Love's Journal: A ROMANCE, Made of the COURT of HENRY the II. OF FRANCE.  
Printed with Licence at Paris, 1670.  
And now made English.  
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Ratcliff and Mary Daniel, and are to be sold by Booksellers in London, 1671.   

Licenced, Roger L'estrange.  
March 22. 1670/ 1.   

TO THE READER.  
ALthough there be many Illustrious Names in this History, which would make you believe it true; yet you ought to look on it no otherwise, than it really is: as a little Romance made of the Reign of Henry the 2d. as you have already seen of those of Alexander and Augustus; in which we have made use of Names so well known, only the more agreeably to flatter your Imagination. The Princess of Montpensier, which seemed to Interest so many Persons, who yet hold the chief rank in France: for this very reason has not concerned any of them. And this Journal being a mere Fancy, and the Author having no design but your Divertisement, he confidently hopes you will not draw thence any consequence contrary to his Intent.   

Love's Journal.  

The First Day.  
THE Poets say, the Spring is the season of Love; let us begin with it Loves Journal: for 'twas then the young Duke Octavo arrived in France, so famous by his own Exploits, and for the misfortunes of his Family. He came to entreat the Assistance of Henry the Second, against Andrea Doria, and Ferdinando de Gonsagues, who by the support of the Emperor Charles the 5th. had inhumanely Murdered his. Father Lewis de Farnese, one of the greatest men of his time, and a particular Friend of our Henry's. Octavo being come to that extreme Calamity, which seems to be its period, and after which Fortune could not choose but grow weary; all things cast a more favourable aspect. The weather during his Voyage was as propitious as his wishes; and he arrived at Court upon a great Hunting day, which succeeding happily, put the King into a more pleasant humour than ordinary. He loved the sport exceedingly, or to say truly, he loved all Pleasures with excess, so that his Court was the centre of all Delights: the Queen feigned a compliance, Diana of Poitiers Duchess of Valentinois, his Mistress, was beautiful and airy, and all the Courtiers devoted to pleasure. But as Octavo knew well the intrigues of the Court, so he resolved not to learn any of their dispositions. He was young and admirably well made, wise, but unfortunate; his grand design was to revenge his Father's Murder, and not to enjoy the pleasures of his Youth; therefore would not be seen at Anet, where the King then was, but disguised like a Traveller, and leaving all his Equipage at Lions that might discover him, resolved to go himself and understand his Interest and the King's inclinations. His way lead him insensibly into a Forest, where all things seemed to inspire Love; he thought the Birds made a more exquisite Consort than otherwhere, and the Winds breathed a more Amorous murmur than i'th' neighbouring Fields. Venus' being represented in so various and charming forms, that were it in the times of Idolatry, he had believed the Goddess took pleasure to have those Copies drawn by the Divine Original.  
Octavo stopped a while to consider these rarities, and having been informed at his arrival, the King was a Hunting, he was extremely pleased, to pass in so delicious a place that time the Court spent in their divertisement. He sat him down upon the Rimme of an Oval Fountain, where the Goddess was represented leaning upon a Bed of black Marble, a Rock of the same unpolished supporting her head, which gently besprinkled her body with a thousand spinning streams; her Arms were spread, as it were to receive embraces, and that part of the Statue which represented the source of Pleasure, in a bubbling water, cast forth the loveliest spout in the whole World.  
The young Duke found his griefs so much alleviated, by the consideration of this Statue, that he had continued his contemplation much longer, had he not been interrupted by one of the Hunters, who came to refresh himself at the Fountain. Octavo was so delicately made, that our unknown Hunter could not look upon him without admiring his excellent Mine; he asked him what Adventure drew him to that Quarter, and oftered him his Interest at Court in such a manner, that he easily perceived him very considerable there. The Duke generously gave him thanks for his obliging offers; at which instant many of the Hunters coming near, he knew by their Respect, 'twas the King he had been discoursing with. You had reason, said the Duke pleasantly, to offer me your Interest in the Court, for I am much deceived if you have not a very considerable one there; and without injuring the Respect due to the King, I am assured you have as great a Power there as himself. The King was going to confirm his opinion, when Montmorency the dearest of his Favourites approached them, and shouted for joy at the sight of Octavo, which caused the King to turn his face towards him: I humbly beg your Majesties pardon said Montmorency, that I could not command my transport at the sight of this Stranger; 'tis the brave Octavo Son to the Duke of Parma and Placentia, of whom I have told so many wonders, and who is now come to confirm those praises your Majesty heard me give him after my return from Italy. The King having understood by this discourse the birth of Octavo, did him all the civilities he could expect from an obliging and generous Prince: And knowing the practices of Andrea Doria, imagined Octavo came to desire his Protection from his Father's Murderers; therefore preventing his Addresses, promised him his assistance with an unparallelled goodness. Montmorency contributed all his power to this promise, having a very great esteem for Octavo: For in the time of his exile under the Reign of Francis the last of that name, he sheltered himself in Italy, and there contracted a very strict Friendship with the House of the Farneses', so that there was not any thing he would not do to evince its reality. This first day being almost spent in Compliments between the Duke and the Court, they left him to his freedom, that he might give the remainder to his rest, Montmorency conducting him to a Majestic Apartment, where he was attended with a pomp suitable to the French Magnificence, and the Interest he took in his affairs.   

The Second Day.  
OCtavo was scarce awake when Montmorency entered his Chamber. The Friendship this great man bore the late Duke of Parma was so great, and his compassion for the afflictions of his Son so generous, that he consulted his heart and not his grandeur, in all that concerned the young Duke; and accordingly prevented his intentions, of thanking him at his own Apartment, for the obligations of the precedent Evening; and interrupting him upon the first Compliment he made him upon that account, Octavo, said he, let us banish all Ceremonies, they are neither according to my humour, nor the friendship I vowed your Father; you are young, a Stranger, and in a refined and amorous Court, where Love reigns in various forms, therefore I will give you some necessary instructions how to quit yourself bravely in all intrigues. Let us walk into the Garden, the morning is fair, and the King not yet stirring: upon this they went through a Gallery adorned with excellent Pictures, from whence by a Terrace with Balisters, they came into the Garden, and so into a close Walk, where they might discern ten or a dozen spouts of water of different forms, which made a very pleasing object. As they walked, Octavo told Montmorency some circumstances of his Father's death, which he knew not before, and also the particulars of Doria's Rage, of the Authority of Gonsagues, and the troubles of Parma; this was their discourse till they entered the Alley, when Montmorency turning himself suddenly to the Duke, said smiling. What you have said informs me of the state of your House, but Octavo that of your heart who shall tell me? 'tis by that we must know the man; nor can I engage for you to the King, but as for a Stranger, while I know no more of you than all Europe may do. Octavo knew the intrigues of the Court better than Montmorency imagined; he was not ignorant that the King excessively loved the beautiful Diana, and that 'twas for her he built the magnificent House of Anet, where the greatest Artists in Christendom were then completing this Masterpiece; and as 'tis natural for Subjects to follow their Prince's example, so he knew Love was the surest means to get his favour: yet he also knew the King's jealousy of Diana, and her little care to make it die, therefore resolved to prevent those inconveniences his good Mine might cause. And with a look extremely melancholy, said to Montmorency, Alas! the affairs of my Family are all those of my heart; I have so small an inclination to Love, as though had I nothing else to do but Love, I could not resolve to quit my Indifference. Judge then how that can be received in a heart filled with revenge and ambition, which could not tempt me in my peaceful leisure. Ah! Octavo, replied Montmorency, you have given me the pourtract of your sentiments, but not in the French dress; you must Love in this Court, or resolve to be hated by all our Courtiers; the King loves, the Duke D'aumale loves, St. Andre, Farnae, and Chastaigneraise feel its flames.  
Strossi as brave a Captain as he is, has the same concerns, and I for my part assure you my Grey hairs should not countermand my Love, knew I any Fair one would accept me as I am. In saying this, he was accosted by several persons, who brought him word the King was awake; he took the Duke with him to his Majesty's Apartment, where the expectation of the Queen, the indisposition of Madam de Valentinois, who had kept her bed three days, and the misfortunes of the Duke, were the morning's News, till unawares they fell upon the Chapter of Love, which at those times never miss; the King not seeing the Duke D'aumale there, said pleasantly, he was dressing himself fine against the Ladies came: Montmorency answered, the Princess Claudia his Majesty's Sister would be interested in his Gallantry; the King replied, he knew not whether the young Princess Margaret his Daughter would not dispute it with her Aunt; passing from one thing to another, never a Lord in the company but had a touch of Raillery upon the Royal Troop they expected. According to what I understand, said Octavo to Montmorency, I am happy in my Insensibility, for by his Majesty's description, I should find those places I would possess Garrisoned by another. The King desiring to hear what the Duke said, Montmorency repeated it, and telling the subject of their discourse, charged Octavo so home with his Indifference, that he was forced to use all his wit to maintain it; the King saying, the Lady's beauties and not the men's persuasions must cure his distemper, went immediately to meet the Queen, and the whole Court, who were just arrived; which being composed of very beautiful Women, Montmorency saw not one without ask the Duke if he were still Insensible; always the same, answered Octavo, I see nothing there can convince me, though I know the Court of France is admirable, every one of her Ladies are a Feast to my eyes, without concerning my heart. Montmorency saying, he must leave him to be convinced by time, and the pleasure of seeing his affairs in a better condition, took him to Dinner, and afterwards showed him his Stables, the King's Hounds, with the Carving and Painting which so much adorned that stately House; when hearing the King was at the Counsel, he conducted Octavo to the Queen's Apartment, where having told the Princess Claudia, (who was ingenuous and airy) he had brought an Enemy of Love to be converted by her charms, he went to negotiate for him at the Counsel. Octavo was so well made and so pleasing, that never a Lady in the Court, but secretly reproached her eyes for leaving his liberty so long in his own power. But as he knew there was never a one but had some Gallant of Quality, so he knew in the present juncture of his affairs, he had need of all helps, therefore said so many things to persuade his Indifference, that the whole Court believed him, and he was already called as much the Insensible, as Duke Octavo. In the evening he had the honour to lead the Queen a walking, and to hear with her a Consort of Haubois, which the King placed upon the water, that adjoined to the fair Diana's Lodgings: This Consort was followed by Artificial Fireworks, all the Figures representing Halfmoons, and streams of Fire. And the Duke Farnese not ●nding a conveniency to speak with Montmorency all that evening, understood not what the Counsel had ●one in his favour, but stayed to be ●nform'd till the next morning.   

The Third Day.  
THe fair Duchess of Valentinois having known by the King, and some others who had the liberty to see her in bed, the arrival of the young Duke of Parma, and what was already said of his Indifference for the Lady's beauty, pleased herself with the thoughts that 〈◊〉 he had seen her, he would soon change his mind, and being always proud of her own, had shown by 〈◊〉 hundred circumstances she esteemed it above all; she felt such a desire to triumph over the Indifference o● this rash Youth, that she could hardly brook her slow amendment for retarding her Victory; but sent for Montmorency, (who was absolutely hers) and discoursing o● the Duke of Parma's Insensibility as of a wonder, attributed it to so many different defects, that she ingenuously obliged him to make her Octavos Pourtract, as that he was infinitely well made, of a quick wit, and his Indifference could not be attributed to any want of good humour or knowledge; the more questions the Duchess asked, the more her desire increased to vanquish his Indifference. She prayed Montmorency to walk with him that evening, in a part of the Garden she told him, where she would be undiscovered, and endeavour to see the Duke without being seen by him; saying she chose that way, because she had not seen the Queen since her arrival at Anet, who might justly complain of her, if she perceived her well enough to receive the Visits of a Stranger, but feigned an indisposition when she ought to wait on her Majesty; though the truth is, the Duchess thought there was somewhat more Gallantry to see him this way, than in her Chamber. Montmorency was so much obliged to her, that she durst have communicated it to him though it had been a more guilty design. 'Twas to her he owed his return to the Court, and the King's favour; for 'tis publicly known, the deceased King Francis upon his Deathbed, commanded his Son never to suffer his return: But Diana was so powerful with this Monarch, that neither his Father's commands, the counsels of his most faithful Friends, nor the Queen's most private designs, could ever prevail against the entreaties of his Mistress. Therefore Montmorency thought himself highly honoured in her choice of him to do her that little service, and went immediately to look the Duke, whom he found coming from his own Apartment, where he had been to Visit him; thither they returned, and the Duke ask him what the King had resolved in his affairs, was informed that obliging. Prince prepared to protect him with all his Power, and for that intent had given out Commissions for the raising new Troops, so that in a little time, he might see Forty Thousand men armed for his defence. This happy news put the Duke in so good a humour, as made him twice more lovely than before; he thanked the King with such a Grace, as absolutely gained him, and was so pleasant all that day with the Queen and the Ladies, that they talked of nothing but him. Evening being come, Montmorency pretended some new Questions with him, concerning the Forces with which Gonsagnes took Placentia some time before, also what Intelligence he had in Italy; to discourse this more conveniently, he led him into a private Walk, which abutted upon a green Arbour, from whence without being discerned one might see who walked in the Alley. 'Twas in this Bower the Duchess stayed, accompanied with one of her Women who she trusted above any, called Saint-Brune, and followed by a little Polander lately presented her, who commonly carried her Mantle. When Montmorency came within hearing of the Arbour, With your permission, said he to the Duke, how d'ye find your Indifference? I thought all day I had something to ask you, and it slipped out of my memory till now: I beseech you, replied Octavo, let it always do so, for I can make you but the same answer I have already, that is, I never did love, do not now, nor if I can help it never will; the revenge of my Father's death, with the re-establishment of my Fortune, possesses my whole Soul; and besides, I have so great a love for Glory, that I dare promise myself my heart will never change it for any other passion. Truly very fine sentiments, said Montmorency, and worthy the Son of Lewis Farnese: But Octavo, Love and Glory are not inconsistent in a brave mind, for both possessed Alexander's. You may rather say, answered the Duke, they both flourish in the mind of your brave Henry, who is the best of Kings, yet I know he adores the fair Diana; but all these examples dont convince me, for those great men who give way to Love, understand the strength of their own Reason, and know their passion shall ever be subjected to it; therefore looking upon Love as a divertisement, lay themselves open to it, without fearing its evil consequence; but as for me, my power is not so Sovereign over myself, for I understand so well that if I did Love at all, I should do it to excess; that rather than hazard Loving too much, I will not Love at all. Alas, said Montmorency, clapping him upon the shoulder with his hand, Love is not so excessive as you imagine; 'tis a Monster to you, only because you look upon it at a distance, but if ever you grow familiar with it, you will find it makes no such havoc as you think of; when like you we are young, well made, and fit to be loved, we esteem ourselves more than we love others; and if pleasure make us quit our Reason, self-love knows the art to reduce us into the limits of necessity and usefulness. That which you say may be real, replied Octavo, but your Truths persuade me not; Fortune shall do what she pleases with my heart, I leave it to her; but as for Love, with your permission I must forbid it to my Grave.  
If I could ever have entertained it, 'twould have been for the beautiful Princess of Milan, who is certainly one of the loveliest persons in the World, and whose Alliance would have prevented the calamities of our Family: The fair Princess of Florence, with whom I was bred, had vanquished my Insensibility were it possible to be overcome, and I need not have come so far to present a heart to your French Ladies, which perhaps they may think unworthy of their charms, since I shall see them but as a Pilgrim in a Voyage. The Duchess who heard this discourse, was exceedingly jealous of her Beauty, and suffered with impatience those praises which Octavo gave the Princesses of Milan and Florence. Montmorency knew the Duchess well enough to understand her jealousy, and turning himself briskly to the Duke, Go, said he, I find you a thousand times more guilty than I thought you were; I looked upon you as a bashful young man, who had more fear his first amours might not succeed, than antipathy to essay it; but since your Indifference is a wilful hardening of yourself, I declare to you, that you are not according to my humour, and that I esteem you not half so much as I did. Montmorency was upon these terms only to compliment the Duchess, who heard them; but the Duke not knowing his design, and perceiving his earnestness in the discourse, thought the King had given him some private orders, to discover his true sentiments, which made him the more resolute to defend his Insensibility, and made him draw such a pourtract of all the evils of Love, as would have smothered desire, in a heart the most inclinable to that passion; so passing from Reasoning to Examples, he enlarged upon the weakness of Mark Anthony, and several other places in History that fitted his subject, in such a manner as made the fair Diana think she had never seen a man so pleasing and so witty as the Duke of Parma; in the heat of their discourse, they walked between while, and the night not being very dark, Madam de Valentinois saw the Duke's Stature and majestic Mine; then joining the charms of his wit, to those she observed in his person, she had such an extreme desire to know him more particularly, that if it might not be called Love, 'twas at lest a great inclination to become so.   

The Fourth Day.  
'TIs not to be imagined how desirous the Duchess was to show the Duke, the Princesses he had so much praised, were not the fairest in the World; upon her first sight of the King, she assured him she found herself well enough to take the air that day, his Majesty telling her he expected a Scotch Prince, who came to desire his assistance for the young Queen, whom the English would take by force for Edward their King; she being desirous to see his Reception, there needed no more to make his Majesty comply with her inclination. He ordered they should cause the Earl to pass by a Terrace, built the length of her Apartment, and deferred his Audience till Diana could conveniently be upon it, from whence she not only saw the Ambassador, but all the persons of Quality of the Court, (who were commanded to receive and conduct him to his Audience) as they passed in order before the place where she was seated. The fair Diana was in a careless dress, but exceeding magnificent and well contrived, her natural beauty of itself assuredly charming, was adorned with so many Jewels as dazzled the Duke of Parma, (who saw her several times as he passed by) and the Earl was pierced to the very hearts, stopping at the sight of her, as if he had been Planet struck. The Duchess observing with pleasure this effect of her beauty, redoubled such piercing glances, as made him from that very moment the most passionate of all Lovers; but perceived with grief, her charms were not so powerful upon the Duke Octavos heart: For although he thought her admirably fair, the King's goodness was so continually before him, that he shunned her eyes as some dangerous Rock. This cunning woman, who understood the dumb language of the eyes, and who was experienced in all the little gestures and motions of the body, with displeasure remarked the Duke Farneses'. In the evening she told the King, she would be glad to see some company, who brought her the Duke of Parma, and the Scotch Earl, whom she received leaning upon a Couch strewed with Flowers where she pretended her indisposition caused her to rest. This posture and the Duchess' amorous carriage, touched our Insensible to the quick, so that the fair Diana perceived, he was not so much a Philosopher as the night before.   

The Fifth Day.  
SHe would be assured the next day, and commanded Saint Brune to satisfy her desire; this apt birle, who had Wit, and as they say, experience in Amorous affairs, quit herself worthy the trust reposed 〈◊〉 her. She went to the King's Mass, and chose her Seat so well, that without showing any design, she was be●ide the Duke of Parma, who took notice of her, by the respect was shown her, and had the curiosity to ●sk who she was; being informed 〈◊〉 was St. Brune, the best beloved by Madam de Valentinois of all her women, he whispered in her ear some Gallantries upon her seeming Devotion: All France knew so well what an absolute power the fair Diana had with the King, as had the Duke only consulted his Politics, he ought not to have slipped that opportunity of being acquainted with her Favourite. But beside this consideration, St. Brune was exceeding Lovely, yet the great Motive was he thought her Mistress the Evening before, the most charming Person in the whole world; all these reasons made him say a thousand kind things to her woman during Mass; this crafty Favourite answered him so wittily, and wholly engaging, that without h● suspecting any hidden design, she insensibly obliged him to lead her to her Chamber; as they went, the Duke could not forbear praising her Wit and Beauty; when she was past the danger of being over heard, she turned suddenly to him and said, my Lord Duke I know to whom you address your Compliments; you tell them me only to say them over again, and the reward you expect for your kindnesses, is that I assure the Duchess you know how to distribute them. Octavo thought he should have fallen down at this discourse; he did but just believe himself that Madam de Valentinois was Beautiful, nor had he revealed it to any, and looking upon this as a design to ruin him with the King; who I! cried ●e, I love Madam Valentinois! yes, yes, you do love her, replied St. Brune, (counterfeiting a great freedom) and gave her a hundred looks yesterday that assured her of it, and 'tis by her Order, I inform you she takes notice on't, and is exceedingly surprised to see so wise a man as you seem to be, should thus prefer his desires before his Interest: She says, she thinks boldness becomes young folks very well, but thought you not capable of what she observed; and in fine, she conjures you not to give way to this Passion. The King being with the Duchess, St. Brune was fain to run into her Mistress' Chamber, to carry her some Spanish Gloves, which she knew she would present his Majesty, and left the Duke in the greatest confusion he ever was in. He had too much wit, not to perceive St. Brunes precise remonstrance to be an ingenuons Lesson what he should do, and not a reproach for what he had already done; and this advance from one of the Loveliest persons in the World, and beloved by a Great King, pleasingly flattered his Vanity; his first emotion was a transport of Joy, which appeared in his Eyes and Face; then again, that respect which he owed to the King, and the fear of losing so necessary an assistance, should he disagree with France, made him look upon that as ill Fortune, which just before he thought the greatest happiness; his mind was so full of various thoughts, that to hinder the Knowledge of his disturbance from any curious Eyes, he walked alone into a Wood, there two whole hours going backwards and forwards at a great rate; then stopping on a sudden, without knowing positively what to determine: but in the end Love remained Victorious. The Duke being of an Age wherein 'tis hard to be Cruel, when Beauty makes the first overtures, and besides, he knew a woman contemned, is capable of the greatest Cruelty Revenge can inspire. He went to the Queen's Lodgings, where St. Brune wittily informed him, the Duchess would spend a part of that day, and there counterfeiting an extreme distraction and languishing, had a thousand private Assurances he was observed; the Duchess several times asked the Ladies and the Courtiers, if the Duke used to be so Melancholy; and being told they never saw him so gloomy before, she seemed to think it was the unhappy state of his Affairs that made him so out of Humour, and showing an obliging Compassion for his misfortunes, Courage my Lord Duke, said she, we should not be dismayed by the blows of Fortune; that which seems the most difficult, is many times the most easily accomplished; we are in a business where our Interest is great enough to foretell you a happy Issue. As the Duchess said this by the by, so he suspecting those about him, made no other answer than with his Eyes but pleased himself with the thoughts that he was understood.   

The Sixth Day.  
HOw pleasant was the Night that followed this happy Day? the fair Duchess of Valentinois was continually in Octavos Imagination, anticipating his Discourse, and in some sort his desires. See what a great Soul is, said he to himself, thus all women of sincerity and wit should do; and if the rest of womenkind knew so well the value of each Moment, we need not spend half our lives, making pitiful faces and useless sighs. These reflections gave him such an Idea of the Pleasures to come, as made him enjoy one little less for the present; (his pleasing thoughts making him forget he was alone, and the extravagance of talking when there's none to answer:) how Lovely she is! continued he, and how Charming is this Procedure to a man of a generous Mind? these thoughts entertaining him the greatest part of the Night, he waked so late the next morning, that Montmorency and the Marquis of Jarnac, (who came to fetch him to Dinner with the Duke D'aumale, where the Scotch Earl also was) found him in Bed. Ha! cried Montmorency, (entering the Chamber) pray s●e how Loves Enemies employ their time; they seem to be i'th' World for nothing but to sleep, and the Suns Rising is a Beauty of Nature too Precious for their Sight. Why then, (replied the Duke of Parma, smiling) d'ye think sleep so great an evil, that you reproach it to my Indifference as a Crime? Yes, said Montmorency smartly, whatever comes from a bad Cause, can produce no good effect; and consequently you must either resolve to quit your Insensibility, or I must be no longer of your Friends. Ha' Sir, (answered the Duke, taking Montmorency by the hand) if you please then do not deprive me of your Friendship. His new Passion forced this from him against his Will: and fearing the Marquis de Jarnac might take notice of it, he added. But stay till Love constrain me to complain of him, and do not make him Persecute me before hand, by being the Author of your aversion for me. The Marquis helped the Duke to defend the freedom of the Mind and Inclinations: when passing from this Discourse, to the arrival of the Scotch Ambassador, Montmorency told Octovo, that this Scotch Prince praised Madam de Valentinois so excessively, as made the whole Court believe he would soon be in love with her, if he were not already. This News made Octavo feel a secret envy, and showed him the fair Diana's Charms had left a deeper impression in his Heart than he imagined. Montmorency going into the Gallery of Pictures, that the Duke might dress himself with the more conveniency, whither he followed him with the soon; then they went together to the Duke D'aumales, whose good Cheer took up a part of the day. From thence all the Company went to the King, where he was seeing some Horses rid, which the Queen of Scots had presented him. The Duke Octavo perceiving the Court so well employed, thought he could never find a time more favourable to visit the Duchess; therefore privately withdrew himself from the Company, and repaired to Madant de Valentinois; he knew she was in an Arbour of Rock-work that adjoined to her Summer apartment, which doubtless was one of the most agreeable places in the World. All its Furniture was little Bowls of Fountains, Cushions of Cloth of Gold, and China Flower-pots filled with Flowers; a Venus of White Marble, formed a Grotto the length of the Arbour, and Eight or Ten Cupids, some sleeping, others employed in the Goddesses service, made as many various spouts of water, which reflecting upon several looking-Glasses that adorned this Bower, glid away with a delicious murmur through small Leaden Pipes. At the End of the Arbour was a Couch made Portugal fashion, and by a cornish of Rock-work that jetted out, hung a thousand branches of Green's intermixed with Flowers, which made a Canopy over the Duchess head, who lay under it. The Duke thought her so Lovely in this posture, that he stood like one in a maze; Diana knowing perfectly the effects of her Beauty, felt a secret joy for Octavos Trouble, which made her yet more Charming. 'Tis so customary with Love to produce bashfulness in young Lovers, that if Madam de Valentinois had not had more resolution than the Duke of Parma, this interview so commodious and worthy to be well employed, had been lost in silence and admiration: but the fair Duchess growing weary of this Dumb Music, asked the Duke, how his Affairs proceeded? A man more experienced in these occasions would have answered, that she knew better than himself, since on her only depended his destiny; but 'tis so true, that the most Ingenuous amongst young people, are but Asses in the beginnings of their first Loves, that our respectful youth durst not speak one word to discover his Passion, but changed his Countenance, and hesitated, as if he was troubled to find something to say; the Duchess pitying his little experience, would give him time to come to himself, and fell to playing with the Flowers, as if she had forgot the Duke was there; till remembering she had heard Octavo was a great Traveller for a man of his Age, she changed their conversation to the subject of his Travels. In the mean time the Duke recollected himself; he wanted neither wit nor courage to undertake a great enterprise; and his timidity, which proceeded from Surprise or Transport, did but serve to quicken his wit. He told the Duchess, he had seen nothing finer in his Voyages, than a Statue of the Sultaness Asteria, the Mistress of Solyman the second, which the Venetian Ambassador at Constantinople, (since Duke of Venice) had caused to be made for her. Madam de Valentinois, though she was very curious, remembering not that she had ever heard of this Statue, was surprised that a thing he spoke so admirable, should scape her curiosity, and earnestly desired the Duke to tell the parcuticulars of this Rarity; the witty Italian was not silent to her demands, but continued the Fable with as much freedom of wit, as if his own memory, and not his invention, had furnished him with it, and begun his Discourse in these terms.   

The History of the Sultaness Asteria.  
MAdam, the History which you command me to recount is so secret, and seems so strange, that the Venetian Ambassador should get entrance into the Seraglio of the Emperor's Women, as if the Statue I told you of did not confirm it, and the people of whom I learned it, were not as well known to me as myself, I should hardly believe their recital. Solyman was one of the greatest Princes in the World, he was generous and magnificent, and seemed to be a Monument of the fidelity of the ●ultanesses to the Ottoman Emperors; but Love is an odd kind of 〈◊〉 fellow, to whom every ordinary ●ccident becomes formidable, and ●e will always have Wonder and Romance in his intrigues; 'tis enough to make a man execrable, who finds an invincible necessity to Love him. The Duke spoke these words with so much earnestness, that the Duchess could not forbear smiling to observe it; and making him remember he spoke to the Mistress of a great King, Let us proceed to the Sultaness, my Lord Duke, said she, and leave the Sultan. He seemed to be somewhat confused at his digression, and returning to his Story, with as much seriousness as if it had been real, he continued, Madam, she was so lovely, that whatever I can tell you of her beauty, is infinitely less than those Ideas I have of her in my own mind; she had such a Stature and Mine, as inspired respect and admiration; her hair was a shining black which exceedingly set off the whiteness of her skin, and her complexion bright and dazzling; her mouth ha● a thousand charms that cannot b● expressed; and her fair eyes, which with the sparkling of the black, ha● the languishing of the blue, spok● such a passionate language, tha● 'twas impossible to meet the glances and not understand them or without being transported with love for whatsoever they said The pourtract of the Sultaness Asteria, so perfectly resembled the Duchess of Valentinois, and the Duke looked upon her with 〈◊〉 much passion while he made it, that she was like to interrupt him in that part of it; but her curiosity over coming her impatience, she let him go on in this manner. The happy Venetian saw her upon a day of the Sultan's triumph; and though he felt his heart wounded by her at first sight, yet he hoped she took notice of it. This person thought himself Insensible till that day, and took a pride to appear so; Fortune was his only Divinity, and Policy seemed to rule all his Actions: but Love never triumphs more, than ●n the midst of great difficulties. This dangerous Seraglio, which would have frighted any but a Lover, seemed not worthy our Ambassador's consideration; the desires to please, and the fear of not pleasing, were the only things that merited his reflections, and having found the secret to discover his love, and that he was not hated, the easily found a way to be introduced to the fair Asteria's Apartment, having engaged an Eunuch who was privy to the adventure, and who disguised him so well, that he was not suspected by any of the Guards. He found his beautiful Sultaness alone upon a bed of Flowers, and took her for the Goddess of Pleasure; her fair eyes showed him nothing of cruelty, and th●● amorous Venetian's spoke the greatest passion in the world. What shall I tell you further, Madam? i● short, he was so tempted to steal 〈◊〉 kiss from her fair lips, that he had much ado to overcome his transport. Does this presumption make you blush, Madam? (said the Duke earnestly looking upon the Duchess, who indeed blushed) and if the incomparable Madam de Valentinois, had been the Sultaness Astevia, the Ambassador could never have been so favoured by Love as in this occasion. That was according to the excess of his passion, and the Idea which the Lady conceived of it, (replied the Duchess, looking on the ground.) Ah Madam, cried the Duke, (in rising and stealing a kiss from the Duchess) how well the Venetian understood Love, and the divine Sultaness him? The fair Diana showed all necessary signs to make the Duke believe, he stole that kiss against her will: But the cunning Farnese easily perceived the appearance from the truth, and continuing his History as if it had not been interrupted, was going to make his pretended Ambassador so happy, that Octavo would have been glad to participate his good fortune; but the Duchess perceiving this History to be a Fable, after what had happened, Not so fast, my Lord Duke, said she to him, I have heard enough of this Adventure for the first day, we may know the rest in good time, but a History of this nature requires more warning than I have leisure to take now. Ah Madam, (replied the Duke, with an unparallelled fervency) those who told me this story, assured me that which made the Venetian so fortunate, was that he persuaded the Sultaness they ought to make use of all occasions who meet with them but seldom. I'll warrant you, (said the Duchess smiling) they who employ the first opportunity so well, can easily find a second. As the Duchess spoke these words, the King entered the Garden, followed by the Scotch Earl and the whole Court; the Ambassador did so many extravagant actions in Madam de Valentinois sight, that the Duke thought it convenient to follow his example, and retired into his Closet so filled with Love and flattering hopes, that these enchanting thoughts employed all the rest of the day, and part of the following night.   

The Seventh Day.  
'TIs so much the property of Love to inspire young Lovers with Poetry, that our Duke could not be dispensed with from this general Law; he made an Italian Madrigal, and repeated it the next day to the Queen, as a piece of Gallantry sent him from his own Country; who being an Italian, and knowing all the delicacies of that tongue, liked it so well, that several French Poets were ambitious to translate it; and 'twas done so happily, that the King who loved Music commanding an Air should be composed to these words, he and all the Court sung no other Song.  

Madrigal.  
FOr every Blessing double thanks we own:  
First for the simple Gift we are in debt.  
Then from those petty sums, much larger grow;  
To th' interest of our joys no bounds are set.  
No Laws control that Usury,  
Nor will it stinted be,  
But adds, and still without control adds more;  
And than it doubles what it gave before.   

2.  
Though millions for my happiness are due;  
That balmy Kiss, which has my wounded soul  
But one applied half cured. They are but few,  
But very few, compared with that vast scroul,  
Which the blessed Interest does fill,  
And with much more yet will.  
The dreams, the pleasing thoughts, and ecstasies;  
The sweet remembrance of it, has given, and give.   

3.  
Ah would my Fair one grant another Boon!  
Or but the very same she gave before;  
In spite of envious fate, which does so soon  
Destroy, even what she gives; and makes us poor.  
By the same hand of Time, which brings  
The store. I'll clip his wings,  
And make him stay; or I'll beg: if 'twon't be,  
Then I myself will give't Eternity:  
It shall for ever live, live in my memory.   

4.  
Nature, in vain thou strivest to guard the heart!  
In vain's the prudent care that walled it in:  
(Though one would think it safe on every part)  
In vain, alas! thy care and cost has been:  
Love has a passage found, he has;  
But t'other day it was,  
When to my grief he showed his powerful art;  
He stormed my mouth, and by it gained my heart.   
The Tune that was made to this Madrigal proved so sweet, that every body learned it. But the pleasantest thing was, the Ambassador of Scotland delighting exceedingly in Music, (as generally all his Countrymen do) sung it continually. He had a good voice, and thinking to please the Duchess with that quality, was the first that sung to her the Madrigal upon the Kiss; and quavering so long upon the passionate words, and with so much affectation, that the Duchess could not forbear laughing when she observed it; he looking with such languishing eyes, when he sung balmy Kiss, and another Boon, made his error seem so pleasing to Madam de Valentinois, that (not unlikely) the happy Farnese owed to that circumstance, the consequence of this divertisement. It may be some may think, that according to this Journal, Love makes great advances in a small time; but we mean it not for a Register of the days of our lives, but a List of Amorous affairs; therefore you must think, that all the principal Actions were attended by such circumstances, as were necessary to produce them.   

The Eighth Day.  
THe Queen who loved not the Duchess, having a private Alliance with Scotland, had less Friendship for the Duke of Parma, than the Scotch Earl, she being then laying the Foundation of the Alliance between the Dolphin of France, and the Queen of Scotland; and this particular Interest, making her have one more General for the concerns of the Ambassador, she was the first that observed his Love for Madam de Valentinois, and we may believe was not the last that strengthened his Hopes. She looked upon the fair Diana's disloyalty, as the only Rock on which the King's Love could be wrecked, and thought the Earl a fit Person to make her fall into the Snare so often laid; wherefore she made all her Servants; whom she thought capable of serving her in this Design, flatter his Passion, and gave the Earl all opportunities she could to see Madam de Valentinois; the Queen's jealousy made all feasible, she appearing so favourable to the Earls Amorous desires, that he could not be accused of presumption, for cherishing his Hopes by her encouragement, and pursuing his Amour by her Assistance; but the fair Diana had no inclination to him. And besides that grand Obstacle, she was as politic as those who undertook to ensnare her; she knew as perfectly the Queen's Intentions, as if she had been of the Privy-Counsel of her Revenge, and resolving to turn the mischief prepared for herself upon her enemies, she complained to the King of the Earls boldness, as an extreme jnjury to his Majesty's Honour: he was almost overcome with Joy to see his Mistress' Fidelity in so nice a business; she drew a thousand benefits from this Affair, and so powerfully strengthened his Love, that she absolutely gained his belief and assurance of her. The King loved the Duchess excessively, and being naturally jealous, advised with Montmorency how to remedy this Ambassador's extravagance, without violating the Law of Nations. Montmorency commended His Majesty's moderation, and desiring to make the Duke Octavo necessary, mentioned him as a fit Person for the reducing the Earl to his proper Duty. The Duke was politic and witty, and whatever was done of his part, could not be suspected to come from the King; for by the Queen's advice (who endeavoured to hinder the Duchess of all important friends) the unwary Earl had made several overtures of friendship with the Duke. Therefore His Majesty resolved upon Montmorency's advice. We see now the Duke Honoured and made the Confident of the King his Rival, and entrusted to be revenged of one who begun to be so. You may imagine he failed not to use so favourable an opportunity, but insinuated himself into the King's Favour with so much art and success, that this Monarch could not live without him; and adding the pleasures of the advancement of his concerns, to that of loving Madam de Valentinois without the King's suspicion, he so well reconciled his Politics with his Love, that he was equally happy in both, at least we have Reason to think so; for 'tis certain, the King hastened the raising of those Troops he designed him: and there were some Verses abroad about this time, which were thought to be his, by which we may judge he succeeded as well in the art of pleasing, as in that of negotiation. Some of these Verses are put here for form sake, but are left to your choice whether you will read them or not.  

The Enjoyment.  
IN a cool shady Bower to lie,  
Where th' kind embracing of the louíng bows,  
'Gainst every envious eye,  
A sure defence allows:  
And modestly (what humane Lovers ought too) shows.   

2.  
There at his belov'd Mistress feet to lie;  
View and consider well  
The many charms make up that mighty spell,  
(For great and many too they needs must be,  
Since man so much unwilling to obey we see;)  
That mighty spell whereby  
She first enslaved him, as yet free,  
And then for ever, bound him to her Tyranny.   

3.  
Then on a sudden in her eyes to find,  
Those gentle spirits move,  
Which are the Harbingers of Love,  
And take possession of the mind.  
One sooner could deny  
A mighty Prince, than this kind language of the eye,  
When Beauty bids it on her Errand fly.   

4.  
And then to feel what none could e'er express;  
And none but Lovers ever guests:  
To feel the sweet Infection spread,  
With a soft tickling pain,  
Through every vein,  
And seize the heart, as well as head.   

5.  
Then when the body (like the nobler soul)  
Warmed with a hot desire,  
Becomes all fire  
Within her arms to lie, and cool  
Th' excessive heats now dangerous grown;  
And from her panting breasts, her dying eye,  
And melting sighs which from her bosom fly,  
Take new flames, and more kindly than his own.   

6.  
How long, alas! the learned, grave, and wise,  
Have sought with vain and fruitless toil,  
The blessed seat of Paradise:  
These are the joys which make that happy soil:  
And that blessed Bower the place,  
Which if my Mistress grace,  
And but as kind as yesterday she was, will be,  
In spite of Fate each day is Paradise to me,  
As sweet as that soothed Mankind's harmless Infancy.    

The Ninth Day.  
THe Duchess was building a Monastery some distance from Anet, which she visited often; the way to it lying near a part of the Forest, the Duke who knew how to Create pretexts, managed his time and Circumstances so well, that seldom a day past wherein he saw not Madam de Valentinois in her walk to the Covent; she went ordinarily without any other Company than St. Brunes, and a little Polander, who knew not a word of French, nor understood any thing but his Mistress' signs; so that he was employed in all those Mysterious Affairs, which required such an ignorant Officer. One day when the King Hunted the wild Boar in the Forest, the Duchess being gone her wont Pilgrimage, Octavo, (whose new Favour obliged him to be near his Majesty's Person) cunningly stole from the Company, to a place where she enjoyed the coolness of the shade; she rise at first sight of him, and striking him upon the Shoulder with a branch of Orange tree she held in her hand, You're very bold my Lord Duke, (said she) thus to interrupt a Lady's Privacy; even withdraw yourself, continued she, (and fling a handful of Orange Flowers in his Hair) the Adventure is more dangerous than you think for, showing him a little Hillock shadowed by a Sloe-bush in Blossom. The Duke began this piece of Gallantry bravely, and taking her by the hand to conduct her to the place she had shown him, You have very little Charity for poor strangers, (replied he in a drolling tone) thus to lie in Ambush for them upon the King's Highway; who could ever have imagined this attaque? go, Madam, you deserve to be Chastised, and I hope to quit myself of your Ambuscado like a brave Fellow. Without question a Discourse so well begun, was carried on as pleasantly; for although St. Brune went such a distance from them that she could not hear their Discourse, the substance of the Entertainment may be guessed by the Verses made in that solitude.  

Madrigal 2.  
HArk how the murmuring Woods, my Fair one, do complain,  
Since you and I the other day they spied;  
That unkind Nature has to them denied:  
Those sweeter pleasures which by Love we gain.  
It vexes 'em to see,  
Their glorious Progeny,  
So trim and gay adorn the smiling Field,  
Yet not th' remembrance of one sweet pleasure yield.   

2.  
Whilst spendthrift like she so profusely wastes,  
Such mighty sums on her dear Favourite Man;  
That even whilst he his Duty pays, he tastes  
Those pleasures which they never knew; nor can  
Devouring Time destroy,  
The sweets which we enjoy.  
When age depraves our taste; in a Child we  
Then enjoy, and in a Grandchild chew o'er our Lechery.  
Clor. Thus the short pleasure we enjoy,  
In getting of one lovely Boy,  
Still multiplies itself, and we  
Enjoy it still in our posterity.  
For when he mates, we cry,  
Ah so did Phillis once, and I.  
Ah so, etc.   
If the Duke of Parma had contributed only the subject to this Song, yet he writ it with his own hand, and being 'twas with a Pencil in a Table-book, it not being so easy to make letters upon Ivory as upon Paper, his were so difficult to be known, that the Duchess thought it needless to wipe them out, but put them in her pocket, and returned to the Castle, much satisfied with her happy encounter. The Duke followed the Hunters, though he could hardly overtake them; yet when he found them, was outwardly sorry for the losing their Company; Montmorency comforted him as well as he could, telling him, the King was very much concerned for his absence. The Duke having a mind for to droll, Had I been in Love, (said he, pleasantly) I need not complain of being so long alone; but I confess solitude is very Melancholy and dull to a man that's Insensible: You see, (answered the Ambassador) that sometimes Love is very useful; I begin to think so too, (replied the Duke, smiling) and two or three such accidents as I met with to day, will make me hate my Indifference: These Discourses continued till they came to the Castle, where the remaining part of the day was spent in telling the success of their Hunting, which having been somewhat violent, they went early to bed, and eased themselves of the labours of the day.   

The Tenth Day.  
THe next day the Court went a Fishing, and the Ladies were in a dress suitable to the Recreation; the King showed his magnificence in the expensiveness of the Banquets, and the rich adorning of the Boats where they were served. After the return from Fishing, there was an Italian Comedy at the Queen's apartment, and the Duchess having some private reasons to love that Language, was one of the first at that divertisement. The Scotch Earl having the opportunity to place himself behind her chair, his Passion being always the Mistress of his Politics, resolved to give her some new mark of that Love he could not overcome; Madam de Valentinois lifting up her hand to put something of her dress in order, the Earl spied a Ribbon at the entrance of her Pocket, which he thought was her Table-book, softly drew it out, whilst she was looking another way, and thinking to make some advantage of that adventure, went to write some Gallantry in it; but casting his eyes upon that of the foregoing day, was surprised to find that Character in the Duchess' Table-book, and the reading it raised in him so great a Jealousy, as made him fetch a deep sigh: the fair Diana hearing it, looked towards him, and perceiving her Table-book, nimbly snached it away, letting him see by her angry looks, that she was displeased at this presumption; he looked earnestly upon her when he saw her anger, and fetching another sigh as deep as the former, Ah! Madam, said he, what have I seen? At these words he left the Room: the Duchess perceiving by them he had read the Madrigal, resolved to prevent the evil these Verses might cause if they were known; she read them first, and feigning she believed the Ambassador writ them, complained to the King of this affront, and told him, with all the appearances of a real grief, that she was very unhappy in being an object for the insolences of strangers, because she was loyal to his Love. This way of changing the business, made the King so angry with the Earl, that if the private Treaty of the Marriage which he carried on, had not caused the Queen to raise all her Interest to support him, the King had sent him word he might return. He Protested, and 'twas true, that he never so much as thought to write those Verses, and that he had never seen them, except in the Duchess' Table-book; but circumstances being against him, and Madam de Valentinois having rubbed them out as soon as the King had seen them, with a pretence of being ashamed of them, 'twas impossible to know the Character, so that the Earl was taxed with an Iniquity he was nothing guilty of.   

The Eleventh Day.  
Lover's cannot live long in good Intelligence, the excess of Love makes them capricious, the most inflamed hearts being the most inclinable to anger; and we had rather betray our own happiness, than to Love always without clashing: The Duke and Duchess on the sudden looked not so kindly upon each other as they were used to do, and Octavo being highly displeased with her disdainful usage, was almost resolved to sacrifice his Interest to his Love, and return into Italy. Those who in that time heard of Farnese's discontent, judged it caused by Montmorency's proposing of him, to marry the young Princess Diana, Madam de Valentinois Daughter by the King, (to which they say he could never be persuaded;) but 'tis not like the Duchess, who knew very well the reasons he had to scruple that Alliance, could be displeased with him for opposing it; and having since in his stead given her his Brother Horatio, she had no reason to be dissatisfied upon that score. 'Twas Love only could separate hearts so firmly united, he only caused their disagreement, and he alone must reconcile it. The fair Diana taxed the Duke with not being tender enough in the effects of his passion, and for retaining too sovereign a power over the faculties of his soul, in a time when pleasure should set free all its functions.  

ONe Evening at a happy Lover lay,  
In his dear Lady's bosom at a bay,  
Finding her Amorous flames begin to die;  
And a thick mist o'er spread her twinkling eye:  
‛ Must these sweet Pleasures too, enraged eryes he,  
‛ Must these thus fleeting, and thus short-lived be?  
‛ Use all those powerful Names which Love inspires,  
‛ And with thy breath rouse these expiring fires.  
Then lest he wanting to's own Laws should prove:  
‛ My dear, he cries, my pretty rogue, my Love:  
With thousands more that witty Loves invent;  
Which, though the sottish world (& what they meant)  
ne'er knew: Yet well by Lovers known they be,  
Who understand Love's wondrous mystery:  
And feel the power which in their charm do lie;  
And s e the mighty wonders wrought thereby.  
Then with a dying eye, speaking disdain,  
With Love and Anger mixed, thus did complain  
The Fair one. ' Ingrateful! thee now I hate:  
‛ Hast thou yet strength to waste in idle prate;  
‛ And whilst I in thy arms thus drooping lie,  
‛ Thou Love or courage want'st with me to die.   
These are all the Memoirs are left of that great controversy, which divided the opinions of the greatest Wits in Europe, and which made the Pope resolve to join with the Duke of Milan, against the Duke of Parma; which he dared not have done, had he not hoped the unkindness grown between him and Madam de Valentinois, would cause the King of France to withdraw his assistance. But 'tis not in this affair only, that things have been attributed to the Policy and Interest of Princes, which were wholly caused by Love. Octavos Crime will seem but a small fault, to those who are commonly called the men of Reason; but Love is governed by his own Laws, and according to them, this Lover was exceeding guilty. Therefore the Duchess could no more be persuaded to pardon him, than he to confess himself in a fault: witty Saint Brune did eminent service in the appeasing this disorder; she entreated, and begged; but the business being matter of Fact, the Duke's Reasons must lie in the proof; and 'tis thought the skilful Italian persuaded Saint Brune by her own experience, that she might with more facility convince her Mistress; 'tis further believed, that this Knowledge strengthened her Eloquence, and not perceiving the Duke's silence material in that affair, it helped her to inform the Duchess, that it was no Crime not to observe her opinions: however 'twas, our quarrelling Lovers grew Friends again. But as these picques are generally the wrack of the Lover's Prudence, the Duke could not hid his grief, so well as he had concealed his happiness; the ordinary Judgements attributed his Melancholy, to the Pope's Alliance with Gonsagues, but the Scotch Earl discerned what the Court could not. He had a faint remembrance of the Letters in the Madrigal, and finding them to have some likeness with Farness' writing, and adding this suspicion to several actions of the Duke in the time of this difference with the fair Diana, he compared the melancholy of that time, with the gaiety of this, and weighing in his mind the Duke's advice concerning his conduct, he took that for the effects of his passion, which was only in pursuance of the King's orders; and no longer doubted that Octavo was his Rival, and what was more, beloved. So that the Friendship he had feigned the Earl, was a new motive to augment his fury, which grew to an unparallelled excess. He discovered his Jealousy to the Queen, as he had also done his Love; this Princess was extremely glad of it, confirmed it, and advised him wholly to employ himself, in the interception of some Letter, which might evidently clear their suspicion.   

The Twelfth Day.  
THere was no great difficulty to accomplish their design, the fidelity of Domestics is too weak of itself, to resist the power of an angry Queen, and a man of Quality in Love, and liberal: the Earl corrupted that servant of the Dukes, who used to carry his Letters to the Duchess, and bring him back her answers: He knew of him, that the little Polander always left them in a hole, which was in the Pedestal of a Marble Mercury, in a cross-way of the Forest, whither the Duke sent him for them, and made him carry the answers. You may easily think the Earl failed not to be there the next morning, being informed by the bribed servant of the time he should carry his Master's Letters, where he found this in Italian: the Earl understood not the Language well enough to know the meaning exactly, but the Queen was his interpreter, and explained it to him in these terms.  
HOw I love your anger, for to it I own all my happiness. Favour me with another Picque, I beseech you Madam, for you have more reason than you imagine, since I am yet alive, and our last conversation has not yet made me Love's Martyr. Punish this procedure, unworthy the excess of my Passion, and that you may find a punishment equal to my crime, forbidden me these ravishing joys when I shall see you again.  
This Letter produced such a mixture of joy and grief, in the mind of the jealous Ambassador, as was like to have made him lose his wits. He would have run to the King, and by showing him Octavos treachery, revenge himself of the Duchess, by the loss of her Lover; but the Queen being less transported, and consequently more prudent, was of opinion to have a Letter of Madam the Valentinois' own writing, before they undertook her ruin: The fair Diana had so prodigious a wit, and the King so much possessed to her advantage, that she had withdrawn herself from two or three as dangerous plots as this. And the Queen ●earing her cunning might disappoint them, would not hazard any thing but what might be effectual. Therefore she only took a copy of the Duke's Letter, and sealing it up again as well as she could, made the Earl carry it to the place from whence he brought it. He had hardly obeyed her commands, when the Polander came to quit himself of his ordinary commission; and some hours after, during which you may imagine the Post was watched, he brought this answer.  
I Have yet a quarrel with you, if you love them; for I resolve to gratify your desire. What made you writ me a Letter so passionate and full of transport, (fond Lover as you are) thus to surpass all mine so that I can no longer boast of writing kinder things than you if it had been a Letter of five or six pages, I could be better satisfied but in five or six lines, to say all the sweetest things love can inspire. Well; I know how to be revenge for this injury. And like another Artemisia, I won't make an end of dressing myself, before I make you confess, I love you a thousand times better than you do me. You may come with assurance to our rendezvouz; (for I am not capable of deceit) there you shall find me without other company than St. Brune.  
The jealous Earl found his jealousy very much augmented, when he had read this Letter; and according to the conduct of all Lovers, felt an extreme Joy to see that there, which for his life he would not have found. He ran to the Queen, agitated by two or three several passions, crying, Victory, Victory, at her Closet door, and showing her the Letter he had intercepted; she felt a purer joy to see it than the Earls was, immediately resolving to follow the success she hoped from it, sending for an Officer of the King's Guards, who was absolutely at her devotion, whom she commanded so to order it, that the King might see the Letter, and not imagine there was any design to show it him. For this intent 'twas agreed amongst them, the Officer should pretend it dropped ou● of the Duke Octavos pocket, and presenting it him again in the King's presence, should let his Majesty see the hand. The Queen knew his humour well enough, to be assured, that if he saw a part of it, he would read it all; and as that jealousy is most violent that is gotten by chance, so by these means she hoped to undo the Duke and Duchess, without being suspected to be the Author of their ruin: while these things were transacting, the Duke was in his Chamber, as much wondering at the cause of the Duchess' silence, as she at his neglect. He was informed by his servant, whom he ordered to fetch his Letters, there was none in the usual place: And not knowing the true reason, he thought of twenty false ones, which exceedingly perplexed him. On the other side, the fair Diana being told her Lover was in the King's bedchamber, and intended to go with him a Hunting that day, was so enraged at his proceed, that immediately she repent all her kindness to the Duke, calling him ungrateful, insensible, nay Traitor itself; and to Punish him for all her former indulgencies, feigned herself not well, and would not see him at his return: this niceness increased Octavos suspicions, and made him accuse the Duchess, of the same inconstancy she thought him guilty.   

The Thirteenth Day.  
THe next day they were both in the Queen's Lodgings, and looked very coldly upon each other, speaking nothing of their discontent. Saint Brune was employed again to interpret the business; which was soon done on the Duke's part, for when he had protested he saw no Letter, he was no longer faulty. They called the little Polander, who after his manner assured them he put the Letter in the usual place; the Duke's Servant said, he found none there, and backing the assurance of his fidelity with all the Oaths he could think on, put out two Lovers in a great perplexity. Madam de Valentinois knew she had written an Assignation very kind and passionate, the Duke was sure he received none, so that they could not suspect any body but the Scotch Ambassador; and the Duchess was so vexed to find her favours left to the discretion of a man of his humour, that she could not be satisfied. If to interest him in the same intrigue, would have charmed his tongue, she had soon resolved upon it; but she thought not this way so certain as 'twas easy, knowing those favours seldom teach Gallants the faculty of silence. Diana having a thousand thoughts in her head, and not knowing which to choose, put the Duke in an unconceivable despair; though he needed not have been so dejected, Love taking the care of their preservation, without their knowledge: for whilst the Duchess thought herself Ruined, and the Queen Revenged, the Officer that should have been the Minister of her fury, was killed at the Castle-gates: he had a Quarrel with one of his Comrades, which could not be determined but by their Swords. Fate would have the lot fall upon the Queen's Agent; and since the Marquis of Jarnac's dispute, Duels were severely forbidden, which made the Friends of the deceased, carry him two miles from Anet, where in a pit they covered him with Chalk, and with him the Letters which caus so much trouble, and were to produce such wonders. You may easily think what effect this had upon the Queen and the Earl; they abhorred their former precaution, and ever and anon twitted each other with the loss of that advantage, being like to have parted Interests, when they had most need of a stricter Union. The Duchess knew not yet what cause she had to thank Love for this Murder, so necessary to her safety, but still looked upon the Earl as the undertaker of her ruin, which robbed her of all quiet; some nipping words he often let fall, confirmed her opinion, augmented her fears, and made her change countenance whenever he began to speak. One day above the rest, when the Duchess followed the Queen, who walked in the Castle Garden with the whole Court, a sudden shower made them take shelter in a Gallery that lay between the Apartments of the Duke Farnese and Montmorency; the Pictures in it being admirable, and representing several effects of the God's Justice upon the wicked, were the subject of their discourse: One of them showed the torment of Ixion, for letting his desires aspire to the Wife of Jupiter; another, the burning of Semele, and this the Queen liked best: but the Duke of Parma was the most pleased with the adventure of Diana and Actaeon; the Goddess was drawn so lovely, the Landscape so natural, and the conformity between the Names of Diana and Madam de Valentinois made him esteem it so much, that he could not grow weary of commending it. But when from the praise of the Painter, they came to the story of the Picture, For my part, (said he, pleasantly) I must beg pardon of the Lady's severity, if I esteem not this so great an example of it as they believe; I think it but equity to punish a Lover for undertaking an enterprise contrary to his Mistress' commands, (for 'tis just disobedience should have its due correction;) but to imagine it unlawful to take the advantage of chance, or that a man may not enjoy the Caresses of Fortune, when she flings herself in his arms, is past my understanding. This discourse putting the Duchess in mind of the Kiss in the Grotto, and several other occurrences, where he had practised what he preached, made her smile, which passed not unobserved. But pray (replied a grave austere Lady of the Court) what interpretation do you make of so known a story, and so well received, if not that 'twas the effect of Diana's modesty, and the punishment of Actaeon's presumption? I conceive (said the Duke, continuing his raillery) that Diana punished this Hunter, because he pursued not his good fortune; very like the Goddess would have been well enough pleased Actaeon saw her naked, had his transport at the sight of her beauty, effaied his crime against her modesty. This is a new Moral to the Fable, (answered the Queen, smiling) and if you can draw such from all the fictions of the Ancients, they have left us a terrible doctrine. Madam, (replied Octavo) the Ancients were so wise, that one of their thoughts may find matter for five or six of ours. King's have an example in this, of the respect we ought to have for the pleasures of Princes, where we should take no greater share than pleases them to allow us. Your Majesty, who is so modest and severe, may see an example of severity and modesty. A Politician may find a Maxim, not to let them live long, who know more of our affairs than we are willing they should; but a man of my age, makes no such serious reflections, nor looks for any thing but Amorous Morals. You make very curious distinctions for one that's Insensible, (said the Princess Claudia) and Nature must needs be unjust, if she hath joined a mind so able to understand Love, with a heart so uncapable to receive it. Ah Madam, (added the Earl) perhaps the Duke is not so Insensible as he appears to be, a seeming Indifference being many times the mask of a great passion: And if Madam de Valentinois would speak her observations of the Duke's heart, to the Queen, I dare be confident his disguise cannot escape her quicksighted Judgement. This discourse touched the Duchess so sensibly, that she could hardly conceal her disturbance; but having a great power over herself, she was soon composed, and told the Earl in an angry imperious tone, I am but a bad Voucher of what you desire, and as I believe it injustice to look into others secrets without their permission, so I think their curiosity detestable who are so inquisitive. If the Letters he intercepted had been still in his hands, our Ambassador had not stood mute in so provoking an opportunity; but the impossibility of proving his malice, hindered his saying any more of it, but sighed for vexation, at the bad success of his enterprises. The Queen who loved not to lose sighs so idly, like a prudent woman took no notice of their discourse: Our Lovers had let fall a thousand marks of the private correspondence that passed between them, which they observed not; yet the politic Queen, thought they might be useful to her in time. She commanded the illustrious Marot to write in Verse the story of Diana and Actaeon, according to the Duke of Parma's opinion. This Poet being greatly obliged to her, and finding the subject very pleasing, made this following Fable.  

The Fable.  
IN the first dawning of the World's great day,  
When th' Infant Sun his tedious race begun;  
Which he five thousand years, they say, has run:  
And twice five thousand more he may,  
For aught I know, ere it be done.  
'Twas in those early days, when all the way  
From Heaven to Earth, more bright, and purer was,  
Than that we now the Milky call; & boasts itself so gay.  
Then with unstained feet the Gods might pass;  
As yet the road was free,  
From all those miry clouds, and dirty mists we see,  
Which from our sins do come;  
Some from Drunkenness, from Luxury some;  
And some from crimes that deeper stain,  
The blood of faithful Lovers slain;  
Some from th' infectious blasts, which come  
From the false Lover's perjured breath; with which the Trav'ling Sun,  
As he his constant stage does run,  
Bemires his gilded rays,  
Which every moment shed it on the ways;  
That by this means th' are now impassable become.   

2.  
And often then the Gods did deign  
To visit Mortals here below;  
And by their presence, ease that pain,  
(Though small it was, compared with what attends us now,  
Since they no more that Heavenly aid, on us bestow)  
That pain unhappy Man even then was born to know.  
And as their Charity oft lead 'em down;  
So (as their sacred Priests the Poets sing,  
Whose knowledge, or their truth none can in question  
Like mighty Monarches weary of a Crown, (bring)  
And of those Godlike pleasures, Power  
On Crowned heads does shower;  
Who wisely yet the meanest try,  
And from the pompous noisy sports  
Of Princes and of Courts,  
T' a solitary Lawn, or some poor Cottage fly;  
The best of soils to set off Majesty,  
Whose greatest part but in comparison does lie.   

3.  
So they oft their Diviner joys laid by,  
And courser Earthly pleasures try:  
In pleasant shades they wantonly do roam;  
Or to some silly Shepherds homely Cottage come:  
Where they with easy Questions, sound  
(But he as well the Delphic mysteries could expound)  
His shallow wit; and sport themselves to see  
(Ah cunning of self-flattery!)  
Their knowledge, i'th' poor Clown's simplicity.  
Or in some Crystal Brook,  
They Bathed; who secret virtue took  
From his blessed Guests; and which some yet retain,  
Who free from man's pollution under ground have lain.  
No wonder then our Philosopher's search proves vain,  
Since they are grown so wise,  
They do not only modern Priests,  
By Envy too too much oppressed,  
But th' Ancient Priests the Poets too despise:  
And strive to bind to Nature's feeble Laws,  
What to immediate acts of Power Almighty owes its cause.   

4.  
'Twas in those happy days when in a lonely Grove,  
On a sweet flowery Bank,  
Where every Herb one would ha' thought had striven  
With smiling looks, (for they no less  
Than thankful words a grateful mind express)  
The bounteous neighbouring Brook to thank,  
For that sweet life which from his cup they daily drank.  
Who loathe to leave such pleasant company,  
Chides his too hasty streams, and bids 'em stay;  
And murmurs at that Law he must obey.  
Yet though so rigorous it be,  
Delays a while his Tribute to the Sea;  
Winding his lithy streams even backward goes,  
And fain within his arms would the loved place enclose.   

5.  
On this sweet Bank the fair Diana stood;  
Her constant and beloved place,  
When wearied with the toilsome pleasures of the Chase,  
She used the well known virtue of the Flood:  
Deprived of all those Ornaments which Art,  
But all in vain, to Beauty does impart,  
Since simple Nature sooner takes the heart.  
And beauteous Woman, much more beauteous shows  
In Nature's naked dress,  
Than when with Gold, the beauty of the Mines,  
Or Silk, a poor Worm's pride, she shines;  
And like a painted Pageant goes:  
Hiding those native Glories of her own,  
To boast another's, and much less,  
Whose value only by opinion grown;  
Whilst Nature's self on hers sets the Impress,  
And has their real worth to all Mankind made known.   

6.  
And poor Actaeon a sad proof has given,  
That this, though so neglected, Doctrine's true;  
When by the scorching Sun he hither driven,  
Instead of shades, found flames till than he never knew.  
He oft had seen before,  
But must, alas! no more,  
Gay Beauties trim and fine,  
In Silks and Tessues shine;  
In rich Embroideries,  
And costly dies.  
These he, and unconcerned, had often seen;  
But when he in her naked Glories all arrayed  
The fair Diana saw: Lightning itself had been  
A slower Minister of Fate; no aid  
From helpful Reason could be brought,  
Or trusty Morals sought;  
She instantly made all her own,  
And all his strength was strait o'er thrown:  
His Tongue had quickly his known duty left,  
And idly to his Palate cleft.  
His heart th' Enemy's part too took,  
And every sense her Master then forsaken;  
All but unhappy she,  
Who must his utter ruin be;  
And taught him only how to look.  
Just like a senseless Tree he stood,  
A new-made Denizon o'th' Wood,  
Who though he more did see, as little understood.   

7.  
Vexed at his folly, thus the angry Goddess cries;  
Why has too easy Heaven  
TO a wretch, who knows not how to use't, such fortune given?  
Can't he believe his eyes?  
Or am I ugly grown? Or can he spy  
A greater Beauty in some mortal eye?  
The curse of hot desires,  
And fond remorse's Hellish fires,  
Prey on his soul eternally:  
That he (though now too late) his loss may see,  
Whilst silly Fame for this shall sing my Chastity.   

8.  
This said, she swiftly glided through the air;  
But too deep rooted was the sad despair,  
Which she in poor Actaeon 's breast had sown,  
To die; though she the cause of it was fled, & gone;  
That lived and prosperously, alas! did grow  
To thousand branchy cares,  
The unhappy Antlars  
That now adorn his cloudy brow.   

9  
In vain to pleasant Fields he does repair,  
Where he was wont to ease his care:  
As much in vain he homeward goes;  
He in his bosom bears his foes.  
Hot, fierce desires, and loud regret,  
Still sounding in his ears a fresh rechate;  
Till wearied out at longth he dies,  
And unto injured Beauty falls a Sacrifice.  
Since when, men by his sad example taught,  
Need not by Beauty to be sought.  
They are but very few who such sweet hours would lose,  
And modestly such great good fortune could refuse.    

The Fourteenth Day.  
THe Queen had wound so handsomely into this Fiction, a satire against bashful Lovers, with the description of the too presumptuous, she repeated to the King the discourse which caused this Gallantry, in such a malicious manner, and the Duchess' looks betrayed her so often, that she hoped thereby to stir up his Jealous humour, and make him evidently perceive his Mistress' unfaithfulness. But Octavos seeming Insensibility, his constancy at the Court, and the stratagems of Madam de Valentinois, so blinded this poor Prince, that all designs to make him see more clearly miscarried. Therefore the Queen resolved to speak more plainly, and knowing Marots fidelity, engaged him to make Verses, to be understood contrary to what they expressed, of the whole Court, and especially of Madam de Valentinois; nor would she be omitted herself, that it might appear with the greater plausibility. These are all that came to our knowledge.  

THe Duchess is as chaste as fair;  
As cruel as fell Tigers are:  
Of all the wounds she gives,  
None e'er could find relief,  
Or but even pity for their grief,  
Except our Prince, for whom alone she lives.   

The Great Italian he has not  
The least advantage on her got:  
For him alas, poor sot!  
As people now in private prate,  
She pierced unto the very heart,  
And made him play Actaeon 's part;  
As Marot did relate.   

If that the Queen herself should see,  
In danger of the Regency;  
The Duchess, she no doubt would call,  
To help to dry those tears would fall  
At her dear Husband's Funeral.   

The Constable's an honest man,  
Let him get all the power he can,  
Or wrap or wring in France;  
For his great honesty,  
And known integrity,  
'Tis a small recompense.   
These mock-truths, as they were then called, were cunningly spread through all the Court; and the Queen complaining the first of her affront, made them so public by her seeming trouble, that they soon came to the King's ear, who was transported with Jealousy; and being astonished to think the two persons he most esteemed, should be so guilty, he went to the Duchess, who saw in his face the trouble of his mind: this politic Lady, who knew what had passed, and was prepared for what was to come, received the King with an appearing grief, which suspended all his anger: and preventing what she thought his Majesty would say, with a flood of forced tears, (which women of her humour have always at command) she told him, she was very unhappy to be the mark of the Queen's malicious invention, and to see her innocence and virtue traduced by those persons whom her Love to his Majesty obliged her to respect. Then showing him the Verses, as if she knew not he had seen them, begged his permission to retire into a Monastery, that so miserable a person might leave the world, of which he had made her the scorn and sport. This was enough to persuade a Prince blinded with Love, into a confidence of his Mistress' Loyelty. He lifts her up with a great deal of tenderness, and after he had made her swear some of those Oaths which the direction of the Will keeps from Perjury, he conjured her to calm her grief, and sacrifice to him her just anger. The Duchess pretended she could not bring herself to that moderation, and still desired leave to withdraw; then cunningly bringing into their discourse, that the Queen's hatred to her and the Duke Octavo, proceeded from the alliance which his Majesty intended for the young Diana, whom she styled, that poor forsaken Princess. The tenderness of a Father and a Lover, joined so strongly to overcome our Henry, that he went immediately from the Duchess to the Queen, to whom he complained so sharply of the trick he suspected she had put upon his Mistress, as made them see 'twas in vain to undertake her ruin.   

The Fifteenth Day.  
THis unexpected event did so incense the Queen, (who as we observed before was an Italian) that she did all that lay in her power to be revenged; she obliged the greatest part of the Counsel to oppose the King's Intentions to assist Octavo, and secretly spread amongst the people, that the Court had rather sacrifice the lives of 40000 men to the Marriage of the young Diana with Farnese, than secure a young Queen always in league with France, and who offered the Dolphin that Crown they desired the King to preserve: these stratagems and reports reduced the Duke's affairs to so low an ebb, as made him even despair of any good success: But he had still left him the pleasure of receiving the Duchess' consolations; she offered not a tear to her policy, but he privately wiped away; and this officious Lady did so countermine the Queen's intrigues, and confuse her designs, that she could hardly clear them. The two Rivals hated each other to that extremity, as ever and anon made them ready to cut one another's throat; the Duke knew the Earl was the author, or at least the instrument, of whatever happened contrary to Madam de Valentinois interest; and the Earl knowing perfectly his Rival's happiness, would have given his life to hinder his enjoyment. One day when they were both in the King's Chamber, attending the refult of the Counsel concerning their affairs, Octavo having made the Earl a reply to something he spoke as Ambassador, and which principally concerned him, there passed several sharp words concerning their different qualities, which at last caused a quarrel. They went down the back stairs into the Forest, as if they had gone to walk, where they presently drew, and so furiously began the fight, as might justly have presaged a dangerous event, if the Marquis de Jarnac and the Earl of St. Andre (advertised by an Officer of the Chamber) had not run to part them. 'Tis not imaginable what a noise this Duel made in the Court; two men of their quality to go together by the ears at the King's Chamber door, and in a time whilst they were managing affairs of so great importance, seemed a thing too strange to be believed; but the Queen and her faction made nothing of it, attributing that to Love, which appeared to others an effect of their ambition; saying, 'twas no new thing for Rivals to quarrel. This so powerfully awaked the King's jealousy, as obliged the Duchess to absent herself for some time from the Court, to cure his suspicions: she retired to a little house she had upon a River, which runs a French League from Anet; this place being designed for Bathing, she feigned herself not well, and to have need of that remedy.   

The Sixteenth Day.  
THis compliance with what Madam de Valentinois called the King's infirmities, so calmed this Prince's mind, that it seemed impossible to trouble it any more. His Mistress left the Court without repugnance, the Duke and the Earl were with him; and under a pretence of honouring the Duchess, she was so straightly guarded, that he durst have answered for her as for himself. But of what use are Guards, when Love undertakes to deceive them? the Duke saw the beautiful Diana every night, witty St. Brune having found so great a convenience to remedy the troubles of their absence, that neither all the King's precautions, nor the Queen's snares, interrupted any of their enjoyments. The place where Madam de Valentinois absented herself, was distant from any other habitation, being built after the Model of the old Roman Baths, and which (as we said before) served for no other use; and accordingly had a private way into the River, that one might wash there when 'twas fair weather. Through this Passage the happy Farnese was brought into the Duchess' Chamber every night. He always showed himself at the King's Supper and Bed-times, as if he had nothing to do but give his attendance; as soon as the King was in bed, he went to a place in the Forest, where his Horse was ready, and from thence he went to the River side, St. Brune having a morning Gown ready on the other side, where he passed through the Vault, and entertained the fair Diana two hours: These nocturnal adventures lasted ten or a dozen nights, with a success for which our Lovers could not give Love thanks enough. The King perfectly satisfied with his Mistresses proceed, began to propose her return; the Queen's jealousy being somewhat appeased by the Duchess' absence, seemed weary of persecuting her; but the jealous Earl fed not himself with these vain appearances, the Letters he had seen taught him more of their affairs, than to imagine our true Lover's kindness could be unactive. And the more the Duke was indifferent for Madam de Valentinois absence, the more the Ambassador was persuaded it took nothing from their pleasures: therefore he renewed his bribes and his promises to Octavos Servant, that helped him to intercept the Letters; and although since that accident he was not so much in his Master's favour as before, yet by him he discovered our Lovers private Journeys, and resolved to watch him, and not trust the conduct of his affairs to any but himself; and following him at a distance, to the place where he put off his Clothes, he saw him swim over the River, and enter the Vault which led to Diana's Chamber. How unpleasantly the jealous Ambassador spent that time his Rival passed so agreeably! He had a hundred temptations to follow him, and either participate the Duke's good fortune, or stab him in those Arms where he imagined him. But besides that, it was doubtful whether the door were not shut after Octavo came in: this rash enterprise was difficult to be executed, the Earl being alone, without other Arms than his Sword. And though it had been possible to kill his Rival, as he thought, what he had experienced of Madam de Valentinois Policy, made him fear the effect of what he had no witness to prove: he therefore went softly back again, and rolling a thousand different thoughts in his head, chose that he judged most profitable. He resolved then to be at the Duchess' apartment the next night, in Octavos stead, and threaten her to tell the King all he had seen, if she would not grant him the same favour with his Rival; and as it neither became the respect he owed the Queen, nor favoured her revenge, to communicate to her this resolution, so he kept it from her as a great secret; and taking no Counsel but of his Love, he expected the following night with unspeakable impatience.   

The Seventeenth Day.  
WHen jealousy is dissembled, 'tis not half had, being an evaporation whose first beginnings are hard to suppress, but when it hath once o'ercome itself, with ease vanquisheth the distrusts of others. The Earl appeared so calm at the King's rising, as if his mind had not been in the greatest perplexity that possible could be; and having lived quietly with the Duke of Parma, since the King reconciled them, he took him to dinner that day; and when they risen from ●able, went to the Duke D'aumales, who kept his Chamber for a hurt he had received in his foot the last Hunting. When the ordinary time of going to the Queen's apartment was come, they went together, and followed her a walking, then saw her sup. The Duke was going his usual Voyage, when the Earl found a trick to stop him, whispering the Queen, that for some reasons he would make known to her the next day, 'twas necessary to the Duchess' ruin, that she should retain the Duke near her the greatest part of the night: This jealous Princess embracing this occasion o● revenge, without knowing more o● the Ambassadors design, after Supper proposed falling to Play, and desired the Duke to make one this proposition caused so much trouble to the amorous Octavo, as it might be observed in his face; but the King coming in and approving the Queen's motion, he durst not contradict it, but played with so much distraction, and told the Clock with so great disturbance, as would have raised pity in any but a Rival. But he had more cause to grieve, when the Queen upon a sign from the Earl, seemed to grow earnest in her play, and resolved to pass with it the rest of the night; the Duke thought he should have fallen from his Chair at this discourse, answering the Queen, that without question she spoke in raillery, and that sitting up so long, might prejudice her health; she replied, ●he found no inconvenience in watching, and desired the King to gratify her in it: he readily consented, being willing to please her in small things, that she might give him his liberty in matters of greater concernment; Farnese not knowing how to break off, since the King approved it, was forced to have patience, and pass a night destined to so much pleasure, in an exercise ●he naturally loved not, and which that juncture made insupportable to him. The Earl observed the agitations of his mind, by the wildness of his looks, and felt a joy which seemed to him a prediction of his approaching happiness. Then seeing all secure, and not fearing any obstacle in his design, left her Majesty, and rid to the same place where he saw Octavo the evening before. The happiness he had already promised himself, flattered so agreeably his imaginations during his Voyage, that he thought the hour already come he had so long and so ardently wished for. He studied his Oration, and not believing that the Duchess would sacrifice her favour and his private intrigue, to her loyalty towards the Duke, (which she observed so ill with the King) looked upon his future happiness as infallible; when he felt himself entangled in a net, which not only stopped him in the middle of his course, but put him in danger of drowning. He struggled with so much violence, that being strong he would have broke the net, had thy given him time; but the noise he made in the River with his struggling, caused some of the Sentinels to come to the water side, where they drew him out as soon and as well as they could, and led him to the Guard, whither he scrupled to go: this kind of proceeding surprising him, he thought they did it of their own accord, and told his name, not fearing but that when they knew it, they would give him his liberty to go whither he pleased. But his opinion deceived him; the net that catched him, was not laid by chance. The King being advertised by the Spies (which under the notion of Guards he had placed about the Duchess) that every night they heard a noise in the water, he devised this trap. The lot fell upon the unhappy, and not the guilty. The Earls ill fortune being such, that the artifice he used to keep the Duke at Anet, was the cause of his delivery from the snare laid for him.   

The Eighteenth Day.  
THe Play could not have been interrupted by a stranger accident, nor more unlooked for than this. The King made an outcry when they brought him the news, as if he had received some mortal wound; and as our first transports are ordinarily indiscreet, he told that had happened to all about him. The Queen you must think was surprised: All that heard the adventure, could not forbear laughing in their sleeves, as at the pleasantest that e'er befell. But the Duke was so overcome with rage and jealousy, that he had rather have chosen the deplorable condition of the unfortunate Earl, than that which the Duchess' seeming infidelity had put him in: he withdrew himself to his own apartment, liberally nursing the whole Sex, and his Mistress more than all of them together; no melancholy reflections but troubled his brains, nor reproaches of a betrayed Lover that he uttered not; and having passed the rest of the night without undressing himself, at daybreak he got on horseback, and wandered about the Forest without knowing whither he went, or to what end he came out: one while he would take Post and go so far, that he should never more hear of Anet or Valentinois; then again, he would return to the King, and endeavour to moderate his first displeasures, and defend the Duchess from his anger; then from this thought, he passed to those testimonies of Love he had received from that fair person, which some places in the Forest brought to his mind, when persuading himself the Earl had enjoyed the same, he resolved to take from him the remembrance with his Life: But perceiving these violent designs, like all the products of hasty and tumultuous thoughts, bore but little show of reason, he fixed upon that of seeing the Duchess, and to reproach her unfaithfulness in the most extravagant terms his rage could inspire; and having evaporated in this manner his first transport, contemn, forget, and were it possible, hate her too, as thinking her unworthy the esteem or Love of so faithful a person as himself. He no sooner took this resolution, than he hastened to execute it, and rid to the Bath as fast as his horse could gallop; his fury not leaving him any conduct, he came thither at broad day, and went straight to her Chamber, without first ask her leave; she shouted for joy at the sight of him, and lifting up her eyes to Heaven in sign of acknowledgement, Ah, my dear Duke, (said she) your presence brings me out of a great perplexity. Yes, Madam, said the Duke angrily, it shows you upon which of your Lovers the lot is fallen, and as the provident care you always take, still keeps you one in reserve, the Earl is only taken in the trap, and I am yet in a condition to take his place, the Duchess knew not any circumstance of what had happened the night before, being only informed by St. Brune, that the person she expected at the Vault, had met with a snare in his passage; and the King's express order having hindered her further knowledge, she feared Octavo had been in the net where the Earl was taken, But when the Duke's discourse gave her some insight into the truth, she thought it so pleasant, that the imagination put her in a very pleasant humour; and looking upon the Duke with a brisk airy smile, which exceedingly became her, What think you, (said she to him) done't you find me a woman of great wit to order things so well? a Lady of less prudence than I, would have lost by this adventure the only ground of her pleasure, whilst I know yet where to be recompensed for my loss. What, Madam! (cried the Duke, almost astonished) do you make no greater scruple of carrying on two amours at the same time? That would be a very pretty scruple, replied the Duchess, continuing her raillery; pray tell me, does what you call infidelity, leave any marks behind it? does it make the skin less fair, or the eyes less sparkling, for having extended the bounds of our kindness to two several Lovers? No, no my good Lord, (said she) 'tis just contrary; a multitude of Captives, is a mark of the conquerors valour; and the more we are loved, the more are we charming; and I believe my self enriched with as many new Graces, as I make new conquests. Ah Madam, cried the Duke, (who could no longer suffer the continuation of this discourse) there's no man that hath a soul, or is any way capable of a true and noble passion, will be of the number of your conquests, after this knowledge of your conduct; I esteemed your compliance with the King's desires, as the effect of your Interest, which I could not blame; and was so prepossessed, that I thought your inclination for me, produced by the influence of the Stars, which had not power to do so much for any other; but since your favours are the weakness of your constitution, which you cannot overcome, they are so many affronts to a generous person. And though the respect I bear your Sex, hinders me from divulging your procedure, it shall never hinder the conceiving an everlasting contempt of them. The Duchess, who rejoiced exceedingly at his transport, let him take his Career a good while, till pitying Octavos trouble, My Lord Duke, said she, I could never have thought 'twould have been so easy for you to conceive such unreasonable Ideas of me; I imagined you had better known the Characters of those kindnesses I have shown you, than to think them a habit of constitution; Go, ungrateful as you are, (continued she, in a passionate manner) you deserve not that I should disabuse you; but since I have more goodness, than you injustice, I will let you know that I have no part in the Earls enterprise, nor know any thing of it, but what you yourself have told me. By these words, she made him so clearly see the truth of what she said, and accompanied them with so many Oaths and kind reproaches, that she obliged the Duke to beg her pardon and excuse; which he had no great difficulty to obtain, the transports of Lovers never passing for a crime with knowing Ladies, whether they rise from their jealousy, or their passion, they make always a pleasant figure in Love's intrigue. After they had spent what time was necessary to their reconciliation, and had confirmed it with the greatest tenderness of Love, they thought what means was necessary to settle the King's mind, which they knew was very much discomposed; the Duke went to employ Montmorency in this affair, but the Duchess trusting her own charms, more than all other persuasions, hastened to Anet to endeavour herself her own justification, and succeeded in this design as well as formerly. The Earl could not deny that he had attempted this enterprise without Diana's knowledge, and what he alleged of the example shown him, having no witness, she made it pass for a fixion, calling the Earl base unworthy fellow, and liar, with so much confidence, that she persuaded the King he was really so. The ill conduct of this Ambassador, caused the Queen of Scotland to call him home, whither he returned as ill satisfied with the sincerity of the French Ladies, as the Duchess with the wilfulness of the Scotch Gallants: he would have had recourse to the Queen of France, as he used formerly to do, but she was so extremely angry, for his making her seem to have been assisting to a part of his design, that she would never speak word in his behalf.   

The Nineteenth Day.  
Lover's are never in more danger of being discovered, than when they are left to themselves; whilst a Rival observes them, or an injured person troubles them, they use all their wit to secure themselves from the traps which they imagine are laid to catch them; but as soon as they leave their care, upon the opinion of the public inadvertency, they never scape being surprised. Since the Earls departure, the Court heard no more of Intrigues or Jealousies; the King persuaded of his Mistress' faithfulness, and successful abroad, enjoyed a solid tranquillity; the Duke learning every day the French Customs, augmented his charms and also his enjoyments, his pretended Insensibility giving him leave to compliment all the Ladies in the Court, without having an obligation to any, which made him pass a life whose joys had no alloys but the retarding his concerns: But Love is a seditious fellow, and can't live quietly, and seems to renounce his nature when he is long in a place without giving notice of his being there. One evening the Duchess was in an Arbour, covered with that sort of Roses which blow every month, and are so remarkable for their pleasant scent, a little Bank of grass loosely bespread with the falling leaves, made a bed as it were of Roses; and the King being gone to Paris, about some important affair, the kind Madam de Valentinois there expected the Duke of Parma, without other disturbance than her impatience. St. Brune watched at the entrance of the Arbour, and the Duchess being almost lulled asleep, rather by an amorous fit, than sleep itself, expected no surprise but from the Duke Octavo, when the King interrupted her rest; he returned from Paris sooner than she imagined, and having met one of the Duchess' Servants near Anet, who told him she was in the Garden, he fancied it a pleasing piece of Gallantry to surprise her in her solitude; wherefore he made all his Attendants stop, and causing a private door of the Garden to be opened, that came into the Fields, he went as if he had been guided by the God of Love, to the place where his Mistress reposed herself. Though the day was almost shut in, St. Brune perceived him through the Rails, but seeing the Duke arrive on the other side, all that she could do was to feign a Cough, and run to meet Octavo, to hinder him from coming where then he had nothing to do. The Duchess, who took St. Brunes advertisement for the signal of her Lover's arrival, and her mind being filled with the thoughts of him, fancied she saw him, and reached out her arm to embrace him, with a transport that caused a very violent one in the poor Prince: Ah my dear Farnese, (said she) how long have you made me expect you? The King trembled at these words, and grew stiff in her arms, from whence he had torn himself if he had had strength enough left him; but Madam de Valentinois looking upon this as the trick of a cunning Lover, who sometimes by retarding his joy, makes it the more violent, she redoubled her Caresses and embraces, accompanying them with a thousand kind words as witty as passionate, which put the King into so violent a rage, that there was no outrageous words but he said at his first emotion; his voice supplying the want of light, Diana perceived her error, and promising herself to repair it by her policy, she tried to stop the Kings going out; but 'twas impossible to do it, he got from her embraces, which he esteemed no better than those of a Serpent, or something more dangerous; and his present fury making him forget the moderation due to his dignity, 'tis said he began his revenge by some blows with his fist, and testified plainly in that Adventure, that Monarches are men as soon as they become Lovers.   

The Twentieth Day.  
THis unexpected blow of fortune, so impossible to be foreseen by Madam de Valentinois, so amazed her, that she sunk under it: she cried, tore her hair, and according to the management of other imprudent Women, grumbled at St. Brune till she talked idly; her fury passed from the Confident to the Lover, she cursed the time wherein he appeared lovely to her, resolving never to love him more; and being of a high spirit, and knowing Hypocrisy of great use to crafty wantoness, she talked of nothing but the great effects of Religion, and writ the King admirable Sermons upon the instability of the things of this World; and then making that retreat she had so often counterfeited, touched the King so much by this mark of her Repentance, that he could not resist—  
The End.