THE Loving Enemy OR A famous true HISTORY Written originally in the French Tongue, by the most incomparable Penman of this Age, J. P. Camus B. of Belie. MADE ENGLISH By Mayor Wright, As his Recreation, during his Imprisonment.  
the Second Edition Revised.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Rooks, in Gresham College, next the stairs, entering upon the Exchange, near Bishopsgate-street: who makes and sells the best Ink for Records. 1667.   

To the HONOURABL And mos. Virtuous Lady, The Lady Mannock, Wife to the Honourable Sir Fra: Mannock, Knight and Baronet, of Giffords' Hall in Suffolk.  
Madam,  
PResuming that the fame of the matchless pen of my Renowned Author, will beget a Curious desire in your Ladyship, to employ some of your spare hours in the lecture of any of his works, I am the more confident to offer at the Altar of your high Perfections, (where there is no less Judgement to discern then goodness to excuse and pardon faults) the Translation of this small History the Loving Enemy, being the fruits of my broken and discontented hours, during my Imprisonment in Newgate for the Royal Cause, and the first endeavours of my unskilful pen. I hope it will more easily find a gracious acceptance with your Ladyship, because it is a Sien taken out of th● most flourishing Orchard 〈…〉 the honour of his Nation and glory of our Times, the famous B. of Belie, which I having ventured to transplant and graft upon a Crab-stock in mine own ill cultivated Nursery, (though it bring forth many leaves and promiseth pleasing fruit) may by malevolent eyes be blasted in the bud, if not protected and cherished by the favourable aspect of your Ladyship's Patronization, to whose most eminent virtues and no less ●udicious censure I shall ever make my appeal, and with all humility beg an acknowledgement, as being  
Madam, Your Ladyship's most humbly devoted Servant. I: Wright.   

Neparva averseris, inest sua gratia parvis.  
Disdain not (Courteous Reader) to cast thy serious View upon this (though) small Epitome of Virtue, In it thou'lt find patterns incomparable not only of Valour and Courtesy, but how to moderate thy hate, and where to place thy Love. We meet not every day with the opportunity of making vast profits, but no moment passeth that affords us not some benefit, and if we manage well these small oeconomies, in time they will amount to treasures of unspeakable Riches; Bees seek not to fraught themselves upon the lofty Cedar, or the broad-spreading Oak, but of the meanest and lowest flowers compose their sweetest and most excellent honey. Wars, Battles, the taking of towns and Citadels, the revolution of States and Empires, are always presaged by some prodigious Comet, great Conjunctions or Eclipses; and there are writers enough that will employ their wits and pens to describe such high and notable transactions, like birds, rejoicing to spread their unconfined wings in a large free air, or fishes that delight to sport and tipple in the deepest Waters; But few there are that will bestow the pains to pick and gather up the golden sand that's found upon the banks of, but, some Rivers, every one being ambitious to dig and spend his labour in full and untouched mines. This was the humble exercise of my most renowned Author, (the B. of Belie) who made this worthy observation, [That the more attentively he reflected upon those things which were brought to his knowledge by means either o● his eyes or ears, the more he found the World to be an immense Volume, which could never be enough studied, nor throughly read, and that the things of consideration which it offers to our understandings, infinitely exceed in number those that are read in the best furnished Libraries.] Thereupon he studied to publish nothing that might come under the notion of trivial or vulgar, much less to transcribe any thing that formerly had been written, to the end that the Readers Curiosity might not be frustrated, but in the lecture of his works might meet with such narrations as never had been seen, read, or happily ever heard of before. Out of this richly adorned plot of most delicious flowers, I have made choice of one to present thee (Reader) which, if it hath not lost its fragrancy by transplanting, cannot but recreate thy senses. Yet though thou dost find this defect in it, be favourable in thy censure, and accept of my will to please thee, in endeavouring to put forth in thy mother tongue a history of such truth and quaint composure in the original, that it is applauded, nay admired, by all the Curious and Judicious of the French Nation, the benefit will be thine, the contentment mine, if it liketh thee, Farewell.  
J. W▪   

To the most Ingenious, a●● accomplished Gentleman, Major Wright upon his version of a choice piece o● I. P. Camus B. of Belie, out of French into English.  
Sir,  

CAmus is much your debtor, that you have  
Clad him in such rich English, gay and bram  
A witty Author says, When our first Sire  
Lost paradise (by a deserved Ire)  
He was in Dutch exterminated thence,  
Before tempted in Italian, and in French  
He fell a begging pardon, for of tongues  
The French is softest, and hath weakest lungs;  
Now therefore Camus by your virtuous pains  
Speaks stronger lines, and in more sinewy strains:  
So have I known on Rome's half-speaking walls,  
Copies improve their first Originals.   
Jam. Howell.   

To Mr. WRIGHT, upon his Translation of the LOVING ENEMY.  

WHy should 〈…〉 raise the venturing Merchant more  
That brings bright Pearls from th' Erythraean shore;  
Or Gold from Indè, t' enrich his Countrymen,  
Then him that Traffics by a skilful Pen  
T'adorn his Native land with Foreign Wit?  
W●at Merchandise can be compared to it?  
Su●h is thy Traffic, such thy precious toil  
In this French Story. In a Foreign soil  
This tree first grew, and is so well transplanted  
By thee to us that it must needs be granted  
It loses nothing by the change of Air,  
But is as full 〈◊〉 Elegance, as fair  
(The Virtue's ●●ill retained) as fresh in show  
In this, as in th●● Land, where first it grew.   
THO: MAY.   

To Major Wright, on his Excellent translation the LOVING ENEMY.  

BEllaie, who whilom with his Trump of Fa●●  
Echoed on Seine landing at Silver Thame,  
Now charms our English ears, and though the 〈◊〉  
Be different, yet the Melodie's all one.  
Those noble foes which he 〈…〉 sings,  
Thou makest the subject of thy well-tuned strings  
As deadly Feudes and a Domestic War  
Most happily by both accorded are.   

And though the Partial French may Bellaie cro●●  
we'll say the Sword hath put the Mitre down.  
I wish thou couldst, who dost so well translate  
The Quarrels, and at last compose the hate  
Of Private persons on our Public Stage;  
Set Periods to this too uncivil rage,  
(Which empties Families, and Prisons fills,  
And Friends, and Foes, promiscuously kills)  
And teach by Precedent our Infant-State  
T'abbreviate, and restrain th'excess of Hate,  
Not let the future Gentry be undone  
For what was by their Grandsire's Grandsires done.  
Else we shall think this Worm called Man dares boast  
Who him offends, offends the holy Ghost.   

We read how Music Charmed Beasts, Fish, Fowle, Trees;  
Mayst thou charm Man, more easily drawn then these,  
And we will crown with groves of Laurel Boughs  
(th'emblem of Peace) the Prize of wit, thy brows,   
AUG: RIVERS.   

To Major WRIGHT, upon his Excellent Translation of the LOVING ENEMY.  

TH'ingenious Fabler Metamorphosies  
Gods into Men, Men into Deities;  
●et by enchanting Verse his feigning Pen  
shape's out inhuman Gods, and godless Men.  
But, the just Metamorphoser, BELLAY,  
Such heavenly transformations doth display  
As every hellish passion they control,  
And of a vicious, Frame a virtuous Soul.  
Witness this Story, where pure Love and Peace,  
Make cruel Hatred, Bloody Discord, cease.  
Yet English minds this profit, this delight,  
Had wanted, hadst not thou Judicious WRIGHT  
What thy BELLAY in choicest French hath said  
Into like English, Metamorphosed.   
John Chapperline.   

To my Noble Friend, upon his Translation of the LOVING ENEMY.  

IF generous actions merit any Praise,  
And Heavens Crown their active heads with Bays,  
Then may all say, as well as I, there's skill  
And Elegance, ●● the Translators Quill,  
Who here presents unto the world well dressed  
His like-spent hours, (bien a la mode) and lest  
Detraction, Envy, Malice, or despite,  
Mis-judge my Friend, 'twas done by Loyal WRIGHT.   
John Lillie.   

To my Dear Friend, Major WRIGHT, on hi● Learned Translation, Entitled, THE LOVING ENEMI  

FEw words (I know) were they as neatly dressed  
As thy Translation, would become me best:  
And, (could I couch, (like some) in every Line  
A New-borne-Fancie) stamp thee All-Divine.  
But as my Genius's Rude, and Stale, and Dry,  
The Best I am's A Loving Enemy.  
[An Enemy to BELLET, and his Lines,  
Both stained at once with my unhappy-Rythmes:  
An Enemy to Language, most to thee  
Thus hung with Rags, in stead of Tapestry.]   

Nor is it fit indeed that I should be  
A Friend to that, which is Thine Enemy,  
Were it not Loving, and averse the Times,  
Which count best Virtues, but the worst of Crimes;  
And tells Ambitious-Man, wherein he fails,  
Where to Cast Anchor, when to Hoist his Sails,  
With such a Mixture of Refined Wit,  
The Question, is, If Man Composed it?  
And if a Man, What Angell's Hand did steer  
The Lucky-Vessell that Arrived it here,  
With so much Skill, and in a Dress so fine   
BELIE will swear 'tis none of His, but thine?  

Strange! that a Goal such Tempting-fruit should bear,  
Without the help of Sun, or Rain, to cheer  
The Soil; and it not Blasted in the Bud,  
Or Burnt (like other things) for being too good!  
And yet more Strange, to find so Plump a Style  
'Mongst such Leane-Canters, in a School so Vile!  
But Prisoners Advantage have in this,  
[They're Punished before they Act Amiss;  
And have their Muses freed from all Extreamés  
Being seldom fired by Contracted-Beames,  
Nor yet Debased to such Slavist-straines,  
As speak them more of Guts, than Subtle Brains]   

" Thus Captives are the Men abound with Sense;  
" Freemen, but Panders to their Eloquence.   
Geo: Wharton.   

To my very much honoured, and judicious Friend, Major WRIGHT, upon his LOVING ENEMY.  

THis Book, Sir, needs no fillet on the brows,  
Or silken Muse to grace it; Beauty grows  
In every line, and borrowed Grace defies;  
Tie Ribbons where you mean to sacrifice.   

Oh had this fair composure been my own!  
I should have boasted some perfection,  
And my exalted Soul reached that degree  
(Before I died) to Love my Enemy.  
But this Piece to your Art owes all her Glory,  
And I but late admitted to your story  
Am only now concerned to wonder, how  
You should throne Love and Malice in one brow  
So sweet, I knew not, as the flames were dressed,  
Whether the Fiend, or Angel pleased me best.  
For still Clione ravished as she moved,  
Her rage as excellent, as when she loved;  
Had there been less of either in her blood,  
I had repent Laurean was so good.  
But with what reason, some bold Critic says,  
Should I, on you translate the Author's praise?  
This was Bellays. Divide me 'twixt you two:  
But what I understand, I owe to you.   
J. SHIRLEY.   

THE LOVING ENEMY.  
AS when insulting Neptune musters his turbulent waves against the boisterous winds, and tosseth (sometimes) his billows to the Sky, then hurries them again into his restless bottom, seeming to threat the Earth with P●ssundation (yet all his storms produce nothing but Froth, for the Allseeing Providence hath so set forth his bounds to the limits of her prefiction, that a small sandy bank bridles in his untamed exorbitance.) Such is the vain potency of men that oppose themselves to the decrees of Heaven. In vain do Monarches load the Ocean with Ships, and fill the Earth with Armies, if the great God of Hosts assist not in their Battles, these multitudes of Men, and all these Martial preparations are soon of themselves dissolved and dissipated: They make great noise, but to so small purpose, for God is only he that gives the Victory, reserving to himself the disposal of the Events of War, without respect to the disparity of the Combatants. No force can Rout the Party he maintains, for who can withstand his Chosen, or break those squadrons that have his Banners for Protection?  
I speak this only, as calling to mind that numerous Army which the Emperor, Charles the Fifth, brought by Sea and Land to sackage France, which he had already swallowed in his Fancy. It was at that time when he fell into Provence by the Coast of Genua, with so powerful an Army, that it seemed no force was able to oppose him. But God (who hath taken to his particular charge the preservation of this flourishing Monarchy, since by his Holy Writ we are taught, that amongst all the Flowers the Lily is his choicest favourite) cast confusion in the face of this mighty Prince, (who seemed to place his confidence in the multitude of his Soldiers.) And at the first sight of our King, Henry the Seconds Army, confounded and overthrew all his Designs, to show him how vain are all attempts against God's immutable Decrees; and that the Honour of th' Immortal flower de Luce, shall continue as long as the World hath being. The Egyptians, said Israel, relied upon the force of their Chariots, and their Horsemen, but God's People put all their confidence in him, and only trust in that Almighty's aid that framed both Heaven and Earth.  
The violent incursion of this so formidable Host (composed of so many several Nations, that the different Idioms made it seem a kind of Babel) found an unexpected Remora; and in very short time was quite discomfited by a strange contagious Sickness that swept the men away by thousands, which blasted the Vain hopes of the Ambitious Emperor. A certain French Gentleman that was taken Prisoner by the Spaniards, his horse being killed under him, gave a notable check to his aspiring thoughts by a witty and generous Answer: This Prisoner being brought before the Emperor, amongst divers other Questions he was asked, How many day's journey it was from Aix to Paris? The Gentleman well perceiving the scope of that demand, replied, If by Journeys your Sacred Majesty doth mean Battles, (as in our language we say the Journey of Ravenna, meaning the battle that was fought that day in that place) you will find them infinite: Giving the Emperor to understand thereby that France being so undrainable a Source of People, and so fertile a nursery of men, He could never be able to accomplish his ends upon that Hydra, nor conquer, so Martial and Heroic a nation with so much facility as he imagined. The gallantry of this gentleman's answer in the Condition he then was, so pleased the humour of this great Prince, that he esteemed him much the more for it, and gave presently order that he should have all respectful and honourable usage during his Imprisonment.  
Always before a furious storm breaks out you see the Sky o're-spred with Vapours, the Clouds condense themselves, and the rain blacken in them: Lightning precedes the thunder and the noise is heard long ere the thunderbolt falls down. The Rumour of these great forces which the Emperor brought from Italy and the Confines of Genua, bred an extreme terror in Provence: And as Seafaring men who foreseeing tempestuous weather, hasten all they can to make into the Shore and bring their ships to ride in some safe Bay, so the affrighted people of Provence strive to secure their goods and persons within Cities, Castles and strong holds, where they may be sheltered from the Violence of this overpowerfull Enemy, and give testimony of their Valours by a courageous resistance; But in regard the most considerable places of that Country were too weak defences against th' Impetuosity of so fierce a Torrent, the richest and most noble families pitched upon Avignon, (a City belonging to the Pope) which standing neuter, and no way interessed in the differences betwixt these two Monarches, was chosen as the fittest and securest place of refuge for the Gentlewomen and Ladies, where (as in a Sanctuary) they might preserve their honours, (dearer to such than life) from the violence and Insolency of the Soldiers: As for the men following the dictates of true magnanimity, they repaired all to their own Prince's Army, there in testimony of their Loyalty and valour to Sacrifice their blood and lives in the defence of their King and Country.  
'Mongst these occurrences it happened that there were two of the most remarkable families of that Province, who by the Contagion of their too near vicinity had contracted so much of the Italians disposition, that they mutually inherited the hatred, as well as the possessions of their Ancestors. But as the helpless Larks, spying the greedy Marlin leave off the private Skermishes, and seek by soaring wing to procure their safety, and free themselves from the Pounces of their common Enemy; So at the first appearance of the Imperial Eagle upon the Ligurian shore, these particular quarrels were presently appeased, these adversaries trampling under feet all private grudges, to make a valiant and unanimous opposition against the public Enemy of their King and Country. Whilst they respectively execute their King's Commands, in offices and employments suitable to their births and abilities, their Ladies are in Avignon, where in imitation of their husband's gallantries in this public affliction, they make a show of so much reciprocal amity and freedom, that by their carriage every one thought they had been perfectly reconciled, and had forgotten all former enmities; so crafty is that faithless Sex, that can so dextrously cover the burning coals of their malicious practices under the white ashes of so fair a dissimulation; Sex no less subtle and addicted naturally to paint their hearts then their faces, and hide an irreconcilable hatred under the most specious veil of seeming friendship.  
But this great design of the emperor's, who aimed at nothing less than conquering all France, Vanished into smoke, as the history of those times teacheth us, (to which I remit him that is more curious, to be more fully satisfied) this proud Peacock was enforced to truss up his glorious tail: And of so great thunder & storm there remained nothing but dirt and water; In a word he left Provence with as much shame as he had gotten it with glory, like a straw fire as soon quenched as kindled. He being retreated to his own Seat in Germany, the King having given order for reparation of the breaches and spoils this foreign Army had made in his Country, and disbanded his own, retired to Paris, his Metropolitan City, the residence of his Court and Centre of his Kingdom: And those of Provence went to repossess their former habitations.  
But as these public troubles had qualified for a time th' Inveterate enmity of these two families (whence I derive the process of this discourse) the public Peace revived it. As the suppressing of fire in a close Furnace augments the heat, and as a stifferunning stream swell's and redouble's its rapidity the more it finds opposition: So this forced retention increased their animosity; besides in probability, Ambition and Envy, (two spurs of the Emulation which commonly grows 'twixt equals) might re-enkindle this hatred upon occasion of service in the Army, where each Chief by advancing his own fortune strove to outvie his Competitor. Insomuch that being returned to their own mansions (which were not far asunder) after this public storm rose a particular one betwixt them, so Violent that it could not be allayed without the effusion of much blood. Accursed Duel, Scourge of our Nation, disturber of our tranquillity, wherefore must thou destroy in the sweetness of a quiet Peace, those whom the Sword had spared in the fury of a raging War?  
Silvin and Poliecte (the two Enemies) desirous by this last encounter to set a period to all their differences (which would never be composed by the mediation of all the friends they had) seek to make parties & Confederacies on each side, and levy a kind of petty civil war in Provence. In the end to avoid shedding of much blood, they resolved upon a form of battle of six, against six, and to end all their discords, by the death of the one or the other party. Silvin chose his brother and four of his Allies for his assistants against Poliecte and his Associates. Poliecte had a hopeful gentleman to his Son, about twenty years of age, newly come from the Academy, very expert on horseback and at his weapon and of a Courage answerable to his dexterity. As soon as this gallant heard of his Father's engagement against Silvin, he would needs be of the Party; but the Father having no other Children, was so tender of him, that he could not be persuaded to let him expose himself to that danger, thinking that although his own fortune might be to die in that Combat, his Son surviving would keep up the name and honour of the family. But Laurean being youthful and of a fiery Spirit, was enraged at his Father's refusal, and vowed he would precipitate himself into a thousand deaths rather than suffer his Father to engage without him. Poliecte no way disinherited his agility nor his gallantry, but feared the tenderness of his youth, of the mature vigour and experience of those whom his Enemy had taken for his seconds. At last Laurean exclaimed, entreated, conjured, and stormed so much that his Father was enforced to condescend to his desire, and suffer him to measure his Sword with Fructule Silvin's brother and second.  
Without troubling myself to describe every particular of this Combat, not to speak according to the Proverb, as a Clerk at arms; I will relate you only the Event, which was thus. Silvin was killed outright by Poliecte's own hand, Fructule wounded and disarmed by Laurean, two others of Silvin's side slain in the field, the other two put to flight: of Poliecte's party, only kept the dead Adversaries company, another escaped unhurt, but the four others were so desperately wounded, that Poliecte and his son were carried off as dead; and although the glory of winning the Field was theirs, it was a dear-bought Victory. They were carried to Avignon, where their Wives yet remained. The one received news of her Husband's death, with such incessant screeking and complaints, as pass all terms of expression; the other was not much less aggrieved, seeing her Husband and her Son in so deplorable a condition, that their deaths seemed nearer by much than their recovery. Fructule was also brought thither, but through the loss of so much blood he had such frequent Syncopes, that every moment 'twas thought he would expire. Silvin's wife) received her Brother-in-law in this doleful equipage, and with Clione (her Husbands only daughter and heiress) so carefully tended him, that within some days there were evident signs of his recovery. Eulalie, Poliecte's wife, was no less busied about her Son and husband, whose desperate wounds put her in continual apprehension of their deaths. Her conjugal and motherly afflictions bred in her most insupportable affections, for her heart being equally balanced, and bearing a share in both their sufferings, could no way condescend to the losing of either of those so nearly and so dear beloved persons. But the Heavens not willing to keep her soul any longer suspended betwixt these two Idols determined to take one of them: Both were so near death, that 'twas thought, one while the Father, another while the Son would lead the way; these sad uncertainties gave strange convulsions to the doleful heart of Eulalie. At last Poliecte, who was more perplexed for his Son then for himself, obtained at length what oft he had desired, which was, that by the shortening of his days his Son's might be prolonged. So he deceased after long languishing and many pangs which his patience and true repentance made very instrumental to the expiation of his offences.  
His death was concealed from Laurean as much as might be, lest that sorrow added to the extreme anguish of his wounds should cut in sunder the weak spun thread of so frail a life; as soon as there appeared some symptoms of health in him, and that the Consolidation of his wounds gave hopes of his recovery, I know not how the loss of his Father came unto his knowledge, but whether through the motives of his own good disposition, or the great affection he bore towards him that gave him his being in this world, or the suddenness of the grief which seized him unprepared, or whether as yet not throughly having gathered strength, but still languishing with pain, his heart was insufficient to resist so violent an assault, this news so strongly wrought upon his fancy, that falling into a continual fever with extravagant rave, he was possessed with a melancholy Imagination that he was dead himself. These kinds of diseases which trouble and pervert the sense and Judgement are the Physician's crosses, and which they hold the least incurable of any; for what remedies can be applied to one that esteems all medicines useless, or out of a wilful obstinacy refuseth to take any? This or worse was poor Laurean's condition, none could persuade him to take any kind of nutriment, saying that dead Bodies did not eat, and that it was ridiculous, and against nature to take any victuals▪ no prescription of the Physicians, no remonstrances of Religious men, nor the incessant tears of the bewailing Mother, could prevail any thing upon his opiniative obstinacy, until one of his own Servants extremely perplexed at his Master's malady, bethought himself of an ingenious Stratagem, which proved no less profitable than pleasing. He knew that men tainted with such Hypochondriake diseases, are sooner cured by condescending to their humours, then contradicting them; for crossing them doth but imprint their folly deeper in the brain, which nothing but some witty querk of invention can deracinate: so feigning himself dead, he was laid upon a bed in Laurean's sight, and there taking such meat as was brought to him, at last bred an appetite in his Master, who resolved, to imitate the dead man, and eat as he did. By this means, by little and little, his brains began to settle, and proportionably as he recovered strength of body, those melancholy Vapours dispersed themselves, which obfuscated his imagination, and his youthfulness added to the cure, and remedies applied to him, called him back from Death's door to the hope of a happy recovery, and in short time his wounds being throughly healed, he re-enjoyed as perfect health as ever. But as all worldly pleasures seldom are entire, he scarce had left off mourning for his Father, but he was re-obliged to the like sadness, both of heart and habit, for the decease of Eulalie, who quite overcome with sorrow for her husband's death, and the continual fears she was in for her Son, fell into a lingering disease, which consuming insensibly her spirits, enforced her at last to follow her so much beloved Poliecte, leaving Laurean the most disconsolate man living.  
Now let us see what passeth in the Adversary Silvin's family, where merciless Death sweeping all before him, makes doleful evidences of his uncontrollable puissance, yet nevertheless the coldness of his ashes is not of force enough to extinguish the coals of their implacable anger; their hatred passeth the grave, which in my judgement is too large an extent, and aught to be the utmost point, the extremity of any malice should reach unto. Fortunate not being able to admit in the wounds (which the grief for Silvin's loss had caused) the ingredients of any Consolation, never considering that the Combat where 'twas his chance to fall, was fairly carried without any treachery; and that Poliecte himself, though not killed in the field, was since dead of the wounds her husband gave him, and that Laurean had escaped no better than Fructule: Incensed with furious appetite of revenge, breathes nothing in the ears and heart of Clione but a desire to procure the death of Laurean. Most wicked woman who not satisfied with so much blood as is already spilt; wilt thou yet bathe thyself in his, whom the Heavens had preserved from so many dangers? She would fain persuade her brother-in-law Fructule to fight again with Laurean, but he not ignorant of the laws of arms, retained himself within the terms of his profession, expecting some other occasion to satiate the irreconcilable hatred he bore Poliecte's heir. At last Death sent his Summons to Fortunate by an implacable messenger, a burning Fever, yet the violence of her disease could not make her heart relent, nor renounce her unworthy desire of Vengeance; but she bound her daughter with this execrable Oath, never to marry any man, but such as should first bring her Laurean's head, as a sacrifice to her Father's Ghost. Whether she died absolutely in this mind or not I cannot say, but I'll assure you after her death, Clione kept but too severely the promise she had made her Mother, although it be rather an act of irreligion then of piety to observe so ill-grounded engagements.  
Being now her Uncle Fructule's ward her beauty, which was transcendent, & the noise of her great riches, made her the mark that the ambition of the most considerable persons of that Province aimed at. But she's a second Atalanta, her love cannot be purchased without the hazard of the suitors life, she makes herself the price of Laureans head, so deeply her Father's death, & the pressing persuasions of her dying Mother, had engraved in her heart the hatred of this innocent gentleman. But commonly ill intents have bad events, and sad repentance follows for the most part all unadvised enterprises; Four of the most eager aspirers to the acquisition of this golden fleece, one after the other received a due chastisement for their temerity. The first remained a Cripple all his life, bearing in his deformity a perpetual mark of Laurean's Valour, the second was killed in the field, the third delivered shamefully his arms, and the fourth had served as a trophy to Laureans gallantry, if friends coming in had not separated them, and ravished this palm from our Champion.  
In mean time, as the same waters of the deluge which over-flowed the world, raised the Ark to the very Heavens, so the same means which Clione had invented to destroy her enemy, were to him as steps and degrees of Glory: For 'tis incredible how much the success of these combats increased his reputation; and although the act in itself was not commendable, yet the cause (in regard he aimed at nothing but his own defence) seemed so just, that his praises were trumpeted out by the very mouths of those that were jealous and envious at his honour. Seeing he was the only object of Clione's inveterate hatred, and that like Hydra'es' heads, the defeating of his Adversaries begat him fresh Encounters: his friends advised him often to absent himself from Provence, and go to the Court, where the King's presence might be a means to hinder the no less frequent than insolent provocations of Clione's frantic Lovers. But he was so far from consenting to these persuasions, that he slighted and rejected them as frivolous, and contrary to his honour and courage, fancying (like the Lacedaemonian King) that no man was stronger, or better than himself as long as he could hold his Sword. And indeed this inflexible magnanimity, scorning the dangers he was like to fall into every moment, made his Valour so cried up through the whole Country, that the most inconsiderate and stoutest of Clione's Suitors became more moderate, and learned at the expense of other men's sad fates to seek the enjoyment of her, without interessing themselves in the Vindication of her unjust passions.  
In short time she found no body would love her, nor that would hearken to her when she offered herself, as the price and recompense of a murder. Wives purchased with blood are not usually beloved: It being a thing not ordinary to take a Wife purposely to put one's life in hazard, but rather to preserve it, for the generation of hopeful Successors. So that having lost all her hopes on that side, finding no body that to obtain her favour would cope with the Victorious Laurean, she fell into a profound melancholy, which made her take the most extravagant and furious resolution that could be imagined. She determines to execute her design with her own hand, but knowing how redoubtable Laurean's vigour was, and that natural weakness of her sex was incapable to resist the Violence of his invincible fury, she studies how to compass by subtlety that which she despaired by strength of arms to accomplish. After long raving and musing which way to effect her intention, she resolves to transvest herself, and getting into Laurean's Service, to watch her opportunity to murder him; but she suddenly recanring that enterprise, considering how shrmefull a thing 'twould be for a young Lady of her quality, to go alone disguised in that manner, and to how many ill censures she should expose her honour by so extravagant and unadvised an action; besides she thought it almostimpossible to procure a Maid of confidence and courage enough to follow her, in so hazardous an attempt. Yet Heaven which had decreed the event, far different from her intention, suffered her not to remain long in this perplexity, by putting into her hands a bold Virago, who like another Sara offered herself to wait upon this courageous Judith in her perilous design, and to put in execution what Commands soever she would lay upon her; But then presently she found another difficulty of no less consequence than the former, which was, how they should get out of their house, and retire themselves awhile out of the sight of Fructule her Uncle & guardian, who watched her with no less Vigilancy than the restless Dragon that had in keeping the apples of the Hesperian garden. But 'tis in vain to strive to prevent a woman that is wilfully resolved, the inventions they have to precipitate themselves into their own destruction, infinitely exceed any thought that can be imagined to preserve them.  
Clione feigns herself much troubled with those obstructions which alter the Complexion of so ful-blown roses in a Virgin's cheeks, and throw down the fresh colours of the maiden blush, placing in their stead the pale ensigns of the Lily: And having well greased her Doctors hand to prescribe in her Uncle's hearing the remedy which she desired, he ordered her to go to the Baths and drink the water of Baquieres, which are in Bigorre, a Province of Guyenne, at the foot of the Pyrenean mountains. Fructule condescends to the undertaking of this journey, which she so much desired, and the Physician affirmed was necessary for her health. Amongst other lands and houses which she inherited by her Parent's decease, there was one in low Languedoc, just in her way where she intended to put in practice her Stratagem. She had to attend her two men and two maid Servants, whereof her faithful Melicerte was one. They were no sooner come to this house in low Languedoc, but Clione counterfeited herself so sick, and so stopped with these oppilations, that resolving to stay there till she could procure some remedy for this disease, (which she so cunningly dissembled, that the most curious observours might have been deceived) she sent back her Uncle's two men, reserving only her maids about her, which with the help of her Farmer's family she judged sufficient for her present Service. Now she is far enough out of Fructule's sight, Melicerte is only privy to her enterprise: as for the other maid, she easily found seeming pretexts enough to turn her away, and the good honest Farmer is satisfied with any thing she's pleased to tell him. By this means she see's herself in a full liberty of executing her extravagant purposes. She causeth to be bought her two horses with good weapons, two men's clothing for herself and Melicerte, and having cut their hair (a strange resolution) and fitted themselves to their minds, they road towards Laurean's house.  
Being lodged in a neighbouring Village, Clione, under the name of Florent, and Melicerte calling herself Nartal, they gave out that they were Languedochian youths that wanted service: since they have now taken the names and habits of men, we will speak of them whilst they continue thus, as of men, their enterprise being bloody and Martial. In short time they insinuate themselves into the acquaintance of some of Laurean's followers, 'mongst whom they learned that their Master was a great lover of music, finding it the only solace and Charm to divert the melancholy his generous mind was afflicted with, seeing himself the only object of the malicious practices of such implacable Enemies. Florent could Sing so tightly to the Lute, that his voice seemed to declare no less than an exact agreement betwixt the vocal and instrumental Music, thereby charming the rocks into such a posture, as if they had danced measures to that Harmony. Nartal had no such pleasing Voice, but he had so excellent a hand upon the Virginals, that joined in concert with the Lute, and Florents admirable Voice made so Harmonious a melody, that it sweetly stole out at the Ears the Souls of all the hearers. These pleasingly deceitful allurements, our sirens make the prologue of the detestable tragedy they intended against this innocent Ulysses. At last some of his Servants that had heard them presented them to Laurean, whose ears being infinitely ravished with their incomparable Harmony, and his eyes no less taken with their winning countenances and demeanour: he conjured them to make his house their lodging, assuring them to treat them like persons of noble Extraction, (as he deemed them to be) and that they should command all he had as freely as himself. The cunning Females perceiving with what impernosity their prey cast himself into the snares they had prepared for him, made many seeming excuses, & refusals of his Civility, although they desired nothing more than to remain there; but that was merely to engage Laurean into deeper Conjurations, and to cover their staying with the colour of constraint. At last (like Helen) they were forced with their own consents. Laurean gives them honourable entertainment, Feasts them in the highest manner he can, knowing how fantastical Musicians naturally are; and how hard it is to hold these Protheuses which change places and humours as often as they vary their tunes and notes.  
Oh the Admirable effect of Civility and courtesy! which wrought so powerfully upon Florent's disposition, that presently it changed his resolution. His heart like Lead melts all at once, and love takes full possession of that breast, where a mortal and implacable hatred had so long kept his residence. Laurean is so ready in doing Florent all obliging and civil offices, that his heart must have been composed of Steel or Marble if it had not relented at such evident testimonies of affection: And Florent being of no rocky substance, nor composed of any other insensible matter, remarked so much grace and Comeliness in Laurean's person, such pleasing discourse and so winning behaviour, that by little and little his perfections made a most ardent impression in the heart of this Virago. Who can but admire this change? she that came purposely to surprise, is herself surprised, and wounded to the heart; she is become a friend, nay a passionate Lover, that went out a Capital Enemy, and with the most felonious and detestable intention, that the malice of the mortalest and most inveterate hatred ever could suggest. What various thoughts now agitate her disquiet mind? What pleasure now she takes in the presence and Conversation with Laurean? Now if she could persuade herself that Laurean would ever bear as much love to Clione, as he makes show of inclination to Florent, she should esteem her felicity a degree beyond infinite.  
Nartal observing his Companion very pensive and Melancholy, thought that the apprehension of the danger, and the difficulty of achieving their enterprise, had been the occasion of his discontent: But how much was he mistaken in his conjecture, since Florent now desires as vehemently the preservation of Laurean's life, as formerly he had thirsted after his death. Nartal endeavoureth to encourage him to pursue their design, persuading him that those testimonies of affection which Laurean showed them, would be a means for them to accomplish with more facility their intention; too much Confidence opening the gates to perfidious treachery, as much as mistrust is Mother of security. But how much did he find Florents Courage and resolution altered, and what amazement seized him when he heard expressions of affection proceed from the same mouth that had uttered so many menaces against Laurean, whilst the heart which gave her tongue its motion was fraught with so much gall and rancour.  
Having resolved with myself to abandon all that might breed tediousness in my histories, I cannot without countervening my resolution now relate the several discourses upon this occasion betwixt these two disguised damsels. In the upshot Clione that had not been ashamed to discover to Melicerte to what extremity her rage and malice against Laurean had transported her, thought it no dishonour to confess the new flame his merits had kindled in her breast. This Confession much satisfied Melicerte's curiosity, though she dissembled it as much as might be, and fed Clione with hopes of terminating their design with Joy and Contentment, notwithstanding so difficult and knotty a beginning. But a business of this intricacy could not be so easily disembroiled. The respects of honour retain Clione from making herself known to Laurean, but much more forbade her to discover the extreme passion wherewith her heart was inflamed for him. On th'other side, he, whether through a secret instinct of nature, more forcible than any artificial disguisements, or by the sweetness of Florents behaviour and Musical charms, or by any other private motive, he knew not what, he could not without great resentment absent himself from the company of these new guests, and when the night constrained him to retire into his Chamber, and called them to theirs, It was but to spin out the hours instead of sleeping in continual rave, which still began again when he did think to end them, losing himself in a Labyrinth of restless Imaginations. Who ever saw a blind Creature in Love with a thing he never saw, and passionately seeking after that he loves without knowing what it is: Such is the disquietness of Laurean's troubled mind, vehemently desiring he knows not what, and suffering strange effects, whose cause he was not able to for penetrate. Weak is the force of art against the instinct of Nature, Florent's perfections display their attractive power through the Shadows of all these artificial disguises.  
It's true, 'twas no small Alarm which Love gave to Clione's heart, where triumphing like a Victorious General, he put all other passions to the rout, and made a strange disorder in her breast. But Laurean's distemper is far greater, feeling sometimes much pleasure in his passion, then presently tormented with Dolours unexpressable, being inclined to love an object which he could not enjoy in the manner he did desire. How oft did he accuse Nature of mistaking, in placing in the body of a man (as he thought Florent to be) beauty and qualities that seemed much more Suitable to a Lady; for the lineaments of his face were in his eye so exquisite, his complexion so delicate, his discourse so quaint, his Voice so feminine, his gestures so comely, and all his actions so little savouring of any Martial breeding, that he was much perplexed to find such rare perfections in a person whom the Divine laws, as well as those of Nature, forbade him to love with that horrible lust which so much defameth th'oriental climates, but never so much as entereth into the thoughts of the septentrionals. How much did it torment him to withdraw his eyes from an object which was so pleasing that he could never satisfy himself with looking upon it, and yet could not contemplate it without a Crime? had he lived in the age of the Metamorphoses, how would he have importuned the Heavens to have made one according to his desire? Amongst many other particulars that passed whilst Florent and Nartal remained in Laurean's house: I will only relate two or three, which seem no less remarkable than delightful.  
One day, as they were discoursing of the Combats, which this Gentleman had fought against those, that through the instigations of Clione had challenged him; there was one of the Company that fell into high Exclamations against the Cruelty and Malice of that Lady, reviling her with the terms of a Viper, a Fury, and a Fell-savage Beast; wishing her out of the world, that Laurean's life might be secured from so many dangers, to which her irreconcilable hatred daily exposed him. For in effect, every moment he expected such kind of Messages; and every time any one knocked at his Gates he fancied himself to be in one of those enchanted Castles of the Ancient Romans, where those that remained must always be ready armed, and in a posture to answer some new Challenge: But Laurean not suffering him to proceed in such Violent rail against a Lady that he esteemed full of Honor. You blame her (says he) for her hatred to me, and do not consider that it proceeds from the extreme love she bears to the memory of her Parents. Her Mother dying, made her swear my Ruin, as Asdrubal, made Hannibal and Amilcar, his Children, swear the destruction of the Romans, and make a solemn Vow upon the Altars never to be reconciled to them. And in this she doth an act both of Honour and Piety in so severely keeping her Oath and Promise. Besides, according to the Laws and Maxims of the world, who knows not that Revenge is held a point of Courage and Magnanimity? If she be possessed with this Error, she doth but follow the stream of the general opinion, which transports oft times the most discreet, and considerate persons: Moreover, she takes me (if not for her Father's murderer) at least for the Son of him that killed him; and in this respect how can she but abhor me? and why should not she endeavour to deprive him of life whom she looks on as her Father's Homicide? It is true, I could object many very lawful excuses, in regard the Battle was fought according to the Laws of Arms without Treachery; and that my Father is since deceased of the wounds which he received from hers: that my hands were not otherwise dipped in her Father's blood, but in the just defence of my own Father's cause and quarrel; and that I myself was brought off the Field with more probability of Death than Life. But a heart possessed with prejudice, and ulcerated with an incurable passion can admit of no reason, though never so just; if the light of Truth and Equity could but once penetrate the breast of this fair Enemy, with its resplendent rays, and dissipate the misty clouds of this savage and inhuman Opinion which she hath conceived against me, I am confident it would abate her fury, and that she would acknowledge me to be more ready to honour, and serve Ladies of her quality and merits than she imagines. I have had the thought a hundred times to write her this resentment of my Soul, (that being the only means I had to accost her) for my sight I know is most odious to her: But a vain shadow of honour still retained me, fearing lest she should make trophies of my Letters; and that some indiscreet readers might believe that the apprehension of Death had dictated them to me, seeing myself daily attacked with fresh Combatants; and no sooner cured of my first wounds, but enforced to hazard the opening them again in a second Duel. Indeed had I but one Enemy to deal with, in a moment our difference would be ended by the death of one, or other, but I must Encounter as many as the Beauty of my dear Enemy (which charms even those that have the least inclination to love) produceth every day. I believe really, that nothing but death can release me from this misery; It being impossible but that Hercules himself must at last fall under so many Adversaries. But besides the comfort I have from the goodness of my Cause, (which is but a just defence) so that I die honourably, without any stain to my reputation, I am satisfied. Happy beyond my deserts if this fair Enemy having sacrificed me to her Vengeance by the hand of some new Lover, may one day acknowldge her Error, and how she had shortened the days of a Gentleman of Honour, that ambitioned nothing more than to be her Servant.  
These last words pronounced so feelingly, and with such a grace, as was enough to have made the very rocks sensible of a relenting disposition, struck Florent's heart with such tenderness, that the blood started out of his eyes, and the tears trickling like Pearls of dew amongst the Roses of his cheeks, augmented much that beauty, which Laurean contemplated but with too much attention. Perceiving his tears, What, Florent, (said he) is it the default of my courage that breeds this effect of pity in you? No▪ no, do not think, though I am called every day to Death's door, that I will ever abate the least punctilio of Honour, which is so hereditary to my Family: Rather bewail the misfortune of those, that through Clione's means have fallen by my Victorious hand. So unworthy a diffidence (replied Florent) never entered into my thought, the proofs that you have given of your Valour in so many occasions are so public, that he must be a great stranger in this Province that is ignorant of them; I am only sorry that such eminent virtues should be so unjustly exposed to the Cruelty of a barbarous Maid, who cannot deserve (for so many unworthy actions) that you should esteem so highly of her as you have expressed: And I believe if she knew your true worth, she would change her animosity into affection, whereby you might gather the roses of friendship in the same plot, that produced you the thorns of hatred. But that which forceth me to shed these tears, is the Sorrow that oppresseth me to see so generous and spotless a life exposed to so many deaths, and to such a Continued succession of tragical adventures. Would to God that I were able with the effusion of my blood to secure you from these troubles, or worthy to receive so much honour from you as to go a sharer with you in your dangers, for I shall never esteem my life better employed then when it is exposed to do you service. These compliments issued so gracefully out of that sweet mouth, that Laurean melting with such enchanting language, had much ado to refrain from tears, and express himself in terms suitable to his passion.  
It chanced at that same time that Laurean was visited in his house by a kinswoman (whose name was Octaviane) daughter to one of Poliecte's Sisters, and whose Father had been engaged in the long quarrel betwixt Silvin and Poliecte, whose cause (for the mother's sake) he strove to maintain and justify. This Lady hearing of her kinsman's sad condition, being every day in danger of his life through the provocations of Clione's Champions, full of a Courage not ordinary in her Sex, and animated with a strange Rodomontado like disposition, came purposely to break to him the design she had to challenge Clione to fight with her, and so with each of them a dagger to revenge upon one another their Father's Deaths. An heroic resolution for a maid, had not despair been the principal motive to it. Laurean received her with the greatest testimonies of respect, friendship and Courtesy, that could be showed to so near a kinswoman, and so gallant a Lady. But when she discovered her design (although he admired her Amazonian Courage) he could not hold from laughing to see how vehement the desire of revenge was in a Sex of so much imbecility, like fire that flames with so much violence when it meets with any light and combustible material. Thence he took occasion to excuse within himself Clione's fury, who used all means possible to be revenged of him by her Lovers; since Octaviane would expose her own life to so extreme, and almost inevitable danger to seek satisfaction for her Father's death. Oh could he have penetrated the secret of darkness, and discovered Florents disguise, he would easily have perceived that Clione's spirit was enraged with no less fury against Octaviane! He absolutely disapproves of his kinswoman's proposition, telling her it was not only a furious rash enterprise, and contrary to all reason, but impossible to be effected; and that coming to the knowledge of the world, it would make her the Table-talk of all France.  
Octaviane much distasted would not bate one Ace however of her resolution; and what she had communicated to him in private, she spared not to speak openly, and in Florent's own hearing (whom she did not take to be Clione) which struck this disguised Damsel so to the heart, that her Face became like a Rainbow for diversity of Colours; and you may well think her spirit was agitated with no less diversity of thoughts. Her heart working like the troubled Sea, one while she resolved to accept Octaviane's defiance, and engage, that Clione should meet her; then the fear of discovering herself enforced her to bridle that impetuosity. But that which stretched the pin of Florent's patience to the uttermost, was, to hear Octaviane in a Raunting manner say, I have no less Noble blood in me, nor am I inferior in Estate to that inexorable murtheress; and if my Lovers flatter me not, nor my own Glass deceive me, I think Nature hath been no less favourable to me than her: I have Suitors as well as she, who all make me the highest protestations that may be. Were I as cruelly minded as that barbarous Imp; or had I as little pity upon those that make Love to me, I could impose the same Law upon them, and enjoin them to fight with those that she employs to revenge her Father's death upon a man that's no way guilty of it. But rather than to be the cause of so much Bloodshed, I will Encounter her myself with a Poniard, and make a passage with my Blade for that Black Soul to sally out of her cankered Breast. Here Florent was fain to suppress his Choler with both hands, and strive to keep himself within the bounds of modesty; partly out of respect of his own Honour, and partly out of hope to Chastise, by effects, the insolency of those outrageous words. And indeed, within a very little time, fortune gave him fit opportunity to accomplish that desire; for Octaviane having heard him sing and join his voice to the ravishing accords of his Lute and Nartalls Virginals, she was so enchanted with that delicate voice issuing from a face all of flowers, a mouth of pearl and Coral, and a breath of amber, in an instant she lost the knowledge of herself, and giving way to this new flame, she became all ice to her old Servants.  
Florent not ignorant of the passions that her Sex was subject to, suddenly perceived by Octaviane's looks, sighs, and carriage, that the glances of his beautiful eyes had made no ordinary impression in her heart; desirous to make this love an instrument of the hatred he bore her, for her invective language against Clione, he adds fuel to this new fire by feigned demonstrations of a reciprocal affection, and augments with high hopes of fruition the desires of this imprudent Damsel, like Falconers and Fishermen, that never present their baits to the unwary birds or fishes, but to take them and deprive them both of life and liberty. You may imagine whether Octaviane bit greedily at that bait, Nature inclining us to believe easily what we desire. It is not my intent to describe the particulars of this affection, no less sincere and ardent on Octaviane's part, then cunningly dissembled by Florent. In mean time do not you admire the several parts which Love doth act in humane breasts, and are you not amazed at these strange intricacies? Seeing at once two Enemies infinitely enamoured of each other, and two Lovers mortal Enemies: And each of the three principal Actors in this scene, (Clione, Laurean and Octaviane) were in love with what they hated, and hated what they loved. Who would not say that all this were enchantment, were it not apparent that Florent's attractive beauty and disguise were the origine and cause of these charms. Mean time while the Spirits of these three Lovers are thus encumbered and involved in this Labyrinth of confusions, arrives a new subject of disorder, which will produce many different effects of passion.  
Montdor a young Gentleman of the County Venaissin, having listed himself amongst the Suitors of our Penelope (I mean Clione) in her absence makes his addresses to Fructule her Uncle and guardian, demanding his consent. He (knowing to what Fortunate dying had engaged his Niece, and the resolution she had taken to perform her Mother's injunction, which was to admit of no man to be her husband, but him that should bring her Laurean's head concealed not this condition from him, assuring him withal that he would deliver Clione into his hands, if he could but effect it. Love and the desire he had to advance himself (two powerful goads to an ambitious youth) soon made Montdor accept the terms, although he knew the injustice of the cause, and the sad success of divers that had preceded him. To this effect furnished with very good Arms, and an excellent Horse, he comes to a Village within three leagues of Laurean's house, whence he sends a Challenge enclosed in a packet, which he pretended was sent from Court. Laurean who was acquainted with such kind of messages, read it without ever changing his Countenance, or giving the least suspicion of the Contents, resolving with himself to give the same satisfaction to this new Combatant as he had to the rest, only he was to beware lest under pretence of a single Duel, there might be some treachery intended, and so he might basely be deprived of that life, which he had exposed with such unparallelled gallantry. However he could not carry his business so secretly, but his design was discovered by the preparation of his Horse and Arms: It was presently noised through the whole Castle, and came to Octaviane's, Florent's and Nartal's ears. What diversity of thoughts (think you) were Laurean's and his Lady's minds then possessed with? his only care was to preserve his honour and his life, and make his Enemy, feeling the sharpness of his Sword, repent too late the temerity of his resolution. Florent and Nartal Studied nothing so much, as by what means they might divert or compose this quarrel, Octaviane employed all her Rhetoric, but in vain, to dissuade her kinsman from answering the challenge: For (besides that he was of himself too magnanimous to refuse that party by a Woman's persuasions only) he stopped her mouth with her own reasons, representing to her the desperate design she was so inflexibly bend upon to fight herself with Clione, And the offer she made him of employing one of her Lovers to chastise the rashness of his Challenger, he rejected as a proposition highly injurious to his Valour and reputation.  
Here Florent took her at her word, to whom she had rendered many testimonies of affection, not only by her actions and demeanour, but also by her own confession, (although accompanied with a bashfulness that becomes modest and chaste Virgins.) Florent would ●ot let slip this opportunity, but made it serve as a specious pretence to cover the design he had already framed, either to fight himself with Montdor in Laurean's stead, or at least to be his second against him. But Laurean taking these offers as affronts, and as disadvantageous to his honour, imposing silence to his kinswoman, entreated Florent to excuse him if he could not commit so base an action as to suffer him to go in his place, since 'twas a thing contrary to all the Laws of Honour and of Arms; neither could he accept of him for his Second, since Montdor's Ticket mentioned that he would fight single, being unwilling to engage any other in that Duel. At least then (replied Florent) you shall permit me to go before, and view the place he assigns you, near the Village where he expects your Answer, that there may be as little Treachery on his part, as there is much generosity on yours. Laurean suspecting, and conjecturing aright the wile of this Cavalier, who desired that Commission for no other end, but to quarrel with Montdor, and prevent their Combat, would by no means be persuaded to consent to that employment. But not to discontent him altogether, he suffered, with much entreaties, Nartal to perform that Office, guessing, by his deportment, that he was not a man fit to contest with Montdor, who had the repute of the most expert and complete Horseman of that County. Florent was enforced to be satisfied with that, since no more could be obtained: Whereupon he dispatched a Letter by Nartal to Montdor; wherein he forbade him expressly under pain of his perpetual disfavour to fight with Laurean, for reasons which he should know at their first meeting: This he wrote with his own hand, and subscribed Clione.  
Nartal with this Letter, and other private instructions from Clione, takes his way towards Montdor, where being arrived, he delivers the Letter, the Contents whereof distracted Montdor's mind with a thousand confused imaginations: for knowing very well the hand, and bearing a respectful awe to the absolute Command of that severe Mistress, who had no less authority to make her Lovers fear her, than Beauty to attract their Loves. Love solicits hard for Obedience to that Command; representing often to him Clione's threats to deprive him of that which he sought for in that Duel with peril of his own life, since he had no other occasion to be Laurean's enemy. But to revoke the Challenge he had sent, he thought that would make too great a breach in his reputation; and that exposing himself to the blame of Cowardice, would stain him with perpetual infamy: At last he concludes in favour of his Honour, and to the prejudice of his Love; choosing rather to be deprived of Clione, than of that glory which such magnanimous Spirits aspire by virtue of their Arms. So to be rid of Nartal's importunity (who pressed him extremely to acquiesse at Clione's entreaty) he feigned to believe that the Letter Nartal had delivered him (though he knew it to be of Clione's own penning) was counterfeited by some other, but would by no means tax Laurean with it, lest that might give occasion of deferring the Enterprise which he then was too deeply engaged in to repeal with Honour. Hereupon Nartal prayed him to observe well his Physiognomy; seeming to wonder that a man's Habit, and a Hat covered with plumes, should make him so much mis-kenne that Melicerte whom he had so often seen attending on Clione; assuring him by many particulars, that 'twas none but she; and that her Mistress had put her into that disguise, having no body else about her that she could entrust with a Message of such consequence.  
Montdor at this was seized with such astonishment, that for a good while his tongue could not perform its office; at length recovering his speech, he asked her divers questions concerning her Mistress, wherein she satisfied him with as many acquaint, and cunningly framed inventions, never confessing that Clione, under the name of Florent, was in Laurean's house. But neither her entreaties, conjurations, nor threats, could in the least divert Montdor from the resolution he had taken to maintain the Challenge he had sent to Laurean, deeming himself unworthy ever to wear a Sword, if he should be guilty of an act that resented of such notorious and eminent baseness.  
So that Nartal returning gave Laurean an exact account of the place appointed for the Combat, and that he perceived Montdor to be free from any base treachery; But Florent was in the greatest perplexity imaginable to hear that his persuasions, nor Commands, could not avail any thing with Montdor, nor divert his obstinate resolution to fight with Laurean, so making necessity a virtue, he swallowed that bitter pill, leaving th'event to fortune, since there was no remedy nor means to hinder nor defer that Duel. Laurean used all entreaties possible to persuade Florent to stay with Octaviane, (but all in vain) for he would needs bear him Company, and be at least a spectator of the Combat, hoping at last to apply that remedy which he more feared then desired.  
The two Combatants being come into the field, mounted upon goodly Steeds, and armed each with Sword and Pistol, at the first encounter Montdor did no execution, Laurean dexterously slipping aid: But he not losing the opportunity shot Montdor through the right arm, and making his Pistol fall immediately, he put him out of his fight posture: Then presently drawing his Sword he gained the crupper of him, and had run him through the body, if Montdor's horse by a fortunate stumble had not cast his rider. Laurean however scorning to make use of this advantage, leapt from his horse, and coming to him (that was neither able to draw his Sword, nor rise, being much bruised with the fall) bid him ask his life, and deliver him his Sword. I cannot deliver the Sword which I cannot draw (replied Montdor) and which I never would deliver to any man if I were in a capacity to use it, much less will I beg my life of you, which I had rather lose a thousand times then make so foul a breach in my Honour. Fortune may make me miserable, but never base; I am now in your power, you may deal with me as you please, and make what use of your victory you list. This high spirit which so imminent danger could notintimidate, and which looked so undauntedly upon so present and pressing a death, took infinitely with Laurean, who unwilling to soil the glory of his triumph with insolency, answered, You are much worthier of life, than if you had demanded it; and I will assure you, that for your Generosity and Courage, you shall ever hereafter find me your Servant, not an Enemy; and I'll acknowledge that it was my good Fortune, not my Valour that hath given me this advantage over a man whose courage I find invincible. Hereupon Montdor replied, Now I acknowledge myself conquered since your Courtesy doth preserve what your Sword might justly have taken away: But if God permit me to recover of these hurts, I will not die ungrateful for this favour. Hearing this, Laurean flung away his Sword; and having lifted him up, with the help of his Servants, he carried him back to the Village, lodged him in a friend's house, and sent presently for a Surgeon to dress his Wounds, offering him his own Castle at Command assoon as he should feel himself able to go thither.  
Florent and Nartal that stayed a loof off to watch the success of this Combat, with such anxieties and fears, as you may imagine, perplex a tender Lover's heart in like occurrences, seeing this incomparable Valour joined with so rare a Courtesy, quite ravished with such Heroic Virtues, road presently back to Laurean's Castle, under pretence to carry Octaviane the news of her Cousin's Victory, who remained Master of the Field without any hurt. Mean time, whilst they joyfully celebrate this Triumph; and that Octaviane (deceived with Florent's outside) feeds her eyes with that pleasing object, and her ears with his accustomary Courtships: Laurean stays with Montdor, showing him as much respect, and friendly Offices as if hehad been the most intimate and dearest Friend in the world, which so transported Montdor, that he almost forgot his pain. The shot being in his Shoulder, was not so dangerous as troublesome, being likely to be long a Curing; but he was so bruised with the fall, that there was more fear of him for that, than for the Wound he had received.  
One day Montdor lying in his Bed, and Laurean sitting by him, (whose Civility and Gallantry he could never satisfy himself with extolling) they fell upon the discourse of the subject of their quarrel. Montdor confessed that he was justly punished for his temerity, having obstinately transgressed the express Commands of Clione in fight with him. How? said Laurean, I thought she had enjoined you to it. Not she (replied Montdor) but her Uncle told me that I could never hope upon any other terms to enjoy his Niece, who at present is gone to certain waters near the Pyrenean mountains, for the recovery of her health, which of late hath been somewhat impaired: With that he showed Laurean the Letter she had sent him, and told him the particular message he had received from her, by a Gentlewoman disguised in man's apparel. Laurean could not imagine what might be her meaning to forbid Montdor that whereto she had engaged so many others formerly, unless that bearing him more affection than the rest, she would not expose him to so great danger.  
After some day's time Laurean took leave of Montdor, promising to see him often, and to bring with him two Languedochian youths that had been some time at his house; and which, amongst other perfections, were rarely Skilled in music. Being come back to his Castle, he made a full relation to his kinswoman, and his two guests, of all the passages betwixt him and Montdor, and what he had told him of Clione's Letter, and of the Gentlewoman Cavalier that brought it him. At these words Nartal and Florent were almost out of Countenance, imagining that they were discovered.  
If Laurean had taken notice of the coming and going of the Colours in their faces, he might easily have guest at their inward disturbances, (but how should the mind imagine what the eyes do not observe?) So these alterations passing without his reflecting on them, built a confidence in the two disguised Damsels, that they were not yet known to be what effectually they were. But when Laurean prayed them to bear him company the first time, he went to Visit Montdor again (as he had promised they should) they then believed absolutely that this was only a wile to draw them in, and that without doubt their plot had been discovered. Therefore Florent could never be at quiet, till he had found a handsome excuse to be gone away, having no desire to appear before Montdor in that habit. So feigning to have received news from an Uncle of his that was desperately Sick, (whose estate after his decease he was to inherit) he acquaints Laurean with it, and desires his permission, who charmed with his winning carriage and Conversation could not resolve to part with him.  
What an Alarm did this news give to poor Octaviane's heart? who placed all her felicity in the presence and company oft her beloved Florent, whom she had engaged herself to marry. How oft did she upbraid him with inconstancy and slight affection, but with reproaches of so amorous a Choler, that one fire augmented the other, and made a more full discovery of the excess of passion. Florent (rejoicing at her pain, and to continue her in this agreeable error) made a thousand protestations of fidelity and service, as if he had been capable of accepting the offer she had made him to marry him, he added many Vows and desperate Oaths, to answer her love with a reciprocal and most inviolable affection, beseeching her not to be a hindrance to his fortune, but give him respite only for some few days, that he might go gather the fruit of the Inheritance that fell to him by his Uncle's death. Octaviane deceived with his fair language, and holding the mouth she so dear loved as an oracle of infallible verity, consented at last to this separation, but with such dolorous resentments as cast her into a Swoon, an evident sign how near it touched her to be deprived of so beloved a presence.  
Being come again to herself, by the application of several remedies, her doleful and amorous complaints bred some pity in Florents heart, notwithstanding the occasion he had to hate her. At last, seeing no remedy, she was enforced to give way to his departure, which would have much more nearly touched Laurean, had he known that Clione was hidden under Florent's clothes. However, it troubled him very much to part with him, yet he was somewhat consolated with the hope he had that Florent would perform his promise, which was, shortly to return and stay longer with him.  
But than grew another contest about Nartal's going, for Laurean was very urgent to detain him, imagining all pleasure and contentment would presently fly from his heart if his ears were deprived both of his and Florents enchanting Harmony: Nartal is as earnest to accompany his cousin, (for so he styled Florent) and Florent could not be persuaded to leave him as a pledge. Laurean promised to furnish Florent with as many attendants to convoy him safe home, as he would desire, and to wait upon him himself. Florent was encumbered with so many extraordinary Civilities, that he knew not which way to shape an answer. Indeed it is more difficult to come fairly off in a Combat of Compliments and Courtese (although there be no bloodshed) them vulgar spirits can imagine. But in the end he found this expedient to satisfy all parties, promising to send back Nartal as soon as he should arrive at Bezieres (which Florent feigned to be his Native soil) to bring Octaviane and Laurean news of his proceedings, and stay with them as an hostage till he returned himself.  
Thus parting they carry with them  
(but in a different manner) the hearts both of Laurean and his kinswoman. In what a cloud of discontent remained the desolate Octaviane, being deprived of an object that was the light and delight of her eyes, I give you leave to imagine. Laurean to divert his melancholy, went again to spend some time with Montdor, who began to recover of his hurts.  
Mean while the time of Nartal's coming back expires, and Octaviane dying with impatience to hear from Florent, thinks every day an age till she sees him. This impatience puts her in despair, and being not able to stay any longer in her kinsman's house, she took a sudden resolution to retire to her own, purposely to dispose herself for the execution of a folly, which cannot be excused, but in attributing it to the Violence of a passion which Reason could not moderate. So feigning herself very sick, she repairs homewards, where being arrived and fittted with man's apparel, a horse and one footman, she takes her Journey to Bezieres in hopes to find Florent there, but 'twas in vain, no body there could tell any news of him, for the house where Clione had retired herself, was in another part of Languedoc not far from Nismes. What troubles was Octaviane's mind perplexed with, seeing herself deceived? how did not she exclaim against Florent? whose trace she could no more find out then that of Fantomes, which vanish as soon as they appear: Yet this pleasing illusion which had so sweetly carried away her senses, and distilled a delicious Venom through the eyes into her heart, made her resent a thousand several distractions. How shall she find out him that she knows not where to seek, and who is no more the same he seemed to be? for Clione having reassumed her own name and habit, left nothing of Florent but the bare Idea. Nevertheless she being no less taken with Laurean's perfections, than Octaviane was with hers, failed not to send back Nartal in the same disguise with a Letter to Laurean, which contained nothing but Compliments, only in the Close she entreated him to give full credit to what the bearer thereof should tell him in her behalf.  
How did the blood rise in Nartals face when he was fain to take off the mask of their dissimulation, to make Laurean see the Visage of the truth? Heavens! how Laurean stood amazed at the recital of this History, which seems more like a fable or Romance then verity, yet I have it from an Authentic Author, that averreth it to be very true.  
I will not stand to recount the particulars of this discovery, having already much gone beyond the limits of brevity which I had prescribed myself in this work: I will only tell you that the Scales fell from Laurean's eyes, when Nartal showed him what remarkable tumors were in his breast, not ordinary to be found in men's: So comparing one thing with another, and calling to mind the many pleasing deceits which had deluded his senses in Florent's presence, he made no further question of what Nartal told him. I will omit the divers Imaginations that then possessed his brain, without making reflection upon the wrongs Clione had done him, (whose person he never hated, but the pretensions wherewith she disturbed his repose) her beauty and good parts represented themselves to his fancy in a more advantageous form, then if she had been present, and adding moreover this unexpected change; that had transformed her from a Tiger to a Dove, and from a mortal Enemy, into a passionate Lover, he thought one heart too little to reciprocate so entire an affection. In a word he was more ready to answer Clione's flame, than fire is to catch at any bituminous matter.  
Upon Nartal's word without any diffidence he goes alone with him, taking no attendant but one Lakey, and in short time he arrives at Clione's house. These two Souls felt themselves at the same instant kindled with a flame so equal in its extremity, that it had been hard to judge which had the better in that amorous War. ti's nothing to say they were perfectly reconciled to one another: I must say, they tied themselves so strictly with deep Oaths and promises of marriage, that nothing but Death could ever dissolve that band.  
These words and this faith being given and received in presence of a Priest, they passed to the Consummation of that which Lovers so ardently desire, being both so fully satisfied, that their life was but a continued ravishment of delight. But prickles still accompany Love's roses, and fire cannot be without some smoke. Laurean's being at Clione's house was soon noised all the Country over, and she, like the Queen of Carthage, cares not to hide their amorous stealths, since all was covered with the Cloak of Matrimony.  
Fame that hath no less tongues than wings, soon carries this report to her Uncle Fructule, which Stunned him as if he had been blasted with lightning, or rather thunderstriken. It seems to him a Paradox, esteeming that as impossible a thing as to join fire and water. A second report which commonly is truer than the first, assured him that what he feared was but too certain. Upon this he falls into a rage, exclaimes, storms and threatens both his Niece, and Laurean, with more thunder then th'Heavens heretofore darted against the Rebellious Giants. All the other friends of both the Families bless God for this happy alliance, which promising an assured peace betwixt them would stop the effusion of so much blood, and hinder any further quarrels. Only Fructule animated with a desperate rage, and fury, resolves to put all in disorder.  
Whilst he thus fret's and fume's with madness, studying the accomplishment of some premeditated revenge against them, let us consider th'amazement poor Octaviane was in, being already returned from her Knight Errantry, when she heard that her Cousin was married to his fair Adversary, and that this sweet Enemy was the same Florent whose Idea was so deeply engraven in her heart. How strange the History of this transfiguration seems to her? for better satisfaction she goes to give Laurean a Visit, (who was so overcome with the affection of his loving Enemy; that he could not absent himself one moment out of her sight) and if her own eyes had not been witnesses of all these passages (that had been related to her, besides the assurance Laurean gave her of them by Letters) she could ne'er have believed them.  
Cured both of her love and hatred, immediately she embraceth, as her chief friend and kinswoman, her in whose breast not many days before she would have stuck her poniard. Oh Love! it's thou that tamest the savage beasts, and makest tractable the most fierce Lions and Tigers, what force is able to withstand thy powerful sweetness! Mean while that Laurean, wholly taken up with the delights of his new spouse, seems to have forgotten both himself and his Family, Montdor recover's his perfect health, and hearing the good success 'twixt Laurean and Clione, he rejoiced exceedingly that he was prevented in the design, wherein he had intended to employ all his power and interest, for the reconciliation of those two Families divided by so many streams of blood. He was so far from being troubled with jealousy, seeing in Laurean's Arms her who was cause of that Duel: that quite contrary he looked upon him as the preserver of his life, as the mirror of Courtesy and valour, and as one for whom he would have resigned a Sceptre to have placed him in a throne. He went to wait upon this new married Couple, to congratulate their felicity, and assure them that there was nothing in the world to which his Soul so much aspired as to do them Service.  
There he found Octaviane, who disabused of her error, was a blank, free from all love and Passion: Montdor being throughly healed as well of the wounds which Laurean had made in his body, as also of those which Clione's beauty had made in his Soul, felt a private inclination to render himself to Octaviane's sweetly attractive graces: And she considering the comeliness of this Gentleman, (who was one of the richest and stoutest Cavaliers of the County of Avignon) had no less disposition to affect him.  
This was the first foundation of their reciprocal liking, which continuance of time increased through Montdor's faithful service and professions of real affection, until at last it was consummated by that honourable Bond which makes of two bodies one flesh. Now he bearing a great hand with Fructule, at whose instance he had engaged himself in that unadvised Duel against Laurean, took upon him to appease his anger, and procure his approvement of Clione's Marriage, which he seemed to be so discontented and enraged at. In this confidence he went to him, but having reckoned without his host, no wonder if he found his expectation frustrated. Fructule gives him very ill language, and had like to have fallen foul on him. This was an ill beginning, yet he desisted not, but suffering all the injurious treatments th'others fury transported him to, he endeavoured to win him with the fairest and most plausible language he could invent; Yet this wrought nothing upon him, the Ulcers of his mind being like those of the body, which Honey doth more inflame, contrary to the holy text which saith, good words Mollify anger. Thence Montdor went to visit Clione's other kindred, and by persuasions prevailed so far with them that they all seemed very joyful of that alliance, as an extraordinary effect of the Divine Providence which only was able to procure that recconciliation. But all their consents were of no great importance, the chief was wanting, that was, Fructule's, (he being Guardian & administrator of Clione his niece and ward's whole estate,) and to obtain that seemed impossible.  
He talked of nothing but challenging Laurean himself, which Laurean might wave with two very lawful excuses, for one he might allege his late Marriage which made Fructule his Uncle, th'other that having once before worsted him in the Field, he was not obliged the second time to fight against him. Fructule fearing the latter objection, which would not have redounded to his honour, bethought him of some other means how to make Laurean away. To this effect he corrupts with money a Cook, that formerly had served him, Commanding to try how he might get into Laurean's service and poison him. This base fellow pretending that Fructule had misused him, came to proffer his Service to Laurean, who entertained him at Clione's entreaty, she having known him at her Uncle's house, assured him of his fidelity, in which she was much mistaken. Thus she contributed to her own mischief, in receiving within her husband's Castle (whither he had carried her) this threacherous Trojan horse. Had not Montdor given him warning to take heed of that Cook, questionless the Villain had executed his base design. Upon this advertisement Laurean apprehended him, and partly by entreaties, partly by promises, and partly by threatenings, he made him confess the truth, and show him the poison he was to mingle in his meat. Observe the extreme Courtesy of this Gentleman, who sent him back to Fructule, not suffering the least harm to be done him, to the end that he might inflict such punishment upon him as he should think fit himself for so unworthy a fact, desiring him not to use any ways to deprive him of his life, so ignoble and so misbecoming a Gentleman of his birth and honour. Fructule sorry that his powder had not taken fire, nor his treachery succeeded to his mind, and ashamed to own so dishonourable a design, disclaimed his Cook, swearing that he was ignorant of that disloyalty, and that it was a good while since he had turned him away. But not imagining how Laurean should be acquainted with this plot, out of Suspicion he manumitted divers of his domestics, who blazed all abroad the truth of the business to his great infamy, yet this malicious Soul was not so Satisfied, seeing every body cried shame on him for his treachery and hard-hartednesse, and that he unjustly withheld his Ward from her estate, because she was married without his consent to his and her Enemy: He changed his note, and feigning to be better pleased, and to desire a fair reconciliation (just as the cunning Fowlers use their calls to entrap the innocent birds) Clione and Laurean who desired nothing more than to accomplish their felicity, greedily harkened to the propositions that were made by some persons whom Fructule had deceived, and who used as much sincerity and Candour in the mediation as he had baseness and dissimulation in his proposals.  
He pretends that his greatest desire was to see his Niece, that he could not forego his own blood, that he pardoned her with all his heart, and that he believed if he could but ser her at his House, and learn of herself what moved her to marry Laurean, perhaps he should be satisfied with her reasons, restore her to her Estate, and make a handsome agreement with her Husband. She (like an innocent Dove, or an inconsiderate Partridge) entrap's herself by casting her silly harmless eye upon the specious lustre of this Fowler's glass; having begged leave of her Husband to go treat their peace with her Uncle. Although Laurean presaged that Journey would produce no good event, yet he lets his Wife go against his will, consenting to that separation induced by his Friends persuasions, who were very earnest with him, not to show himself irreconcilable, but yield as much as in honour he could to Fructule's humour, who by his marriage to Clione was then his Uncle. Clione of her good Nature mistrusting nothing fell into the Snares her Uncle had prepared for her. At first he treated her with more Civility than she expected, but this was only as a fair leaf to hide the Serpent in his treacherous design, and a Fig wherewith (like the Egyptian Queen) he covered his prernicious aspe. How deceitful is the Spirit of man! It's a Labyrinth that's full of false cunning passages and subtle evasions. A tempest is most to be feared when the Sea is calmest: All the feasting and expressions of joy which Fructule made his Niece, were but so many treacherous baits to inveigle her; Apes kindnesses, who kill their young ones with hugging them. Being entered in discourse with her, by little and little he cunningly fell from contestation to reprehension, from reprehension to threats, thence to railing and such offensive terms, as drew very tart replies from Clione's mouth, then irritated with Choler and incited with a too great sense of Honour; which gave Fructule occasion to colour his premeditated revenge under the notion of correction. Hereupon he makes her be locked up in a Chamber, and kept as a Prisoner with all the base usage that may be imagined, purposely to drive her into despair. And according to the proverb, one misfortune never comes alone: The news of Clione's captivity was soon brought to Laurean, who then lay sick in bed of a Fever, that Melancholy for his dear Spouses absence had been the occasion of. Heavens! how it struck his heart, he is mad to rise up, being ready to burst with Choler and fury, he will precipitate himself into a thousand deaths, rather than suffer such indignities to be done, to a person that was so near and dear unto him, as one whom he affected with a more love than what he bore unto himself. But this excess of rage redoubles his paroxysm, and makes his Fever continual, from that his Violent burning grew to find no intermission, so that he fell into such extravagant rave, as bred astonishment and pity in all that were about him. Clione is always in his mouth, & her Image perpetually before his eyes, sometimes he fancies her all bloody and deformed with blows, sometimes crying out to him for succour, sometimes pursued by her Uncle, he struggles and keeps a Coil, he asks for his Sword, he leaps out of his bed, & makes assays beyond any ordinary man's ability, ten men can hardly hold him, they are fain to bind him with cords, amongst all these Violences he neither would nor could take any remedy the Physicians did prescribe him, so that there were hardly any hopes either of life or his recovery. This being reported to Fructule, he believed that the Heavens in that affliction seemed to assist him, executing his revenge upon Laurean, whom he Styled the seducer and ravisher of his Niece; and to augment her sorrows he presently carries her the news of her Husband's indisposition, but with such joyfulness, that it even broke her heart. For that confirmed her opinion that Laurean then was poisoned or bewitched, for (besides what her Uncle told her) she heard such strange reports of the excess and Violence of her Husband's sickness, that there was nothing of ill but she imagined was befallen him: And for accomplishment of her miseries she felt herself with Child, a condition so choice and tender, that the least affliction either corporal or spiritual, often casts into the grave those that seem the best disposed, and of the strongest constitutions.  
Fructule who hated both the tree and the Fruit, and wished no less destruction to the Mother and her Child, than he did to the Father, used her worse and worse, and strove by several subtleties how he might make Clione away, and destroy her Child, by a precipitated and untimely birth. But God (who preserve's the innocent, to whom all hatred and malicious practices are unpleasing) confounded the wicked designs of this incompassionate Guardian, who (more like a ravenous wolf than a faithful Shepherd) used all means possible to procure the destruction of the sheep, which the Laws both divine and Humane obliged him to preserve and cherish. Indeed those that are under the protection of the Almighty, cannot be taken out of his hand, they are (saith the Prophet) delivered out of the snares of the hunters, and sheltered from all outrages and injuries, for the Lord doth hide them under the shadow of his wings, and is as a Buckler to them.  
It had been absolutely impossible but that Clione beaten with so many cruel storms, had fallen into some desperate sickness, which would have made a double murder in her, if God had not suscitated Montdor to rescue and deliver her. He was once in the mind to challenge Fructule, and by his death give both life and Liberty to that unfortunate Prisoner, but upon maturer consideration, he thought it more convenient to take a Foxes then a Lion's skin, and try what might be done by wit and industry rather than attempt any violent Course. The fable of Danae teacheth us this Verity, that Gold will make its passage through the strongest holds. He spared for nothing that might corrupt Clione's guards, procuring at length her enlargement, by the means of those that were encharged to keep her. Having freed her from this Slavery he carries her back to Laurean, who at the very first sight of her began to feel himself better, he left his raving fits and the ardour of his Fever grew more moderate, showing that the Cause of his disease being ceased, the effects could no longer have their being. Within a short time he recovered his health, and the lightsomeness of his heart soon replanted fresh roses in his cheeks. As soon as he felt his strength perfectly come to him again, he resolved to employ it for the destruction of him who had so barbarously treated his Clione. But she never ceased weeping and entreating, until to satisfy her he altered his resolution, to which he more willingly condescended out of fear, that (she being very big with Child) that apprehension might cast her into despair and cause her to miscarry. Nevertheless though he was persuaded to omit the use of his Sword, he resolved to make good his Interest by force o'th' Pen, entering a suit in Law against Fructule to make him render account of his Wardship, and to restore to his Wife the estate he unjustly kept from her. During this process which was protracted by those that make it their trade and livelihood, to foment such contestations, Clione is brought to bed of a Daughter, and Montdor had so ingratiated himself with Octaviane, that he was become her Husband, and kinsman to Laurean. Thus were those two houses now united in the bonds of consanguinity, who before thirsted after nothing but the blood and destruction of each other.  
It is a general Maxim that Elements so contrary as fire, and water, can never be converted one into th'other, but to that Sovereign power which governs and gives essence to all things, nothing can seem difficult. Thus at the destruction of Jerusalem that Sacred fire of the Temple which was hidden in a well, by the industry of some Religious Priests, fearing lest it should be profaned by the Idolatrous Conquerors, was found at their return from the Captivity of Babylon changed into thick Water, which exposed to the hot Sun beams resumed its former colour and property of fire. I must confess according to th'ordinary course of this corrupt age, it is hard to see such effects of Love, proceed from such mortal hatred, but nothing is impossible to God's omnipotent Providence who daily worketh miracles.  
This consideration made the Wise man say, that men must hate as if one day they were to Love, implying that their hatred should not be irreconcilable. And another saith, that Enmities ought to be mortal, that is, that they should take end and die. And doubtless this is the meaning of the Evangelist, who teacheth us, that the Sun should not go down upon our wrath.  
By this Montdor through his incessant endeavours had wrought all Clione's other kindred to be friends with Laurean, & the Sense of the Court began to let Fructule see with shame the unjustness of his cause: But to prevent Conviction, he meditated another design so damnable, as could not enter into the thought of any man but one given over to all wickedness; which to effect he gives out that he would willingly restore Clione her Estate, and approve of her Marriage, provided that her Husband and she, would give him an acquittance of his Gardianship upon such accounts as he should produce. Laurean's Friends and Clione herself (who desired no better then to be at peace upon what terms soever) advised him to take what he could get from so ill a Paymaster, and to quit th'Administration for the time past, so that he would give them quiet possession of his Neece's estate. Friends on both sides at last concluded the matter, and the Articles were signed according to Fructule's own desire.  
That done they met, the Uncle embraced lovingly his Niece, and Laurean as his Nephew, pressing them extremely to go to his House, where he would feast them and the whole company, drowning in good cheer and wine all their former differences, and publish to the world an act of eternal oblivion. Laurean, who was of a generous free disposition, promised to be there with his Wife, and some other Friends, whereof Montdor was now become one of the most intimate: Who knowing Fructule's treacherous humour, endeavoured to cast some diffidence in Laurean's Spirit, but could by no means make him susceptible of it. So he resolved by virtue of the powder of Gold, to sound some of Fructule's domestic Servants, who discovered his damnable enterprise; Which was to set fire to certain barrels of Powder, that he had placed directly under the Hall, where he intended to make this detestable banquet, having first made his own friends go out and secure themselves, by retiring into another part of the Castle. A desperate resolution, and such as could not proceed but from the suggestion of him that is a Homicide from the beginning.  
Montdor presently acquainted Laurean with this plot, who would hardly be persuaded to believe it. But Clione that had more experience of her Uncle's baseness and malicious humour, gave credit to it, and besought her Husband to send him some handsome excuse, that he could not perform his promise at that time, without taking notice however that he knew any thing of that bloody design. But Laurean's high Courage suggested him another resolution, the boldness and gallantry whereof proved of most avail to their entire reconciliation, by a means which in all probability was absolutely contrary. But as it happeneth that the excess of drinking (so much forbidden those that are in Fevers) sometimes cureth them, so Laureans free-hartednesse and Courage by an action full of heroic nobleness in one instant drew away all the malignity from Fructule's heart, imitating (in that) the lightning which falling upon a Serpent, takes away all his Venom without killing him.  
He assembles his kinsmen and most trusty Friends (who being all well armed) he desires them to accompany him to Fructule's house, first informing them of the treachery Montdor had discovered. They all agreed, resolving to go so strong that they would master that Traitor, and make him suffer the same punishment that he had prepared for them. But Laurean prayed them to moderate their Choler, for he desired the conversion, not the death of his wicked Uncle: Thinking himself sufficiently revenged if he could cast the burning coals of shame and confusion in his face, by manifesting before his Friends the secret of his dark design.  
Being arrived there, Fructule entertained them with all kind of demonstrations of a most sincere friendship, so expert was this man in dissembling his unworthiness. As they were all come within the Hall that was prepared for the tragedy, he fell into a long discourse of the quarrels betwixt their two Families, reckoning up their Duels and Combats, and how much blood had been shed upon that occasion, protesting withal how joyful he was after so many bloody conflicts and murders, that all those debates were so near an end, hoping that thence forwards they should live peaceably together, having smothered all their former enmities in good cheer and wine; That he was more rejoiced to see them there then the best Friends he ever had in his life, and that he was most ready to resign them the place, and give them free possession both of that house and all the estate that belonged unto them.  
Thus he expressed himself, not thinking that his Powder plot was discovered. But 'tis in vain, saith the holy writ, to lay nets for birds that Soar a loft. Laurean knowing that all this smooth language tended to nothing else, but only to prepare them for the Sacrifice, which he had destined to his fury. That Fructule might not have the leisure to put in execution his design, nor to mingle in their meats any other powders no less dangerous than that he had hiden under the Hall, without any further delay, said, Perchance some others less circumspect than he or his Friends might have been entraped by his Sirenical compliments, but the train having been discovered, if they perished he should perish with them himself, and the Friends he had invited thither also, (which were but very few that would be complices of so damnable a project:) then in the presence of all his Friends he laid in Fructule's dish all his former basenesses, and the present treachery he intended to execute, as things most unworthy of a man sprung of so noble & illustrious a Family as his, having so many ways besides to satisfy his revengeful mind many degrees more honourable: Showing him to what danger he had exposed himself, through his unlawful desire of Vengeance, seeing that he then had the strongest Pa●●● in the House, and could, if he plea●●●, inflict upon him the punishment his perfidiousness deserved: Yet he entreated his friends (that came thither with him) to pardon that offence, protesting for his own particular, that both that and all the former attempts he had so unworthily made upon his life, should absolutely be buried in oblivion; to the end that this extraordinary goodness joined to the shame which Fructule ought to have resented for so ignoble an action might somewhat induce him to repentance, and to acknowledge the preservation of his life as an act of grace and favour from them, who had then the power to deprive him of it, and yet spared him.  
However Fructule's obdurate heart relented nothing at this incomparable Courtesy, the moment of his visitation being not yet come. But rather emboldened by the danger he saw himself then in, never offered to deny ●or excuse the design they ta●●●●● him with, quite contrary with a multitude of words as confusedly pronounced as his Countenance was unsettled, he set himself to justify the fact, alleging that he had reason to seek revenge for so much blood, as Laurean and his friends had drawn out of the Veins of those of his family, and that he could never enjoy any content or quietness of mind, until he had sacrificed unto his Ancestors Ghosts the author's of their Death's; yielding himself willingly into their hands to inflict upon him the same torments, which he would have made them suffer, had they been in his power, as he then acknowledged himself to be in theirs.  
This answer no less desperate than presumptuous astonished the whole Company, who seeing the obstinacy of his inflexible heart, began to consult amongst themselves what to do to him, 〈◊〉 how to make him feel a punishment suitable to such horrid treachery. But Clione who feared to be a spouse of blood, and Laurean who desired his marriage should have an end rather comical then tragical, (to stop the course of their fury in the first breaking out, and to hinder the bloody effects such injurious language might produce) she suddenly cast herself in midst of here's & her Husband's friends, and embracing her Uncle's knees with an exemplary humbleness, the tears trickling from her eyes, besought and conjured him by all that she could imagine might any way conduce to move so obstinate a Courage, that he would please to pardon her disobedience, and mitigate the malice and envy he bore her Husband. This she pronounceed so feelingly with so winning a comeliness & such dolorous accents as would have moved the savagests of beasts, so that (not to detain you with any further ●●●●tion) she bred Compassion where cruelty had formerly her dominion, and Love, where hatred had so long ruled as Empress.  
Fructule (like a lump of lead which for a while resist's the Violence of the fire, but at length melts all at once) became so changed on a sudden, that it was enough to have made those who knew him best suppose him Metamorphosed. Clione's tears having made their approach so near as to undermine and blow up that unmalleable rock which lay invelop'd in his bosom, and no less seated on his heart, that this stone distilled its water through the Limbick of his eyes; But being not yet a perfect Convertite, some reluctancy of his conversion reverberated the stream back again to his heart, till the heart surcharged with goodness and humility together, sent the purest Spirits of a relenting expression unto his tongue, that like an overflowing Viol, it gave such evident testimonies of a sudden Change and real ressentment, as therewith he fell upon his Niece's neck, still lying at his feet, and mingling his sighs and tears with here's, confessed that her goodness had overcome him, and quite eradicated all his hatred and obstinacy; and since that by her means his life had been preserved, he would upon any occasion employ it and all he had to do her service, conjuring her to forget what formerly had passed, and reconcile him to her Husband whom he was not willing to embrace as his most dear Nephew, to whom thence forwards he would be ready to render with most sincere affection all the devoirs of a good Uncle and faithful friend, and endeavour to give him as many testimonies of hearty good will, as he had formerly desired and attempted to do him mischief.  
What satisfaction was it to all the friends of both parties to see this cordial reconcileation so far beyond all their hopes or expectation! But as we see the most delicate and best composed bodies, are susceptible of the greatest corruptions, the firmest friendships converted ofttimes into the deadliest hatreds, and the keenest Vinegar made of the strongest wines: So sometimes it happeneth that an inviolable friendship is framed amongst such as have been most inveterate Enemies. This is confirmed by the remarkable example of Fructule, who changed in an instant (like Polemon in the Metamorphosis) of a violent Enemy became so great a friend to Laurean that he could not live without him, loving him not as his Nephew, but as his own Son. This good affection continued to the end of his life; which expired, he invested his Niece in the succession of his Estate, induced thereto by his own inclination, as well as by the obligation of Nature. Thus Clione's and Fructule's violent and implacable hatred ended in Love and amity; Laurean's incomparable Courtesy and Valour, crowning his Memory with a never-dying fame.  
FINIS.