THE CHARACTER OF LOVE, Guided by INCLINATION Instanced in Two true Histories.  
Translated out of French.  Licenced, Octob. 16. 1685. Ro. L'Estrange. 
LONDON: Printed for R. Bentley in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, near the Piazza. 1686.   

THE CHARACTER OF LOVE, Guided by INCLINATION.  

AMan of Quality, not having Estate enough to support his Quality and Birth at the Court, was forced to retire into the Country; and especially because the Peace, which then reigned throughout all Europe, bereft him of the hopes of those Employments, which he might pretend to in a time of War: his Name was Polydamus. This made him choose to settle in one of the greatest Province-Cities of this Kingdom, where having married a Lady of Riches and Quality, whose Name was Olympia, he lived with a great deal of Consideration and Splendour.  
Polydamus and Olympia having lived several years without having any Children, were at length rewarded by Heaven for this long and patiented expectation, with a Son. To this Son they gave the Name of Alcander, who being born of a Family, wherein Wit and Virtue were as it were hereditary, and his Veins filled with illustrious Blood, promised all that could be hoped for, from so happy a Birth. These Parents did not, as most Fathers and Mothers do, leave the Education of their Children solely to the Conduct of Tutors and Governors, whose mercenary Souls make them very often little concern themselves with the Improvement of the Children they are entrusted with. Olympia, Mother to Alcander, hardly suffered him to go out of her sight; and Polydamus, his Father, who was as it were the Overseer of his Education, had always an eye to the Conduct of those who governed him, to correct them when they committed any Error, and to encourage them when they shown any remissness.  
In the first years of his Infancy, Alcander made the Tenderness of his Parents, and the Skill of his Masters become desperate. He had a Fieryness in his Mind, which nothing was able to stop: His Motions were so sudden and violent, that for a long time he was thought uncapable of Discipline. Whatever he had a mind to, he desired with an invincible Heat, and an unsupportable Obstinacy; yet this Mind which nothing could tame, had Intervals which discovered in it a great and a charming Goodness. He made appear at several times in his Actions and Words an admirable Nature, a great generosity of Mind and Courage, a great deal of Reason, Equity, and a Love for all great things; but nothing was able to fix him, or make him tractable, either for the Exercises of the Mind or Body. This extreme eagerness of Mind, and this Intractability, which was thought unconquerable, lasted till he was 15 years old: And it is here we are to admire the power of Inclination, and the surprising Effect it had upon Alcander.  
Lirana, who was a Friend and Neighbour to Olympia, had a Daughter called Celintha, who often was in company with Alcander, she often coming to visit Olympia. Celintha had a tolerable Beauty, an agreeableness and a sweetness in her Temper, and a great stock of Goodness in her Heart, which was her principal Merit: And as she was some years older than he was, she had over him some superiority of Reason, and a great Ascendant. This Commerce which the conveniency of the Neighbourhood kept up, doubled itself by Pleasure and Custom, and this Custom insensibly became a Necessity to Alcander; he could now no more be satisfied without seeing Celintha; his Mind, which nothing before could settle, now applies itself solely to Celintha; he neither lives, acts, nor sighs but for her: And that which is most wonderful, is, that Alcander who loved Beauty, and who suffered himself to be taken every time it presented itself before him, finds in Celintha an I know not what, which makes him forget all the Beauties of the World; his desire of seeing her, became violent, hasty and restless. Olympia who had always her eyes upon her Son, was the first that perceived it; she soon found that this Passion for a young Gentlewoman, whose Wit or Beauty had nothing of extraordinary in them, and who had nothing in her which should cause any great Passions, could proceed from nothing, but that blind Inclination, and that invincible Instinct, which makes us sometimes love Persons, who have nothing that is amiable in them in the eyes of others.  
This sort of Passion which is so violent, even in those who are fortified with Reason and Experience, is much more so in the Minds of those who know neither Love nor Reason, and who give it more power by Ignorance, and the weakness of their Age. This had produced such great Effects upon Alcander, that to oppeses such a dangerous beginning, Olympia resolved to break the Commerce which he had with Celintha. She had at first allowed of her frequent Visits, because she was glad to see her Son was capable of fixing his Mind upon any thing; but seeing that this Engagement went too far, she thought it necessary, without any delay, to hinder the Consequences. This Remedy was worse than the Disease; for if her Sons Thoughts were naturally too much distracted by his too great vivacity of Mind, they were yet much more so by the heat of his Passion, and by the continual Disturbances which the absence of Celintha caused in him. This impetuous Vivacity which appeared in all his Actions, yielding at last to a deadly Melancholy, he was soon seen to fall into a deep and lasting Thoughtfulness, which made Olympia very much apprehend the consequence of so prodigious a Change. This fear caused her to take another method for his Cure: She had a Niece, whose Name was Parthenia, whom she tenderly loved, and she invited to accompany her, many young Ladies of her own Age and Quality, who helping to divert her, made use at the same time of their Wit and Beauty to amuse Alcander, and to divert him from, or at least to weaken the Passion he had for Celintha. These Ladies, who were but just out of their Childhood, had however heard the noise, which this new and so extraordinary a Passion of Alcander for Celintha had made so that they conceived towards her a sort of Jealousy, or Envy, or Emulation, which made them forget nothing of what their Age could furnish, of little Plays and Pastimes, to divert the sad Alcander, and to please him. Their Endeavours succeeded well at first; Alcander's Passion seemed to lie asleep sometimes, but also at other times, even in the midst of his Pleasures and Diversions, this Passion would a waken itself with so much force, that he often fell on a sudden into a dismal Melancholy. These little Rivals of Celintha were offended at it; for there is a little jealous Pride incident to all Ages: They could not restrain themselves from letting it appear, and took at these Disturbances of Alcander such offence, as usually wounds Beauties so cruelly, when they see themselves neglected; one discovers a great deal of Sharpness and Anger; another in a low Tone, but loud enough to be heard, terms the Passion he has for Celintha, a ridiculous Whimfie. What mortal Wounds did not these Discourses make in the heart of the amorous Alcander? What Efforts did not he make to restrain his Resentment and Impatience? And to what a degree was his Pride, which was little less than his Love, humbled to see himself, for a Person, of whom so little account was made, foe great a Slave to a Passion, which he was not able to overcome? Having at last mastered the Transports with which he was agitated, and being willing to speak to excuse himself, and justify his Passion, all the Company left him upon a sudden, and leaves him in a strange Confusion. Parthenia, who was not lefs provoked than her Friends, by the procedure of Alcander, made him such Reproaches, as made him desperate. Ah my dearest Kinswoman, said he, with a Tone which was able to disarm the most just Resentment, If you knew the violence which I have done to myself, to bring me again to myself, and to render me some way acceptable to those lovely Persons, whose quarrel you so justly take up, you would have some pity on an unhappy man, whom you now think worthy of your Anger! You do not know the Torment I have suffered, in seeing myself forced to entertain Persons that are indifferent to me, and to make answer to them all, whilst I spoke at the bottom of my heart to none but the Person I love: What was I able to do, or what was it in my power to say in a place where I saw no body, but a Person who was not there?  
Polydamus, who was a severe, and an imperious Father, and who for a long time had been from his own house, upon affairs of great Importance, heard at his Return with great Affliction, the headstrong-passion his Son had for Celintha; and he having hoped to find in Alcander wherewith to re-establish his Family, and to call back Fortune, which had almost abandoned it, seeing nothing in Celintha's Fortune, which was not much below his Ambition, and the Projects of Preferment, which he had form for his Son, was refolved to remove him to a greater distance from Celintha, and to carry him to an Estate he had in an another Country. He forms his Design with Precipitation, not so much as consulting even with Olympia; he gives his Orders, and the Execution of them is so quick, that Alcander has not time to take leave of Celintha. So soon as Polydamus was arrived at his Countryhouse, not being ignorant of his Son's Grief, nor wanting natural Affection, he endeavours to divert him with all that a fine House can have of Diversions and Pleasures. He now expects from him but a sleight Application to his Study and Exercises, and dispenses with those rigorous Duties to which his severity was accustomed indispensably to oblige him. But all that Polydamus can do for his Son cannot comfort him for the Absence of Celintha; all the Pleasure he finds in the Liberty allowed to him by his Father, is sometimes to steal from those which accompany him, and to go into some retired private place to enjoy this Grief, and taste the only Pleasure left to the unfortunate, that is, to shed Tears with freedom; which cruel Decency forces them sometimes to refrain. The Image of Celintha took him up so much, that being come to the Bank of a little Brook, which divided the Lands belonging to Polydamus from those of one of his Neighbours; and seeing a young Lady who came upon the Bank on the other side of the River, he thought he saw Celintha, and without hesitating, threw himself into a little Boat which was there, and came near her before she could perceive him; Is it you (cried he) my dearest Celintha? Is it you (answered she) Lisidor? So after having looked upon each other with some Disorder and Shame, for having been mistaken, they asked each other Pardon for the Error they both had fallen into: It is then (said Alcander) the charming Philismena which I see. It is then (replied she at the same instant) the Illustrious Alcander which I see. I know (said she) by common report the severity of your Parents, and the Reasons which have forced you to remove so far from your usual abode; whatever coldness there may be between our Families, the advantageous things which have been told me of you, do make me interest myself in all that concerns you; and if I did not owe myself some Thoughts of Pity for Misfortunes, which are very like to yours, you should have all my Tears, and all my Compassion. Alas! (replied Alcander) Is there in the World than another Example of a Misfortune like mine? My Misfortune is the more to be pitied, because there are few who pity me. I love Celintha, but her merit being not sufficiently known to others, People cannot believe nor conceive the greatness of my Suffering, because they cannot be persuaded of the Violence of my Passion. I love Lisidor, (replied Philismena) he is of a noble Extraction, but low in the World, and of small Fortune. My Parents who have Eyes only for Riches, see nothing of Lovely in his Person; and I am moved by another sort of merit; I find in Lisidor all that can give birth to a true esteem, and to the greatest Passions. But since I have said too much in saying I love Lisidor, I may venture to trust you with the knowledge of all my adventures, and by this Relation give some ease to the cruel Torments which oppress me.  
My Mother, who, notwithstanding all the tenderness she has for me, who am her only Daughter, and one of the richest Heiresses in the Province, breeds me up with a strictness which is almost without Example, and endeavours to breed in me a horrible aversion for all that can be called Love and Gallantry. She keeps me, as much as possible, from any Conversation with Men, and makes me live solitary in the middle of a great Town; and she, fearing some Engagement, which might hinder her disposing of me as she would, and seeing some sparks of Goodness and Complaisance in me, uses all her endeavours to inspire me with contrary Sentiments; all her Lessons tend to give me a savage, and an ungentile Virtue, and to possess my mind with more Severeness than Civility. What my Mother does out of the motives of Pride and Ambition, my Father does out of Policy and Covetousness. He would choose a Son-in-law as rich as himself, and allowing nothing to be good, but the Goods of Fortune; he accounts the most glorious merit ridiculous without them.  
Lisidor, whose unfortunate merit is one of the most just Reproaches which may be cast upon Fortune, and one of the greatest Instances of her Injustice grew up; and because the little Estate he had, he held from my Father, he behaved himself to him, as a Tenant ought to do to his Lord: the small Proportion which there was between his Family and mine, gave him a very easy access to us both in the Town, and in the Country. This young Gentleman possessed every thing which could make him to be beloved; and this respectful Familiarity, which he had contracted in our Family, gave no Suspicion to my Relations; yet as accustomed as he was to see me, I began to observe, that he never approached me without some disorder in his Countenance, which I could not guests the cause of. When he lift up his Eyes, and cast them towards me, his looks which were always full of life, shown a timorousness which was not usual in him, and mixed with a passionate Languishing. I felt at the sight of him Emotions which I did not in the least understand; my great youth, and my small Experience, the horrible Aversion which had been instilled into me for all that could be called Love, and above all that extreme distance, which Fortune had set between us, made me not suspect the least, either on Lisidor's part, or on that of my own Heart. I had, notwithstanding, an impatient Curiosity to know from whence proceeded these secret motions, which did thus disturb my quiet, When it happened that my Mother leaving me with persons she had not the least suspicion of the Conversation concerned any thing of Love; if I asked any innocent Questions upon that Subject, Lisidor would speak of it with a great deal of Wit, and good Breeding; so that I came to feel a great Disposition in myself to believe what he said; but he nor I daring, for many Reasons, to dive into the bottom of these Mysteries, I addressed myself to a young Gentlewoman, who was placed to wait upon me by my Mother, and in whom I had most confidence; but before I explained myself, I used all the caution I could to be assured of her Silence and Fidelity. So soon as I had discovered to her what passed between Lisidor and myself, her Surprise seemed so great to me, that I repent her having learned my Secret. I perceived her on a sudden to lose that submissive and complaisant Behaviour, which she always used to show me, and to take up a scrupulous Severity, which my Mother endeavoured to inspire in all Persons who approached me. She made me so ashamed of my Weakness, and think all that I felt for Lisidor, to be so great a Crime, that I promised her to rob myself for ever of the sight of so amiable and dangerous a Person: My resolution seemed to her to be too violent. Have a care, Madam, replied Madonte to me, (this was the Name of my Confident, or rather my Rival, as I soon afterwards discovered) avoid carefully the coming to Extremities, which will make too great a noise: What Reasons could you give your Mother, for a Behaviour which will appear to her so new and fantastical? and what would become of the unfortunate, and, it may be innocent Lisidor? What a judgement would be made of so surprising and sudden a Disgrace to him? Lisidor may have Troubles, or some secret and unfortunate Passion, which causes in him this Disorder and Melancholy, which you have hitherto interpreted wrong: every thing is naturally passionate in Lisidor, his Air, his Looks, his Discourse, nay even his Silence itself; show therefore to him the same Favour you are used to do, and do nothing which may be below that noble Pride, which becomes Persons of your Quality so well. No, I will never, replied Philismena, put any more in danger so tender a Reputation as mine is; the Trouble and Surprise you shown to me, in learning the Thoughts I had for Lisidor, have too fully convinced me what danger there is in seeing him; I will never see him more: It is your part who are his Friend, to dispose him to this absenting of himself, nay, I expect also that you should break off all manner of Correspondence with him; the Place you have about me, and the Kindness I have for you, would give me in the judgement of all the World, too great ashare in all the Familiarities you may have with him. Oh Madam, cried out Madonte, trembling all over, and with a tone of Despair in her Voice, If you banish Lisidor, I am undone; for it is now past disguising to you my thoughts, since I find by yours you have a Courage which is above all your Weakness, and that in the favourable thoughts you have for Lisidor, there is nothing strong enough to oppose the Kindness I have for him. You love then, Lisidor, said I, with a soft Air mixed with sorrow and trouble: Since you assure me then, that what I feel for him, which I was loath at first to believe, may have such dangerous Consequences, do me the justice to think, that I am Mistress enough of myself, to stop the progress of a Passion in its birth. Love still Lisidor, but be sure you do not discover to him my Secret; and since he loves you without doubt as much as you love him, the least suspicion which he might take of what I feel upon his account, would put him into Trouble; therefore you may well think that your Silence is of importance, as well for my Reputation, as his Quiet. I will not tell you, Alcander, the cruel Reflections which possessed my mind when I was alone, and with how many strange motions my heart was overwhelmed; I shall only tell you, that so soon as I knew that what I felt for Lisidor, was from Love, neither the fear of my Relations, nor the pride of my Quality and Fortune, could ever have the power to make me condemn the Inclination which I had for him: But I still was fully satisfied of his Merit, notwithstanding the smallness of his Fortune; whether by reason of the pleasure which one finds when one gins to love, made me believe, that the Aversion which they had persuaded me to have for Love, was but the false advi●e of an affected Severity, which Avarice and Ambition had inspired my Parents with, or that at last the violence of the Inclination I had for Lisidor, made me forget what I owed in duty to them and myself. That which at last fully convinced me that I was in Love, and that it had crept farther than I thought into my heart, was, That I felt several secret and new motions in it, which raised themselves on a sudden. I began equally to fear and wish for the presence of Lisidor, to distrust Madonte, and to feel for her such a coldness, as at last proceeded to absolute Hatred: Jealousy, Spite, Indignation, and the fear of seeing, preferred before me a Rival, who was so very much beneath me, caused such violent Troubles within me, that I found it a very hard task to dissemble them. Madonte had Wit, Beauty, Courage, and Birth, and she being almost always with me, I feared that the disorder which I discovered in Lisidor, and which I interpreted in favour to myself, might rather be an effect of the presence of Madonte, than mine. I particularly wished for an opportunity to clear this doubt: but how was it possible for me to deceive the many eyes which watched me, so as to have a private Conversation with Lisidor? Waiting for some favourable opportunity, which I hoped for rather from Chance, than my Skill, one day as I passed very near to him, I told him softly, Your Secret is known. At this word a strange and violent disorder appeared upon his Face, which pierced even into my Soul. I thought at first that Lisidor had believed that what I had then said to him, was a Reproach I made to him for his Rashness, and that his Respect would make his condemned Passion either die, or be silent for ever; or it may be, said I within myself, Lisidor thinking I have discovered his secret Intrigues with Madonte, is troubled to see himself convicted of Infidelity towards her, in daring to love me; or of a more criminal Treachery towards me, in pretending a Love which he did not feel. These melancholic thoughts increased the desire I had to talk with Lisidor, and to clear this Point with him: Fortune soon after happily furnished me with an opportunity; for walking in one of the long Walks in the Park with my Mother, who was led by Lisidor, she was forced to leave us on a sudden, being called away by my Father, who was in an Arbour at some distance from us, he having some secret News of great importance, which he had just then received, to impart to my Mother in private.  
So soon as I saw myself in full liberty to make Lisidor explain himself to me, and I explain myself to him, I was seized with an extraordinary joy, accompanied with those fears, to which the modesty of our Sex, and the strictness of my Parents had accustomed me. I found Lisidor in the same disorder; Oh! that I could but tell you what we told each other before we spoke, by our Looks and by our Silence, it being my part to speak first, without standing upon any Punctilio, nor to lose an opportunity wished for with so much passion. Well, Lisidor, said I, tell me if it be Madonte that you love; and what is it you would have me believe, from that disorder which you so often show before us, from those unsettled Looks and those Transports, which seem to escape from you against your will? Ah, Madam, cried Lisidor, to what a dangerous trial do you expose the Respect which I own to you? the Disorder wherein you have seen me, and which I have so often blamed myself for, as too visible a sign of an unpardonable rashness, has spoken but too plainly: Do you desire it should finish my Destruction by a fuller Explanation, and that I thereby attract your greatest Indignation? No, no, Lisidor, answered I quickly, you must speak, and not lose in useless Talk these precious Minutes which Fortune has lent us; and such as, it may be, will never return again: I know but too well what Decorum and Behaviour that unfortunate Inequality which Heaven has put between us, requires from us both, speak without a Moment's Hesitation, and at least spare me the Confusion of explaining myself first. Well, Madam, replied Lisidor, since you will have it, and since you force me to it, I will confess to you, that I have a great Esteem for Madonte, and that I bear towards her that just acknowledgement which is due from me to her for all her Favours, which she has showed towards me; but I must, Madam, at the same time also tell you, That that invincible Inclination which carries us away against our Wills; that that infinite Esteem which extraordinary Virtue wrists from the most obdurate Heart, that the deep Impressions which great Beauty does make upon tender and sensible Hearts; I say, I declare to you, Madam, that I feel all these, and that I feel them only for you: and as for me (said I) the Account which I can give you of what passes in my Heart, is, That by the Motions and Lights, which proceed from Heaven and you, I find it very much changed, I learn in one Moment what I was so long ignorant of; I find that now pleasing to me, which before raised Horror in me; you have made such charming Truths, or such pleasant Errors, succeed all those Maxims which I had been formerly taught, that I am not sorry I wander a little in following them. At these words Lisidor, transported with Love and Joy, throws himself at my Feet, not reflecting that our Conversation had insensibly brought us near to the Arbour where my Mother was, who coming out upon a sudden, before Lisidor could rise from his Knees, she seemed extremely surprised. Lisidor, who saw his Imprudence, and my Mother's Disorder, immediately thought of repairing his Fault by a happy Invention which his Wit furnished him with upon a sudden, he runs to my Mother; Ah, Madam, says he, you just now saw an unfortunate Lover prostrate at the Feet of my Lady your Daughter, to beg her leave to love Madonte: This word of loving appeared so strange and new to her nice Temper, that she looked upon my Prayer as an unpardonable Rashness. My Daughter has reason, answered my Mother with an angry look, you ought not to approach her Ears with Terms which are offensive to her, and to keep for all that are near her, the same Respect which you have for her; it is only to me that you are to address yourself; you had no need of gaining my Daughter's Approbation, much less her Assistance. Whilst my Mother was speaking, Madonte, who came from walking in another Walk, being come to us, Madonte, said my Mother, the Thoughts which Lisidor has for you, are come to my Knowledge; I do not at all condemn his Passion, the Match is advantageous; you may make him a Return, and leave the Success to me; but I do not intent that the Hopes which I give you, shall authorise a Commerce which displeases me, and a Custom which I have always condemned; I will not suffer Lisidor's Passion to show so near my Daughter all that those sorts of Passions have of the extravagant and ridiculous; that importunate Officiousness, that officious Care, and that shameful Weakness; the Example of all which might poison the wise and noble Education, which I have given her. I will obey you, Madam, answers Madonte, in this Affair, as I have done in all others. I have observed in Lisidor indeed some Complaisance, which seems to distinguish me from the rest of my Companions; but I did not imagine that this preference went so far as Love, much less did I think that it would come to your Knowledge. I will make no step, Madam, nor indulge my Desire, but according to your Orders. I will be sure continually to avoid any Commerce which you do not like, and which may make me offend in the respect due to so nice and scrupulous a Virtue, as that of my Lady your Daughter.  
Judge then what a Joy I felt to see myself thus delivered from the Reproaches of so severe a Mother, by Lisidor's ready Wit. But though it was easy for us to deceive her, how could we be able to deceive Madonte?  
Lisidor disguised and constrained himself to little purpose, and I to as little, shown a Coldness towards him; a clear-sighted jealous Rival, and present at all our Conversation, penetrated through all the Mysteries of our Reservedness, and our Silence. All our Artifices could not rescue us from her Distrust; her restless and impatient Jealousy, resolves to assure to herself the Conquest of Lisidor; but not daring to explain herself, either out of Modesty or Pride, she causes it to be demanded of my Mother by secret and byways, but such as were effectual and cunning ones. My Mother speaks of it to Lisidor, and rallies him for his small Impatience. Lisidor seeks all Delays by some false Pretences, or feigned Reasons. All his Inventions were also sounded and discovered. There was at this time a very hot Report of a War begun between Sweden and Poland. Lisidor, who sought only an opportunity of signalizing himself, and who having had the boldness to love Philismene, thought himself obliged to do actions which might answer so high, and so ambitious a Passion, and not meeting with any opportunity for it in his own Country, which then enjoyed a profound Peace, was extremely delighted to find one in a foreign Kingdom; being the Son of a Father who had served and commanded in the victorious Army of the great Gustavus, and who died in his Service, he hoped the Memory of his Name might procure from the King who had succeeded him, the same kind Reception which his Father had found, and as good Employments. He prepares for this Voyage, provides an honourable Equipage, and places all his Hopes in the Fortune of his Arms. He proposes his Design to my Mother, who approves of it, not thinking of Madonte's Concern. Madonte hears this News with a deadly Grief; she attempts to make Lisidor change his Resolution. Lisidor defends himself with a thousand Reasons grounded upon Honour, Decency, and Fortune. And as he was obliged to manage her for my sake, he flatters her with the Hopes of a quick Return. All that he had said to my Mother, and to Madonte, and which they both told me again, had almost made me think his Departure absolutely necessary; but there were other Reasons besides for it, which were in Relation to myself alone. It not being possible for us to hope for any private Interview, he writes to me, without knowing how, or by what means to convey the Letter to me, amongst so many jealous Persons, who besieged me continually.  
One day being come into my Chamber, with a Design of giving me his Letter, and having let me see cunningly, that he had it in his Hand, there came into my Head this Trick, which I performed without Delay. I arose from my seat, and pretending to go to speak to my Mother, I ran hastily, and passing near Lisidor, I pretended to stumble, and leaning my Hand upon his to recover myself, I took the Letter; the Contents of which were these, as near as I can remember.  
What will you say, Madam, of the Resolution which I have taken concerning my self? I have form a Design to leave you, and it may be for ever. But ought I to have consulted you, when I had taken it, or to expect your Orders, when it so greatly concerned your Honour and my own? I expose myself to all manner of Grief, by parting from you. But can I be able continually to present to your Eyes an unfortunate Person, who is honoured with your Esteem, and who has hitherto done nothing to deserve it? I go to seek an Opportunity of doing honourable Actions, thereby to justify your choice. For, not daring to ask Fortune to equal you with me, I dare promise myself from my Courage, I shall force her, either to destroy me, or to make my Destiny such as may better enable me to approach you. Do not, however think, Madam, that amongst such ambitious Thoughts, I should be so unjust as to desire you should oppose the Pleasure of your Parents; for if they offer you any good Match, you ought to follow your Destiny, and not let yourself be overcome by the Inclination of your Heart. I can never lose you, without dying myself; but I shall die without complaining, if you live but as happy as you deserve.  
Ah Madam, cried Alcander, what Love and Courage do these thoughts discover to be in Lisidor's Soul! Heaven has made you for each other, it cannot fail accomplishing that which it promises you, by the union of Hearts which it has so well form between you both. I cannot tell, replied Philismena, what Heaven has determined for us, but I know that the loss of Lisidor would be unsupportable to me. I feel it by the grief which his departure has caused in me, by that which I suffer because of his absence, and above all by a silence of two years, which he keeps out of respect, and for the danger would be run by us both, in the conveying his Letters to me. I will tell you only—  
As she was going on in her Discourse, she heard a noise, and fearing to be surprised with Alcander, she risen up, took her leave of him, and desired him to repass immediately the River. Alcander obeyed, and in parting they promised to meet each other again so soon as they could possibly. They saw each other often, and these Conversations contracted between them the bands of a strict Friendship; there it was they offered each other all the Helps which lay in their power, to assist one another in their Amours. Alcander engaged Philismena to see Celintha often, and to use her Interest on his behalf. Philismena also obliged Alcander to promise to write to Lisidor, and to keep a continual Correspondence by Letter, so that she might be informed both of his Fortune and his Love.  
Polydamus was at last informed of these secret Meetings, which he heard with great joy, in the hopes he had that they might work a change in Alcander, and that this Complaisance he shown to Philismena, might be an effect of some Passion which they had for each other. In order to the advancing of which, he used all means to reconcile himself with the Father of Philismena, and made several Advances, beyond what he ought to have done. The Father of Philismena being struck with the noise which Alcander's Merit made in the World, and yet more pleased with the great Estate he was in prospect of, and which would one day make him one of the greatest Matches in the Kingdom, answers the Intentions of Polydamus. The ill Wether having forced them to leave the Country, and to come back into the Town, the Commerce between Alcander and Philismena is renewed, with the good liking of all their Relations, who did not know that they were less Lovers than Confidents to each other. These things went so far, that Polydamus made Propositions of Marriage. The Father of Philismena harkened to them; but as Persons of his Character, I mean covetous Fathers, never quit any part of their Estates but as late as they can, to their Daughters, and that besides, he was desirous Time should give him a nearer prospect of what he expected from the Merit of Alcander, and the Hopes which were given him of his Fortune, which he saw but afar off, he accepted of the Match, but upon this condition, that it should be deferred for some years. Polydamus desired no better, not desiring his Son, who was then just entered into the World, and had not yet finished his Exercises, should then marry a Lady as young as himself. But this Alliance being so earnestly wished for on both sides, their Parents would oblige them to an engagement of their Word and Honour, which might secure the success of it. Alcander and Philismena coming to know the Intentions of their Parents with an extreme grief, before they had it from their own mouths, they consulted together what Answer they were to give. Their first Discourse, upon so important a Matter and so tender, had a great deal of disorder in it, for they knew not what to say to each other. They esteemed each other infinitely, but they loved elsewhere. Their consent is required; they answer only with silence, which proceeded not less from their Astonishment than their Respect. They reproached one anoother afterwards with a Consent, which appeared so quiet and so voluntary: Will you, says Philismena, will you abandon your dear Celintha? No, Madam, answered Alcander, I wish I were able to do it; but it is impossible for me, and yet can I refuse the charming Philismena, whose Merit and Fortune might bond the most ambitious Desires? Will you, replied Philismena, have a young Woman revolt against her Parents? What help can I afford to my Weakness? What pretence can I have for my Disobedience? I who have no other Reason, but that of a Passion, which must be hidden, and which cannot appear? All the World knows that you love Celintha. Have you not in a Passion which you cannot conquer, a Reason which will surely prevail with your Father, and which no reasonable Person can condemn? This very Reason, replied Alcander, is it not much stronger on your side? Cannot you without Reproach and without Injustice, refuse a Man whose Heart is in the Breast of another? Well then, Alcander, said she, I will have the Weakness, since you will have it so, to yield to your Reasons; but I shall never have the power of resisting my Parents. I see then very well Madam, replied Alcander, that I must take upon myself all the trouble and shame of the refusal. I shall expose myself to my Father's Passion, and the Blame and Reproaches of all the World; but it will be less for the sake of satisfying the Love which I have for Celintha, who loves me not, than it is to serve the Inclination which you have for Lisidor, who loves you entirely. Oh what shall I not owe you for this Favour, dear Alcander! I shall be forced to love you almost as well as Lisidor. So soon as Alcander had left Philismena, he ran home to speak to his Father, who was in his own Apartment: He presented himself before him in a disorder, which made him tremble, threw himself at his feet, and bedewed them with his tears: I know Father, said he, that never Son was so obliged to a Father as I am to you; for besides an advantageous Post I have in the World by the honour of my Birth, there is something yet more precious which I hold by your Lessons and Example; yet not withstanding I depend upon a Power which is above yours, and which having disposed of me to Celintha, will not suffer me to yield myself up elsewhere. I see that your Eyes sparkle with Anger at this Discourse, but I beg you will hearken to me without being angry: You are Master of my Life, you ought to be so of my Heart; you offer me in the Person of Philismena an advantageous Match, and a most accomplished Person. I know what your thoughts must be of a Son, that rebels against the will of such a Father as you are; but I defy all your Severity to inflict so cruel a punishment upon me, as that which I suffer by the fatal necessity which I see myself in of refusing Philismena, and of displeasing you. Therefore I do not come to implore your pity, but rather to provoke your anger against an unfortunate Person, whose Life is hateful to him: I refuse an accomplished Beauty, who, it may be, one day may love me, and adore an ordinary Beauty, who, I am satisfied, will never love me. Alcander spoke those last words in so sad a Tone, that his Father was shaken by them notwithstanding his Severity; but the shame he had of his Weakness made him take a more violent Resolution: Go, said he, Son, unworthy of me, go out of my presence, and never offer any more to my fight a Wretch, who has not power to overcome a Passion which dishonours him. Polydamus' Passion had gone further, if it had not been restrained by the Tears of Olympia his Wife, who made him fear that Alcander's Despair might make him relapse into the extreme danger of a Sickness, which he had been so difficultly cured of. He thought also that he ought not to make a noise of this refusal of his Son, that he might still have the liberty of seeing Philismena, and that by this Commerce he might be able to manage an Affair, which he wished for with so much eagerness. But the Lady's Father seeing the pursuit which Polydamus made for his Daughter's Marriage, grow cold, was glad to have this pretence, to release himself of an Engagement, which gave bounds to his Avarice; and the Mother was not sorry to have, by this means, some of the Visits, which Alcander made to her Daughter, retrenched, to satisfy her natural Severity, and her Ambition, who desiring to have full liberty to dispose of her Daughter to such Matches as should offer, was afraid Philismena should enter into any Engagement, by reason of these continual Visits of Alcander, whose Merit was to be feared.  
Polydamus being forced to leave his Family for some private Affairs, or for those of the Province, with which the King had entrusted him, left the whole management of his Son's Education to his Wife. Olympia, who was the best Mother that ever was, and who sought continually all the Inventions which natural Affection and her wise Goodness could furnish her with, to accomplish the Education of her Son, whose Passion had put it into so great disorder, sends for Celintha, thinking that for the design she had, it was necessary to make use of her herself; and to dispose her to what she desired, she thus discoursed to her: You know, Celintha, what a constant Friendship there has always been between our two Families, the Neighbourhood, and a great resemblance of Birth and Fortune, has made these Ties, and may make us one day incline to a Marriage between you and my Son. I know that Dorilas makes Court to you, and that his Relations may have the same thoughts for him; but that prospect being yet so far distant, and that Time, and above all, Heaven disposes of us, and that besides Dorilas his Fortune is yet very uncertain, and liable to very dangerous Chances, you may have, it may be, some interest in managing that violent Inclination which my Son shows he has for you, this Passion of his being very unseasonable in respect of his age, which ought to be employed in cultivating his mind. You see that it is highly necessary to put some stop to the progress of an affection which is already become too strong, and which may make him unworthy of your esteem, and of the hopes of possessing you: my instructions, and all the care of his Governor have not had power to remove this disturbance of his mind, it is you Celintha who are of an age a little above his, and who have a judgement above your age; it is you that must bring him back into the right way. As for me Madam, answered Celintha, I long to second your intentions, but tell me by what Art we may obtain that which I wish with as much earnestness as you: you must, replied Olimpia, make use of all the power you have over my Son, you are much dearer to him than a Mother, and the desire of pleasing you will do more than the obedience which he owes me; make him understand you can never be able to like Lover who has no other qualification but his Love, and that if he will be beloved, he must use all his endeavours to content his Parents and his Tutor, by a continual application to his Duty and his Exercises. Celintha, whose thoughts were bend towards Dorilas, whom she passionately loved, was much troubled to know how to behave herself as she ought towards Alcander; but Goodness being her predominant Quality, she yields to the Prayers of Olympia, dissembles the Love she has for Dorilas, and hearkens with a prudent complaisance to the Sighs of Alcander, with the design of governing him according to the Intentions of his Mother. Although she had not judgement or experience enough to act alone in so nice an Affair, she had nevertheless sufficient to profit by the Instructions which were given her; and if she reduced the Mind of Alcander, and so suddenly made him change his Behaviour, it was less by her skill, than by the ascendant which the Inclination Alcander had for her, did give her over him. The earnest desire of pleasing Celintha, made him make a wonderful progress in all Learning, and the ambition of making himself more amiable, raised in him that of distinguishing himself from his Equals. The Academy where he went to learn his Exercises, sounded of nothing but the Name of Alcander, who by a constant and ambitious Emulation endeavoured to outdo all his Companions. If he disputed any Prizes in running of the Ring, or any other Exercises, he was so accustomed to overcome, that he could not endure to be vanquished; he would be so much troubled when he was, that he always shed tears; What will Celintha say, said he, with a passionate and sorrowful Voice! and he hardly dared to come near her, or to show himself in the day of his Defeat. Olympia, who made advantage of every thing to the Education of her Son, seeing him so concerned with the fear of displeasing his Mistress, never failed,  he neglected his duty in any thing, to make him sensible of the trouble it would be to Celintha, if she thought him capable of committing such faults; Alcander alarmed with such threats would throw himself at his Mother's feet, and beg her to spare him the reproaches of Celintha, and with sincere tears of repentance would give her an infallible assurance that he would repair his fault. The desire he had to gain Celintha's whole Esteem went so far, and tied him with so much assiduity to all his Exercises, that his Mother trembled for fear of his Health, and began to frighten herself extremely with the Examples we have of the prejudice, which Youths every day receive by an intemperance of Study, and excess of Application. It was then that Olympia, instead of awakening the diligence of her Son, desired his Masters to retrench part of the time allotted for his Studies and Exercises, and to allow it him for his Diversions. And then she allowed him full liberty to visit Celintha; and seeing with what assiduity he waited upon her, with what eagerness he devoured her with his Eyes, and with what earnestness he did her a thousand Services, she asked him very often the cause of so extraordinary an Attendance. Alcander, who answered so well to all Questions which were asked him, and who always gave Reasons for all his Actions, answered thus, I feel, without taking time to examine himself, I feel, at the sight of Celintha—  
At these words interrupting himself, he shown in his Eyes and his whole Countenance, with what labour and disturbance of Mind he sought for what he had to say, I feel, said he again, so strange a pain, that I am ashamed of the condition wherein I am, and I am not less so to tell you of it, and yet I find in this pain a certain pleasure which surpasses all others, but a pleasure which I cannot express, and the loss of which would be intolerable for me to bear. How shall I blame myself enough, said he, that I cannot satisfy your Curiosity, and that I have so little wit, as not to be able to comprehend the Charm which chains me to Celintha, and which affords me the greatest of all pleasures, or to speak more properly, the only pleasure which I love, or the only one I ever can love. Do not blush, said Olympia, at an Ignorance which is common to you with the most learned Men of the World. What, continued he, with an angry and sorrowful voice, I am now almost 16 years old, and am I not able to tell what passes in my heart? I am resolved to study myself so well— Ah Son, replied Olympia, interrupting him, it is no matter whether you know how to express this Inclination for Celintha, but it is of consequence to overcome it! Do you wish so much hurt, replied Alcander, to that Passion which has raised me above myself, and which has made me overcome that stubbornness of mind, which troubled you so much before, and made me so ashamed. Do not deceive yourself, answered Olympia, this sort of passion will correct some faults, and corrupt a thousand Virtues, nothing is secure against its violence; Honour and Duty, every thing is in danger, when Reason is not Mistress. Fear not Madam, said Alcander, all that I feel for Celintha, can never make me forfeit my Reason, all the desire I have in the World being solely to see her, and to please her. Has this desire of mine any thing in it, with which the most scrupulous Virtue can be offended? Do but leave me to this innocent Passion, and I quit every thing else to you; I will then sacrifice to you all my actions, all the desires of my heart, and every moment of my Life. Olympia being softened with these his tears, Love on, says she, love Celintha, and do not make me repent the tenderness I have for you. Alcander satisfied with this permission of loving Celintha, let himself lose to his Passion, and studying at the hours left him for Recreation, the ways how to show it, it happened that one day a Brother of Olympia's coming from his Countryhouse, and relating to his Sister the beauty and the abundance of Flowers and Fruit he had seen there, made a thought come into his head, which he was resolved to execute immediately. The impetuousness of his temper not allowing him to make any reflection, he steals away suddenly from his Mother and his Governor, takes with him two of the Servants of the House that were readiest to obey him, orders Horses to be made ready for him to go to his Uncle's House, which was about half a League's distance from the Town: But his impatience would not suffer him to stay while they were ready; he goes therefore on Foot at midday, in the hot season of the scorching Dog-days; he passes through a Field, where he saw Sweat running down in great drops upon the Faces of those that were at Harvest; he runs without slackening his pace, breathing nothing but Disorder. No sooner was he arrived, but without allowing himself the time to rest, he goes into a great Flower-garden, which was as large as the front of the Castle; he runs it over from one end to the other, he makes his eyes ramble over it. All this vast Parterre, filled with an infinite number of Flowers, could hardly satisfy his desire; and although the multitude of them did rob him of the power of choosing, yet he still wished that Nature would make new ones to grow for his sake. At length he commands his Servants to gather the finest and most curious of them, he himself showing them an Example: From thence he goes to the Walls, and visits all the Fruit-trees; if the fairest Fruit be upon the highest Trees or Branches, he either bows them down or breaks them, that he may gather the Fruit with his own hand. After having rob some of the Trees of what was best upon them, being tired with his Walk, and weary with the pains he had taken, he rests himself under the shade of a Tree, but less in order to defend himself from the heat of the Sun, than to shade the Flowers and Fruit, which being separated from their Stalks and Branches, would have lost a great deal of their freshness, had they been exposed to the Sun at Noon; and not to be idle whilst he reposed himself, picks out the Flowers which seemed finest to him, he makes several Nosegays of them, and comparing them together, he chooses those with the most suiting and agreeable sorting, to present to Celintha.  
Whilst he walks about, and prepares his Present, a company of young Ladies, who were come the day before under the conduct of their Mothers to this fine House to divert themselves, and who were not less jealous of Celintha, than those whom Olympia had gotten to bear Alcander company, in order to cure his Passion, and who were passing their time in little Sports, in a Walk which was covered from the rays of the Sun. One of the Company having spied Alcander through a palisade of Jessamine, told it to her Companions, who all run together through the Walk to surprise him: He was so attentive upon what he was about, that they continued some time before him before he saw them; but at last lifting up his Eyes, and showing some trouble at the fight of them, he paid them the Civility which was due to them. These young Beauties, either to torment him, or out of Jealousy, laughed at the Employment which they had found Alcander busied with, and reproaching him with the Plunder he had made of all those Flowers for the sake of Celintha, they added, That it was not fit she alone should be adorned with the Spoils of the Garden; and lastly, That they had at their first arrival marked these Flowers, out of the desire and hope they had of gathering them. Alcander, who saw himself obliged to remember the Respect he owed unto his Uncle's House, and who as young as he was, knew how to behave himself as he ought, was in such a disorder, that he did not know what to answer. When he saw them all seize upon the Flowers which he had at first designed for Celintha, one may easily guests how violent the condition such a heart as Alcander's was in; he had however the power of restraining himself, and only desired their leave to gather some other Flowers, to repair the loss which he had received from them. These young Ladies perceiving the violence which he used to himself, restored to him all his Flowers: One of them in a scornful manner told him, It was not just for them thus to rob his Mistress; another with somewhat of a severer Look, accompanied with Spite, letting him know, That she would have no Flowers that were gathered for another, and that she could well enough dispense with the loss of an Ornament which he owed to Celintha. Alcander, who harkened to nothing that was said, and who grudged all the minutes which were lost in useless Compliments, thanks them all equally, and asks their permission to leave their Company, to pay those duties which his younger years had indispensably obliged him to. At these words he goes out of the Garden, and finding at the door a Coach which was brought for him, instead of the Horses which he had ordered to follow him, he goes into it, and returns to the Town, burning with love and impatience: He goes straight to the House of Liriana, he flies through her Apartment, and enters upon a sudden into the Chamber of Celintha, to offer her himself his Present, full of confidence and joy; but casting his eyes upon Celintha, he sees Dorilas sitting by her, who bending his head towards her hand, was just going to kiss it. Alcander struck with this sight, as with a Thunderbolt, remains insensible and unmoveable, his smiling and serene Countenance was covered with a dark cloud, the red and liveliness of his Complexion gives place to a deadly paleness, his Eyes that were wont to sparkle with joy, and would with a violent transport advance outwards, and sparkle, were now quite darkened, and did retire inwardly; he had a mind at length to complain, but his grief stopped his words. In short, this trouble and disquiet which is shut up within his Soul, breaks out; his Eyes kindle with disdain; he takes the Flowers and the Fruit, throws them upon the ground, tears the Nosegays, throws them under his feet; and not being able any more to bear the presence of Celintha, he goes out of her Chamber, and returns home in so strange a passion and disorder, that his Parents who were alarmed, his Governor who was provoked at an absence of three or four hours, had not the power to chide him; they seemed more concerned at his grief, than angry at his fault. Alcander throws himself at the feet of his Parents, and after having given them a sincere Relation of all that had passed, protests openly to them, that to provoke them no further, he was resolved to break with Celintha, and to apply himself solely to his duty: He conjures them, pouring out a flood of tears, never to force him more to visit the ungrateful, the unfaithful and cruel Celintha. Olympia having settled his mind by her sweetness and reasons, he lived for some time with much less disquiet than formerly, and flattered himself in private with an appearance of quiet, which made him believe he had forgotten Celintha, and his Love for her. But how is it possible always to stem a Torrent, I mean an invincible Inclination? it gins again to make itself be felt as violent as ever. Alcander resists it with all the power he has, he flies the sight of Celintha, but when chance offers her to his eyes, he can restrain neither his Looks nor his Sighs, which make their escape towards her, he is surprised with thoughts which are all of Celintha, when he would think of any thing else. And forgetting already his trouble and resentment, he inquires how she does; if he hears Dorilas named, he seems to be moved and to tremble, and changes colour; if he finds Dorilas amongst his Companions at Play, he shows sufficiently by his cold reception, or by his forced Courtesies, the aversion he has for his Rival, and even his whole behaviour towards him, plainly shows the desire he has to quarrel with him, in order to find a pretence of claiming that sort of coming to a right understanding, which was commonly practised in those days, out of a nice point of Honour, which has cost France so much noble Blood. But Dorilas, who had a great deal of Love and Courage, and who had also a great deal of Prudence, excused his Rival, as being a Youth, and pardoned his misgovernment, imputing it to the excess of an unfortunate Passion.  
All that Alcander did, shown but too much, that the resolution which he had taken of not seeing Celintha any more, was founded upon a false Cure, and was supported only by the strength of his disdain. And as this obstinate humour, which he had made appear from his Infancy, had changed into a strength of mind and firmness of courage, he had made it a point of honour to himself to break for ever with Celintha, and to resist the torrent which carried him away towards her. This constraint which he put continually upon himself was so violent, that it had like to cost him his Life; he falls sick, the Physicians are called, who immediately think to cure the Disease without examining the Cause, resolve, but to no purpose, upon a method of Cure for him according to the usual forms. Olympia, who never lost sight of her Son, had observed, that the absence of Celintha was the only cause of Alcander's sickness, has recourse to the true Remedy: She obtains a Visit to him from Celintha, who loving only Dorilas, and being of herself removed at some distance from him, to avoid giving him the trouble which the sight of her had caused, was brought with some difficulty to grant the request of Olympia; but at last she yielded to the desires of an afflicted Mother, to her natural goodness, or it may be to the pleasure she took in insulting over the ignorance of the Physicians, and to do that by her presence, which the Physicians had not been able to effect by their Medicines. Olympia prepares her Son for this Visit, to prevent the dangers of a sudden surprise: The bare hope of this sight restores strength to the Patient; his eyes which before were almost out by a deep sorrow, rekindled, and sparkled with joy. One of his Friends who sat near his Bed, and who took notice of this sudden change, out of an unseasonable joy mentioned it aloud, which had like to have spoiled all; for Alcander had some shame of his weakness, and suffering himself to be transported with disdain that still remained, was upon the point of refusing the visit from Celintha; but being come again to himself, by seeing in the sorrowful silence of his friend his repentance for his imprudence, he received Celintha; who came in a moment afterwards. At her first approach Alcander was in so great a disorder, he being somewhat ashamed to appear in this condition to the eyes of those who were about him; but the more he endeavours to hid his Concern, the more it breaks out; those spirits which began to revive and restore his Countenance, did retire back, and leave it pale, his Looks becoming fixed, and full of astonishment. Celintha, who had pity on him, made signs to those who were about his Bed, to go out of the Room. Alcander is affected with this goodness of Celintha, it affords him some hopes, and makes him put on a different air from that which he had before; there returns immediately upon his Looks a certain sprightfulness of charming-sweetness, and vivacity in his eyes, and an agreeable smile spreads itself over his lips. In short, there appears throughout his whole Person, that which may be called the effect of Joy and Hope; he would have spoken, to thank Celintha for the honour of her Visit, but speech failed him as well as expressions. Celintha, who had for Alcander all that a Woman could have of most kind and favourable, excepting her Love, which was wholly engaged to Dorilas, said to him the most obliging things, and such as were most proper for the restoring him to his health. But this motive of pity, which made her speak so tenderly to him, and whose language resembled so much that of Love, was carried too far; she began to fear, that in going about to cure Alcander's Disease, she should increase his Love by false hopes; and this fear threw her into some disorder, which was observed by Alcander, and which made him immediately relapse into his jealous diffidence of her. Thus all his pain returning again, No, no, Celintha, answered he, with a feeble and languishing voice, flatter no more a Wretch with your goodness which he does not deserve, and which your own heart disowns: Take less care of a Life, which can serve only to disturb your quiet; Heaven has caused me to be born for you, but it has made you for Dorilas; live for the sake of that happy Lover, and suffer an unfortunate Wretch to die, who is not allowed to live for you. Alas dear Alcander, replied Celintha, I would not have you die! I had rather— There making a stop, fearing to say too much, or not to say enough, being pressed by her too great natural goodness, and being too much moved by the deplorable condition of Alcander, she was going, without doubt, to speak what she would afterward have repent of, when some Persons of Quality coming into the Chamber, hindered her from pursuing her Discourse. She takes her leave, Olympia goes out with her, and after having thanked her for her Favours, May I presume, said she, to beg you to continue your Visits; I know very well all that passes, but you are as good, as a Mother is unjust; be pleased, dear Celintha, to vouchsafe to entertain and amuse his passion, without injuring that Love you have for Dorilas; give some encouragement to Alcander's hopes, until his reason which prevails more and more every day can make him conquer a passion, which can never make him happy. Celintha, who was too sincere to deny what she felt for Dorilas, and too modest to confess it, and besides was not able to deny Olympia, answered her with some disorder, and promised, but it was with some little trouble, (as she was leaving her) to do all that was in her power towards her quiet, and that of her Son.  
Alcander, flattered with some hopes which the tenderness of Celintha gave him, recovered, and his strength returned, and as he was in a continual search for any thing that might be pleasing to Celintha; and that this earnest desire stirred up all the powers of his mind, those talents which hither to had remained buried, and as it were suspended by the weakness of his Youth, began now to display themselves, and above all the disposition he had to the making of Verses. So soon as he had felt this noble fire which comes from above, and which makes the greatest Poets, his first Essays surprised every body with wonder, and his love having given a further degree of heat to this divine fire, he made Verses with an incredible facility; the turn of them was easy, and the expressions bold, and they had a wonderful exactness, which proceeding neither from Art nor Study, shown the excellency of his natural Parts, and his great Ingenuity. It was at the time when the new Sappho, who surpasses in every thing the ancient Greek Sappho, I mean Madamoiselle de Scudery, by that lawful Authority which she has obtained in the amorous and witty World, introduced a word of admirable use into the language of Lovers; it is the word Tender, and that of Tenderness, which giving a more discreet Idea of Love, hath spared the use of terms, which were a little too licentious for the modesty of persons who are scrupulously virtuous. This term of Tender in this sense appeared so agreeable to the mind, and was so well received by all persons who had any relish for Poetry, that there was neither Song nor Madrigal made wherein it was not used, and to which it did not add a great deal of grace by its novelty, and by the beauty of the expression. Alcander, who had hitherto felt but only a blind inclination for Celintha, which he did not know how to define, insensibly found that it was Love; this Love began to grow into Desires, and this violent Passion not being able to conceal itself, but showing itself too openly, forced Celintha to retrench her complaisance, and to arm herself with all her severiry. Alcander fought it with all his weapons, and did not fail to make use of this word Tender, which was newly invented; and as Respect always accompanies great Passions,  he made any Song for Celintha, he concealed her Name under the term of Phillis, and that of his Desires under the respectful term of Tender. The number of the fine Verses which he composed, was more for the honour of Celintha, than his own; but he did not like certain Poets of Quality, whereof some out of a proud modesty do keep to themselves all the Verses they make, and blush at the exposing a Talon, which does honour to every body: or as others, who out of a ridiculous vanity do affect raising themselves into Authors, would have the meanest of their Trifles be seen by all the World, and out of this forward ambition do beg the praises which are given them aloud in complaisance, but which are refused them in private out of justice. When Alcander shown his Verses, it was without shame as well as without forwardness; but yet that which had any thing of fine and passionate in it, shaked more than once the constancy of his Mistress, and made her Love for Dorilas to stagger. Celintha had for Alcander new Complacencies, and Alcander felt in himself for her new Motions, which he had not yet known; this indiscreet joy, which a great passion suffers to discover of itself, when it thinks itself happy, became so visible in all the actions of Alcander, that Celintha was very much concerned at it. She reproached herself for that innocent weakness she suffered to appear in favour of this Lover, notwithstanding the Love she had for Dorilas; but it was not without great difficulty that she subdued her sweetness of temper, which continually betrayed her, and that she endeavoured by some forced hardships which she put upon Alcander, to revenge the Cause of Dorilas, upon the credulity of Alcander. Alcander, who was of a penetrating Judgement, was quickly undeceived; this knowledge raised his indignation, awakened his pride, and his Reason with these Helps thought itself able to overcome this passion: But finding himself utterly unable to conquer it, much less to satisfy it, he turns all his thoughts on the side of Honour, and hopes to be comforted by it, for all the disgusts of an unfortunate passion. His Parents, his Governor, his Masters, his own Reason, and his Courage, do withdraw him from the presence of Celintha; and he being of an age and in a condition very proper to make a Journey to Court, to receive there his last Accomplishments, which are not to be found elsewhere, they were resolved to send him to Paris. He himself being desirous to have his departure hastened, and to that end coming into his Mother's Chamber with his usual hastiness, he was tenderly struck with the Beauty of a young Lady, who being just come from Paris with her Mother, paid her first Visit to Olympia. Having seated himself next to this young Person, whose Name was Rosolinda, he looked upon her with all the earnestness which Respect and Decency would allow him; he let some Glances slip, which seemed to be fixed upon the Eyes of Rosolinda, and so soon as he had met a return, he let fall his own, out of a respectful awe, and with an air which seemed to show somewhat of passion. Rosolinda, whom Fame had prepared to favour Alcander, but who had not yet heard what had passed between him and Celintha, perceived with some joy the little disorder which appeared in the Countenance of Alcander, and finding in it some glimmerings of a Conquest, she immediately did all that the Art of pleasing, without prejujudice to her modesty, could do to add to her Beauty. This first Conversation began with a silence, which yet uttered many things; it was kept up by a sort of Compliments, which often signify nothing, and continued by mutual Commendations, which were given and returned with a sincere esteem, but in so gentile and well turned a manner, that it made praises to be agreeable and compatible with the nicest modesty. Their Conversation had gone farther, if the Mother of Rosolinda, taking her leave of Olympia, had not interrupted it; but being forced to part, they shown each other that they had a great deal yet to say. Alcander being retired into his Apartment, his imagination being filled with the thoughts of Rosolinda, he thought he felt in his heart some disposition to revenge the loss of Celintha: At least, said he within himself, I feel some agreeable motions, which the Civilities of Rosolinda have raised in my mind, and which seem to comfort me in some measure in my despair, and do a little sweeten the bitterness of my Afflictions; and it may be Heaven itself, which offers me so favourable an opportunity for my cure, will give me the power to finish it, and make me to bear a gentler yoke, and such as will leave me in some hope. Whilst Alcander flattered himself with these Reflections, Rosolinda, who began to bear a great part in all that concerned Alcander, having now known his affliction, and the engagement of Celintha, thought it would be easy for her to make a conquest of what Celintha had neglected. She longed to see Alcander, who owed her a Visit, and to endeavour in so favourable a Juncture to disengage him from a desperate passion, and to render herself Mistress of a heart which the cruelty of Celintha had broken and tormented. Alcander soon satisfied her Impatience; he went to see the Mother, to get her leave to visit the Daughter: He obtains it, and immediately gives himself up wholly to the design which he had of loving her, and making himself be beloved by her. When he is with her, he displays before her to the utmost, whatsoever he used to show of the amorous and the witty, at times when he was most ambitious of pleasing: He shows in his Conversation that vivacity of Wit, and greatness of Soul, which do use to attract esteem, and especially since the terms in which he expresses himself, have an I know not what of lively and natural, which agrees with the sincerity of his thoughts. Rosolinda, who had, like him, a lively imagination, and a haughty mind, thought and did every thing like him, (that is to say) with a great deal of gentileness. This conformity of them both in their thoughts and in their expressions, seemed to prepare them for a perfect union: There was between them this difference, that Rosolinda having nothing in her heart which opposed the passion she begun to feel for Alcander, in the ardent desire she had to please him, followed her Inclination; whereas Alcander having also a design to please Rosolinda, was forced to encounter the Inclination which carried him towards Celintha. Thus Alcander finding himself too much pre-engaged, endeavours the more to love Rosolinda: In order to this, he forces himself, as much as possible, to fill his imagination with the merit of Rosolinda: He fixes all his Looks upon what he sees in her, to be the most moving, and the most engaging; he examines, he studies all her Beauties, he searches, and thinks to find a certain delicacy in all her thoughts, a certain accurateness in her expressions, and in all that she does, a new sort of agreeableness, which no body had yet observed; he fancies Graces in all her Person which she had not, although indeed she possessed many of them to a great degree. Rosolinda seconds his Intentions, and forgets nothing of those strokes which may gain her so advantageous a Victory. This first Visit, which had lasted much longer, if it had been to be measured by the pleasure which it gave to them both, being ended by the Laws of Decency, they parted with some assurance of having raised in each an esteem the one for the other. Alcander went from this Conversation, with a satisfaction and agreeable disturbance which he took, for a certain presage of the change he wished for with so much earnestness. He continues his Visits, and now far from hastening his Journey to Paris, he does seek excuses to retard it. Now because the motive which continually inclined him to Celintha, did disturb the happy beginnings of this Enterprise, he found himself still in an uncertain condition, his Heart belonging neither to Rosolinda, nor to Celintha, since it was tied to the one by a Chain, which Fate had made with her own hands, and to the other by a violent desire of his own, to bestow all his Love upon her; he was resolved to enter into an Engagement in despite of his Heart, which nothing might be capable of breaking. He would therefore needs lay an obligation upon himself, by showing to all the World, that he is the Lover and Adorer of Rosolinda; he says it so often, that he persuades himself that he is so; and to forget nothing of what may advance this Love in a Mind prepossessed by another Passion, he draws the Picture of Rosolinda in Verses, he fills himself with her Idea, and he presents to his mind a Collection of the delicate Strokes and Features of which her Beauty is composed.  
Scarce had he finished his Verses, but without giving himself time to examine and polish them, he sends them to Rosolinda, and shows them to his Friends with a forwardness which was not usual in him; it was enough for him to believe that this impetuous desire which had made him make this Picture with this great quickness, was an undoubted mark of his new Passion. Celintha, who knew already something of it, was extremely pleased to see in Alcanders' Verses the confirmation of a Change which she so earnestly wished for. Coming therefore to Rosolinda, to whom she owed a Visit, she makes the Conversation to fall upon this Subject, not out of an indiscreet and jealous Curiosity, which is so common to all Women, but out of a generous Goodness, which made her concern herself for Alcanders' quiet, and who pleased herself in congratulating Rosolinda for so honourable a Conquest. How happy are you, said she, to Rosolinda, to find in Alcander a Lover who knows how to praise as well as to love! who shows you so much Wit when he gave you a Heart, and who mixes with his Presents such precious Incense! What likehood is there, replied Rosolinda, that a Heart which oves you once, can or will ever love another? The Verses which Alcander made for me, do form the Idea of a Beauty which never was in being; and as the Picture does not resemble me, and is so much above me, Alcander's Love is no less incredible than his Praises. Rosolinda, said Celintha, has not less Modesty than Beauty. Celintha answered, Rosolinda has not only all that can make a person be beloved by all the World, but she has for the Eyes of Alcander a certain Charm, which ties him to her Person with Knots which he can never be able to break. It is in that, replied Celintha, lies the Privilege of a Beauty like yours— As she was pursuing her Discourse, word was brought that Alcander desired to see her. At this Name of Alcander, imagine what was the surprise of them both, who had such different Motives and Interests. Rosolinda ordered him to be conducted in, being desirous to see the effect which the Presence of Celintha would cause before her, upon the mind of a revolted Lover; and Celintha was overjoyed to be upon this occasion with Rosolinda, that Alcander comparing the one with the other, might be the better convinced of the preference which was due to her Rival, and give himself up at last wholly to this his new Mistress. Alcander came into the Chamber, and seeing Celintha with Rosolinda, was so surprised, that he could not dissemble the disorder it put him nito, and he knew not which to fix his eyes upon. This distraction and disorder which appeared in his thoughts, made Rosolinda ashamed, and raised a great deal of pity in Celintha: All three were struck dumb, and not knowing with what to begin the Conversation, kept silence for some time; Rosolinda broke it at last, and not being able to abstain from thanking Alcander, for the description he had made of her in Verse. Alcander answered her Compliment, in terms which shown the great disturbance of his mind: He turns his eyes towards Celintha, and seems with submissive and languishing Looks to tell her, he repent the having contradicted by his Verses which he had made for another, all that he knew belonged to her: He finds he loves none but Celintha, and seems to have forgotten that she loved no body but Dorilas. Celintha, who would have rescued him from this Disorder, said to him with her usual sweetness, I see Alcander, that loving Honour as you do to the highest point, you fear the offending against it, by showing before me, that you have taken back your heart to give it to another; but does not Honour itself dictate to you, that it is a shameful thing for such a Person as you, to lose upon me such precious Sighs as yours are? I must confess, I do esteem the heart which I had the disposal of so much, as to believe it was not unworthy of you, and if it were possible for you to gain it either by force of Merit, Love, or Constancy, it would then (it may be) be shameful for you to yield it up to another; but since it belongs to another, by the irrevocable Command of that Power which absolutely disposes of us, nothing can be more honourable for you, than to free yourself from such an unfortunate bondage, and to put yourself into the chains of a Beauty you ought to prefer before me, though I were capable of returning your Love. Celintha having spoken these words, rises up, thinking she ought to spare Alcander the confusion of answering; she takes leave of Rosolinda, and leaves her in an astonishment, no less than Alcander. Rosolinda seeing herself alone with him, having made some endeavours to re-settle her mind, Lift up your eyes, Alcander, said she, and do not blush by reason of the condition which the presence of Celintha has put you into: I see very well that an invincible charm draws you to her, but since with the help of such a desert, and such a Love as yours, Celintha cannot overcome the inclination which she has for Dorilas, can it be thought strange, that you cannot overcome for my sake the Love which you have for Celintha? Yield therefore to that destiny, which ties you to a Person infinitely amiable; love her still, and if so sweet a heart as hers seems not to be made for you, force it to yield itself to your own power. The illustrious Alcander is not born to be always unhappy, his destiny is stronger than that of Dorilas, and even that of Celintha itself; and lastly, there is nothing impossible to Love, Merit, and Perseverance, when you unite them all together. Ah Madam, answers Alcander, with a great sigh, and as it were coming out of a deep study, With what hopes would you flatter an unfortunate Lover! I too well feel that I loved Celintha, and I too well see that I shall always love her; but you may imagine that I shall always love her against my will, since it will always be without any hope; and this will be at least a just punishment inflicted upon a heart that will not obey me: If I could take any other course, it should be, without doubt, that of casting off the fetters put upon me by Celintha, to give myself wholly to you. The fight of you alone does often charm my melancholy, and I found myself so filled with the thoughts of you when I made your Picture, and I did it with so quick and lively a warmth, that I thought that fire in my mind had passed into my heart: But I now see my Error with shame; and though I might hope one day to restore it to myself, that I might offer it entirely to you, would it be just that you should be a moment in doubt of your conquest? How could I still have the rashness to demand of you your heart, for a heart that is yet a prisoner in the chains of another, and which has made so many successless Attempts to free itself? Can I enter into your presence, after having ventured to take upon me openly the Name of your Lover, and after having exposed myself to the shame of belying so glorious a Name? I ought to deprive myself for ever of the pleasure and honour of seeing you. At these words he goes out, without staying for her Answer, and as soon as he was got home, he thought of going immediately to Court; he asks leave of his Parents, and makes the best excuse he can for the inconstancy of his resolutions.  
After having resided some time at Paris, and after having added to his mind, and to all those accomplishments he brought with him out of the Country, that agreeable air which is to be gained no where else but there, the progress which he soon made in gaining the general esteem of the World, upon his entrance into it, the reputation of his Name and Fortune, augmented by a great Estate, made him looked upon as a very considerable Match. The greatest of the Court had their eyes upon him, and wished for his Alliance: An absence of some years, his Reason fortified by Age, and by the Conversation he had with the rational World, the application which he made to every thing that could give the last perfection to a Gentleman of Quality, some little Amours which employed his leisure time, and which young People look upon as a necessary Pleasure. All this seemed to have extinguished the Love which he had for Celintha, to such a degree, that one of his Friends having spoken to him of a great Match, he hearkens to the Proposition with pleasure, writes about it to his Parents, procures their Consent, and afterwards courts and gets the Consent of Florisa, for that was her Name. The Match is concluded upon, the day is appointed for all Parties to sign the Contract, and yet see the power of Love guided by Inclination. In the midst of these Preparations for so advantageous a Marriage, he receives News, which stops the execution, which was a misfortune befallen Dorilas, whom the loss of a Lawsuit had totally ruined, and forced to renounce the possession of Celintha; he feels in himself a hope spring up, which he had before lost, and this hope re-kind les his Flames. Having known afterwards that Celintha was sick, and that the beginning of her sickness was so violent, that she was in danger of her life, his tenderness towards her increases; imagine then what was the disturbance of a mind agitated with so many motions at the same time. On the one side, the necessity of accomplishing a Marriage resolved upon, the shame of seeing in danger the honour of his Word and Promises, the indispensable obligations of Duty and Decency, the interest of Reputation and Fortune; and on the other side, the Love he has for Celintha, the pity he has of her Sickness, the passion he has to secure her, the impatience he has to see her again, and the hopes of possessing her. In this perplexity, his first thoughts were to disengage his word; he goes to the Parents of Florisa, throws himself at their feet, makes a sincere confession to them of the condition of his mind, and protests to them, that if notwitstanding the passion which he has for Celintha, which he feels the return of with greater force than ever, they esteemed him worthy of their Daughter, nothing should hinder him from doing his duty, and keeping to his promise. Her Parents, who would not endanger the quiet of their Daughter they loved so tenderly, soon released Alcander from his word. Alcander goes home with all the diligence which his age and his natural activity, his love and his hope, enabled him to do. So soon as he was come thither, he asked for Celintha, and hears that she had been in great danger of her life, by the malignity of that sort of disease which may be called the Scourge of Beauty, since it sometimes disfigures the finest Faces, and does at least take away that which is called the flower of Beauty, I mean the gloss and fineness of the Complexion, which was the chief Beauty of Celintha. This accident surprises Aleander, and far from abating his passion, gives rise to a generous compassion, which inflames and softens him the more. He asks leave of Celintha to visit her: She who yet saw no body, and who waited tiil time had worn out those cruel impressions which her Sickness had left upon her Face, does notwithstanding at last yield to the pressing desires of Alcander, and to her own good nature. She receives Alcander, who cannot conceal his disorder at the first sight of Celintha, although he had prepared himself against the surprise, which the change of her Complexion had occasioned. Celintha perceived it, and both having paid the Civilities they owed each other, after so long an absence. Well then, said Celintha, you see how bad a recompense you have for the impatience which you had to see me; you see how the Heavens take care to cure you of a passion which I have so little merited. If that had been the intention of Heaven, answered Alcander, I should have been inspired with other thoughts towards you, and should have had another heart: Time absence, nor the accidents of life, and the inconstancy which is so natural to men, are able to change, and even to destroy the strongest passions, but yet can have no operation upon mine; I have received it with my life, and it cannot be extinguished but by my death. To answer you, Alcander, replied Celintha, I have only to say the same things over again, which you have said to me, with this difference, that although the passion which I have for Dorilas, is not less violent than that which you have for me, yet it is much more unfortunate; for I loved Dorilas, I had the consent of my Parents, was beloved again by him, and cruel Fortune hath thrown my Lover into so extreme a poverty, that although I might obtain him in this condition with the consent of my Friends, yet I should never be able to gain his own consent. If you love me enough to desire me without desert, and without beauty: Dorilas loves me too much to desire to possess me, when I must go contrary to my duty, and sacrifice myself to his bad Fortune; but that which grieves me most, is to see us all three involved in an inextricable misfortune. You can never obtain what you love, and if Fortune should do a miracle for the sake of Dorilas, by restoring him wherewithal to obtain me from my Relations, can I give myself to him, and refuse at the same time so generous a Person as you are? No, no, Alcander, I cannot give myself to either; I equally hate Treachery and Ingratitude; Dorilas shall have my Love, but you shall have my Esteem and Gratitude. We must then, said he, yield to the severity of our Fates: I must lose you and leave you; as unfortunate as I am, I shall never repent the having loved you, and these excellent thoughts, which at the same time declared to me both our misfortunes, do but increase the esteem which I have for you. I will obey this fatal power, which having tied me to you, does now separate me from you for ever. If my absence cannot cure me, yet I shall have this advantage from an invincible inclination, that it will guard me from all other engagements, which though they may be more happy, yet can never be so glorious, as that inclination which engages me to the most lovely and most generous Person in the World. After having spoken these words, he leaves her, and takes the most passionate Farewell that ever was known. Celintha afflicted with the loss of that little Beauty which Nature had bestowed upon her, for Dorilas his sad condition, and for Alcander's sorrow, was resolved to leave the Conversation of the World, and to pass the rest of her days in a religious Retirement. Alcander being able no more to pretend to Celintha, seeing himself pressed by his Parents, and by the strong Reasons of Honour and Decency, not to suffer so great a Name as his to be lost, could not avoid harkening to some Propositions of Marriage. His Father being returned, as imperious as he was, would not notwithstanding impose upon his choice; for he believed that his Son would at last master a passion that was without hope, and being born with a great deal of courage, he would do nothing which was unworthy of his Birth. He saw great advantages in making a Match with Philismena, but he was also very much disgusted with the selfish and difficult ways of proceeding which he observed in her Relations. Alcander, notwithstanding the great esteem he had for Philismena, was resolved not to oppose the inclination which she had for Lisidor; he thought it best to turn all his thoughts towards Rosolinda, whose extraordinary Beauty, even at the time when he loved Celintha, had made strong impression upon his mind. Rosolinda was returned to Paris, and had entertained in herself something beyond a bare esteem for Alcander. Polydamus and Olympia, who had very much bettered their Estate, and the hopes of their House, by their long living in the Country, and the important Services they had done for the State, resolved to make a Journey to Court: And that they might by their presence and endeavours contribute to the settling of Alcander, they departed almost at the same time with Philismena, whose Parents carried her up with them to choose for her a Match which might answer their Ambition: there it was that Alcander received news from Sweden of Lisidors' Condition and Fortune, which he informed Philismena of, together with his Rise in that Court, and the admirable progress which he made in Military Employments. He received there also Letters from Lisidor in particular, both for himself and for Philismena, and by an exact and faithful Correspondence, he privately kept up this kind Commerce of Letters, which served to increase the inclination they had for each other.  
Madonte, to whom Lisidor wrote from time to time, to amuse her Hopes, and to make her Jealousy sleep, having surprised one of the Letters which Lisidor sent to Philismena by the hands of Alcander, had so violent a concern for it, that she would have revealed all, had she not feared for herself the Consequences of so dangerous a discovery. To revenge herself without danger therefore, she has recourse to this Artifice, she makes a false discovery to one of her Friends, who she knew was under great ties of Friendship to Lisidor upon many important accounts. She makes him believe that Philismena loved Alexander, and that absence had absolutely banished from her mind the favourable thoughts that she formerly had for Lisidor. She prepares this Imposture with a great deal of art, and gives it all the Colours which might render it probable. This Friend of Lisidor, who had for him a hearty and impetuous zeal, writ to him the same day in terms capable of alarming the most incredulous mind. The remoteness and Fortune of Philismena, the merit and quality of Alcander, were powerful reasons to gain Lisidors' belief; that which served to convince him throughly was, that Madonte herself had insinuated it in her Letters to him, pretending not to explain herself fully, that she might not render herself suspicious, which tormented him without intermission. Impatient to clear them himself, he seeks for some favourable opportunity to return into his own Country; but not finding any, he begs the King of Sweden's leave, with a great deal of importunity, and tells him the true reasons of his Journey; but that they might be concealed from others, he desired that he would please to contrive some pretext of a Negotiation which he might manage privately with the King his Master, and which being plausible enough, although the success might be of no great consequence, might serve for an excuse of his Journey, and might make him appear in his own Country with the honourable marks of his Trust. The King of Sweden, who loved him extremely, granted his desire, but made him promise a quick return as a recompense of this kindness to him; Lisidor being arrived in the Court of France, remained there some time without making himself known; his restless Passion carried him immediately to seek for some light from Madonte, whom he visited secretly. Madonte completed the poisoning his mind with false relations, which her Jealousy inspired her with, and which she spoke with so great a disturbance of mind, that that alone might easily have undeceived him, had he not been powerfully prepossessed by his doubts and his fears. The King in the private Audiences he gave him, shown that he had a pleasure in seeing and hearing him, he observes in him a strength of Wit, and in all his person an Air of Modesty and Greatness joined together, which obtained in him a very advantageous Opinion of his Virtue and Courage, and which made him resolve to bind him to his Court by an honourable Chain. Rosolinda, whose Beauty and Virtue made so great a noise, was a very proper means for the effecting of his design. Lisidor, who now no more doubted of the change of Philismena, and who believed that the inequality of Fortune and Quality which she had so lately seen between them, was the true cause of it, was resolved to vindicate his Honour by seconding the King's Intentions. Neither the Inclination he had for Philismena, nor the Engagement which was upon him to the King of Sweden his Benefactor, could divert him from this thought. He sacrificed every thing to the pleasure he should have of triumphing over Alcander, by whom he thought himself betrayed, and to insult over the Inconstancy of Philismena. In the mean while Philismena being mortally afflicted for the Error that Lisidor was in, but too proud to take care to undeceive him, resolved to watch him, and having heard he went often to visit Rosolinda, she took it mortally to heart, for she had so tender a sense of it joined with so infirm a temper of Health, that she fell sick, and her Life was despaired of the very first day. Alcander, who had for her a most tender Esteem, incensed at Lisidor for the unjust suspicion which he had harboured of her and himself, and allaramed besides at the pretensions which he made to Rosolinda, was just upon the point of challenging him, and of letting Philismena thereby have the pleasure of seeing herself vindicated before she died. But being more concerned to do her good, than to revenge her Quarrel, he goes to Lisidor, and without losing time, reproaches him, and demands of him the reason of his Inconstancy. He tells him the condition wherein Philismena is, and the need she has of his assitance. Lisidor being struck with a sudden surprise, and a deadly Grief, forgetting his last Jealousy and Indignation, feels the sleeping Passion which he had for Philismena awakened, throws himself at the feet of Alcander, and begs pardon for his Error; then immediately raising himself, let us go, said he, dear Alcander, let us go to relieve Philifmena, or to die with her. They were no sooner entered her House, but Alcander sent her notice that she might be prepared for the fight of Lisidor. At this Message there appeared through the thick Paleness which covered the Face of the sick Philismena, to escape some Rays of Hope and Joy. All those who were in the Rome retired, to give her the opportunity of a free Conversation with Lisidor. Madonte alone being troubled and struck dumb did not know at first what course to take; she could not bear the presence of Lisidor, who being just upon the point of justifying and clearing himself, would discover the Cheat which had made him to suspect the Innocence and Faithfulness of Philismena, and being also pressed with remorse of Conscience, she was tempted to declare all publicly, and to lessen the Crime, accuse herself whilst she was in this uncertainty. Lisidor approached the Bed wherein Philismene lay in a strange disorder, which increased at the sight of the terrible Change he observed in her Looks. It is I then, said he, who have brought you into so deplorable a Condition, I who am not able to repay with the loss of my Life, the Goodness you have had for me! No, no, cried out Madonte, with a Voice which shown her Grief, and the violence of her Despair, it is I, said she, addressing herself to Philismene, it is I alone, who have been cause of Lisidors' Crime, and who have brought you into this miserable condition; it was my jealous Rage, which made you to pass for unfaithful in the mind of Lisidor: there is no kind of Torment great enough to punish my Treachery. She spoke these words with so loud a Voice, that they were heard into the next Chamber, where the Mother of Philismene was, who returning into her Daughter's Chamber, found Madonte in a Weakness which took away both Motion and Speech from her. She ordered her to be carried into her own Chamber, and after having known the cause of so great a disorder, she leaves our two Lovers in a full freedom of Conversation, It was then, said Philismene, with a Voice weakened by her Sickness, the Jealousy of Madonte which has been the cause of all my Misfortunes, and I shall at last have this content in dying, that it is not to you alone that the grief which kills me is to be imputed. Oh Lisidor! could you give credit to the relations of a suspicious and an interested Person? How could you believe that I, who loved you at a time when you had nothing to recommend you but your Person, and at a vast distance removed from me, should cease loving you at a time when the Reputation of your Name and Employments render you more amiable, and that a glorious Elevation does bring you nearer to an Equality with me? Can you mistrust me in so favourable a Conjuncture? I see your Repentance in your Tears. It is enough Lisidor, comfort yourself for the loss of a Life which did belong to you, but which naturally could not last long. I was born with too tender a Health, though Heaven gave me a Heart to love you always, yet it has given me a Life which cannot be of long continuance. Nothing, replied Lisidor, can lessen my Crime or my Grief, should I have hastened your Death but a minute; a Life like mine, no not my whole Life, can repay one minutes loss of so precious a Life as yours. Oh Heavens! unjust Heaven! jealous Fortune! hold cried Philismene in raising her Voice, do not draw down upon you the vengeance of that Sovereign Power which disposes of us, do not disturb these last moments which seem happy enough to me, since they restore me all your Esteem and all your Kindness. What a Reconciliation, cried Lisidor, is this, which reunites our Hearts only to separate them again with more cruelty? His Grief had gone on further, if having still some hopes of the life of Philismene, he had not feared her Sickness would have increased by a longer Conversation; he calls her Women, restores her into their hands, and conjures them to double their Care of her. Lisidor was scarce gone out of the Chamber before she relapsed into a Weakness which proved mortal, and she being full of the Image of Lisidor, seeks him round her Bed with distracted and dying Eyes, and imagining she saw him, she directed her last farewells to him with so tender and moving a Languishment, that it almost killed with grief and pity all those that heard her.  
So soon as Lisidor had heard of the Death of Philismene, he was so afflicted at it, that looking upon himself as the principal occasion of this Misfortune, he abhorred himself, he would no more see any body, and think of nothing but removing from all that can put him in mind of his Loss or of his Crime, he begs the King to give him his Audience of Leave in private, and to dispense with his appearance at Court in the disorder he was in. The King notwithstanding this Resolution which he had taken of having him near his Person, could not refuse him this Request.  
Alcander having given some time to his Grief for the Loss which he had suffered of his Illustrious Friend, being pressed very much by his Relations to choose a Match amongst all those proposed, chose Rosolinda, and having obtained her, he endeavoured comfort himself for the Death of Philismene, and the Retirement of Celintha, by the Possession of a Beauty which was far beyond the other's.   

The Second HISTORY.  
IN the tempestuous Times which were in France, when the Princes of Bourbon, being fallen from the Greatness and Privileges due to their Birth, the House of Guise, and the House of Montmorency, raised to the highest Dignities, gave a natural birth to so many Factions and Jealousies, the natural Springs of fatal Changes and great Revolutions. These Troubles were maintained and augmented by the sudden and precipitate Death of Henry the II. who after having given Peace to France, was unfortunately killed in a Tournament by Montgomery. The Weakness of Francis the II. and afterwards the Minority of Charles the IX. the Jealousies about the Government, between the Princes of the Blood, those of Guise, the Constable, and Queen Katherine de Medicis, raised new Disturbances, which at last broke out into a Civil War. Yet amongst these Dissensions, in the midst of these Fires which were kindled in all Parts, Love did kindle many others, as if Heaven had a mind thereby to unite Hearts, as Ambition endeavoured to divide them. The Passion which Henry the II. had for Diana Duchess of Valentinois, is very well known: He was more employed about this Love, than the Laws of his Kingdom, and this Duchess was seen to have so great a power with the King, that the Duke of Guise, sought in her Alliance the surest foundation of his Greatness, and the Constable could find only in the same Alliance, wherewith to balance the Interest of his Competitor. These two Rivals, with the hazard of making themselves odious to the Public, were resolved to unite with the Blood of Diana, whom the Covetousness of possessing the Government and Riches, had rendered odious to all France. The Duke of Aumale, a Brother to the Duke of Guise, married one of her Daughters, one of her Nieces being married also to the Lord of Argile, the Constable's second Son; Diana in so great a Post giving herself wholly up to the Pleasures of the Court, which a Favour without bounds had furnished her with in abundance, inspired every where an Air of Gallantry, and drew all the World after her by her Example. This I thought fit to premise, to give some Idea of the Genius of that Court, and of the spirit of the Scene where the Adventure happened, which I am going to relate.  
Two Gentlemen of Quality, united by an ancient Friendship, and for a long time having espoused the Interest of the Royal Family of the Bourbons, were desirous to find a new occasion of uniting their Families more firmly, by the Marriage of their two Children, whom Heaven seemed to have made for each other: The one had a Son whose Name was Octavius, and the other a Daughter called Henrietta.  
Octavius was born with a Physiognomy which gave great Hopes, and with too fine Features and Complexion for a Person of his Sex. His Beauty increased with his Age, without his having any of those Faults which commonly accompany Beauty in Men. He avoided with great care, all that might make it be thought of him, that he affected the looking handsome, or that he flattered himself with being so. But there appeared in him with his fineness of Feature, a noble and charming Greatness, and a mien of Quality.  
Henrietta was born with an extraordinary Beauty, and that which she had of singular, was a kind of a tender and languishing Air, which was equivalent to the most sparkling Vivacity. This languishing way of hers, was neither fearfulness nor weakness, but an agreeable impression of the sweetness of her mind, which manifested itself in her face, and did not want a firmness and greatness of Courage which nothing was able to shake.  
With this Equality of Birth, Quality, and Merit, it was not difficult to form a perfect Intelligence between Octavius and Henrietta, and such a one as their Parents would doubtless wish for one day, to unite them by Marriage. In order to prepare them for this Union, Heaven had given to each for the other so violent an Inclination, that no History can give a more singular and great Example of this sort of Love. This was not all: The Death of the Mother of Henrietta, served very much to keep up and fortify this happy Sympathy. Her Father, whom we shall here call Gaston, which was his proper Name, although he most commonly lived in the Country, would not leave his Daughter there; and so soon as he saw himself forced to follow the Court, to manage all opportunities of serving his Party, in a time when two powerful Factions were in a continual motion, he carried her thither with her Governess, and put her into the hands of Octavius his Mother. Henrietta was now entering into her 8th. year, and Octavius was very near the same Age.  
So soon as they met, there did not appear in their Faces that reserved and cold air, which is commonly observed in Children, at the first sight of Persons they do not know: There was no need of the Governor and Governess taking care to teach them mutual civility: a sudden motion, a hasty attraction bushes them forwards towards one another; they run to salute, and to embrace each other like Friends, who had been acquainted for a long time. I need not tell you, by how many sensible signs, and by what a conformity of opinions, thoughts and desires, they made appear every moment the effects of this wonderful Sympathy; they did so resemble in mind and in heart, that the most exact Picture could less resemble its Original; so that the World was apt to believe, that that which was only the effect of a natural Inclination, was rather that of a studied Imitation. There was no difficulty in making them agree in their Pleasures and Diversions: The first of them who named the Diversion, was followed without hesitation by the other; for when one shown to have a mind to any thing, there was always found in the other an implicit compliance. There was not to be found between them, those Jealousies which are usually seen between Children, about the Presents, Caresses, or Praises, which are given to them; they put them off from one to the other with a becoming and sincere modesty, when they vied in their application to the Studies which were common to them both, as History and Geography. This emulation was nor the effect of the desire of the one to go beyond the other, but of a violent desire of each to become the more amiable unto the other.  
It may be easily judged by the things that I have now said, what a trouble it was to them, when the different employments of a different Sex forced them to part, and what trouble they underwent by suffering the shortest absence, and by the impatience they had of seeing each other again.  
So soon as they passed their Childhood, Age had given to Henrietta more light to know herself, and that that Inclination which was disguised under the mask of a bare Friendship, made itself be felt as a dangerous Passion: That Reason which she had supported by a becoming Bashfulness which usually accompanies the fair Sex, made her apprehend the disorders which commonly follow the greatest Passions. Although hers was allowed by her Parents, yet she thought that she ought to retrench a little that great familiarity she had with her Lover, and conform herself to the decency of an Age, which required a more reserved and cautious Behaviour. But all these Reflections were of very little effect, against that Inclination which carried her away continually towards Octavius; so that her Governess, for this Reason, was forced to make use of all the severity of her Lessons, and her Authority; and Octavius, who owed a part of his time, to the Exercises which his Age called him to, was forced, against his will, to deprive himself of the pleasure which he had of seeing her at all hours. They could comfort themselves sometimes with the joy which they had, of seeing each other from time to time, and by the certain hopes o● their Marriage, which their Parents very earnestly wished for, and only waited for a favourable opportunity to accomplish. But observe to how many Changes their Fortune was exposed, by the Ties which it had with that of the State. The Prince of Conde, who was of an unquiet stirring humour, and capable of under taking any thing, in order to gratify hi● revenge, and to make himself still greate● having rendered himself suspected by th● height of his Fortune, and by his Conduct, to have a share in all the Commotions which the Hugonots had stirred 〈◊〉 in the State; and especially the Conspiracy of Amboys provoked Katherine de Medicine, and the Princes of Lorraine, so mu●● against him, that they thought after m●ny uncertain and unsettled Deliberatio●… it was absolutely necessary to be rid of him, to secure the King's Authority, and the Constitution of the Government. To effect so difficult and so dangerous a Matter, many Artifices were made use of: They resolved to hold a general Assembly of the three Estates, and to draw the Princes of the Blood thither, who were retired from Court. There were very favourable Declarations published, which lulled asleep the Suspicions of the Great ones, and quieted the minds of the Conspirators. The Princes of Bourbon, and the Constable, being called to the States by the King's Writ, promised to go, but prolonged the time by false pretences and frivolous excuses, the King making them be pressed by the Count de Crussol, and the Marshal de St. André, and especially by the Marshal de Termes, who raised an Army, and threatened he would make them obey by force of Arms, the resolution which they had taken to believe only their own Judgement, which continually filled them with invincible distrusts, is at last shaken. The Cardinal of Bourbon, a Prince who was a Friend to Peace, and a mortal Enemy of Factions and Novelties, having at length gained them, the King of Navarr and the Prince of Bourbon depart from Bearn, and come to Orleans, where the States were assembled. There are immediately new … ards put upon the King of Navarr, to be secure of him, and the Prince of Conde is arrested and condemned to lose his Life: What were the Alarms of Octavius and Henrietta, to see the Heads of their Party in the hands of their Enemies, and in Dangers that were inevitable? but also what was the joy which succeeded these cruel Afflictions, when the sudden Death of Francis the 2 d. restored liberty to the Prince of Conde, safety to the King of Navarr, and hopes to all those of their Party? In the Conjuncture of so favourable a Revolution, Octavius presses his Marriage, the Parents Consent and all was disposed for the satisfaction of our two Lovers, when the accomplishment of it was suspended by the Impatience of the Princes, who now thought of nothing but their Interest, which was without delay to make a good use of so advantageous an opportunity, and to seize immediately upon the Power of the Government. The King of Navarr sends the Father of Octavius to the Constable, who was absent, to stir up his diligence, and to hasten the helps which he expected from the stability and wisdom of his Counsels. On the other side, the Prince of Conde burning with the desire of revenging himself, and making use in order thereto of the Huguenot Faction, which was stirring almost in all Parts of the Kingdom, sends the Father of Henrietta to the chiefest of the Party, to keep up their heat, and to make it break out upon occasion. Things being in this condition, imagine if you can, the Trouble Octavius and Henrietta were in, whose tender minds, afflicted by the present Disorders, were yet more so by the Fears of a more terrible futurity. What, said they to each other, must the fate of our Love follow the Revolutions of State? and must our happiness depend upon a calm, which so many different Interests render almost impossible? The Jealousy of two powerful Factions, the Ambition of the Queen, who was resolved to preserve a Sovereignty and an Independance in her Government of the King and Kingdom, the just pretensions of the Princes of Bourbon, who by the privileges of their Blood, aught to have the greatest share in the administration of Affairs, during the King's Minority, the credit of the House of Lorraine, whom a long possession of the principal Dignities of the State, had made more obstinate to preserve the haughtiness of the Duke of Guise, who knew himself to have a greatness of mind so proper for Command: the courageous virtue of the Constable, who without intermission used all his Endeavours for the public good, without suffering himself to be corrupted by the Friendship he owed to the Princes of the Blood his Allies, nor by the Hatred which he bore to the Princes of Lorraine his Rivals, and his declared Enemies. Add to this, the zeal for the Protestant Religion: How many Obstacles, said the sorrowful Henrietta, in that languishing tone which rendered her voice so sweet and tender? how many Obstacles, said she, do oppose this Calm so much wished for, which contributing so much to the safety of the State, aught to be the height of our Wishes? Do our Parents serve the Princes with so much passion, that they cannot be allowed to give themselves a moment of rest to accomplish our Happiness? But why, added she, should we complain of our Fate? Is it not enough for us, that Heaven has poured into our hearts that perfect harmony which makes the happiness of Lovers? Oh Madam, cried out Octavius! do you count the possession of that which one loves nothing? and does there want any thing towards that conformity of thoughts and desires which ought to be between us, to answer to this mutual inclination? Let us equally wish for what may render us equally happy: All that comforts us, is to see that the Disorders of the State which retard our Happiness, cannot separate us asunder, because my Father and yours are of the same Party, my Father belonging to the King of Navarr, yours to the Prince of Conde; for who can ever separate two Brothers, united with so many Ties of Blood, Friendship and Honour?  
Whilst our Lovers flattered themselves thus, the Prince of Conde who could not remain in a quiet condition, whilst he saw himself kept at a distance from the Place, which he thought belonged to him by the right of his Birth, and the greatness of his Courage, seeing himself seconded by Admiral Chastillon, made himself Protector of the Hugonots, whose Number and Power increased daily. This Prince being bred up in the Doctrine of Calvin; and full of that Spirit of Independency and Rebellion, which animates his Followers, endeavours in vain to get to his Party the Constable and the King of Navarr. The first being fixed in the Religion of the State, and of his Ancestors, who bragged of their being the first Christians, harkened to nothing against his Duty; the other, whose unsteady Belief was at last fixed in that of the Roman Catholics, condemns aloud that which the Church of Rome has condemned, and takes her Part. Queen Jane his Wife endeavoured to make him change his Resolution, but he judged that for a Prince, who might pretend to the Crown, the Religion of our Kings was the easiest way to it.  
This resolution of the King of Navarre, which united him with the Duke of Guise and the Constable, although it was grounded upon plausible reasons and pretences, did notwithstanding astonish all the World, surprise the Politics of our Courtiers, throw confusion into the Huguenot Party, and indignation into the mind of the Prince of Conde, and especially struck the hearts of Octavius and Henrietta with the most mortal stroke that they could ever receive. They immediately saw that their Separation must necessarily follow the Division of the two Brothers. In effect, Gaston Father to Henrietta, who though bred up a Roman● Catholic, yet had no other Religion but that of his Master, or rather that which suited best with his Ambition, a man full of the Spirit and Character of his Party, that is to say, fiery and impetuous, thinks immediately of withdrawing his Daughter out of the hands of the Mother of Octavius. He goes to her House, and having found Octavius with Henrietta, Octavius, said he abruptly, all commerce must be broken between you and my Daughter; Heaven and Love had given her to you, and I had designed her for you myself; but the King of Navarre out of a weak and ambitious Policy, suffering his Eyes to be dazzled with the prospect of a Crown, although he sees it but afar off, sacrifices, with distant and doubtful hopes, his Party, his Honour, and his Conscience. This Prince in breaking with his Brother to join with his Enemy, has broken all the Bonds which tied my House to yours; more especially, since it is your Father who (being one of his greatest Favourites) has chief contributed towards this Reunion, and thereby has declared himself the greatest of our Enemies. I will give you no advice which may make a breach between the Son and the Father, every one ought in the Interests of a Party or Religion, to follow his own Reason or his Pretensions. I shall only say, that if you love my Daughter, Love is able to do all things in so great a Heart as yours, and aught to fet you above the weakness of common Men. I give you the rest of this day to think of it. I have also business of my own to look after, and Orders from the Prince of Conde to execute unto the Queen, so I must leave you in the mean while to take your Refolution.  
Our two Lovers overwhelmed by a Discourse which threatened them with an inevitable Separation, asked each other, in a Language mixed with Sighs and Tears, what course was to be raken in this horrible extremity of Affairs. It is now dear Octavius, said the disconsolate Henrietta to him, with a mortal Grief, that we must part for ever. Yes, for ever, replied Octavius, in a Tone which even pierced the Heart of Henrietta, but what miracle can ever unite Interests which are so opposite to each other? If hitherto your Father by the little zeal he had for his Religion, suffered you to be bred up a Roman Catholic by your Mother, at present that he is thus carried away with zeal for the Huguenot Religion, will he ever suffer his Daughter to be of another? and I, whose Birth and Inclination have made me of your Religion; must I change, if you are forced to change your Religion? Nothing Octavius, replied Henrietta, can make me change either my Religion or my Love, both come to me from Heaven, and that perfect Sympathy which is between us, inspiring us with the same thoughts, answers me for your Constancy, and it is, cried out Octavius, that which makes the greatest of our Misfortunes, and which exposes us to the violence of our Parents. We own them an Obedience without any reservation, and that supreme Power which Heaven gives them over us, engaging us in different Parties, must most unmercifully deprive us of the Conversation of each other. Add to the mortal Affliction I shall suffer by ceasing to see you, all the Misfortunes which are natural Consequences of Civil Broils. Being now of an Age to bear Arms, I may (perhaps) be forced to fight with our best Friends, and it may be (I tremble at this terrible Thought, in the blind Fury of the Fights, the first stroke of my Sword may fall upon the Father of my dear Henrietta.  
In the mean time, whilst our two Lovers discoursed of a matter which was so afflicting and sorrowful, Katherine de Medicis was full of mortal Disquiet, and took strange alarms at the extraordinary Union between the King of Navarre and the Duke of Guise. This cunning and distrustful Queen judging others by herself, imputed their Union to as dangerous a Policy as her own; and doubted not but that the Chiefs of the Party had promised each other mutual Assistance, to procure themselves all the share they pretended to in the Government. To break their Designs, she thought it necessary to make use of the Counterpoise which she had always done with so much success; that is to say, to balance the strength of the two Parties, and hinder the one from weighing down the other, that she might not be oppressed by that Party which should have the advantage.  
In order to this, she pretends to manage a secret Correspondence with the contrary Party; she expresses herself concerning their Beliefs in ambitious and suspicious Terms, which made her own become doubtful; she confers with the most intimate of the Prince of Conde's Councils, and makes them advantageous Promises. She writes to her Ambassadors Letters which seem to favour the Hugonots Religion, and which alarmed the Court of Rome; she hearkens to the Propositions made to her by the Father of Henrietta, on the behalf of the Prince of Condé. She does more, she desires the Father of Henrietta to let his Daughter be one of her Maids of Honour, and promises him to procure her a very advantageous Settlement. Gaston accepts of the Offers made to him by the Queen with a great deal of joy, and tells her she may entirely dispose of his Daughter, and that it was absolutely necessary to break the Commerce which was between her and Octavius, and destroy the Friendship which they had contracted from their Childhood; the Queen promises every thing for the sake of the Complaisance she would show to one of the Favourites of the Prince of Condé, and for other private ends. For she thought that she might be able to bring over to her Party those in whom so extraordinary a Beauty as that of Henrietta might inspire Love. She thought also the King being just entering into an Age which would enable him to feel this Passion, it was fit to give him a M … ress, or at least an Amusement which she could dispose of, and so prevent his engaging to any other Beauty, wh●se Quality and Ambition might renew the Example of Diana Duchess of Valentinais, who was a long time her Rival in Authority and Greatness.  
The next morning Gaston brings his Daughter to the Queen; and having informed her of the Intentions that Princess had in relation to Octavius, leaves her with her, greatly surprised that the Threats of her Father, which were to remove her into the Country for ever, ended in so honourable a Retreat, as this Relation to the Court, which left her some hopes of seeing her Love sometimes, although she should not have the liberty of speaking to him. Octavius' Joy was not less, but it was soon changed by the sudden departure of his Father, who being obliged by the Orders he received from the King of Navarr to put himself at the Head of some of his Forces to surprise a Town which was of the Huguenot Faction, was desirous to have his Son with him in this Expedition, that he might instruct him in the Rudiments of War.  
Whilst Octavius, who was not less valiant than handsome, signalised himself under his Father's Command, Henrietta shined at Court, as much for her Virtue as for her Beauty, she attracted the Eyes of all the World, and the King himself looked upon her with an attention which made the whole Court believe that what he felt for her might in time become a true Passion.  
Octavius who had gained Reputation in this last Enterprise which his Father had executed with a great deal of Vigour, came back to Paris, and brought back with him from this little Campagn, which he had made, a certain masculine and warlike Air, which with that natural Greatness which accompanied his Beauty, did very much set him off. He came back by the Orders of his Father to give an account of an Expedition to the King, which the King of Navarr had entrusted him with. He made the Relation of all that had happened, with an assurance, and in terms which were beyond his Age and his Experience. The Queen who was present, heard him with pleasure, and as she made every thing of use to her own interest, she thought she ought to gain a young Gentleman, who in the first trial that way made of him, gave such great hopes of his Wit and Courage. But it was also of importance to her, not to displease the Father of Henrietta, she therefore renewed the Prohibition which she had made to Octavius not to speak to her. It is true, that to correct the severity of this Order, it was given him in the sweetest terms, and with those flattering Promises wherewith she was wont to amuse those she thought fit to make use of.  
Octavius not daring immediately to offend against the Duty which he owed to the Queen, answered exactly her Intentions, but finding the Court filled with the Name of Henrietta, and the noise of her Conquests, seeing her besieged with a crowd of Lovers, and even distinguished by the Complaisances the King had for her, he could not hinder himself from being touched a little with Jealousy, and from mistrusting the constancy of Henrietta, and he thought that he could not overcome his Mistrust, if he were not cleared, and assured of it by the mouth of his beautiful Mistress. But what way was there to approach her, without being seen in the great Light where she stood, nothing could hid him from so many Eyes, whether curious, amorous, or jealous; which notwithstanding the violent desire he had to see Henrietta, at last made him venture to pass through.  
The Queen having at last by her skill balanced the Power of the two Parties, and settled by this conduct her own liberty, and that of her Children, goes out of Paris, and carries the King to Fountain bleau, to ease herself of the importunity of both Factions.  
The King who as young as he was, had skill and penetration of mind, and by the example of the most skilful and cunning Queen that ever was, had learned the Art of Dissembling, Disguised all his thoughts of her conduct, with which he was not too well satisfied. The Partialities and the Cabals which rend the Estate, and which the Queen kept up; this Jealousy of Authority which she would have entirely in herself, troubled him very much; but not daring to make it appear, to hid it the more, he affected a contented neglect of his Greatness, and an earnest pursuit of all sorts of Diversions. One day having prepared a magnificent Hunting-match, where the Ladies were to assist on Horseback with a most glorious Equipage, and Henrietta being of the Match, Octavius thought, being advised by a Lady that was his Friend, that his Face being handsome enough to disguise himself in Woman's , and very like a Sister of his that was at Court, he might dress himself like the other Ladies, only desiring his Sister to hid herself the Hunting-day, to give him the opportunity of passing for her. Although he was startled at the shame he should be in, if he were surprised in such a disguise, yet he was resolved to hazard every thing for this satisfaction. Being therefore thus disguised, he goes not to the general Rendezvous with the others, but stays till the Chase was begun: The Lady who accompanied him, and assisted him in this Stratagem, leaving him behind in a remarkable place, puts on her Horse towards the Company there to speak with Henrietta. Having approached her, she leads her away insensibly, and conducts her to the place where Octavius waited for her with impatience. So soon as she had perceived him, his disguise did not at all make him unknown to her: At the first sight the different motions which were raised in her heart appeared in her Face; the surprisal of the disguise, and of so unforeseen a Meeting, the sear of having this mystery discovered, and the joy of having the opportunity to converse with 〈◊〉 Lover. Octavius whose mind was wholly possessed with the pleasure of seeing the Person he loved so near, without considering the danger of his disguise, and all the circumstances of so dangerous an interview, throws himself at the feet of Henrietta, and abandoning himself to all that his passion inspired him, he expresses to her the troubles which her removal from him had caused, and the disorders of an amorous and a jealous heart, and at last requires from her new assurances of her Constancy. Henrietta makes him some soft reproaches for his Fears and his Jealousies, and says to him a hundred obliging things with that charming and innocent sweetness, that it fully persuaded him, and affected him very nearly. Whilst they were both thus tasting the particular Joys, which commonly private and stolen Conversations do afford to Lovers, two unknown young Gentlemen, who were invited to the Forest by the noise of this Hunting, having perceived Octavius and Henrietta, and having taken them both for Women, were immediately seized with that indiscreet curiosity which commonly accompanies imprudent Youths. They alighted from their Horses to approach them with the less noise, but having looked upon them nearer, they were strucken the more with their beauty. Their surprise was followed by a violent disturbance, which was caused by a confused mixture of fear, respect and desire. Full of an impetuous and giddy passion, which place and opportunity had given rise to in these two young hearts, they take a resolution of undertaking any thing. Hereupon they accost our two Lovers with civility enough, but withal discovered a confidence which would not stop there: Imagine what astonishment Octavius and Henrietta were in at so surprising an accident; the different thoughts and motives which agitated their minds in so strange a Conjuncture, cannot be expressed. Henrietta immediately foresees a thousand dangers for herself and her Lover, Octavius shakes too with horror and anger. After some discourse, wherein these unknown Sparks intermingled flat and gross praises, accompanied with raillery, wherein they shown a great deal of impudence, and little breeding, one takes Henrietta by the hand, and the other Octavius telling them they must part, and make two Conversations by themselves, to explain themselves with more liberty, and to taste the sweets of one to one alone. Octavius provoked by this Insolence, who seemed to affect the fears of another Sex, the better to disguise his own, could no longer restrain himself; he falls upon the Sword of one of these rash Youths, and having disarmed him, attacks the other, who surprised and amazed at the courage of Octavius whom he took for a Woman, did only parry in going back, but Octavius pressed him so home, that he was forced at last to defend himself. The Combat was at last bloody; in the mean while he who was without a Sword, runs to his Pistols, and returns again upon Octavius, who had already dangerously wounded his Adversary. Octavius receives a Pistol-shot, which hurt him in the Arm, and without feeling his hurt, pursues his Enemy, who seeing his Companion upon the ground, saves himself by flight, and loses himself in the thickness of the Forest. The noise of the Duelists, the report of the Pistol, the cares of Octavius his Friend, who having perceived from afar what passed, had called for help, drew together some of the Hunters to the place of Fight. They found Henrietta oppressed with grief and fear; one of the unknown Men, dying of his wounds, and Octavius pale and fainting with the loss of blood, and who being less concerned for his Life than the secret of his Disguise, would have stolen from the sight and assistance of those who were come thither. The disconsolate Henrietta employs all that the oppression and natural languishment she was under, had left her of voice and strength, to implore the assistance of those who were about her for Octavius. She disguises nothing, and relates the Adventure, with the plainness which always accompanies great Griefs. All those who heard her were moved, and especially a foreign Prince who was in the service of the King of Navarr, and being present at this Spectacle, was pierced by the tears of Henrietta, and having naturally a passionate and a sensible Soul. The noise of this great Accident being spread amongst all the Hunters, and being come to the ears of the King and the Queen-Mother, the King who felt some inclination for Henrietta, finding the noise which the passion between her and Octavius now made, suffered himself to be overcome with a jealous melancholy, notwithstanding which he knew how to dissemble, and at last had power to conquer his Resentments. The Queen was openly incensed at the rashness of Octavius, and the foreign Prince, who had been so affected with the misfortune of Henrietta, felt this pity change into another passion which was more tender and more violent. But as he had as much Generosity as Love, the first step which he made to please Henrietta, was to concern himself for Octavius, and to obtain his pardon from the Queen; he supposed that this service would render the design he had upon Henrietta more plausible and agreeable; he was desirous at least to diminish the grief of his Rival, and make his misfortune more supportable. He obtains therefore from the Queen Henrietta for himself, and a Pardon for Octavius, upon condition that Octavius should remove from the Court some time, for an expiation of his Fault. Octavius having with an intolerable grief heard all that had passed, and seeing there was nothing to be hoped for from the Queen, resolved to go unto his Rival. He hoped that he should find him generous enough to be moved by his tears, or at least if he had hardheartedness enough to keep from him Henrietta, the sense of his injustice would make him fear the fury of a desperate Lover. He comes privately to Paris, where the Court was, and having met with a favourable opportunity to speak with the Prince in private, without being overheard by any body, he spoke to him in such moving terms, and in so passionate a tone, that the Prince could not forbear shedding of some tears. But perceiving that he could obtain from his Rival but a useless pity, and seeing it would not prevail with him to yield up Henrietta to him, My Lord, said he, with a respectful grief and indignation, Would a Prince like you, who are the glory of your own Nation, and the admiration of ours, break the finest knots that Heaven and Love ever yet tied? Would you possess Henrietta without her consent, and dishonour yourself by so hateful a violence? Cruel Octavius, answered the Prince, with a little trouble, but in a modest and soft voice, Would you have me impose upon myself the most cruel of all Violences, to spare you that which you reproach me with? Would you have my passion and my generosity render me the most unhappy of all men, and a little Honour cost me Troubles which will never cease? No, no, replied Octavius somewhat briskly, Henrietta is not a Jewel that can be yielded voluntarily, and she is not one which can be easily torn from my Love, much less possessed against her own will. So soon as he had finished speaking, he left the Prince, without giving him time to answer. The Prince who did not doubt but that Octavius would venture a Visit to Henrietta, what danger soever he might run thereby, was resolved to be there before him, believing he might easily be so, for he did not think it was so easy for Octavius to obtain leave to do it; but the diligence of Octavius was so great and so happy, that he came first to her, by reason of the Correspondence he had with a Servant which had been with her a long time. So soon as he was come to her, What do I see, cried Henrietta? do you come to ruin me by your presence, and to renew my Fears, by exposing yourself afresh again to the Queen's Resentment? Alas! what have I to consider, answered Octavius, when I lose you? what Dangers do you fear for me, when you take from me that which is dearer to me than my Life? If you speak of my Heart, replied Henrietta, and of all the tenderness of which it is capable, comfort yourself Octavius; there will nothing of it be taken from you, it is and ever shall be yours, both by the gift which Heaven hath made of it to you, and by a merit which I prefer to the most cried up Fortunes. The Queen and my Relations may dispose of my Person, but not of my Love. Ah! replied Octavius, Such a Husband as my Rival, so accomplished a Prince, whose virtue equals his birth, being Master of your Person, will soon be so of your Heart. I could wish it would please Heaven, said she, that I were able to change, and that the force of the duty which I own to the Husband who shall be given to me, could break those chains which tie me to you; but I know myself too well to expect so happy a change. Separated from what I love, and indispensably united with a lovely Prince whom I shall never love, I shall suffer all that can be endured by a Soul that is sensible in the most violent and dismallest of conditions. All that can comfort me or you, dear Octovius, is that the violence of my torment will hinder the duration of it; you will soon lament my Death, but you shall never have the trouble to bewail my Inconstancy. The Prince who was come to the House of Henrietta, and who had been prevented by Octavius, having slipped behind a Screen in her Chamber, so as to hear without being seen, was so moved by this tender and sad Conversation, that he could not restrain that generous pity which he naturally had for the sufferings of others. No, no, said he, discovering himself, you shall not die, fair Henrietta; my passion as violent as it is, knows how to respect yours; I should deserve the just anger of Heaven, if I separated two hearts which it has so well united: The gift which has been made to me of your Person, although it be of an infinite value, cannot defend me from the cruel reproaches which I should make unto myself without intermission, if I should take you away from your Lover, and from yourself; I had rather deserve you by yielding you, than possess you by making myself unworthy of you.  
At these words, which were so moving and generous, what a sudden change was there made in the Souls of our Lovers! A transport of Joy and Gratitude succeeding a fatal Despair, makes them immediately throw themselves at the feet of the Prince: What do you do, said he, in raising them up? would you by this excess of joy make me feel the more the greatness of my loss? let me steal away from your thanks, and go without delay to the Queen to finish your happiness, that I may be no more in a condition of disturbing your quiet, and of re-taking the Treasure which I now yield. He goes out, speaking these last words, and after having wiped away some tears which he could not forbear, he runs to the Queen, begs of her the Pardon and Return of Octavius, and her consent to his Marriage with Henrietta. The noise of this Action of the Prince was immediately spread abroad, and he was comforted for the unhappiness of his Love, by the Honour which he had of overcoming it, and by showing this great Example in a Court, where every thing was actuated by an ambitious and selfish Policy.  
Octavius and Henrietta were soon informed of their Happiness, and the time of their Marriage soon agreed upon, which was accomplished with a great deal of Joy and Magnificence.   
FINIS.   

A Catalogue of some Plays and other Books Printed for R. Bentley and S. Magnes.  

PLAYS.  
1 TArtuff, or the French Puritan.  
2 Forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bridegroom.  
3 English Monsieur.  
4 All mistaken, or the Mad Couple.  
5 Generous Enemies, or the Ridiculous Lovers.  
6 The Plain-Dealer.  
7 Sertorius, a Tragedy.  
8 Nero, a Tragedy.  
9 Sophonisba, or Hanibal's Overthrow.  
10 Gloriana, or the Court of Augustus Caesar.  
11 Alexander the Great.  
12 Mythridates King of Pontus.  
13 Oedipus King of Thebes.  
14 Gaesar Borgia.  
15 Theodosius, or the Force of Love.  
16 Madam Fickle, or the Witty False One.  
17 The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters.  
18 Esquire Old-Sap, or the Night-Adventures.  
19 Fool turned Critic.  
20 Virtuous Wife, or Good Luck at Last.  
21 The Fatal Wager.  
22 Andromache.  
23 Country Wit.  
24 Calisto, or the  Nymph.  
25 Destruction of Jerusalem, in two Parts.  
26 Ambitious Statesman, or the Loyal Favourite.  
27 Misery of Civil War.  
28 The Murder of the Duke of Gloucester.  
29 Thyestes, a Tragedy.  
30 Hamlet Prince of Denmark, a Tragedy.  
31 The Orphan, or the Unhappy Marriage.  
32 The Soldier's Fortune.  
33 Tamerlain the Great.  
34 Mr. Limberham, or the Kind Keeper.  
35 Mistaken Husband.  
36 Notes on th' Emperor of Morocco, by the Wits.  
37 Essex and Elizabeth, or the Unhappy Favourite.  
38 Virtue Betrayed, or Anna Bullen.  
39 King Leer.  
40 Abdellazor, or the Moor's Revenge.  
41 Town Fop, or Sir. Tim. Tawdery.  
42 Rare en tout, a French Comedy.  
43 Moor of Venice.  
44 Country Wife.  
45 City Politics.  
46 Duke of Guise.  
47 Rehearsal.  
48 King, and no King.  
49 Philaster, or Love lies a Bleeding.  
50 Maid's Tragedy.  
51 Grateful Servant.  
52 Strange Discovery.  
53 Atheist, or the second Part of the Soldier's Fortune.  
54 Wit without Money.  
55 Little Thief.  
56 Valiant Seot.  
57 Constantine.  
58 Valentinian.  
59 Amorous Prince.  
60 Dutch Lovers.  
61 Woman Bully.  
62 Reformation.  
63 Hero and Leander.  
64 Love Tricks.  
65 Julius Caesar.  
66 Fatal Jealousy.  
67 Monsieur Ragou.  
68 Island Queen, or Mary Queen of Scotland.  
69 Empress of Morocco.  
70 Common wealth of Women.  
71 The Noble Stranger.  
72 Duke of Milan.  
73 The Knave in Grain.  
74 Amends for Ladies.  
75 Mammamouchy.  
76 The Emperor of the East.  
77 The Wedding.  
78 St. Patrick for Ireland.  
79 Albumazor.  
80 The Tragedy of Albertus.  
81 Beaumond and Fletcher's Plays: in all 51. in large Fol.  
82 Mr. Shakespear's Plays: in one large Fol. Volume. Containing 43 Plays.  
83 Bishop Brownrig's Sermons, in Fol.  
84 Dr. Comber's Companion to the Temple and Altar: In Fol.  
85 Dr. Allestry's 40 Sermons: In Fol.  
86 Towerson on the Creed: In Fol.  
87 Hudibras Complete: In 80.  
88 Present State of England: In 2 Vol. in Twelves.  
89 Enter into the Closet: In 120.  
90 Mr. Evelin's Calendarium Hortens. In 80.