, because his Garb, his Face, his Manners accompanied with his Courtesy and Discretion, were much esteemed by all.  
But to what purpose is it to praise my Enemy, and to enlarge the Narration of my unhappy Success, or to say better, the beginning of my Folly.  
In short, he saw me once, and oftener out of a Balcone, which was right over against ours, and thence, as I thought, sent me his Soul by his Eyes. Mine were pleased to look on him, but 'twas a different Pleasure from the first, and forced me to believe, that all was true, which I read in his Gestures and Countenance.  
This interview prepared the way for his declaration of his desires, and they kindled my Soul, and prevailed with me to believe them.  
He added Promises, Oaths, Tears, Sighs, and all that a Lover can do, to manifest the greatness of his Love, and the Fidelity of his Heart to me: Ah, miserable wretch, that I was, who had never before experienced such Assaults, every word was a Canon Shot, which beat down my Cavaliers, and battered the Fort of my Honour, every Sigh was Fire, which burned my Soul into Ashes, and a furious Wind, which increased the Flame of my Soul, and consumed my Virtue, which, till that time, had never been warmed, either more or less, with such a Fire.  
Upon promise of being my Husband, against the Consent of his Parents, who had designed him for another, I yielded without knowing how, I gave myself a prey to him, without the knowledge of my Parents, and without any other Witness of my Folly, than one of Marc Antonio's Pages, for this is the Name of that false Man, who has reduced me to this distress.  
Two Days after he had obtained his desires, he disappeared, his Parents, nor any body else, not knowing, or being able to imagine whether he went. In what Condition I was left, let them tell that can, I know what I felt, I tore my Hair, as if it had been the cause of my Fault, I cursed my Fate, I blamed my too prompt Resolution, I shed Rivers of Tears, and was almost choked betwixt them and the Sighs, which my afflicted Soul continually sent forth. I complained to Heaven, I discoursed with my imagination, seeking some ways to remedy myself, and the best that I could think upon, was to dress myself in Man's Apparel, and leaving my Father's House to run after this Aeneas, this unfaithful and cruel Birenus, who had defrauded me of my lawful hopes; so without farther consideration, taking the opportunity of a Campain Suit of my Brothers, and of my Father's Pad, which I saddled and bridled myself, I set out in a dark Night, with intention to go to Salamanca, where, as I was told, I might find Marc Antonio, for he is a Student there, and my Brother's Companion. Nor was I unmindful to take Money sufficient with me, not knowing what might happen in my Journey.  
But that which troubles me most, is this, my Parents will cause me to be pursued, and certainly find me by the marks of my , and the Horse I ride. And besides this, I am in great fear of my Brother, who is at Salamanca, if I should be discovered by him, think in what danger my Life would be, for although I should tell my Excuses, yet the least point of his Honour would be more prevalent with him, than what ever I could urge.  
However, I am resolved, though it cost me my Life, to find out my disloyal Husband, which he cannot deny himself to be, without denying his Oaths, and going contrary to the pledge he has left me, which is a Diamond Ring with this Posy, Marc Antonio is Theodosia's Husband.  
If I find him, I shall know what he observed in me, that caused him to leave me so suddenly, I am resolved, that he shall make good his Word and his plighted Troth, or if he refuse, I'll kill him, showing myself as ready to revenge, as I was to let myself be injured: For the noble Blood, which I derive from my Parents, awakens my Courage, and promises me either Satisfaction, or Revenge.  
This, Sir, is the true History which you desired to know of me, which may possibly afford a sufficient Excuse for the Groans and Words, which would not suffer you to sleep: I pray, and entreat you to do me one Favour, since you cannot remedy my Misfortunes, that you would afford me your Counsel, how to shun the Dangers that theaten me, and lessen the Fear wherein I am, and facilitate the Accomplishment of what I so much desire, and stand in so much need of.  
He that heard this History, stayed a good while without returning any answer, so long, that she thought he was asleep, and had heard nothing of what she had said, so that to know whether she was in the right, she said, Are you asleep, Sir, if you are, 'tis not strange, for when a miserable Person relates his Misfortunes to one who minds them not, it creates sleep rather than compassion.  
I sleep not, Madam, replied the Gentleman, for I am so much awake, and have such a sense of your Misfortune, that I believe you have not a greater, therefore I will not only give you the Counsel which you desire, but will assist you to the utmost of my Power. And although from the manner you have observed in telling your Misfortunes, it appears, that your Intentions were honest, and thence it follows, that you were rather deceived by your own Will, than by the persuasions of Marc Antonio, nevertheless, I will excuse your Error, laying it upon your youth, and want of experience in the deceitful ways of men.  
Quiet yourself, Madam, and endeavour to sleep the rest of the Night, when 'tis Day, I will give you Counsel, which may afford some remedy to your sad Condition.  
Theodosia thanked him in the best terms she could invent, and endeavoured to sleep, that he also might do the same.  
But it was not possible for him to rest one moment, but moving from one side of the Bed to the other, found no place of ease, and sighed and groaned so loud, that Theodosia asked him, how he did, and whether he felt any pain, and whether she could do him any Service, which she would willingly do in exchange of the Compassion and good Will he had showed to remedy her Afflictions.  
The Gentleman, replied, You, Madam, are cause of this trouble, which you perceive in me, but you cannot remedy it, for were it in your Power, I should not be hopeless.  
Theodosia did not understand the meaning of these confused words, but she imagined he had some amorous thoughts, and sighed so passionately for her, that made her fear this, was the convenience of the Chamber, the solitude, and the darkness, and owning herself a Woman, might provoke some dishonest thought in his mind: For fear of which, she began to dress herself with much haste, and in great silence, she girt her Sword and Poignard about her, and sitting upon the Bed, wished for Day, which by little, and little, entered throw the holes and clefts of the Chamber, as it is frequent in those poor Country Inns.  
The same that Theodosia had done, the Gentleman did also, and as soon as he saw Daylight, he risen from the Bed, saying, Rise, Signora Theodosia, I will bear you Company, not only this Day, but till you have in your Arms your lawful Husband, your Marc-Antonio, or that either he or I have lost our Lives, by this you may understand, how much I am concerned in your Disgrace, and having said this, he opened the Door and Windows of the Chamber.  
Theodosia rejoiced to see by Day light the Face of him, with whom she had discoursed in the dark all Night: but when she saw and knew him, she could have wished, that that Morning had never came, or that her Eyes had been locked up in an eternal Night, for scarce had she cast her Eye upon him, but she found 'twas her Brother, the Man in the World she was most afraid of, and not without reason, at which sight she stood astonished, confused, silent and pale, but at last, gathering together her Spirits, and making a Virtue of Necessity, she took Counsel from her Danger, and threw herself at her Brother's Feet, holding the Poignard by the point, spoke to him in a trembling, interrupted voice.  
Sir, and Brother, take this Dagger, and revenge the Fault I have committed, which is so great, it cannot be pardoned, I confess my Error, and do not pretend that my Repentance is a sufficient Excuse: Only, I pray, let my punishment extend no farther than to my Life, and not to my Honour, which will pass for undefiled in the opinion of the World, if the Chastisement you inflict upon me be secret.  
In this posture she was, with her Eyes fixed upon her Brother, and although the rashness of her going away so secretly, incited him to revenge, yet the tender and passionate Words, by which she accused herself, were so prevalent with him, that they moved him to compassion, so that with a sedate, and undisturbed Countenance, he raised her from the Ground, and comforted her in the best manner he could, telling her amongst other things, that because he could not find a punishment proportionable to her crime, he suspended it for the present, and because it seemed to him, that Fortune had not precluded all the ways of remedy, he would endeavour to procure it by all possible means, esteeming the Injury done to himself, by the reflection of consanguinity.  
At these Words, Theodosia began to recover her fainting Spirits, the colour returned to her Face, and her dying hopes took new Life.  
Don Rafael, for this was her Brother's Name, would speak no more of what was passed, but only bid her change the Name of Theodosia, to that of Theodoro, and said that he would go with her to Salamanca in search of Marc-Antonio, although he believed, he was not there, for he presumed he being his Companion, should have seen him, unless the Conscientiousness of having wronged his Sister, should make him avoid his Company.  
The new Theodoro, complied with her Brother's pleasure, and in the mean time the Host coming in, they ordered him to provide their Breakfast, for they intended suddenly to be going: Whilst Breakfast, and their Horses were making ready, there came in a Gentleman, whom Don Rafael knew, as did also Theodoro, who, because she would not be discovered, stayed in the Room.  
They embraced one another, and Don Rafael demanded what News he brought from the Port of St. Mary.  
He answered, that at his coming thence, he had left four Vessels ready to departed for Naples, and that upon one of them, he saw Marc-Antonio Adorno, Son of Don Leonardo.  
This News pleased Don Rafael, who took it as a good omen; he desired his Friend to change the Mule upon which he rid for his Horse, telling him, that he was going to Salamanca, and that he was loath to harras so good a Horse.  
He being an intimate Friend of Don Rafael, was contented, and undertook to carry back the Pad, to Rafaels' Father: They two breakfasted together, but Theodoro by himself in another Room, and the Gentleman went towards Casal, where he had an Estate, Don Rafael did not go out with him, having a mind to be rid of his Company, but let him go before, because he said, he must that Night Lodge in Siville, when he was gone, and the Mules were ready, and the reckoning paid, Don Rafael and Theodoro, set out, leaving those of the Inn, and some Country People, who casually met there, admiring the Beauty of both of them, for that of the Brother, was in nothing inferior to Theodoro's. In the way, Don Rafael told Theodoro, what he heard of Marc-Antonio, and said, 'twas his Opinion, that they ought to go to Barcelona, where ordinarily, the Ships that go from Spain, or return from Italy, cast Anchor, and if the Galleys were not yet arrived, to expect them there, upon one of which, they should without doubt find Marc-Antonio, his Sister answered, she was ready to do what he pleased, for his Will was hers; Don Rafael, told the Vetturin, he must have patience, and go with them to Barcelona, and that he would pay him well for all the time they should employ him.  
The Vetturin knowing he had to do with a liberal Gentleman, answered, That he would conduct him, not only to Barcelona, but to the end of the World, if he desired it. Don Rafael asked his Sister, what Money she had, but she, who took it without telling, answered, she knew not, she remembered, that she took seven or eight handfuls of Gold out of her Fathers Escritoire, according to which estimation, he reckoned, she might have above Five Hundred Crowns, which with Two Hundred more that he had, and a Chain of Gold, appeared to be sufficient to defray their Charges. Without losing time, they pursued their Voyage, and without any disturbance, came to a place, eight Miles distant from Igualada, and thirty six from Barcelona.  
In the way, they received advise of an Ambassador, who was going to Rome, who stayed in Barcelona for the Galleys, whereat they rejoiced much, and merrily prosecuted their Voyage, till they came to the entrance of a Wood, out of which they perceived a Man running towards them, and often turning back his Head, seeming to be in a fright; Don Rafael stopped, and asked him, what it was he run from in so much haste, he answered, he had too much cause, for he had, as it were, miraculously escaped a Troop of Robbers in that Wood  
Robbers, said the Vetturin, than we are undone, God help us: Be not afraid, replied he that fled, for now they are gone, having left more than thirty Travellers in their Shirts bound to Trees, and one free, whom they ordered to lose the rest, as soon, and not before, they had passed such a Hill, which they showed him.  
If that is true, replied the Vetturin, we may proceed in our Journey securely, for Thiefs do not for many Days return to the same place where they have committed a Robbery, this I know well, having twice fallen into their Hands. It is so, replied the other.  
Don Rafael hearing this, resolved to pass on, and after a small time, he saw those who were bound, and one busy in untying them. 'Twas a strange sight to behold some stark naked, others half clothed with Rags, which the Robbers had left them, some lamenting their Losses, others laughing at the strange  wherewith the Thiefs had dressed some of their Company, one told the particulars of his Loss, and that nothing grieved him so much, as a consecrated Agnus Dei, which he brought from Rome.  
In short, there was nothing heard, but Complaints and Lamentations of the robbed Travellers; but that which most moved their Compassion, was a young Man, for so he seemed, about sixteen Years old, tied to an Oak, stripped to his Shirt and Shoes, which were of Cloth, with so beautiful a Countenance, that he moved, or rather forced all the Company to fix their Eyes upon him.  
Theodoro lighted and unbound him, who with very fit and obliging words returned him thanks, than he desired Calvetto to lend his Coat to the stripped Gentleman, till they could buy one.  
He did so, and Theodoro put it on him, ask whence he was, whence he came, and whether he was bound, in the presence of Don Rafael.  
The young Man answered, That he was a Native of Andolusia, mentioning the place of his birth, which they knew, being but eight Miles distant from their House, and that he came from Sevil, and was going to the Wars in Italy, according to the laudable Custom of the young Gentlemen of that Country. But his ill Fortune had permitted him to fall into the Hands of those Highway Men, who had taken from him all his Money, which was a great Sum, and his  which cost more than Three Hundred Crowns. Notwithstanding this, he would not leave off his intended Voyage, being born of such Blood, whose warm desire and pursuit of Honour, would not be frozen by one ill Success.  
The discreet Discourse of this young Man, his being their Neighbour, and the Letters of Commendation, which were plainly to be read in his Face, obliging not only Theodoro, but his Brother also to pity and assist him.  
Then giving some Money to those who seemed to be in most need of it especially to some Priests and Friars: They mounted the young Gentleman upon the Vetturins Mule, and rod on, and in a few hours arrived at Igualada, where they understood, that the Galleys arrived at Barcelona the Day before, and intended to go thence in two Days, if not sooner, because that Road was not very secure. This News made them rise the next Day before the Sun, though they had not slept all the Night, thinking upon the Relation this young Gentleman gave of himself: And because the Evening before, when they were at Supper, Theodora looked more attentively than she had done before upon the Gentleman whom they had freed from the Tree, perceived, that his Ears were bored, by which, and by his blushes, he thought 'twas a Woman, and had a mind after Supper, when they were by theirselves, to clear this doubt.  
At Supper, Don Rafael asked him, who was his Father, because he knew all the principal Gentry of that County.  
The young Man answered, that he was the Son of Don Henrico de Cardenas, a Cavalier of Note.  
Don Rafael, replied, that he very well knew Don Henrico, and was certain, he had no Son; but if he said this, not being willing to discover his Parents, he would inquire no farther.  
It is true, replied the young Man, Don Henrico has no Son, but his Brother Don Sancho has Neither has he any other Children, replied Don Rafael, besides one Daughter, who has the report of being marvellously handsome, I speak this only by hearsay, for though I have been sometimes at his House, I never saw her Face.  
All that you have said, is true, said the young Gentleman, he has but one Daughter, but she is not handsome, as you have heard, and if I said I was Don Henricos Son, it was because you, Sir, should have a better Opinion of me, I am not so, my Father is his Major-Domo, who has lived many Years in his Service, I was born in his House, but having played my Father a slippery Trick, robbing him of a good Sum of Money, I was resolved to go into Italy, and there be a Soldier, by which way I have known many of obscure Blood, raise theirselves to great Dignity. All this Discourse Theodoro exactly observed, which confirmed him in his imagination.  
Supper being over, and the Cloth taken away, whilst Don Rafael was undressing himself, his Sister told him her thoughts of that young Man, and with her Brother's leave, she took him aside to a Balcone, looking towards the Street, and laying both her Hands upon it, she thus spoke.  
Signior Francisco, for the young Man had declared that he was called so, I would I had done that for you, which might oblige you to answer a Question I have to ask you, but my knowledge of you has been of so short a durance, that it has not permitted it, 'tis possible, hereafter an occasion may proffer itself, wherein I may evidence the great desire I have to serve you. Although I am older than you, yet I have had more experience, and seen the World more than my Age promises, which makes me suspect that you are a Woman, though your Garments show the contrary, and that you are nobly born, of which there needs no other proof, but your exquisite Beauty, and perhaps I shall not guests amiss, if I should say, you are unfortunate, as your Disguise argues, for such metamorfoses, and changing of , and Sexes, are evident signs, that they, who are put to these shifts, are not at ease, if this is true, tell it me freely, for I swear by the Faith of a Cavalier to help, and serve you to the utmost of my ability, I am convinced you are a Woman, which you cannot deny, for you have holes in your Ears, throw those this truth is made manifest. You have not been cautious enouf to conceal them, for you ought to have filled them with Wax of a flesh colour, for it may happen, that some body else as curious as I, but perhaps not so honourable, might make this discovery. I repeat it to you again, doubt not to tell me confidently who you are, for by the Oath I have taken, and I swear over again, I will keep it secret what you shall entrust me with, and assist you.  
The young Gentleman was very attentive to Theodoro, and perceiving he had made an end of speaking, before he answered one word, taking him by the Hand, and carrying it to his Mouth, by force kissed it, and bathed it with abundance of Tears, which dropped from her most beautiful Eyes, and which were accompanied by those of Theodore, as it is natural to Women well born, to sympathize, and have a tender and mutual Compassion, but when he had withdrawn his Hand, though not without some difficulty, he expected his answer, who after a profound sigh, began thus: I cannot, nor will not deny, Sir, but that your suspicion is true, I am a Woman, but the most unfortunate one that ever was born. And since the good Offices, that you have been pleased to do me, and the Offers you make me, oblige me to obey you in all your Commands, I will confidently tell you, who I am, if it will not be troublesome to you to hear the sad Narration of my Disgraces.  
May I be accompanied with as great, during my whole Life, replied Theodoro, if the pleasure to know them, does not equal the pain to understand that they are yours, for I feel them, as if they were my own, then embracing him again, and doubling his offers of assistance, the Lady recollecting her spirits began thus.  
As to my Country, I told you truth, but not as to my Parents, Don Henrico is not my Father, but Don Sancho his Brother, I am that unhappy Maid, which your Brother said, has been so much celebrated for Beauty, though you that see me, are convinced of the contrary, for I have none at all. My Name is Leonora, and why I am thus disguised, you shall suddenly hear.  
Eight Miles from our House, lives a Gentleman, one of the richest and noblest of Andolusia, his original is from the ancient Family of the Adorni of Genua; he hath no other issue, but a Son, who is one of the best bred Gentlemen in the World, Fame has not been so prodigal in his praise, as in mine, being our Neighbour, and coming frequently a Hunting thereabouts, for he delighted much in that Exercise, as my Father did also; he used sometimes to come to our House, spending five or six Days, and good part of the Nights too, in the Field with my Father. Fortune, Love, or my want of Consideration, took occasion from thence to throw me down from the height of my Thoughts to this low Estate, wherein you see me: For I having considered more than 'twas fit a Person of my condition should have done, the Genteelness and Discretion of Marc-Antonio, the Nobility of his Blood, and the Riches of his Father, it seemed to me, that if I could get him for my Husband, I could desire no greater Felicity, having these thoughts, I began to look upon him with more attention, or to say better, with too much inadvertency, so that he took notice of it, and the Traitor found an easy entrance to rob me of the best thing I had, but I shall not trouble you with all the particulars, it being to no purpose, instead of which, I'll tell you at once, what he gained of me, by his perpetual and continual solicitations, that was, that having given me his Word, and Faith with such Oaths, as I thought inviolable, to be my Husband, I was conquered, and offered myself to be at his disposal, nevertheless, not being yet entirely satisfied with his Oaths, fearing the Wind should blow them away, I made him give me a Note, which he did, written and subscribed with his own hand, with all the circumstances I desired, wherewith I was contented, having then received this Note, I told him how he should on a Night assigned, climb over the Walls of the Garden, and enter into my Chamber, where with all security he might gather the Fruit I preserved for him, behold, at last the Night came, which I so much desired.  
Hitherto Theodoro had heard her with great silence, her Soul hanging upon the Words of Leonoro, every one of which pierced her to the heart, but when she heard her mention the Name of Marc-Antonio, and considering the admirable Beauty of her Rival, the greatness of her worth, and the rare discretion, with which she told her Story, but when she heard her say, in fine, the Night was come, which she so much desired, Theodoro lost all his Patience, and could contain no longer himself, but interrupted her saying:  
Well, and when that most happy Night was come, What did he? Did he come? Did he get into the Chamber? Did you enjoy him? Did he confirm his promise? Was he satisfied to have had that, which you say, you kept only for him? Did your Father know of it? What end had so many wise and honest beginnings?  
To leave me in the Condition you see, replied Leonora, for I did not enjoy him, nor he me, not coming to the appointed place.  
At these last words, Theodoro's Spirits returned, which were upon the point of abandoning her, being forced by the pestilent Fury, and furirious Pestilence of Jealousy, which had began powerfully to enter her Bones and Marrow, and made her entirely lose her Patience, but she was not so wholly free, but that, not without great disturbance of Mind, she applied herself to hear the rest of Leonora's Narration, which she continued in this manner.  
The false Man did not only not come, as I have said, but eight Days after, I had certain advice, that he was gone, and had carried with him a Lady, whose Name is Theodosia, and whose Beauty and Discretion are not to be paralleled, and being born of Noble Parents, the taking her away was suddenly divulged all the Country over, and the News thereof came to my ears, and it was a Sword of Jealousy that passed throw my Heart, and increased the Flame of Love, in which my Heart was burnt to ashes, my Credit consumed, my Patience dried up, and my Reputation murdered. Wretch, that I am. I imagined, that Theodosia to be more fair than the Sun, and to surpass the discreetest in Discretion, and above all, that she was more fortunate, than miserable and unhappy me; then I read over his Note, and attentively considered its efficacious words, I looked on the Subscription, and I thought it valid, and that there was no hole for him to creep out of, and falsify his Promise.  
For although that was the holy Anchor of my hope, yet I began to fear, considering what a Companion Marc-Antonio was gone away with, I injured my Face, I tore my Hair, I cursed my unfortunate Stars, and that which troubled me most, was, that I could not ease my Mind with Revenge, because of the presence of my Father; finally, to satiate myself with lamenting without any impediment, or sooner to die, which would be better, I determined to leave my Father's house, and commit myself to the wide World.  
And as there is never wanting an occasion, which facilitates the bringing to pass ill actions, I made the way plain, and overcome all inconveniencies, I stole a Suit of one of my Father's Pages, and from him I took a good Sum of Money, and under the black Cloak of a dark Night, I went out of the house, and travelled a foot as far as Ossana, where I made use of a Wagon, which with other Passengers in two Days, carried me to Sevill, where I was secure, that no body could find me, if I was looked after, there I bought other  and a Mule, and in the Company of some Gentlemen who were going in great haste to Barcelona, lest they might lose the opportunity of the Galleys, I travelled till yesterday, when as you know, we fell into the Thiefs hands, who took every thing from me, and amongst the rest, the Jewel wherein my heart took greatest delight, and which was the greatest relief to me in the midst of my heavy afflictions; I mean Marc-antonios' Note, whom I thought to find in Italy, and present it to him as a Testimony of his Infidelity, and of my too firm and constant Faith.  
But I considered, that if he would deny the Obligations that Love engraves in the Soul, he would more certainly not value words written in Paper; And I doubt not, but if he has with him the incomparable Theodosia, he'll slight the unhappy Leonora, or not so much as think of her. But though it should cost me my Life, I will intrude myself into both their Companies, that my presence may disturb their jollity: Let not the Enemy of my repose, think at so cheap a rate, to enjoy, what belongs to me, I'll search for her, I'll find her out, and if I can, I'll take away her Life.  
What is Theodosia's crime? replied Theodoro, if she too, as it is possible, has been deceived by Marc-Antonio.  
If it is true, replied Leonora, that he has ravished her, she is without fault. But if two who love one another, mutually keep company together, here can be no deceit, they are happy in the enjoyment of each other, though it were in the most remote and scorching Deserts of Africa, or in the most solitary Caverns of frozen Scythia: She does enjoy him, there can be no doubt made of it, in what part of the World soever they are, and she alone shall pay for all the troubles I have hitherto endured, and shall undergo, till I have found this ungrateful and perjured Person I seek after.  
You may deceive yourself, answered Theodoro, for I am intimately acquainted with her, whom you call your Enemy, I know her condition and retiredness, and that she would never run the risk to leave her Father's house, to comply with the desires of Marc-Antonio, and follow him: But if she had done so, not knowing you, or any thing of the Affairs betwixt you and him, she has not wronged or injured you, and there is no reason that you should revenge yourself upon her.  
'Tis needless to speak, replied Leonora, of her solitude and retiredness, for I have been as much retired, as any one, and yet have done, what I have acquainted you with, I doubt not, but he took her away by force, and she has done me no wrong, when I think of it coldly, and without passion.  
But the Grief which proceeds from Jealousy, represents her to my memory as a Sword that pierces my Bowels, and it is not to be wondered at, if I endeavour to pull out, and break in pieces the Instrument which causes me so much pain, and so much the more, because it is Wisdom to remove far from us, what is hurtful, and 'tis natural to hate, not only those things which do us harm, but those which deprive us of any good.  
Let it be as you say, Signora Leonora, replied Theodoro, for I find the troubles which you suffer, will not permit you to discourse with consideration, nor according to reason, and I also see, that you are not in a condition now to hearken to good Counsel. For my part, I confirm again, what I told you before, that I will assist you upon all just Occasions, and I promise as much for my Brother, for I am certain, his good Nature, his Nobility and Courtesy will make my words good.  
We are going to Italy, if you please to bear us Company, you will know what our Conversation is: But I must beg one thing of you, that I may tell my Brother, what you are, to the end, that he may treat you with more respect and decorum, which the knowledge of your Affairs will oblige him to.  
But as to your Conduct, I think 'tis not expedient to change your Habit, for we shall find  here, such as you wore, before you was robbed, to morrow morning I will buy for you, the best I can procure; and as for your pretensions, leave them to time, which is the best Counsellor and Fysician.  
Leonora, courteously thanked Theodoro for these kind offers, and gave her Licence to tell her Brother what she pleased, desiring him not to abandon her, for she lay exposed to many dangers, if it should be known that she was a Woman.  
This Discourse being over, they went to sleep, Theodoro in his Brother's Chamber, and Leonora in another adjoining to it. Don Rafael was not yet in Bed, waiting his Sisters coming in, being desirous to hear what had passed, and perceiving her come in, he asked what discoveries she had made.  
Then she related to him particularly, and minutely, what Leonora had confessed, whose Daughter she was, with whom she was enaamoured, the Note or Promise of Marc-Antonio, and what her Intentions were.  
Don Rafael was astonished at this relation, and said to his Sister; If this be true, she is of one of the prime Families of our Andolusia, and her Father and ours, are intimate Friends, and the fame of her Beauty corresponds exactly with what appears in her Face.  
I think we ought to departed privately, and so manage the matter, that she may not speak to Marc-Antonio first, for the Note which she pretends he gave her, gives me much inquietude, although, as she says, she has lost it.  
Dear Sister, go, take your rest, I hope we shall find a remedy for all these Difficulties. Accordingly Theodoro went to Bed, but could not sleep, the fury of Jealousy had so much possessed her Soul. Her imagination represented Leonora's Beauty, much more than really it was, as also the Infidelity of Marc-Antonio.  
How many times did she read, or at least imagined, she did so, the Note which he gave her Rival, what words, and what reasons did she add to it, to make it firm and binding, how many times did she think it was not lost, how often did she imagine, that though it were, yet Marc-Antonio would keep his word, and forget and slight that which he had given to his Theodosia. In such reasonings she spent the greatest part of the Night.  
Her Brother fared no better, for knowing this was Leonora, he felt his heart so much inflamed with Love of her, as if he had long before seen and known her.  
This is the propriety and force of Beauty, that in a point, in a moment, it seizes the desire, and the Soul of him that looks on it, and when there appears the least hopes of obtaining it, it inflames the Soul of the beholder, like a little spark which causes a great conflagration, if it fall into combustible matter.  
He did not imagine her, as tied to a Tree, and clothed with Rags, and robbed of all she had, but in the habit of a Lady in the House of her Parents, with the decorum suitable to her Quality and their Riches: He made no scruple of the honour, or dishonour of the cause, that brought her to that pass, but rather esteemed it a good fortune, because it was the occasion of his coming to her acquaintance: And now love and jealousy had taken so entire possession of him, that he would have been content to see his Sister without remedy, and Marc-Antonio dead, so that his hopes to obtain Leonora might succeed.  
He longed for , to begin his Journey to find Marc-Antonio, not so much now to make him his Brother, as to travers his Designs, and hinder him from marrying Leonora, feeding himself with these hopes; he for a season quieted his Mind, and fell asleep.  
Some small time after, the Day appeared, and they risen, and Don Rafael called to the Host, asked him if in that place they might buy  for a Page, who was stripped by the Highway Men: He answered, he had a Suit in the house and would sell it, which fitting Leonora, Don Rafael bought, and clothed her with, girding on her side a Sword and a Dagger, wherein she appeared so sprightly, that it caused admiration in Don Rafael, and doubled the jealousy of his Sister.  
About seven a Clock they set forwards towards Barcelona, resolving not then to climb the high Mountain of Momferat, and visit the Monastery of our Lady, situated thereon, leaving that till their return.  
'Twould be a hard task to express the thoughts of Don Rafael and Theodoro, and with what contrary and different minds each of them beheld Leonora, one being tormented with love, and the other with jealousy, and by how much the more she spoke against Leonora, so much the more did the enamoured Don Rafael, find perfections in her, which increased his affections and love to her.  
Notwithstanding this, they used such diligence, that they reached Barcelona before Sunsetting: The beautiful Situation of the City afforded them much pleasure, and they esteemed it one of the best in Spain; the Terror of its neighbouring and remote Enemies, the Delight of its Inhabitants, the Refuge and Protector of Strangers, the School of Chivalry, the Example of Fidelity, and fully answering whatever a curious Person can desire, in a great, rich, populous and famous City.  
At their entrance, they heard a great noise, and saw People running madly about, they asked what was the matter, and 'twas answered that the Soldiers of the Galleys were fight with those of the City.  
Don Rafael hearing this, would go and see the scuffle, although the Vetturin persuaded him to the contrary, saying, 'twas not the part of a prudent Man to run into dangers, and that he had known much hurt happen to such Spectators, besides, 'twas no new show, but might be seen almost as often as the Galleys arrived at that City But this did not hinder Don Rafaels' going thither, and with him both the disguised Ladies, being come to the Port, they saw many naked Swords, and several Persons fight, without lighting from their Mules, they drew near, and could discover the faces of the Combatants, by the shining of the Sun, which was not yet set.  
Many People of the City got together there, and many came out of the Galleys in Boats, to help their Fellows, not heeding the prohibition and threats of the Captain, who finding that his words were to no purpose, he turned the head of the Galley, discharged a great Gun towards them, but without Ball, a sign, that if they did not leave off and separate, of another, which would follow, charged with a Bullet.  
Whilst Don Rafael stood looking upon this bloody skirmish, he took particular notice of one in the Galleys, who behaved himself more bravely, than any of his Companions, he seemed two and twenty Years old, or thereabouts, he was clothed in green, wearing a Hat of the same colour, and a Diamond Hatband: The dexterity which he used in fight, and the remarkableness of his Habit, drew upon him the Eyes of all.  
Those of Theodoro and Leonora, were so fixed upon him, that both of them cried out at once, Woe is me! either I have no eyes, or he in the green, is Marc-Antonio: Saying this, with great agility, they leaped upon the Ground, and with Sword and Dagger, thrust into the midst of the Combatants, and placed theirselves one on the right hand, and the other on the left of Marc-Antonio, for it was he that was in green. Doubt not Signior Marc-Antonio, take Courage, said Leonora, for you have one by your side, who will lay down his Life to defend yours.  
Who doubts of that, replied Theodoro, since I am here.  
Don Rafael, who had seen and heard what his Sister and Leonora had done and spoke, followed them, and joined himself to them.  
Marc-Antonio being wholly taken up in defending himself, and offending his Enemies, minded not what they said, fight still, and giving admirable proofs of his Valour.  
But they who came out of the City, increasing every moment, and charging those of the Galleys, forced them to retire, and even throw theirselves into the Sea, Marc-Antonio retired also, unwilling and slowly, and by his side the new Bradamante and Marfisa.  
In this exigent, behold there arrived a Catalonian Gentleman of the famous Family of Cardona, mounted upon a stately Horse, who placing himself betwixt the two little Armies, made those of the City retire, out of respect they bore him, but in their retreat they threw stones at those of the Galleys, and it was Marc-antonios' ill fortune to be hit by one of them under the left temple, with such force, that it made him fall into the water, which was as high as his knees.  
Don Rafael was a little withdrawn to shun the stones which flew like Hail about him, and designing to secure his Soul, his Sister, and his pretended Brother, he stopped before the Catalonian Gentleman, who said to him, Stand, Sir, by me, I will secure you from the fury of the populace.  
Good Sir, replied Don Rafael, let me pass, for I perceive some there in great danger, who are most dear to me.  
The Gentleman let him go, but before he could get thither, Marc-Antonio and Leonora, were put into the Boat of the Captain's Galley, for she would not part from him. And Theodoro designing to embark with them, whether it was by reason of his weariness, or by the grief he felt to see Marc-Antonio wounded, or because he saw his mortal Enemy with him, he had not strength enouf to get into the Boat, but in attempting it, had fainted, and fallen backwards into the water, if he had not been presently assisted by his Brother, who was as much grieved as Theodoro, that Leonora was with Marc-Antonio.  
The Catalonian Cavalier taking affection to the noble Presence of Don Rafael and his Sister, whom he took for a Man, called them from the shore, and desired them to go with him: And they being forced by necessity and fear, lest the Mob, which was not yet pacified, should return and assault them, accepted his courteous invitation, who dismounting, and placing himself betwixt them, with his Sword naked in his hand, passed throw the Company, desiring them to return to their houses, which they did.  
Don Rafael looked all about to see Calvetto, but could not find him: For as soon as they had quitted their Mules, he led them to an Inn, where he used to lodge.  
The Catalonian Cavalier conducted them to his house, which was one of the noblest Palaces in that City: He enquired of Don Rafael, in what Galley he came, he answered in none, but by Land, and that he just arrived at the beginning of that Fray, and that the Gentleman, who was wounded, was his intimate Friend, and desired him, that he might be brought into the City, wounded, as he was, for his Content and Life, depended upon Marc-antonios' recovery.  
I will do it, answered the Gentleman, and I am sure, the Captain General will not deny my request, for he is a courteous Gentleman, and my Kinsman, this said, he went thither presently, and found Marc-Antonio under the Surgeous hand, who was dressing his Wound, which was very dangerous, and obtained leave to have him to his house, and being carried into a Boat, and with him Leonora, who followed him, as the Pole of her hopes, they landed him, and the Gentleman, in a Chair which he caused to be ready, made him be carried to his house.  
In the mean time, Don Rafael sent to inquire after Calvetto, who was found in the Inn very much concerned what was become of his Masters, but when he understood they had received no hurt, he went cheerfully to them, when he saw coming into the Palace, the Catalonian Gentleman, Marc-Antonio, and Leonora, both which, as also Don Rafael and his Sister, were therein magnificently lodged, and splendidly regaled.  
The Gentleman sent presently for a Surgeon, one of the most expert of that City, to dress Marc-Antonio again, but he refused to do any thing till the next Day, saying, That the Surgeons of the Army and the Fleet, who had great Experience in their Art, by the many wounded that passed throw their hands every Day, asserted, that the first Plaster was not to be removed the same Day; all that he did, was to order them to put him to Bed in a good Chamber, and leave him to rest.  
In that instant, arrived the Surgeon of the Galleys, and gave an account to the other of the Wound, and what he had applied to it, as also the danger wherein the wounded Person was.  
This assured the City Surgeon, that Marc-Antonio had been well treated, and he exaggerated the danger of his Wound.  
Leonora and Theodoro, heard these words, with no less grief than if it had been the sentence pronouncing their Deaths.  
Nevertheless, Leonora resolved to do that, which she thought necessary to save her Honour, and as soon as the two Surgeons were gone, she entered Marc Antonio's Chamber, and in the presence of the Master of the House, Don Rafael, Theodoro, and divers other Persons, she went to the Beds-head, and taking him by the Hand, spoke thus:  
You are not in a Condition, Signior Marc-Antonio, to hearken to many words, I therefore will use but few, which if they do not conduce to the health of your Body, yet they may to that of your Soul. Pray, Sir, tell me, whether you will give me leave to speak, and will be attentive, for I, who from the first moment I knew you, have made it my whole business to please you, in this hour, which I fear is your last, would not be troublesome.  
Marc-Antonio hearing these words, opened his eyes, and fixed them upon Leonora's face, thinking he knew her, both by her voice and countenance, with a faint and weak voice, answered, say, what you please, Sir, for I am not yet in so low a condition, but I can hear you, neither is that voice so disagreeable, as to afford me any molestation.  
Theodoro stood in great expectation, and every word Leonora said, pierced his heart like a sharp Arrow, as it did also Don Rafaels', who stood listening with equal attention.  
Then Leonora thus proceeded. If the Wound which you received on your head, or to speak better, which wounded my Soul, hath not bereaved you, Signior Marc-Antonio, of the memory of her, whom not long since, you was pleased to style your Glory, and your Heaven upon Earth, you may call to mind Leonora, and the Promise and Oath you gave her, and confirmed with a writing subscribed with your own Hand, and if you have not forgot the Quality of her Parents, the Integrity of her Honour, and Obligations she has laid upon you, by her readiness to comply with your Desires, you would easily know, although I am in a Habit different from what I usually wear, and in which you have lately seen me, that I am Leonora, who doubting, or rather fearing, lest some new accident might take from me that, to which I have so just a Title, immediately upon knowledge that you were gone from your House, not valuing any inconveniences or difficulties, resolved to follow you in this disguise, and to search all the World over, till I had found you, and you ought not to wonder at it, if ever you felt the force of true Love, or the fury and rage of a deceived and neglected Woman.  
In this search I have endured many troubles, which now I esteem pleasant, because I see you again, but that pleasure is imbittered by finding you in this Condition, if it shall please God to call you to a better Life, if you, before your departure, will do what becomes you and me, and what you are obliged to do, I shall esteem myself the most contented and happy Woman in the World: And I promise you, that after your Death, I will lead such a Life, that it shall not be long before I follow you.  
Therefore, I pray you, for the Love of God, to whom all my Desires and Intentions are directed, and by what you own to your Quality, and to me, to whom you are more obliged than to any Person in the World, that now, and in this place, you would accept of me for your lawful Wife, and not tarry, till you are forced to it by Law.  
Here ended Leonora, and all those in the Chamber having attended to her, with great silence kept it still, expecting Marc-antonios' answer, which was to this purpose.  
I do not deny, Madam, that I know you, your Voice and your Face will not permit it, neither do I deny the Obligations I have to you, nor that your Honesty is unblemished, and you Family Noble, and of great worth, neither do I esteem you less, that you are come to search me in a Habit so different, from which you use to wear: I admire you for it, and shall as long as I live. And since my ill Fortune has reduced me to this Condition, and I am, as you said, near my Death, in this time I ought to declare the Truth, and I will tell you one, which though at present it may not be pleasant to you, it may be another Day.  
I confess, fair Leonora, I have loved you, and was beloved by you, I farther acknowledge, I gave you a Promise in writing, and subscribed with my Hand, and all this rather to please you, than myself, for many Days before, I had given my Soul to one of the same place, named Theodosia, whom I believe you know, Daughter of Parents not less illustrious than yours, and if I gave you a Note subscribed with my Hand, to her I gave the Hand itself, confirming it with such Deeds and Testimonies, that greater could not be. I am so far engaged, that I can marry no other Woman in the World.  
The Love which I had to you, was only to pass away the time, and I had from you some superficial Kindnesses, which did you no hurt then, nor can now: From Theodosia, I had the Fruits which she could give me, and I desire, under the Obligation to be her Husband, as I own myself now to be, and if I left you both in the same time, you in doubt, and her in fear, she had lost her Honour, it must be attributed to the sickleness and inconstancy of Youth, not considering what I had done, but hurried on by other thoughts, I imagined I might without any scruple go into Italy, to see which, I had a great desire, and spend there a few of my youthful Years, after which, I designed to return, and inquire what was become of you, and of Theodosia, my lawful and true Wife.  
But the just Heaven has permitted this Accident to fall upon me, without doubt, being displeased at my Infidelity, and that I might confess this Truth, and this my Error, and pay in this Life what I own, and that you should remain undeceived, and free to dispose of yourself as you please. And when Theodosia shall know I am dead, she may likewise know from you and the rest of the by standers, that dying, I fulfilled the Promise which I made her in my Life.  
But in the little time which I have to live, if I can do you any service, Signora Leonora, I pray you, freely command me, for I will do any thing for you, except being your Husband, which I cannot possibly be. Whilst Marc-Antonio spoke these words, he leaned his Head upon his Hand, and having ended them, his Hand fell away, and he fainted.  
Then Don Rafael run to him, and closely embraced him, saying, Courage, dear Sir, here is your Friend, and your Brother, as you have pleased to declare him. Do you not know Don Rafael, your Companion, and who will be a true Witness of your Will, and of the Favour, and Honour you have done him, in accepting Theodosia for your Wife.  
Marc-Antonio recovered his Senses, and immediately knew Don Rafael, whom he embraced and kissed, saying, Signior, and dear Brother, now I may say, that the great Content I perceive in seeing you, must forerun some great Misfortune, but nevertheless, I shall not esteem it so, let what can arrive, comparing it with this Felicity.  
I will yet make you more happy, replied Don Rafael, and present unto you your Wife, and looking for Theodosia, found her weeping, and dubious betwixt the two extremes of Grief and Joy, for what she saw and heard: Her Brother took her by the Hand, and she let herself be easily led, where she had a mind, to Marc Antonio, who knew her, and embraced her, and with her, the other two fell a weeping most bitterly.  
All that were in the Room stood amazed at so strange an Accident, and gazed upon one another without speaking a w●rd, expecting what the end of these things would be.  
But the unfortunate Leonora, who had seen what passed betwixt Marc-Antonio, and him whom she took to be Don Rafaels' Brother, enclosed in his Arms, whom she always believed, would have been her Husband, finding her designs disappointed, and her hopes vanished, stole privately out of the Room, not being taken notice of by the Company, who were all attentive upon the wounded Person kissing and embracing the Page, and went into the Street in great despair, with intention to go far enouf off, and run about the World, or like a Mole hid herself in some place where she should be no more seen; she was no sooner out of the House, but Don Rafael missed her, and as if he had lost his Soul, he enquired of every body if they saw her, but could get no News which way she was gone.  
Thence without delay, he went to look after her at the Vetturins Lodgings to know whether she had hired a Mule for her Journey. But not hearing of her there, he ran about the Streets like a Madman in search of her; then thinking she might return to the Galleys, he went towards the shore, and before he got thither, he heard one calling for the Galleys Boat, and knew that it was the voice of the fair Leonora, who perceiving some body coming after, and fearing some affront, laid Hands on her Sword, and stood still till Don Rafael came up to her, whom she knew at the first sight, and was much displeased to be found by him, especially in a place so remote and lonely, for she discovered before, by more signs than one, that Don Rafael loved her passionately, and she should have thought herself happy, if Marc-antonios' Love had been as great and true.  
How can I express, what Don Rafael said to Leonora? In the declaration of his Love, he used so great, and so good Arguments, that I dare not adventure to describe them, but since I must not pass them over in silence, amongst the rest these were some.  
If my bad fortune should have taken from me, oh most beautiful Leonora, the Courage to discover to you the secrets of my Heart: The most sincere Affection, which ever did, or can spring from a Breast inflamed with Love, had been buried in perpetual oblivion.  
But not to injure so just a design, let the event be what it will, I am resolved, Madam, to let you know, if you please to hear me with patience, that Marc-Antonio has no other advantage over me, than that of being more beloved by you: My Family is equally Noble, and his Riches do not exceed mine, as to the endowments of Nature, I ought not to praise myself, especially if they are not valued in your Eyes.  
All this I say to you, most afflicted Lady, that you would lay hold of the remedy which kind Fortune offers you, in this your extreme Disgrace. You are convinced now, that Marc-Antonio cannot be yours; for Heaven has given him to my Sister, and the same Heaven, which has taken him from you, will recompense you by bestowing me upon you.  
And I do not desire a greater Happiness in this World, than that of being your Husband: Consider, good Success stands knocking at the Door, desiring to be admitted in the place of ill Fortune, which has hitherto attended you.  
Do not imagine, that I should despise you, or upbraid you after our marriage, for the liberty you took in following Marc-Antonio, do not think, that I could value you more, if that had never happened, for in the same moment that you shall be my Wife: I will forget for ever, as I do now, whatever I knew of that Affair: Knowing well, that the same power, which forces me to love you, constrained you to do what you did, and so where there is no Crime, there is no need of an Excuse.  
To all this, and more, which Don Rafael spoke, she answered not one word, but only from time to time, breathed out deep fighs from the bottom of her Heart.  
Don Rafael took the boldness to take her by the Hand, and she had not the Courage to hinder him. Make an end, continued he, only Lady of my Thoughts, kissing her Hands a thousand times; conclude to be mine, in the presence of this Starry Heaven, which sees us, and this calm Sea, which hears us, and of those wet Sands, which sustain us: Give me your Promise, which without doubt, will make as much for your Honour, as my Content. I repeat to you again, that I am a Gentleman, as you know, rich enouf, and that I love you, which you ought to value more than my Estate, and that instead of being alone, and in a Habit much prejudicial to your Honour, and at a great distance from your Father's House, and from your Relations, without any body to wait upon you, and provide for you, what you stand in need of. And without hopes of obtaining what you desire, whereas if you accept of my proffer, you may return home dressed in  befitting your Sex and Quality, accompanied with as good a Husband, as him you made choice of, rich, contented, esteemed, and waited upon, honoured and praised by all, if this be true, I can see no reason, why you should not lay hold of this good change of Fortune.  
Finish, I pray you, to exalt me from the ground of my misery, to the Heaven of deserving you, in so doing, you'll make me happy, and yourself also, and you will observe the Laws of Courtesy and Gratitude, showing yourself at the same time both grateful and discreet.  
Since then, replied the doubting Leonora, that the Heavens have so ordained, and it is not in my power, nor in any living Creatures to resist what they determine, I am content, Sir, to comply with your Will, and Heaven knows, with what blushing I am brought to it, not that I am ignorant, how much I gain by obeying you, but because I fear, that conforming myself to your desires, you will look upon me with other Eyes, than those with which you have hitherto beheld me.  
But come what will of it, be it as it pleases God, I am certain, to be no loser in being Wife to Don Rafael of Villavicenco, and with this Title alone, I shall live most contented, and if the Conditions, which you shall observe in me, after that I am yours, shall make you have an esteem for me, I shall be thankful to Heaven for having conducted me throw so many revolutions, to the repose of being yours.  
To assure me, that you will be mine, give me, Sir, your Hand, and accept of mine, in token that I am yours for ever; I call to Witness this Contract, the same you did before, the Heavens, the Sea, and these Sands, and this silence, broken, and interrupted with my sighs and your prayers.  
This being said, and having interchangeably given one another's Hands, she permitted him to embrace and salute her, celebrating their nocturnal Marriage, only with Tears, which pleasure, notwithstanding their late sadness, caused to flow from their Eyes.  
Thence they returned to the Catalonian Gentlemen house, who was in great perplexity for their absence, and more was the trouble of Marc-Antonio and Theodosia, who had already been married by the Parish Priest, for fearing some new Accident might deprive her of the good she had found: The Gentleman was solicitous to send for the Priest to set her mind at rest, and exempted from fear of any other traverses. So that when Don Rafael and Leonora entered, and he told them his Success, the Master of the house perceived his Joy doubled, and as great as if they had been his nearest Relations, for 'tis natural to the Catalonian Nobility, to show theirselves Favourers and Friends to Strangers.  
The Priest who was there present, ordered Leonora and Theodosia to change their Garments, and put on such as were proper for them, which was suddenly done; the Gentleman furnishing them with two rich Gowns of his Wives, which was a Lady of great Repute, of the Family of the Granoglecies, Ancient and Famous in that Kingdom.  
The Surgeon was informed, that the wounded Person talked too much, and had Company always with him, he therefore ordered, that he should be left alone, and refrain speaking, which would do him much hurt.  
But it did not prove so, for the Joy he conceived at the sight of Theodosia, revived his Spirits, and conduced much to his recovery, for he slept well that Night, and the next Morning, the Surgeon found him passed danger: After fourteen Days he quitted his Bed, so well recovered, that he might safely undertake his Vovage.  
Whilst Marc-Antonio was ill, he made a Vow to go a foot in Pilgrimage to St. James of Galicia, whether Don Rafael, Theodosia, and Leonora resolved to accompany him, and also the Vetturin, a thing very unusual in Men of his employment, but the goodness and liberality which he had experienced in Rafael, obliged him not to leave him, till he had delivered him safe at his Father's house. And finding that Pilgrimage was to be made on foot, sent back his Mules to Salamanca.  
The Day of their departure being come, and they having accommodated theirselves with Pilgrim's Habits, and all other necessaries, took their leave of Don Sancho de Cardona, to whom they promised for ever to preserve the memory of his Kindness, having no other means to recompense him.  
Don Sancho embraced them all, saying, That to do such offices to all that he knew, or believed to be Castiglian Gentlemen, was natural to him, and did not deserve those thanks.  
Their embraces were reiterated with much Joy mingled with some Sadness: They departed, and travelled easy Journeys, having respect to the tenderness of the two new Pilgrims, and so in three Days they reached Montferat, and after having stayed as many Days there for their Devotion, they continued their Voyage, and arrived without any disturbance to St. James'. After paying their Vows with the greatest Devotion, they resolved not to quit their Pilgrim's Habits, till they were got home, to which they drew near by little and little, weary, but content, when they found theirselves within sight of Leonora's Town; and from the top of the next Hill they discovered the place of Theodosia's abode, being distant one from the other, but eight Miles, than they could not keep in their Tears, which the Joy to see them again, drew from their Eyes, and and especially from the Eyes of the two new Brides, in whom that sight renewed the memory of their passed Successes, from the same Hill there was seen an indifferent large Vale, betwixt the two forementioned places, and in that under the shade of an Olive. Tree, they beheld a goodly old Gentleman mounted upon a stately Horse, with a white Shield in his left Hand, and a Lance in his right; whilst they beheld him with attention, they perceived two others in the like Arms, who coming up to one another, conferred a little, and then separated, and spurring their Horses, with their Lances resting upon their Saddles-bow, ran furiously one against the other, with so much force and dexterity, assaulting each other, and defending theirselves with their Shields, that they showed they were not Novices in that Exercise. The third Cavalier stood looking upon them without quitting his Post.  
But Don Rafael and Marc-Antonio, being not willing to be idle Spectators of such a Combat, ran down the Hill with haste, and after them the two Brides, and soon came to the Combatants, just as they were beginning to handle one another very ill, it chanced that one of their Hats, and the Helmet which was under it fell off, and Don Rafael knew him to be his Father, and the other turning his Head, and lifting up his Helmet, was also known by Marc-Antonio to be his, Leonora, who wishfully beheld the other, who did not fight, knew him to be her Father, the sight of whom put all four into amazement, and almost besides their Senses.  
But the first astonishment giving way to reason, the two Brothers without delay, cast theirselves betwixt the Combatants, crying aloud, Hold Gentlemen, hold, for we that beg this of you, are your Sons, I am Marc Antonio, I am he upon whose account, as I believe, your Reverend old Age puts itself to this dangerous Combat. Pacify, I pray you, the Fury which has put these Arms into your hands, throw away your Lances, put off your Armour, or turn it against some other Enemy, than him you have before you, who is your Brother.  
Don Rafael used to his Father the like Arguments, hearing which, the two Gentlemen stood still, looking upon those, who spoke, and turning their heads, they perceived, that Don Sancho was lighted, and embracing him, whom they thought was a Pilgrim.  
So Leonora being known by her Father, prayed him to make Peace betwixt the two Enemies, telling in short, that Don Rafael was her Husband, and Marc-Antonio, Theodosia's.  
Her Father hearing this, renewed his embraces, than left her, to go and pacify the Enemies, but there was no need, for they had already known their Sons, and being dismounted, held them in their Arms, the Fathers and the Sons shedding abundance of Tears, which proceeded from great Love, and unutterable Content.  
The Fathers were reconciled, and looking a new upon their Sons, could not tell what to think, or say, they only touched them, to try, whether they were Bodies or Fantomes, as their unforeseen arrival gave them reason to suspect, and being convinced that they were their Sons, they repeated their Embraces and Tears.  
In this interim, they beheld a great Company of armed Men, both Horse and Foot, coming up the Valley in defence of their respective Landlords, but when they drew nearer, and perceived them embracing those Pilgrims with Tears in their Eyes, they dismounted, and stood still, gazing and wondering, till Don Sancho acquainted them in few words, what he had heard from Leonora.  
Then all of them saluted the Pilgrims with so much Joy and Content, which is impossible to be expressed.  
Don Rafael repeated in few words the successes of his Love, and that he was married to Leonora, and his Sister to Marc Antonio, news, which caused new Joy in them all.  
Then out of the Horses which the Countrymen came on, they chose five to carry the Pilgrims, and agreed to go with Marc Antonio, for his Father proffered them his Palace to keep the Wedding in.  
And by the way, Don Rafael and Marc-Antonio, understood the reason of the quarrel betwixt their Parents, that Leonora's, and Theodosia's Fathers, had challenged the Father of Marc-Antonio, being informed that his Son had deceived and dishonoured their Daughters; and that they two being come to the place appointed, and finding him whom they had defied alone, would not take any advantage against him, but fight him Man to Man, like brave Cavaliers.  
The Pilgrims returned thanks to God, that they arrived so opportunely, to hinder the ill Consequents that might have happened.  
The Day after their arrival, Marc Antonio's Father celebrated the Marriage of his Son with Theodosia, with great Magnificence and Splendour, as also that of Don Rafael and Leonora, who lived together happy and content, all the time of their Lives, leaving in their Children an illustrious Descendance, who are living now in the forementioned places of Andolusia.  
The reason why their Names are concealed, is to preserve the Reputation of the two RIVAL LADIES, whom perhaps some malignant and foolish, scrupulous Tongues may upbraid with too much levity, and the changing their Garments.  
But I would desire these not to blame them, but first consider, whether they had at any time been struck with the Arrows of Love, whose inevitable force exalts the sensual appetite above reason.  
Don Rafael gave his Mule to Calvetto, and the rest made him considerable Presents: And the Poets, who were then in vogue, exercised their Pens in describing the Beauty and Successes of these two undaunted and virtuous Ladies, who are the principal Subject of this wonderful Novel.  
The End of the Fifth Novel.   

The Salamanca Doctor, Or the Man of GLASS.  
NOVEL VI  
TWO Gentlemen, Students, walking upon the Banks of the River Tormes, spied a Country boy about Twelve years old, fast asleep under a Tree, and sent one of their Servants to wake him; when he was wakened, they asked him of what Country he was, and why he slept in such a desert place? The Boy rubbing his Eyes, answered, that he had forgot the name of his Country, and that he was going to Salamanca to get a Master, and he would desire no other Salary for all the Service he could do, but the convenience of studying.  
They asked him whether he could read?  
That I can said he, and write too.  
It is not then for want of memory, replied one of the Gentlemen, that you cannot retain the name of your Country.  
Let the cause be what it will, replied the wakened Boy, no body shall know the name of it, nor of my Parents, till I have honoured it and them: And how dost thou think, demanded the other Gentleman, to honour them? By my Studies and my Learning, when I shall become famous. I have heard that Bishops are made out of Men.  
This answer prevailed with the Gentlemen to retain him in their Service, and to supply him with conveniences to study, as a Servitor in that University.  
The Boy said his name was Tomaso Rodascia, by that, and his , his Masters judged him to be the Son of some poor Country man.  
A few days after they put him in black; and in a little time he showed himself to be Master of a rare Wit, and a good Judgement, and made great progress in his Studies, and served his Masters with so much faithfulness and diligence, that although he did not neglect his Studies one moment, yet he seemed to employ himself in nothing else but in serving them.  
And as good serving gets the love of Masters, they treated him as if he was their Companion.  
In eight years whilst he stayed with them, the fineness and dexterity of his Wit made him famous in that University, and known and esteemed by all.  
His principal study was Law, but he was best versed in Humanity. He had so happy a memory, that 'twas esteemed marvellous, and so good a Judgement, that 'twas hard to guests in which of the two he most excelled.  
The time was come that his Masters had finished their course of Studies and Exercises, and were to return to one of the most famous Cities of Andolusia, the place of their abode, they took Tomaso with them, and entertained him there some days, but the desire to proceed in his Studies, increased upon him daily, and made him weary of the Country; he therefore applied himself to his Masters, and desired their leave to return to Salamanca, for that place has something bewitching in it, which forces all those who have ever tasted of its pleasures, always to retain a hankering after it and a desire to return.  
They, who were courteous and liberal Gentlemen, easily granted his request, and gave him wherewith to defray his charges for three years.  
After having humbly thanked them, he parted from Malaga, for that was their Country, and in going by Zambra, in the Road that leads to Antechira, he met with a Gentleman on Horseback, richly habited in travelling Apparel, attended by two Servants, he joined with them, and understood they were going to the same place, they entered into discourse about many subjects; in a few words Tomaso made evident the quickness of his Wit, and the Cavalier by his courteous behaviour, showed that his Education was more than ordinary, he told Tomoso, that he was a Captain of Foot, in Service of his Catholic Majesty, and that his Ensign was raising Recruits in Salamanca, and fell into the praise of a Soldier's life; he represented to Tomaso the beauty of Naples, the pleasantness of Palermo, the abundance of Milan, the banks of Lombary, and the good treatment in the Hosteries, and the sweet sound of those musical Words, Make our Dinner ready, Host, bring in the Macaroons, the Pullet's, and the fat Pigeons.  
In a Word, he exalted to the skies the free Life of a Soldier, especially in Italy; but he spoke not a word of the great Cold the Sentinels endured, of the Danger of Assaults, of the Terror of Battles, of the Hunger which is suffered in Sieges, of being Blown into the Air by Mines and other such like Inconveniencies, which some will have only to be Accidents of War, whereas the chief stress of it lies therein.  
In conclusion, the Captain told him so many fair Stories, that Tomasos resolution began to stagger, and he was inclined to try that Life, which confines so much upon Death.  
The Captain, whose Name was Don Diego de Valdivia, being satisfied with the good presence, wit and dexterity of Tomaso, told him, if his Curiosity invited him to go to Italy, he should eat at his Table, and have a Colours, for his Ensign was shortly to be removed.  
Tomaso wanted no spurring to accept of this Invitation, making this short discourse to himself: It will be brave for me to see Italy and Flanders, and other Countries, for long Voyages make Men wise, and therein I may employ three or four Years at the most, which with the few that I have, will not be so many, as to hinder my Studies. So as if all things would succeed according as he wished, he told the Captain, that he was willing to go with him into Italy, upon Condition, that he should not be listed, and under an Obligation to serve under his Colours. And although the Captain told him, it mattered not whether he was enrolled, or not, for without that he should receive pay, and subsistence Money, as the other Soldiers, and besides that, he would give him leave to be absent as often, and as long as he desired.  
That would be against my Conscience, as well as yours, replied Tomaso, but I will go under no Obligation.  
Well, said the Captain, be it as you please, at least, till we come thither, we will be Comrades.  
That Night they came to Antechira, and in few Days, making great Journeys, to the place where the Recruits were levying, which now began to march towards Cartagena: There Tomaso took notice of the authority of the Commissaries, the incommodity of some Captains, the Care of the Foragers, the Industry of Paymasters, the Complaints of the People, the Buying of Billets, and the Insolency of the new raised Soldiers, the Contention of the Innkeepers, and the Quarter-Masters taking up more Quarters than there was need, and finally, the necessity of doing all these things which he approved not.  
He clothed himself in Popinjay, having abandoned the Habit of a Student, he reduced all his Books to one Office of our Lady, and to one Garcilasso without a Comment, which he carried in his Snap-sack: They came to Cartagena sooner than he desired, because the Life of lodging in Inns, is various, and there occurs every Day something new and delightful.  
They embarked upon four Galleys of Naples, and here Tomaso remarked the strange Life of those that inhabit those Marine Houses, where for the most part, the Punaizes torment them, the Slaves rob the Passengers, the Seamen are troublesome and dogged, the Rats eat every thing, the roaring of the Sea, the rolling of the Ship hinder sleep, the Fright in Storms and Tempests, especially in the Gulf of Lions, where they were beaten by two contrary Winds, one forced them to Corsica, and the other to Thoulon.  
In fine, after having passed many Nights without sleep, all wet and drowsy, they arrived at the most beautiful City of Genoa, there the Captain landed, and after having visited one Church, he had his Company to an Hostery, where they drowned and forgot all their passed troubles, there they experienced the delightfulness of the Trobiano, and the excellency of Monte-Fiascone, the briskness of Asprino, the generosity of the three Greek Wines of Candia, Soma and Ischia, the swavity of Signora, Vernaccia, and the rusticity of Contola, the delicateness of Albano, the pleasantness of Corfo, the strength of Castiglione or Lagryme Christi, the goodness of the Wine of Orvietto, the superexcellency of Mont-Alcino, and the majesty of Monte Pulciano the King of Wines, the greatness of the Wine of the five Vineyards, the vinosity of Magnaguerra, the mediocrity or humility of the Latins, without mentioning with these Potentates, the ignoble Romanesco; after the Host had mustered up so many different Wines, and more, he offered to draw them neat, and without sofistication, not like showing them things painted in the Map of the World, but the true Wines, Madrigale, Coca, Alaescio, Eschivia, Alanis, Cazaglia, Guadalcanale and Membriglia, without forgetting Ribadavia and Scarga Maria.  
In fine, the Host named them more Wines, and brought them more sorts, than Bacchus has in his Cellars: In fine, there had been a muster of all the best Wines in the World, if the Wine of Beaun in Burgundy and Tocay in Hungary had been in the Role.  
Here Tomaso wondered at the yellow Hair of the Genoese, at the genteel and gay disposition of the Men, at the admirable beauty of the City, and of its magnificent Palaces and Houses, which seem in those Rocks, so many Diamonds set in Gold.  
The next Day all that were to go to Piedmont, set forward directly, but Tomaso resolved to go by Land to Rome and Naples, and to return by Loretto and Venice to Milan, and so to Piedmont, where Don Diego de Valdivia, said he should find him, if he was not marched to Flanders, as the report was they should shortly do.  
After two Days stay, Tomaso took leave of the Captain, and in five more he got to Florence, having in his way seen Lucca, a little City, but pleasant, and where the Spaniards are the most welcome, and the best treated of any City in Italy: He was very much pleased with Florence, as well for its pleasant Situation, its Politeness, its sumptuous Palaces and Buildings, its River and beautiful Streets.  
He stayed there four Days, and afterwards went to Rome, the Queen of Cities, and the Lady of the World: He saw its Churches, he worshipped its Relics, and admired its Greatness. As a Lion may be known by his Claw, so he computed the Force of old Rome, by its broken Marbles, half, and whole Statues, ruin'd Arches, and almost destroyed Baths or Thermae, from its magnific Porticos, its spacious Amfitheatres, its famous River always brimful, its infinite Relics of the Bodies of the Martyrs, who have been buried there, its Bridges, which seem to look one upon another, its Ways, whose only Names obscure those of all other Cities in the World: The Appian, Flamian and Julia, and the three other. Neither did he less admire the division of the Hills, the Celia, the Quirinale, the Vatican, and other four, which Names manifest the Greatness and Majesty of Rome. He also observed the Authority of the College of Cardinals, the Majesty of the Pope, the great variety of Nations and concourse of People there. He saw all, and considered it well to profit by it; he visited the seven Churches, confessed himself to a Penitentiary, kissed the Pope's Feet, he loaded himself with Agnus' and Beads, than he determined to proceed in his Journey. And because it was in a Season, when it gins to be unhealthy and dangerous for all, especially Strangers, who stay at Rome, or go by Land to Naples, he went thither by Sea.  
The Wonder, that seized in him in seeing Rome, was much increased in seeing this other City, in his Opinion, one of the best, not only of Europe, but of the World; thence he went to Sicily, he saw Palerma and Messina, whose Haven exceedingly pleased him, as also the Fertility and Plenty of the whole Island, which caused it not without reason, to be styled the Granary of Italy. In his way to Rome, he returned by Naples, and thence to Loretto, in that holy House he could not see the Walls, because they were all covered with Crutches, and the Sheets of dead Men, with Chains, Fetters and Handcuffs, and Busts of Wax, and Pictures representing innumerable favours, which had been received from God by those that dedicated them, the intercession of his most holy Mother, whose Image they would honour, and to give by testimony of its many Miracles, and to show their Devotion, had adorned her House with such Pictures.  
He saw the same Chamber wherein was made the most important Ambassade which ever was seen or known, by the Heavens, and the Angels, and all the blessed Citizens of that eternal City: Thence embarking at Ancona, he went to Venice, a City, whose equal had not been known in the World, if Columbus had never been born, but thanks to Heaven and him, and the famous Hernandes Cortes, who conquered the great Mexico, we have what may compare with it, as to its Situation.  
These two Cites have their Streets full of water, that of Europe being the Wonder of the old World, and that of America the admiration of the new.  
The Riches of Venice seemed to Tomaso infinite, the Government prudent, its Situation impregnable, the Plenty immense, the adjacent Country pleasant and fertile, in a word, whether you consider it altogether, or part by part, he thought it worthy of the great Estimation and Fame of it, which is spread all over the World, especially when he considered its famous Arsenal, where there are continually made Galleys, and innumerable other sorts of Vessels.  
The delights of Calisson were few, in respect of those our Curioso found in Venice, which so prevailed upon him, to make him almost forget his first Design. But after staying there a Month, he went to Ferrara, Parma and Placentia, and so to Milan, the Shop of Vulcan, and the Eyesore and Jealousy of France, in fine, a City, of whom it is said, that it can say, and do, its Greatness making it Magnificent, and the stateliness of its Domo and Hospital, and finally, the abundance of all things necessary to human Life; thence he went to Asti, and arrived there very opportunely, for the next Day after, that Tertia was to march towards Flanders, he was very kindly received by his Friend the Captain, and the rest of his acquaintance. They arrived at Flanders, and were quartered at Antwerp, a City not less to be admired, than those he had seen in Italy, he saw Ghent and Brussels, and he happened to be there when all over the Country they were making preparations for the Campaign. Having satisfied his desire of seeing the World, he resolved to return to Salamanca, and continue his Studies, and he put his Resolution presently in effect, to the great displeasure of the Captain his Comrade, who earnestly prayed him at his departure, that he would give him advise by a Letter of his health, of his getting safe to Salamanca, and of the success of his Voyage.  
He promised him to do so, than he returned throw France into Spain, without seeing the famous City of Paris, for all the Country was then in Arms.  
In fine, he arrived at Salamanca, and there he followed his Studies, till he proceeded Doctor in Laws.  
At that time there came to Salamanca a famous Courtisian, all the Birds came to her call, there was not a Sparrow, but had a mind to visit her, they told the Doctor, that the Lady had been in Italy and Flanders, and he also was prevailed upon to go and see whether he knew her, and in his visit she became enamoured of him, who had never gone to her house, had not he been forced to it by the solicitations of his Friends. In fine, she discovered her Love to him, and proffered him herself, and all her Estate, which was considerable.  
But he minding his Studies more than Love, gave her a flat denial.  
The Lady perceiving herself disdained and despised, and as she thought, hated, finding by ordinary means she could not conquer the Rock of Tomasos heart, she resolved to use other Inventions, which she believed would prove effectual.  
By the advice of a Morisco Woman, she made a Love-powder, and put it into Cidony of Quinces, gave it to the Doctor to eat, believing it would force him to love her, as if there were in Nature any simples or compositions, that could force a Man's free Will. The Latins call those, who give these Love-provoking Doses, Veneficae, that is, Poisoners, for what they give is Poison, as it has been experienced by many.  
In an ill hour did the Doctor take this Cidony, for 'twas no sooner down, but he began to beat with his feet, and drum with his hands, as if he had been distracted, and so he remained for several hours, after which time, he recovered, but he continued stupid and paralitic, that his Speech could scarce be understood, when he declared, that he was poisoned in preserved Quince, and who gave him it.  
The Justice being informed of this Fact, sent to arrest this ill Woman, but she knowing the success of her Cidony, was fled, and never appeared there more.  
The Doctor kept his Bed six Months, and consumed away, that he became a Skeleton, nothing but skin and bones, and all his Senses were disturbed. And although all possible Remedies were used, they prevailed no more, but only to cure his Body, but the infirmity of his Mind continued, he was in bodily health, but a Fool and a Madman, and he was troubled with the most strange and extravagant Madness that was ever known or heard of, he imagined himself to be Glass, and when any one came near him, he would cry out in a frightful manner, then with sensible words as if he was wise, he would entreat them not to come near him for fear of breaking him, for he was not like other Men, but from top to toe all Glass, there were many who to cure him of his imagination, not minding his cries and his prayers, embraced him, and telling him, that he might perceive he was not broke, as he fond imagined, but this had no more effect than to make the poor fool throw himself upon the ground and skreek out hideously, and fall into a swoon, wherein he lay four hours, and when he came to himself, he reiterated his prayers and entreaties, that they would not touch him or come near him, he desired them to speak to him at a distance, and ask him what questions they pleased, and he would give more prudent answers than he could before, because now he was a Man of Glass, which was a more subtle Metal, thorough which the Soul did operate more readily, and with more efficacy than thorough the Body, which was a terrestrious and heavy compound, some had a mind to try him, whether he spoke true, and asked many difficult questions, to which he answered ex tempore, with admirable acuteness of Wit, which caused admiration in all the learned Men of that University, and amongst the rest, the Professors of Fysic and Filosofy, seeing that in a subject, wherein there was such strange and extravagant Madness, as to think himself made of Glass, there should be so much wit, as to be capable to answer with acuteness and propriety, to all sorts of demands.  
He desired those about him to give something, wherein to put the fragil Vessel his Body, for if he put on a close Garment, he feared it would break; they provided him with a large Coat made of Beaver, and a wide Shirt, which he put on very cautiously and tenderly, as also about his middle a Girdle made of Cotton, and he would by no means wear Shoes, he ordered them to give him his Meat, without coming near him, in this manner, to fasten to the end of a long Staff an earthen Vessel, and to put therein what Fruits were in season, he would eat neither Flesh or Fish, he never drank but at a Spring or a River, and used his Hand instead of a Cup, he walked always in the middle of the Streets, looking upon the Houses, fearing lest some Tile should fall upon his head and break it, in the Summer he slept in the Field under no Canopy but the Heavens, in the Winter he took up his Quarters in some Inn, and covered himself up to the Throat in Straw, saying, it was the most convenient and secure Bed that a Man of Glass could wish, when it Thundered, he trembled, as if he had been full of Quicksilver, and always went into the Fields, never returning till the Tempest was over.  
His Friends kept him locked up for a great while, but perceiving that his folly continued, and that he hurt no body, they let him go whether he had a mind.  
So he walked about the City, and was a subject of marvel, and compassion of all that knew him.  
The Boys made a ring about him, and he kept them off with his stick, praying them to speak to him at a distanc, for fear of breaking him, for he was Glass, the most fragile of all Metals.  
But the Boys, who usually are troublesome and importunate, valued not his cries or his prayers, but followed him still, throwing Rags and Dirt upon him, and also Stones, crying out, they would try, whether, as he said, he was made of Glass or not.  
Then the poor Fool made such extravagant out-cries, moving madly up and down, that he caused the Men to reprove and beat away the Boys, that they might throw no more at him, and give him no more trouble.  
But one Day as the Boys were persecuting him, he turned towards them, saying, You obstinate Boys, What is it you would have with me? You are as troublesome as Flies, as nasty and as stinking as Punaizes, as rash as Fleas: Do you imagine, that I am the Monte Testaccio, a Hill in Rome made by broken earthen Pots, cast out of the City, that you throw so many Tiles and pieces of earthen Vessels at me?  
Many followed him to see him fret, and to hear his answers.  
Nay, at last, even the Boys by common Consent vexed him no more, but stood quiet to hear him talk.  
One Day as he was going thorough the Coat-sellers Street in Salamanca, one of the Trade said to him, Signior Doctor, in truth I am very sorry for your Disgrace, but I have so much business, that I cannot cry.  
He turning towards her with great Modesty made her an answer.  
The Husband of the Woman, understanding the cutting malice of the answer, said to him, Signior Doctor Glass, You have more of the malicious Man in you than of the Madman.  
I care not a farthing, replied he, if there is none of the Fool in me.  
Passing one Day by a Bawdy-house, and seeing many Harlots stand at the Door, Behold, said he, the Baggage of the Devil's Army, who quarter in the hostery of Hell.  
One asked him, What good Counsel or Comfort he should give to a Friend of his, whose Wife had left him, and run away with another.  
Bid him, said he, thank God, that his house is cleared of an Enemy.  
Ought he not then, said the other, look after her, and get her again?  
I would not advise him to that, replied the Doctor, for if he finds her, and takes her home, he'll have always by him a witness of his Dishonour.  
But if this should be, said the same Person, What must he do to make Peace with her?  
Give her, said the Doctor, whatever she shall demand, and let her command over all Things and Persons in the Family.  
A young Lad, said to him, Signior Doctor, I have a mind to run away from my Father, because he beats me often; to whom he answered.  
Do not so Child, for the stripes of a Parent honour their Children, those of a Beadle or a Hangman are only dishonourable.  
Standing one time at the Church Door, he saw an Artisan enter, who was one of those who value theirselves much upon their being old Christians, that is to say, whose Ancestors were not Jews or Moors, and after him another, who had not the same Reputation as the first, than the Doctor spoke with a loud voice, Stay Sunday, let Saturday pass.  
He said, Schoolmasters were happy, because they always converse with Angels, and that they would be more happy, if those Angels were not snotty.  
One asked him, what he thought of Bawds?  
He said, That they who were at a distance, were not Bawds, but those who were near.  
The fame of his Say spread throw all Castille, and came to the Ears of a Prince or Grandee of the Court, who had a mind to see him, and for that end, sent to a Friend of his in Salamanca, to convey him thither. This Gentleman meeting the Doctor, said to him, Signior Doctor, one of the Courtiers has a desire to see you, and would have you come to him.  
Pray, Sir, said he, make my excuses to the Gentleman, and tell him, I am not a Man for the Court, because I am not impudent, and can't flatter.  
However, the Gentleman prevailed to have him conducted thither, and 'twas in this manner.  
They put him into a Hamper with a great deal of Straw, and on the other side another Hamper or Pannier, wherein were Stones to counterpoise him, and near the top, Straw with some Glasses, telling him, they carried him as a Vessel of Glass.  
They brought him into Vagliadolid in the Night, and there dispanniered him in the house of the Grandee, who had sent for him, by whom he was kindly entertained.  
Signior Doctor Glass, said the Grandee to him, you are hearty welcome, how did your Journey agree with you, and how is your health?  
There is no way bad, answered the Doctor, when one's arrived to the end of it, except that which leads to the Gallows. And as to my health, 'tis so so, my Pulse is adjusted to my Brain.  
The Day after, perceiving many Falcons, and other Birds of Prey upon the Pens, he said, that Hawking was a sport for Princes and Grandees, but the pleasure outweighed the Profit two thousand to one, and for Hunting, he said, it was then most pleasant, when 'twas done with borrowed Dogs.  
The Gentleman was well pleased with the Madness of the Doctor, and let him go about the City under the Guard of a Servant of his, whose business it was to take care, that the Boys should not molest him, in six Days, not only all the Boys knew him, but also the whole Court, in every street, every corner, every turning, and almost every step, he answered to questions, which were asked him.  
Amongst the rest, a Student, said to him, are you not a Poet, Signior Doctor Glass, you must needs be one, you have so universal a Wit.  
I am not yet, replied the Doctor, neither so foolish, nor fortunate.  
I understand not, what you mean, said the Student, by your foolish and fortunate.  
I mean, replied Doctor Glass, I have not yet been such a fool as to have been a bad Poet, nor so happy as to deserve the Name of a good one.  
Another Student asked him, in what esteem he held Poets.  
In great, replied he, I hold the Art, but the Poets in none, and he added the reason of his saying so; amongst the infinite number of Poets, or at least, those that call themselves so, there are so few good, that they scarce make a Number, being next to none, and therefore he had no esteem for Poets, as if there were none.  
But he esteemed and reverenced the divine Art, because it comprehends all other Sciences, making use, and adorning itself with all of them, to polish and illuminate their marvellous Works, with which they filled the World with utility, delight, and admiration; he added I know well, in what great esteem a good Poet ought to be, and I remember those Verses of Ovid: 
Cura ducum fuerant olim Regumque Poetae,  
Praemiaque antiqui magna tulere viri,  
Sanctaque Majestas, & erat venerabile nomen  
Vatibus, & largae saepe dabuntur opes.  i e. Poets in times past were favoured by Kings and great Men, and richly rewarded, their Names were venerable, and they were enriched: Plato calls them the Interpreters of the Gods, and the same Ovid says of them. Est Deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo. i e. There is a God in us, by whom we are warmed and inspired; and in another place, At sacri vates, & Divum cura vocamur. i e. We Poets are holy, and the care and delight of the Gods. This must be understood of good Poets, but what can be said of ill ones, but that they are Buffoons, Chiarlatans', the ignorance, the arrogance, the scorn of the World.  
He added, you may easily know a Poet of this stamp, by his Preambles and his Invitations, when he has a mind to recite a Sonnet.  
Will your worships vouchsafe, says he, to hear a bit of a Sonnet which I made last Night upon a certain subject, and though 'tis worth but little, yet I cannot but believe there are some good strokes in it, than he mumbles something to himself, only moving his lips, and bending his eyebrows, putting in his hand, and searching his Pockets, he pulls out a hundred bits of dirty Paper, turns them over, at last pitches upon that belov'd one, with which he designs to regale his Auditors, and having commanded silence, gins with a sweet and melifluous voice, and in an affected ridiculous tone, and if those that hear it, either out of malice, or ignorance don't praise it, than he says, I believe, Gentlemen, you did not hear it, possibly, I did not pronounce it well, giving every word its true Accent; therefore it will not be amiss, that I recite it again, and that you, if you please, be more attentive, for in truth, if I have any judgement, the Song deserves it. Then he gins again with new shrugs, and pauses. And then, What pleasure is there to hear the censure of the Auditors? What shall I say of the yelping and barking of the modern Whelps against the great and grave Mastiffs of Antiquity? What shall I say of those who blame and carp at the illustrious and excellent Subjects, in which the true light of Poetry is refulgent, in which, when Men truly great for their entertainment, or to recreate theirselves, after the weight of business, show the divinity of their Wit, and the height of their Conceptions in spite of the ignorant vulgar, who love to judge what they understand not, and hate every thing which is beyond their Capacity.  
To another, who asked him, what was the reason, that for the most part Poets were poor.  
He answered, because they would be so, for it was in their power to be rich, if they would lay hold of the opportunity their Mistresses proffered them, who were all very rich, having their Hairs of Gold Wire, their Foreheads of polished Silver, their Eyes of Emerald, their Teeth of Ivory, their Lips of Coral, their Necks of transparent Crystal, their Tears liquid Pearls, and besides, they made the Earth they trod upon, though never so rocky and barren, to produce at the same instant Jessamins and Roses, that they breathed Amber, and Musc, and Civet, than which there could be no greater evidence of riches.  
These and several other things he said of bad Poets, but of good ones, he always spoke well, exalting them above the horns of the Moon.  
He saw one Day in the Church of St. Francis, some Pictures done by an ill hand, and thereupon, said, that good Painters imitated Nature, but bad ones spewed upon her.  
Once he came to a Booksellers Stall, and gingerly leaned upon it for fear of breaking his Glass Vessel, and said to him, I should like your Trade well enouf, were it not that you have one Fault.  
The Bookseller prayed him to tell what it was.  
'Tis only, replied he, that you are Cheats, and when you buy a privilege to print any Book at the Author's charge, instead of printing fifteen hundred, according to your promise, if it be a good Book, and vendible, you print three thousand, and when the Author believes that the Books which are sold are his, they are supernumerary ones, the price whereof gets into the Booksellers Pocket, and the rest are left upon the Author's hands.  
It happened that six Men were to be whipped throw the Street by the common Hangman, and when the Crier began to publish their Crimes, and count them, the Doctor spoke to the Company, saying, Get you gone, lest the Executioner begin with one of you; and when the Crier said, this is the last, the Doctor cried, now Boys you are secure.  
A Boy said to him, dear Brother Doctor, to morrow a Bawd is to be whipped.  
If you had said a Pimp, replied the Doctor, I should have thought, they would have whipped a Coach.  
One of those who carry People in Chairs, said to him, Signior Doctor, have you nothing to say to us.  
Nothing, said he, but that every one of your profession know more sins than a Confessor, but with this difference, he knows them to keep them secret, and you to publish them in Taverns.  
A Vetturin hearing this, for there was a ring of all sorts of people perpetually about him, listening to what he said; Doctor Glass, said he, you have nothing to say concerning us, for we are honest Men, and necessary in a Common wealth.  
To whom the Doctor replied, The honour of the Master shows the honour of a Servant, therefore take notice whom you serve, and you will perceive of what honour you are worthy. You Vetturins are the worst race of Men upon the Earth. I remember, that once, before I was a Man of Glass, I rid one days Journey upon a hired Mule, which had, for I counted them, no less than a hundred twenty and one Faults, and all destructive to the Rider; all Vetturins have a Spice of the Pimp, the Thief, and the Buffoon, if their Patrons, for so they call them, who hire their Mules, are Strangers, they rob them; if Scholars, they curse them; if Poor, they blasfeme; if Soldiers, they fear them.  
These, and Seamen, and Carters, and Mulattiers, have an extraordinary way of living, only proper themselves.  
Carters pass the greatest part of their Lives in the space of three els, for there is no more from the Yoke of the Mule, to the end of the Cart, half their time they sing, and swear the other half, and if it chances, that they are forced to lift a Wheel out of the mire, they rather make use of two Curses than three Mules.  
As for Seamen, they are a barbarous Generation, and know no other Language than to talk of the Sea or their Vessel, in a Calm they are diligent, in a Storm lazy, while the Tempest last, they command many, and obey but a few, they acknowledge no other God but their Ship, which is their Chamber, their sport and pleasure is to see the Passenger Sea-sick and vomiting.  
Mulattiers are a sort of Men who have given a Bill of Divorce to Sheets, are married to their Packsaddles, they are diligent and careful not to lose one Days Journey, and matter not if they lose their Souls, their Music is the Mortar, their Sauce hunger, their Matins is to look after their Beasts, and their Mass is to hear none.  
While the Doctor spoke thus, he stood before the Shop of an Apothecary, to whom he said, your Art would be very salutiferous, if you were not so great Friends to your Lamps.  
In what manner, said the Apothecary, are we so great Friends to our Lamps?  
I say so, answered the Doctor, because if at any time you want any sort of Oil, the Lamps, which are at hand, supply that defect, and besides this, you have another Fault, which is sufficient to ruin the Credit of the best Fysician in the World.  
The Apothecary asked him, What made him say so?  
He replied, That there were some Apothecaries, who rather than they will own they had not such an Ingredient, which the Fysician had prescribed, would instead of that, substitute another, which had, as they conceived, the same Virtue, although it was not so, and by this means it came to pass, that the Medicine well prescribed, and ill made up, had not the operation designed.  
He was asked, What esteem he had of Fysicians?  
He answered in the words of the Apocryfal Author. Ecclesiasticus Cap. 38. Honora medicum propter necessitatem, etenim creavit eum Altissimum, à deo enim est omnis medela, & à Rege accipiet donationem Disciplina Medici exaltabit caput ejus, & in conspectu magnatum collaudabitur, Altissimus de terra creavit Medicinam, & vir sapiens non abhorrebit illam. That is, Honour the Fysician, for the use you may have of him, for the most High hath created him, for all healing is of God, and he shall receive gifts from the King; The skill of the Fysician, shall lift up his head in the sight of great Men he shall be praised. The Lord hath created Medicine out of the Earth, and he that is wise will not abhor it.  
This he said about Fysic and good Fysicians, and the contrary of ill ones, for in a Commonwealth, there is nothing more prejudicial than bad Fysicians: The Judge may wrest Justice or delay it; the Advocate may entertain a bad Cause, and foment and encourage unjust Pretensions; the Merchant and the Usurer may drain our Estates; in fine, all Professions may do us some damage, but none but Fysicians can kill us with immunity. They alone can kill without using any other Sword than a Receipt, and their Errors cannot be detected, because they are covered under ground.  
I remember, when I was a Man of Flesh, and not of Glass, as I am at present, a sick Man had leave of his Fysician, to send for another, to be joined and consult with him, four Days after, the first Fysician chanced to pass by the Apothecary's Shop, to which the second had sent his Bill, he enquired of the Apothecary, how his Patient did, and whether the other Fysician had prescribed any new Purge.  
The Apothecary, answered, he had, and that the sick Man was to take it the next Day.  
The Fysician desired him to let him have a sight of the Bill, he read it over, and saw at the bottom of it, Sumat Diluculo, then turning to the Apothecary, he said, I like this prescription very well, as to all the Ingredients, except this Diluculo, which is cold in the fourth degree.  
These and such like Say, which he spoke of all Trades and Employments, brought about him an innumerable Company, which would never let him be quiet, continually ask questions, but they did him no other harm. Nevertheless, he could not defend himself against the Boys, if his keeper had not protected him.  
One asked him, What means he could use that he might not envy any body?  
He answered, Sleep, for whilst you are asleep, you are equal to him whom you would envy.  
One day seeing a Commissary going upon a Criminal cause, and many People following him, and two Sbirris. The Doctor enquired who he was, and when he was told, I'll lay a wager, says he, that that Judge carries Vipers in his Breast, Pistols in his Inkhorn, and Thunder in his Hands, to ruin and destroy what he can.  
I remember, that heretofore, I had a Friend, who in a Criminal Commission, gave a Sentence so exorbitant, that 'twas not at all proportionable to the Crime: I asked him, Why he had pronounced such a cruel Sentence, and done so manifest Injustice.  
He answered me, That he did it designedly, that he might appeal, and then there would be sufficient reason for the Lords of the Council to show their mercy in moderating that Sentence.  
I told him, he had done better, if he had spared the Criminal the costs of the Appeal, and the Judges the trouble.  
Amongst the throng, which always was pressing to hear him, there was one of his acquaintance in a Scholar's habit, who was by some of them called Signior Doctor, but he knowing that he was not yet so much as a Bachelor.  
Take heed, Sir, said he, that the Fathers of the redemption of Slaves, do not meet with your Title, and carry it away as a stray, which has no owner.  
His Friend, answered, be civil, Signior Doctor Glass, you know I am a Man of high and deep literature.  
You are indeed, replied the Doctor, a Tantalus in Letters, you cannot reach them, they are so far above you, nor dive into them, they are so deep.  
One day, as he was leaning upon a Tailor's Shop, and seeing him stand with his Hands in his Pockets, Without doubt, Master, said he to him, you are in the way of Salvation.  
How know you that, replied the Tailor?  
How know I that, replied he, because I perceive you have nothing to do, and are so long without necessity of Lying or Stealing. woe to that Tailor, added he, that can't Lie, and work on holidays and Sundays.  
He said, there was a wonderful difference betwixt Tailors and Shoemakers, for though the number of the first was almost infinite, none of them could never make a Suit fit at first, but were forced to alter it after 'twas brought home, a Shoemaker always made them fit, for if they were too little, they'd say they were more fashionable, or at the worst, two hours wearing would make them as easy as a Glove, if they were to big, it was done on purpose too, that they might last longer, and not bring the Gout by pinching the Feet.  
A young Man of a sharp and subtle Wit, whose employment was to write in one of the Offices of that Province, used to importune him with questions and demands, and also inform him what passed in the City.  
This Person told the Doctor, that there died in Prison one called Banco, that Night, who was condemned to be hanged.  
He replied, 'twas well done of him to die so soon, and not stay till the Hangman laid his Clutches upon him.  
Before the Church of St. Francis, there stood a Company of Genoese, and as the Doctor passed by them, one of them called him, saying, Signior Doctor Glass, pray come hither, and tell us a Story.  
I will not, said he, lest you should carry me to Genoa.  
He met a Mercer's Wife leading her Daughter, who was solemnly ugly, but dressed with many Pearls, and said to her: You have done well, Madam, to bestow so many Pearls upon your Daughter, 'tis possible, they may make her be threaded.  
Of those that sold Toys, wand'ring Pedlars, he said a thousand tart things, that they were a vagabond Generation, and their selling of Saints Pictures, brought Religion to be derided, that they put all those Holy representations into a Sack, and sit upon them at Dinner, for want of a Cushion, and 'twas a great shame, that the Government did not suppress them, and banish them out of the Kingdom.  
He met a Comedian dressed like a Prince, and said to him, I remember, I have seen you act a Jack-pudding with your Face all besmeared with Meal, and in a Leathern Coat, turned the wrong side outwards, and now at every step you make, you swear by your Honour, and the Faith of a Cavalier.  
Possibly he may be a Gentleman, replied one of the bystanders, for many Players are well born.  
That may be, replied the Doctor, but it must be a blot in their Escutcheons to turn Mountebanks and Jack-puddings.  
'Tis true of them, that they get their Bread by their sweat of their Brows, they are perpetually learning, perpetually like Gypsies, running from Town to Town; all their care and diligence, is employed to please others, and in that consists their gain, it cannot be said they are Cheats, for they expose their Wares to the sight and judgement of all; the Fatigues of the Authors, especially if they writ good Plays, is incredible, and the care of the Players, if they act well, is very great.  
He said moreover, that they ought to get considerably, or else at the Years end, they would be forced to pawn their trinquets, or downright break. He said, that it was the opinion of a Friend of his, that he that served an Actress in one, served many Mistresses, as a Queen, a Nymf, a Goddess, a Kitchen wench, and a Sheapherdess; and the Servant must be now a Page, than a Footman, and change his Condition as often as she does her Part.  
He had a particular enmity to those who died their Beards; when once there were two in his presence a quarrelling, one being a Castiglian, and the other a Portugese, this last taking hold of his own Beard, which was much died: By this Beard, said he, which I twinge.  
Oh gallant Man! said the Doctor, you should say by this Beard, which I tinge.  
To another, who had his Beard of several Colours, for want of being well died, he said, his Beard was of the Colour of a Hen's Turd.  
To another, whose Beard was half white, and half black, the white being grown, since it came from the Dyers: Don't you contend with any one, replied Doctor Glass, if they should say, you lie in half your Beard.  
One Day he told this Story, that a discreet young Maid to show her obedience to her Parents, consented to be married to an old grey haired Man. But Mr. Bridegroom, the Night before the Wedding was to be, went not to the River Jordan, as the old Wives say, but to the Bottle of Aqua-Fortis and Silver, and so ordered his Beard, that though 'twas as white as snow, when he lay down, at his levy, it was as black as pitch.  
The Wedding being come, as the Priest in the presence of many of her Friends, was going to join their Hands, the young Maid staring upon him, to whom she was to be married, and finding what he had done, told her Parents, they should give her the same Husband they had showed her, for she was resolved not to be married to any other.  
Her Parents, answered, 'twas the same to whom they had promised her, and of whom she had accepted.  
She replied, 'twas not, and called Witnesses to prove, that the other who was showed her, had the Countenance of an ancient, reverend, grave Person, with a snow white Beard, and was one whom she could respect and love, and she was resolved not to be imposed upon, and instead of him marry this young black bearded Gallant; and so by pretence of refusing a young Husband, she got rid of an old one.  
He had also a pic against the Matrons, or old Gentlewomen, for their using par mafoy to their Maids, for the length of their veils, for their capricious humour, for their scrupulosity, and their extreme covetousness; he was also angry at their squeamish stomaches, their vertigos, their fits, and their way of talking with more folds, than there were in their veils.  
One said to him, Mr. Doctor Glass, How comes it to pass, that we have heard you speak ill of so many Officers, and yet not one word of the Notaries of the Court, whereupon there is so much to be said?  
To which he replied, although I am a Man of Glass, yet I am not so frail, as to let myself be carried away with the current of the vulgar, who for the most part are in the wrong. It seems to me, that Notaries are as it were, the Grammar of Grumblers and Detractors, and like the Sol-fa-la, or the Notes of Musicians, for we cannot pass to Sciences, but thorough the Gates of the Grammar, and as the Musician first softly tunes his Voice before he sings, so Detractors and Calumniators, begin to show the malignity of their Tongues by speaking ill of the Notaries of the Palace, of the Sbirris or Sergeants, and other Ministers of Justice, whereas a Notary is an Officer, without which, Truth cannot be brought to light, because In manibus Dei potestas hominis est, & super faciem scribae imponet honorem; that is, The power of God is in the hands of men, and he shall honour the face of the Notary, or Scribe, Ecclesiasticus. A Notary is a public Person, without whom the Office of a Judge cannot be well managed, therefore they ought to be made out of free People, and not out of Slaves; Legitimate, and not Bastards, nor of infamous Blood.  
They swear to be faithful, and to keep secrecy, not to make any writing for usury, that neither friendship, or enmity, loss or gain, fear or hope, shall make them swerve from exercising their Office with a good and a Christian Conscience. If there are required so many good Qualities to make them fit for it, why should I believe that the Devil should have the Vintage of more than twenty thousand Notaries, as there are in Spain, as if they were all Vines of his own planting.  
I will not believe this, neither aught any body else, I say, in fine, they are necessary in a well instituted Commonwealth, and if they do often wrong, they do more often right, and that betwixt these two extremes, there might be a mean to make them more considerate and circumspect.  
He said, he did not wonder, that Sbirris or Sergeants, should have so many Enemies, their Office being to arrest and seize upon Persons, to take away Goods from Debtors, and keep them till they are condemned or absolved by Law, and to eat and drink upon those wretched people's cost.  
He blamed the negligence and ignorance of Proctors and Solicitors, comparing them to Fysicians, who will be sure of their Fees, whether the Patient recover or not, so do they, whether the Lawsuit goes for or against their Clients.  
One asked him, which was the best Land: He answered, That which yields its Fruit in season, and is largely grateful to the Husbandman.  
That's not my meaning, replied the other; I would know, which is the best, Vagliadolid or Madrid.  
Of Madrid, he answered, the extremities, and of Vagliadolid, the middle part.  
I understand you not, said he, who asked the questions.  
To whom the Doctor replied, of Madrid, the Air and Soil are the best parts; of Vagliadolid, the Houses.  
He said, Musicians and Foot Messengers, had their Hope and Fortune limited, and that then it was complete, when one came to be a Courier, or a Messenger mounted on Horseback, and the other to be of the King's Music.  
Being one Day in a Church, he saw an old Man buried, a Child christened, and a Woman married, all at the same time, upon which he said, That the Church was the Field of Battle, wherein old Men were buried, and Children conquered, and Women triumfed.  
A Wasp stung him in the Neck, he durst not shake it off for fear of breaking, but he complained of the smart.  
One asked him, how 'twas possible, the sting of a Wasp could be painful to him, who was Glass?  
He replied, that this was a Calumniator or Backbiter, for the Tongues of such, were able to pierce Bodies of Brass, and much easier those of Glass.  
In fine, our Doctor spoke so many pleasant and ingenious things, that if it were not for his crying out, when any one came near him or touched him, and for the habit he wore, the manner of his diet, and the way of his drinking, and that he would never sleep in the Summer but in the Fields and open Air, and in the Winter in Straw, as we have declared before; all which, were evident Arguments of his Madness, no body could have believed, but that he had been one of the wisest Men in the World.  
This infirmity of mind, lasted a little more than two Years, when one that had a peculiar faculty of curing Mad People, undertook to restore him to his Senses, and in a little time performed it, and set him right, and he perfectly recovered his former Judgement, Understanding, and Discourse.  
When he found himself cured, he apparelled him like a Doctor, and resolved to return to the Court, and there to give as many proofs of his Wisdom, as he had of his folly, thinking by practising the Law, to make himself Famous.  
Thither he went, and called himself Doctor Ruota, it pleasing him more than Rodascia; he was scarcely arrived at the Court, but the Pages and Boys knew him again, but seeing him in a habit so different from what he used to wear, they durst not cry out after him, nor ask him questions, but nevertheless, they followed him, saying one to another, is not that the Fool, Doctor Glass. Upon my Life 'tis the same, and he is become Wise, but yet he may be as much a Fool in these good , as he was in a poor Habit, let's ask him some questions to clear our doubt.  
All this the Doctor heard, and said nothing, but he was more confounded and ashamed, than when he was out of his Wits, not only the Boys but the Men all knew him, and before he got to the Council-Chamber, he had got a Train at his Heels of more than Two Hundred Persons of all conditions; with this Attendance, which was much greater than used to accompany the Doctor of the Chair, he arrived at the Council Chamber, where they all made a Ring about him, seeing so much Company, he said with a loud voice, Gentleman, I am Doctor Glass, but not the same that I was before; I am now Doctor Ruota; the Successes and Disgraces, which befall Men by the permission of Heaven, have taken away my Reason, but the Mercy of God has restored it; by what I said, when I was a Fool, you may guests what I shall say, and do, now I am of sound Judgement, I have taken my Degree of Doctor of Laws in Salamanca, without the help of the goods of Fortune, so that 'tis evident, that Virtue and not Favour has elevated me.  
I am come to the great Sea of the Court, to plead, and gain me a livelihood, but if you will not let me be quiet, I am come hither to get my Death: I pray you not to follow and persecute me, and that I may not lose that which I enjoyed when I was a Fool, now I am Wise.  
I mean, what is necessary to maintain my Life, what questions you were pleased to ask me in the Streets, come now and ask me in my House, and you will see whether he that answered well ex tempore, as 'tis reported, will do better after consideration.  
They all heard him, and some of them left him, and he returned to his House, with his retinue something diminished.  
The next day he ventured abroad and found the same entertainment, he made another Speech to them, but to no purpose; he lost and spent much, and gained nothing, so that finding himself ready to starve, he resolved to leave the Court and return to Flanders, where he designed to get a Living by his Sword, which he found he could not do by his Learning, and putting in effect his Resolution, he said at his parting from the Court:  
Oh Court, which exalts the hopes of rash pretendents, and depresses those of modest and virtuous Persons: Thou entertainest kindly, and enrich'st abundantly, impudent and shameless Buffoons, and permittest learned, wise, and modest Men to die with hunger.  
Having said this, he went to Flanders, where, in the Company of his good Friend Captain Valdivia, he finished the eternising his Name by Arms, which he had begun by Letters, and died with the Reputation of a wise Man, and a valiant Soldier.  
The End of the Sixth Novel.   

Patiented Griselda.  Written by PETRARCH in the Sixty Ninth Year of his Age. 
NOVEL VII.  
THE Mountain Vesulo, now Monte-Viso, lies on the Western side of Italy, and is a part of the Alps, and very high, whose summity reaches above the Clouds into the clear Air, famous for its height, being reputed the highest of the all Alps, but more ennobled by the rise of the Po, or the ancient Eridanus, which flowing from a small Spring upon its Eastern side, and swelling by a wonderful addition of Waters, after a short course becomes one of the greatest Rivers, and is deservedly called by Virgil, their King, Fluviorum Rex Eridanus.  
It parts Liguria with its rapid stream, afterwards dividing Aemilia and Flaminia, from the Venetian Territories, and at last, by many great Mouths, enters into the Adriatic Sea.  
That part consisting of pleasant Mountains, green Hills, and fruitful Vales, is called Piedmont, or the Country at the foot of the Mountains, it has some Cities, and many fair Towns: amongst the rest, at the foot of the Vesulo, lies Saluzzo, a Dominion, whereunto belong several Towns and Castles, it was governed by Noble Men, who had the Title of Marquesses, of which number there was one, who is said to have been the chief, and the greatest of all of them, whose Name was Gualtero, to whom belonged the government of all that Marquisate, he was every way a great Person, and could be taxed but of one Fault, that being contented with his present Condition, he took no care for the future, or to provide Heirs to succeed him.  
He was so much taken up with Hunting and Hawking, that he scarce minded any thing else, and he seemed, which most troubled his Subjects, averse from Matrimony.  
They bore it with silence, for some time, but at last they went to him in a Body, and one of them, whose Authority, or Elegance, or Favour, with the Marquis, was greatest spoke thus to him:  
Your Humanity and Courtesy, Noble Marquis, has given us the boldness as often as occasion serves, to Address ourselves to your Excellency; and now I am entrusted to present to you, the humble Petition of all your Subjects; the many Favours you have done me, creating a belief in them, that I am not unacceptable to you. Since therefore all your Actions hitherto have been grateful to us, there is one thing yet wanting, which if your Excellency will be prevailed upon to do for our sakes, we shall esteem ourselves the most happy of all our Neighbours; that is, That you would consent to marry, and submit that Neck, which is not only free, but commanding, to the yoke of lawful Matrimony, and that you would do it with all speed, for Years pass swiftly, and although now you are in the Flower of your Youth, yet Age will come silently creeping on, and Death is near at all seasons, no Age nor Person is secure from its stroke, all must die, and although that is certain, yet there is nothing more uncertain, than when Death will seize upon us. We pray you, Sir, take this Petition of ours in good part, and grant it to us, who will never refuse any of your Commands; leave the Care of providing you a Wife to us. We will get such an one, that shall be worthy of you, one born of so illustrious Parents, that we cannot but hope great, and good Things from her: We pray, free us from all the troublesome fear, lest perhaps, an Accident should happen to you, from which no mortal Man is exempted, and you should die without an Heir of your own Body, and leave us without a Governor of your Loins, whose Race, we pray Heavens may for ever reign over us.  
These humble and pious Prayers of his Subjects, prevailed upon the Marquis.  
I will not, said he, refuse what you desire, though I must tell you, you force me to do that, which I had thoughts very averse from, for I was much delighted in Liberty, which rarely is to be found in Wedlock.  
However, I will comply with my Subjects will, trusting to your Prudence and Fidelity, but as to the Care you proffer to take upon you to provide me a Wife, I will not put you to that trouble, but take it upon myself: For the Mother's Virtue is not always inherited by the Children who are sometimes unlike their Parents, all that is good in Man, comes only from God, to him therefore I will commit the Care of my Matrimony, hoping that he will inspire me to do that, which may set your Hearts at ease, and conduce most to my Benefit.  
Since than it is your desire, I am resolved to Marry, I promise it you upon the Word of a Prince, I will neither frustrate, nor delay your Expectation, and you must reciprocally promise me one thing, that you will Honour, and have a great Esteem and Veneration for whomsoever I shall make my Wife, and that there shall not be any amongst you, who shall complain, or find fault with my Choice.  
You have caused me to subject my free Neck to the Yoke, but I will make a Choice of that Yoke, and she, whosoever it is, that shall be my Wife, is to be your Lady, as much as if she was the Emperor's Daughter, and I expect, you should show the same Respect towards her.  
They promised unanimously and cheerfully, there should be nothing wanting on their Parts, as those who despaired, and thought, that they should never see the wished for Day of their Prince's Marriage.  
Having obtained this Promise, they departed, not only contented, but exceeding joyful.  
So this Conference ended, and the Marquis acquainted his Servants of his intended Marriage, bidding them take care to provide all things convenient against such a Day, which he named.  
Not far from the Place, there was a little Village inhabited by a few and poor Cottagers, the poorest of them all, was called Janicola, he had one Daughter, whose Name was Briseis or Griselda, by which Name we shall call her for the future; the shape of her Body was admirable, and nothing could be imagined more beautiful than her Soul; she was bred with a sparing Diet, unused, and ignorant of Voluptuousness in extreme Poverty, she had no soft or tender thoughts, but in a young Virgin's Breast, the Heart of wise experienced Man, she took care to keep clean and nourish her old Father, with exemplary Piety, and looked to his few Sheep, and returning at Night, wore out her Fingers with spinning, she boiled his Milk and Cabbage, and the rest of the poor and unbought Fare; lighted him a little Fire, made his hard Bed, tucked him in begging his blessing, and wishing him good Night: In a word, in that small Cottage she exercised the whole Duty of filial Piety and Obedience.  
The Marquis having occasion frequently to pass that way, when he was Hunting and Hawking, by chance fixed his Eyes upon this poor Girl, not with youthful Lasciviousness, but with mature and considerate Gravity, and perceived in her greater Virtue than could be expected in her Sex, and her Age, which the obscurity of her Condition hid from the Eyes of the Vulgar, which wrought such an effect in him, as to make him resolve to marry, which till that time he was averse from, and preferring her before all the rest of her Sex, to marry none but her.  
The Wedding-Day drew near, but none of his Court could guests, from what corner of the World the Bride should come: In the mean time, he ordered the Wedding Ring, and Coronet, and Scarves, and rich  to be made; the Tailor taking measure by another Woman, who was near the same height and make with Griselda.  
The Wedding-Day was come, and no noise of the Bride was heard, which increased the admiration of them all, a great Dinner was provided, and Dinner time was come, and the Muscians were in readiness, and the Palace richly set out and adorned; the Marquis went out to meet his Bride, accompanied with a great Train of Noble Men and Ladies.  
Griselda knowing that to be the Wedding-Day, risen earlier than ordinary that morning, and fetched a Bucket of Water from a neighbouring Spring, made clean her little House, gave her old Father his Breakfast, and having set in order her small Affairs, dressed herself in poor, but clean , and in the Company of some other Maids of the same Condition and Village, was going to the Palace to see the Ceremony.  
The Marquis walking towards her House full of Thoughts, saw her, and calling her by her Name; Griselda, said he, where is your Father? She making a low reverence, answered respectively and humbly, If it please your Highness, he is at home.  
Bid him, said the Marquis, come to me presently; she went and called him, when the poor old Man was come, the Marquis taking him by the Hand, led him a little aside, and with a low voice, spoke thus to him:  
Friend Janicola, I know, you Love and Honour me, and that you are Honest and Loyal, and I believe, that what pleases me, will not be unpleasant to you, I have a mind to try you in one instance, whether you will consent, that I should marry your Daughter, and of your Prince, become your Son?  
The old Man was struck with such amazement at his unexpected Question, that he almost lost his Senses, and was scarce able to speak, but at last, being a little recovered, he answered with a broken and disturbed voice, I ought not said he, will, or refuse any thing, but what shall please your Highness, who are my Lord, and Master.  
Let us go into a private Room and send for her, said the Marquis, and when only we three are together, that I may ask her some Questions in your presence, they two retired, and ordered Griselda to be sent for, whom they found expecting when her Father would come out, and admiring what the Marquess' business should be with him; but her admiration was increased, when she understood that she was sent for to go to them.  
As soon as she was entered, Griselda, said the Marquis, it is my Will, and I have your Father's Consent, that you should be my Wife, and I believe, you will not be against it, but I must ask you some Questions, before we are married, which shall be presently.  
Are you prepared and resolved willingly to do whatever I shall order you? And that your Will shall never vary from mine in any thing, and whatever I have a mind, you shall do, you shall perform willingly without the least grumbling, or any show of dislike in your Words and Countenance.  
These Words made her tremble from top to toe, but collecting up her Spirits, I acknowledge myself, said she, my Lord and Master, altogether unworthy of this Honour, but if it is your Pleasure and my Fortune, I vow, that I will never knowingly do, or think any thing which shall be against your mind, neither will I think ill of whatsoever you shall do, though it be to take away my Life.  
It is enouf, said the Marquis, I am contented, then taking her by the Hand, he led her out, and showed her to the Nobles, and the great Concourse of People of all Conditions, who were congregated there to see the Wedding.  
This is my Wife, said the Marquis, Respect, Reverence, and Love her, and show your dutiful Affections to her, as you hope to have me Loving and Gracious to you.  
Afterwards he commanded, That she should be stripped to her Skin, and carry no relics of her former Condition into her new Habitation, 'twas done, and she was dressed from Head to Heel in new Apparel, which was done by the Ladies of the Court, every one striving, who should be most forward in obeying the Marquess' Command, they took her into their Arms, and hearty expressed their Joy for her exaltation to this Degree of Honour, they put her into a Bagnio, washed her clean, poured upon her Oil of Jessamin, and Myrtle, and other sweet Perfumes, they cleansed, combed, powdered, and curled her Hair, took off her patched , and habited her with new ones, rich, costly, embroidered and fashionable: They adorned her with Ribbons and Jewels, so that when the People saw her again, they could scarce believe, it was the same; the Marquis caused a Coronet to be put upon her Head, and a Ring upon her Finger, and solemnly espoused her, and setting her upon a snow white Horse, made her be conducted with Pomp to the Palace, a great Concourse of People following and applauding her. After this manner was the Wedding celebrated, and the Day ended with all possible demonstrations of Joy.  
In a little time there appeared so much Grace and Majesty in this poor and humble Bride, that she seemed to have been Born and Bred in some great Court, and not in a poor Shepherd's Cottage, and 'tis beyond belief, how dear she was to all, and what Respect and Veneration was paid her, and even those who knew her Original, could scarcely persuade theirselves, that she was Janicolas Daughter, so eminent were her Life, and her Manners, so grave and graceful was her Speech, so modest and obliging her Behaviour, her Fame was not confined to Piedmont and Savoy, but extended itself to all the bordering Countries, so that many came from Provinces at a great distance to have a sight of her, of whom they had heard so much.  
And the Marquis was so far from being blamed for making Choice of this poor, but virtuous and illustrious Wife, that all his Neighbours esteemed him, not only a Wise, but a Happy Prince, enjoying such a firm Peace at home, and the Love and Favour of all the confining Princes, neither did his prudent Wife, mind only what belongs to Women, and the Affairs of the House, but when there was occasion in the Marquess' absence, undertook public Matters, composing Differences of the meaner Subjects, and the Nobility with so much Equity, that she was cried up by all of them, as a Woman sent from Heaven for the public good.  
It was not long before she found herself with Child, to the Joy of the Country, which was increased by her being safely delivered of a most beautiful Daughter, to her Husbands and Subjects great Satisfaction, for although they had rather it had been a Son, yet they were well pleased with this Introduction, hoping, and not doubting, that a young Woman who had given this sign of her fertility, would in good time, bless them with a Son and Successor.  
No sooner was the Daughter nursed, but the Marquis was resolved to put in effect a very strange Resolution, whether more admirable, or laudable, let the learned judge, to make an experiment of the Fidelity, and Patience, and Obedience of his dear Wife, which he knew too well to have any reason to suspect, and he was not contented to make one single trial, but repeated ones, which began thus.  
He calls her into his Bedchamber, and with a troubled and discontented Countenance, spoke in this manner to her.  
You cannot but remember, Griselda, for I do not believe, your present Condition has made you forget what you were; I say, you remember how you came first into my House, though you are beloved by me, and very dear, which I will not deny: Yet I must tell you to my great Grief, you are not so to my Subjects, especially since you have brought forth a Child, and they believe you may have more, and now they show theirselves very uneasy, and ready to mutiny for being under a Woman of such mean Parentage. It is necessary to the Peace in my Dominions, to dispose of your Daughter, not according to my own Inclinations, but so that I may quiet the minds of my Subjects, and to do that then, which nothing can grieve me more: But I would not put it in effect, without having your Knowledge and Consent, not doubting but you will arm yourself with Patience, as you promised before we were married.  
Having heard him speak without any alteration in her Countenance or Speech; Sir, said she, you are my Lord and Prince, I and this little Daughter are yours, do with your own whatever you think fit, whatever pleases you shall not displease me, I desire to have nothing else, nor fear to lose any thing but you, whom I carry fixed in my Heart, that no Time, or Death itself can remove, all things may happen sooner, than I shall change my mind towards you.  
The Marquis rejoiced at this answer, but concealed it, and seemed to leave her with great sadness in his face; not long after he sent for an Officer of his Guards, of whose Fidelity he had often experienced in matters of great Importance, and having given him full Instructions, he sent him to the Marchioness; he came to her in the Night, I humbly beg of you, Madam, said he, to forgive the Messenger, that brings you ill Tidings, and not lay the fault upon me, for what I do, I do by compulsion, and God knows against my will.  
Your Highness is wise, and knows how we are to behave ourselves, who are under Masters, neither can one of your divine Understanding be ignorant, although you have not yet known it by Experience, that we are under an indispensable Obligation of obeying our Master's Commands, be they never so rigorous.  
I am commanded to take this Child from you; and here he stopped, as not being willing to declare what he was to do with it.  
The fame of the Messenger, his suspicious Countenance, and the time of the Night, and his suspicious Speech, made her firmly believe, the Child was to be murdered, or at least exposed upon the Mountains, yet she did not sigh, or shed the least tear, which would be a wonderful thing in a hired Nurse, and was certainly a most admirable in a natural Mother, but with a sedate Countenance she took the Child in her Arms, looking a while upon it, then kissing it most tenderly, and blessing it, and making the sign of the Cross upon it, she delivered it to the Soldier.  
Go, said she, and execute what ever Commands your Master has laid upon you, yet let me beg one thing of you, bury my Daughter, and permit not, that her Flesh should be food to Birds and wild Beasts, but I do not desire even this, if your Master has given you positive Orders to the contrary.  
The Officer returned to the Marquis, and informed him of what passed, what was said, and what was done, which moved in him Fatherly Piety, but not to that degree as to bend his mind, and make him desist to prosecute his rigorous experiment, but he delivered the Child to the Officer, commanding him to wrap it up in warm , and put it into a Cradle, and carry it upon a Mule, with great Care, and easy Journeys to Bolonia, and there to deliver it to a Sister of his, who was married to the Count of Panico, to be Educated and Instructed, as a Daughter of such a Father ought to be, but with privacy and secretness, that no body should guests or know, whose Daughter she was.  
He went, and carefully performed the Commands which his Master had laid upon him.  
In the mean while, the Marquess oftentimes considered the Countenance and Words of his Wife, and could find therein no change, there were the same Cheerfulness, the same Sedulity and Obedience as before, the same Love, no sadness, no mention of her Daughter, neither on purpose, or casually, the Name of her was never heard proceeding out of the Mother's mouth.  
In this Condition they passed four Years, when the Marchioness proved again with Child, and in due time was delivered of a Boy, the most beautiful Child that ever the Sun shined upon, to the great Joy of its Father, and of all his Friends and Subjects, which after having been in the Country at Nurse, was brought to Saluzzo, where the Marquis resided, who not being yet satified in what he had done, resolved to push on yet further this cruel Experiment, and thus he again accosts his Wise.  
I told you before, Griselda, said he, how much my People grumbled at our Marriage, especially after they found you were fruitful, but now their discontent is augmented, since you have brought forth a Son, for they stick not to say, and I have often heard them: When the Marquis Gualtiero is dead, Janicolas Grandchild is to be our Prince, and our noble Country must be subject to the Offspring of a poor Labourer.  
This is the common talk of the People, which make a great impression upon me, for I love Peace, and fear Tumults and Insurrections, that therefore I may make my Condition secure. I find myself forced to dispose of this Child, as I have done of his Sister, but I thought good to acquaint you with it first, lest the sudden and unforeseen Accident should disturb you.  
To which words she replied, I told you before, Sir, and now I repeat it to you; I can neither will or refuse, any thing, but what you please to have me do, I have no share in those Children, but the pain of bringing them into the World, you are my Lord, and theirs, dispose of your own as you think fit, and ask not my Consent, for the same moment I put my Feet into your House, as I put off my Rags, so I did my Will and Affections, and put on yours, therefore in all things, whatever you will, I will also.  
If I could foreknow your Will, I would desire the same, and execute it, before you should declare it to me, but since I cannot do that, tell what your pleasure is, I'll willingly perform it; say, 'tis your pleasure I should be put to Death, I'll go to it with a good will, for nothing at all, not even Death, shall diminish my Love and Obedience.  
The Marquis admiring his Wife's constancy, went from her, with a stern, and troubled Countenance, and presently sent to her the same Officer whom he sent before, who begun with a great preamble of the necessity of Soldiers obeying their Prince, though the Actions were never so ungrateful to those who did them, and hurtful to those who suffered by them, and much begging Pardon, and desiring her not to have hard thoughts of him, for he was but a Servant, and came unwillingly to disturb her Highness: Having made such an harangue, as if he was about to put in execution some cruel, and wicked, unheard of Villainy, which he durst not mention; he demanded the Child of the intrepid and patiented Mother, who without changing her Countenance, took the Child from the Nurse into her own Arms, it was very beautiful, and showed early hopes of excellent Endowments of mind, and was not only beloved by the Mother, but by all that saw it; she signed it with the sign of the Cross, blessed it, and kissed it, as she had her Daughter before, then looking a little while upon it, without discovering any sign of Grief, she put it into the hands of the Officer.  
Here, said she, take the Child, and do with it as thou art commanded, but one thing I desire of thee, suffer not the Flesh of this beautiful and innocent Infant to be devoured by wild Beasts, and the Birds of the Air.  
The Officer returned to his Master, giving him an account of the execution of his Commands, which caused wonder and amazement in the Marquis, that had not he known, that she tenderly and passionately loved her Children, he would have suspected this female Constancy, to have proceeded from a rugged and fierce Nature, or at least, from an apathy and want of Passion and maternal Affection, but he knew well, she was compassionate, and loved every one, but loved her Husband above all things.  
The Officer was commanded to dispose of the Son, as he had done before of the Daughter, to carry him to Bolonia, to be taken care of by the Marquess' Sister, which he did.  
One would have thought, that these trials of his Wife's Patience, Fidelity, and Obedience, might have been sufficient to have satisfied the most cruel and rigorous Husband.  
But there are some, who, when they have once begun, never know when 'tis enouf, and when 'tis time to leave off; of this number was he, who resolved to proceed, and push farther this cruel Experiment, fixing his Eyes therefore upon his Wife, to try whether he could discover any change in her, and doing this daily and continually, he could perceive none at all, but that she was still more faithful and more obedient, if it could be possible, than before she had suffered such cruel and inhuman usage.  
It seemed, that they two had both but one Will, or rather that she had none at all, but his was hers.  
The Marquis began insensibly to lose his Reputation, and to be accounted a cruel and unjust Person, thus to make away his Children, born of so virtuous, obedient, and every way accomplished Wife.  
All his Subjects admired and pitied her, and did not stick to say, that though she was the Daughter of a Labourer, yet she was too good for him, and that the worst Wife that ever was in the World, did not deserve such usage.  
This discontent and murmuring of the People came to the Marquess' ears, but were not prevalent enouf to turn him from prosecuting his Experiment.  
The Children did not appear, and no body knew what was become of them, which made him, who before this act was beloved and dear to all, become infamous and hated.  
Twelve years after the birth of his Daughter, he sent Messengers to Rome, who were to bring thence the Pope's pretended Bull, or Licence to be divorced from his Wife, and spread a report amongst his Subjects, that he had obtained leave of the Pope to annul the first Marriage, and to marry again for his own quiet, and the satisfaction of his People, for it was not an hard matter for him to make this believed by the ignorant Mountainers, especially so far distant from Rome: this news mightily disgusted them, but they were forced to submit to the will of their Prince, though not without grumbling and hard thoughts. When this report came to Gristles ears, though I believe she was sad, yet she was unshaken, being resolved to undergo with an undaunted courage, whatever the Marquis should inflict upon her: she patiently expected the event, and what he would do, to whom she had unchangeably submitted herself, and all her concerns.  
The Marquis wrote to his Brother in law at Bolonia to send back his Children, and gave out a report, that he had made choice of the young Lady to be his Wife. A few days after the receipt of this Letter, the young beautiful Maid now marriageable, richly apparelled, and her Brother a Youth seven years old, attended upon with a great troop of Nobility and Gentry, with much pomp and solemnity set forwards from Bolonia, in order to make their public entry into Saluzzo upon a day appointed.  
The Marquis according as he had done before, to sound his Wife, and try whether her patience would hold out against so many cruel and repeated assaults, and to heap upon her shame and grief, sent for her, and in the presence of a great number of bystanders he spoke thus; for a good while Griselda, I delighted in having you for my Wife, but 'twas before I was thoroughly acquainted with your temper, but now I can endure you no longer, I perceive that all great fortune is a great slavery, and that it is not lawful for me to do that which every poor man may. My Subjects compel me to divorce you, and the Pope has granted me his Dispensation to marry again, my Bride is upon the Road, and will be here to morrow, carry yourself magnanimously then, and deliver up your place, take back your Portion, and return to your Father's Cottage, Constancy of good Fortune, never attends any mortal.  
To whom she thus replied, I was always conscious, my Lord and Master, that I was so far from deserving to be your Wife, that I did not think myself worthy to be your meanest Servant: And I call God to witness, that from the first moment I set my Foot in your Palace, where, for a great while, I have lived with you with much honour, and much more respect than I deserved, or could hope, for which I return thanks to God and you: I say, that from that moment I esteemed myself no more than a Servant, and now I am ready, and prepared with a sedate and willing mind, to return to my poor Father's little House, and there, where I sucked my first Milk, end my Days and die; and I shall always repute myself happy, and an honourable Widow, having been so great a Persons Wife.  
I willingly give place to your new Bride, and wish you both much Joy, and willingly leave this place, wherein I lived with so much pleasure and honour, since you will have it so; but I know not what you mean, Sir, by bidding me carry back with me my Portion; I acknowledge, and can never forget, how at the Threshold of my Father's House, I put off all my old poor , and was dressed with those you sent, and that I brought no other Portion but Nakedness and Fidelity.  
Behold, Sir, I put off these , and restore to you the Ring, wherewith you espoused me; the rest of the Rings, and Jewels, and , which you heaped upon me, are all in your Bedchamber, naked came I out of my Father's House, and naked will I return thither again, but I think, it would be an unworthy and horrid thing, to expose my naked Belly to the public view, this Belly, which has born and brought forth Children, begot by you, therefore if it pleases you, and not otherwise, I most humbly and earnestly beg, in lieu and recompense of my Virginity, which you know I brought hither, and do not carry back, that you would command, that I may have leave to take with me only one of those Smocks I wore when I was your Bed-fellow, to cover the Belly of her, who was once your Wife.  
These words made the tears come into the Marquess' Eyes, that 'twas impossible for him to retain them, and turning aside his Face, he said with a trembling voice, Be it as you will, take one Smock with you, and so went away weeping.  
The patiented Lady, before all the Company, stripped herself to her Smock, and without a covering of her Head or Shoes upon her Feet, went out of the Palace, and in the midst of a great Company, that went with her, all of them pitying her, and blaming Fortune, and cursing her Husband, all of them full of tears, she only had her Eyes dry, and without speaking a word, or showing any sign of Grief, she went cheerfully to her Father's House.  
The poor old Man, who never liked the unequal Match of his Daughter, always suspecting some mischief would follow, and that her Husband would soon be weary of a Wife so meanly born, and as it is customary amongst great Men, send her home to him again, upon this foresight, he carefully laid up her old coarse, threadbare  in a little corner of his poor House; hearing then the noise of the People, and perceiving they accompanied his Daughter home, he met her at the Door, and covered her with an old Garment.  
She remained a few Days with her Father, and behaved herself with admirable equanimity and humanity, there was in her no sign of sadness, nor no marks that she ever had been a Princess: And carried herself to her Father, with the same Obedience, Diligence and Carefulness, as she did before her removal to the Palace.  
Now the Count of Panico was upon his Journey, and the report of the Wedding was in every one's mouth, as he drew nearer, he sent one before to the Marquis, to appoint him what Day he thought convenient to have him make his public entry into the City, which the Marquis assigned; but the Day before it was to be, he sent for Griselda, who came to him, without any hesitation, with all readiness and devotion.  
Griselda, said he to her, my pleasure is, that the young Lady, who will be here to morrow at Dinner, should be magnificently entertained, as also the Gentlemen and Ladies, who come with her; I would have nothing wanting, no disrespect or affront put upon any of them, either by word, or not ranging them in their due place, I would have all things performed according to the most polite and courtly Fashion, and although I have several Maid-Servants in the House, yet I dare not trust any but you, to do it according to my mind, none of them having so much skill, or diligence; therefore I pray take the charge upon you, to place the Guests, and see them well served, and be not ashamed of your poor .  
I am not only willing, Sir, said she, but very desirous to do you this service, and whatsoever else you shall please at any time to impose upon me, to serve you, will never tyre or weary me, as long as I have Strength or Life; she had no sooner said this, but she began her work, she took the Beasom and swept the House, made the Beds, and rubbed down, and covered the Tables, exhorting and encouraging the Maids to mind their work, as if she had been one of them.  
The next Day at Nine in the Morning, the Count arrived, and with him the young Lady and her Brother, whose Beauty they all admired so much, that they thought, they could never look long enouf upon them, or speak enouf in their praise.  
There were some, that said, the Marquis had done wisely, and changed much for the best, because this Wife was younger and nobler, and had besides, so extraordinarily beautiful a Brother.  
In the heat of the Preparation for this Feast, Griselda was in every place, and took the main care of every thing, not dejected in her mind, nor at all ashamed of her poor , she met the young Lady as she came in, with a cheerful and smiling Countenance, kneeling upon her Knees, and her Eyes cast down upon the Earth, she humbly desired to kiss her Hand, and said, my Lady and Mistress, you are hearty welcome, and God give you long and continual Happiness; she also with a cheerful Face, and wonderful Grace in her behaviour, saluted all the rest of the Guests, and set the whole House so in good Order, that it caused in all, but especially in the Strangers an amazement and admiration, how it should come to pass, that such Majesty of Manners, and such exalted Prudence should proceed from a Person so meanly habited, and she thought, she could never extend herself enouf in the praises of the young Lady and her Brother, but by turns, now exalted the Virgin's Beauty, than the Youths handsome and manly Features.  
Just as they were setting down at the Table, the Marquis turning towards her, with a loud voice, that he might be heard, by all, as if he had done it on purpose to put an affront upon her.  
Griselda, said he, What is your Opinion of my Bride, is she not handsome, has she not a modest, ingenious, and virtuous Countenance?  
In truth, Sir, said she, I never saw one of a more beautiful and promising aspect, you may lead a happy Life with her, and if not, 'tis impossible any body else can please you, I wish, and hope, and am confident, she will be a Blessing to you.  
But, Sir, let me beg of you, and in good earnest advise you, not to try such rigorous Experiments upon her, as you did upon your late Wife, for she is young, and has been tenderly educated, and I believe, will not be able to endure so much, as I have done, such usage will soon either break her Heart, or provoke her, to break yours.  
The Marquis hearing her speak this, admiring the cheerfulness and constancy of a Woman, whom he had so often, and in so cruel a manner offended, was moved to pity her unworthy Sufferings, and was not able to proceed any farther in this cruel way.  
Taking her by the Hand, my Griselda, said he, I have made too much trial of thy Affection and Fidelity; I am abundantly convinced of the reality and immensity of it, neither do I believe, that any one under the Canopy of Heaven, has experimentally found so much Love, Faith, Constancy and Obedience in a Wife, as I have: this said, he took her into his Arms, embraced and kissed her with all imaginable Tenderness and Affection.  
Thou art, said he, my dear and only Wife, besides thee I never had, nor ever will have any other, she, that you believe to be my future Wife, is thy Daughter, and this Youth, is thy Son, both which, thou thought'st to be lost, now thou hast them again: Let those know, who fostered ill Opinions of me, that my Curiosity has caused me to make some Experiments, but has not made me impious, to try my Wife, but not cast her off; to hid my Children, but not murder them.  
She hearing these Words, was near dying with Joy, and her natural Affection spurring her on, she ran to her Children, bathing their Faces with Tears, which copiously flowed from her Eyes, now seeing again those dear Pledges, whose Death she had lamented, she tired them with Kisses, and almost drowned them with her Tears.  
Upon this, the Ladies came in Troops about her, felicitating the joyful and happy End of her so many, so long, and cruel Sufferings; they stripped her of her poor Garments, and dressed her like a Bride, with rich  which the Marquis had ordered to be made for her against that Day: She was applauded, blessed, congratulated by all; the Palace rung with the general Acclamation of the People, every one's Heart was filled with unspeakable Joy, and their Eyes with Tears which it produced; the Joy and Magnificence of her Wedding-Day, was much inferior to this of her happy Return, and her children's.  
They lived together for many Years after, even till their Deaths, in perfect Love and Concord, the Marquis never trying any more Experiments, and the Affections of his Subjects returned like a rapid Torrent, and was greater than before its Ebb.  
He sent for Janicola, of whom till then, he had taken no notice, lest he might hinder his making Experiments; he ordered him an Apartment, and a bountiful Pension, which might enable him to live like the Marquess' Father.  
Not long after, he married his Daughter to a Noble Man of Savoy, suitable to her Birth and Beauty, and the great Portion he gave with her.  
To conclude, He died in Peace, after having been for many Years the happiest Man upon Earth, in his Wife and Children.  
His Son now at Man's Estate, and perfectly instructed and accomplished by the care of his Tutors and Parents, succeeded him in his mild and just Government, and the hearty Love and Affections of his Subjects.  
FINIS.