HYMEN'S PRAELUDIA: OR, LOVES MASTERPIECE.  
Being the six PART of that so much admired ROMANCE, ENTITLED CLEOPATRA.  
Written Originally in the French, and now rendered into English By I. C.  EVAND. 
Quid magis optaret Cleopatra parentihus orta Conspicuis, comiti qu àm placuisse thori?  
LONDON, Printed by F. Leach, for R. Lowndes, at the White Lion in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1658.   

To the most exactly accomplished in all natural endowments and acquired perfections Mrs. Anne Slingsby, Only Daughter to Sir Anthony Cage Knight, and Wife to the Honourable Henry Slingsby Esquire.  
MADAM,  
'tIs the nature of Goodness to be diffusive; and the Sun from his highest exaltation doth as freely communicate his heat and influence to the meanest Shrub, as to the tallest Cedar. This I experimented to be a real Truth by the favourable aspect, which your Noble Father, your Virtuous and never too much to be lamented Mother, and your incomparable Self were pleased to cast upon me, when I had the honour to be serviceable to a Branch of your Illustrious Family. Providence hath put an opportunity into my hands to return a small acknowledgement of your Goodness and my gratitude, or rather to give you a fresh occasion to exercise your indulgence in bestowing a double pardon, first upon my boldness, and then upon my faults. A Captive Princess begs your protection; and since her hard fortune hath deprived her of liberty, she cannot think her servitude more glorious, than in being a Handmaid to your divertisement. I am very sensible, Madam, how unfitly a Translation is addressed to you, who are so well acquainted with the Original Languages: But my design is not to inform your judgement, but to beg your Patronage, that the lustre of your Name may give some value and esteem to this worthless piece. If you shall please in the least to own it, you will render it the more secure from others censure, and lay an eternal obligation upon him, who will ambitiously court all opportunities to approve himself,  
Madam, Your most humble and obedient Servant JOHN COLES.   

Upon my Friend Mr. Coles his Translation of Cleopatra.  
Dear Sir!  

ENgland and France should join in Compliments:  
Your praises are a Theme tor Parliaments.  
Poets do use to wish for tongues per Cent.  
And I would pay their use, could they be lent;  
You tune our Nation, and delight our Ears  
With words of Music, like the Heaven's spheres.  
From France you bring these charms, as though from thence  
Hermes were sent to teach us Eloquence.  
Thus rare, and choicer flowers transplanted are,  
But lose no beauty, though they change their air.   
Edward Thurman.   

In Cleopatram translatam.  

DEseruit Gallos fortes visura Britannos  
Protraheret long as ne Cleopatra moras.  
Vecta tuo Calamo venit hùc, solióque relicto,  
Non minùs in vestris e●icat illa libris.  
Forma nigris nitet aucta notis, magis inde venusta  
Ex Atramento fit Cleopatra tuo.   
Edu. Thurman.   

To his learned friend Mr. Coles, upon his Translation of the 6th. part of Cleopatra.  

NOt that I dare to hope (no no though a Spring  
Of plaudits from my guilt should flow) to bring  
And at your feet present oblations fit  
To offer up at th' Altar of your wit;  
Not with intent some self-applause to win  
Is't that I 'mongst your friends come erowding in;  
But (whilst (with joy) I hear so learned a Choir  
Chant forth your praise) I only came t'admire;  
Yet this I'll say, though Loveday did excel  
With's learned pen, now Coles hath writ as well.   
Antho. Prisso●.   

To his esteemed Friend Mr. Coals upon his version of the 6th. part of Cleopatra  

LEt couchant Elocution come, let phrase,  
Humble and prostrate, make approach, and gaze  
Upon the beauties which thy pen doth shed,  
In raising Cleopatra from the dead:  
Thou'st brought Elysium with her, pure delight  
Unmixed with terrene vapour, exquisite!  
Bring me a Star, and I'll dissolve it, then  
Having therewith impregnated my pen  
I'll dare attempt thy praise, and speak it as  
Becomes him that would on thee paraphrase,  
How bigs my Muse! how pregnant doth she grow!  
How high's she got that was but now below!  
What makes her thus to soar, and mount the Air?  
But only for to meet thy merits there;  
This makes her break her bounds, her modest bars,  
To follow thee installed amongst the Stars;  
Where (for my Muse does bid me make stand)  
I can but stay to shake thee by the hand,  
Because, I must (induced by her sweets)  
Kiss Cleopatra now between thy sheets,  
Where I divine (being bedded with thy name)  
She'll in short time be brought to bed of fame;  
And 'cause I am so certain of the thing,  
I'll bid myself unto the gossipping.   
JOHN TRAVERS.   

To the Reader.  
READER,  
HAving been formerly persuaded to break the Ice, I have adventured to trespass once more upon thy patience, and to present thee with a Sixth part of Cleopatra, after my rude manner, done into English If I had known of any more promising undertaker I should not have envied thee the satisfaction which thou mightest have received from a more elegant Pen: But rather than thy expectation should be wiredrawn into impatience, I have employed the few moments of my leisure to give thee a dim light to a farther prospect into the Story, knowing that a small Candle may be sometimes serviceable, when the Sun affords not his rays; and Cold water may save a thirsty man from choking, when more precious liquours are not so readily to be had. Thy Candour only can render this piece excusable; but in this I may rest secure, that no man can have a worse opinion of it than myself. Farewell.   

Hymen's Praeludia: OR, LOVE'S Masterpiece.  
THE six PART.  
ARGUMENT.  
Cornelius Gallus Praetor of Egypt is deeply taken with Candace's beauty. He taketh an opportunity to discover his affection, which she receives with much inward trouble, and outward coldness. The coming of Elisa breaks off their discourse. Elisa acquaints Candace with her dream, and she gives her her thoughts upon it. Walking together in the Garden of the Palace they overhear the complaints of a fair Slave that attended upon Elisa: Their curiosity prompts them to a further discovery, and upon their request she relates the story of her life: She speaks her name Olympia, and herself daughter to Adallas King of Thrace; Her own brother falls in love with her, and discovers his incestuous desires, which she entertains with horror and amazement; She opposes his passion with all the strength of Virtue and Reason, but in vain: She acquaints her Father with it, who sharply reproves him, and resolves to dispose of her, but is prevented by death: The young Adallas succeeding in the Kingdom, armed his solicitations with authority, and threatens to compel his Sister to marry him. She with a small retinue flies from Byzantium.  
WHilst Love produced these sad effects at the Gates of Alexandia, his powers were no less employed in the City, and the ancient Palace of the Ptolemy's; that Tyrant God found in the two Princesses, which fortune had committed to the care and custody of the Praetor of Egypt, a fit subject to exercise himself upon: These two admirable persons, from the very first day of their acquaintance, had contracted such an amity, as had left nothing reserved in their souls, and if by the charming conversation of the Queen of Ethiopia the fair Princess of the Parthians could not repress that smarting grief, which the loss of her brave, but unfortunate Artaban had rendered Master of her heart; yet 'twas certain, than in the sweetness which she found in the affection▪ which she had conceived for so extraordinary person as Candace was, she relished some sort of consolation, and gave place too to some shadow of hope, induced thereto by the discourse which the fair Queen made her of the marvelous events of fortune, and the appearances which might in some sort flatter her with a belief of Artabans' safety.  
Candace's cares, though not slight ones, were yet more moderate than Elisa's sadness, and the remembrance which was fresh in her mind, that she had se●n her dear Cesario a few days before, dissipated the greatest part of her grief, and she was a thousand times more satisfied to see her beloved Prince escaped from the dangers wherein she had left him at her departure from Meroe, than she could be afflicted at the loss of her dominions, or with the other effects of her misfortune, which would have produced greater resentments in any other spirit but hers. Notwithstanding, if her mind found any repose in the knowledge that Cesario was living, that he was not far from the place of her abode, and that by the report of those whom Cornelius had sent to his assistance, she had learned, that together with his valiant companions, he was victorious in the combat wherein she had left him engaged; she could not banish her fear, which continually represented to her, that he was not escaped out of so great an encounter without wounds, and her love making all things appear in the most dangerous condition, she believed she saw every moment her beloved Prince all wounded and bloody, and reduced to the extremity of his life. In the fear which this imagination imprinted in her Soul, suffering herself to be transported with the motions of her grief, Ah Gods! said she, if it be true that my dear Cesario is still in danger of a life so often exposed, and so often relieved from so many perils, why should you present him to my ●yes to give a more sensible redoubling to my grief, than if he had died far off from me in that unfortunate Country where I left him? the subject of my despair would be less reasonable, if I had understood that he had perished upon an oc casion, when I had little hope of his safety, than if after he had recovered me contrary to all my hopes, you should permit my cruel fortune to deprive me of him for ever. Alas! 'tis possible that at this very moment whilst I spend my life in such cruel apprehensions, the unfortunate Prince draws near his end, and is breathing out that faithful soul, which he had bestowed upon me to his misfortune, and the glory of my days. Ah! if my fears be real, ye pitiful Heavens do not permit me to survive him one minute, or if he be still Master of any remainders of life, to employ them in the research of a Princess, who is more happy in his love, than unfortunate in the accidents of her life, guide his steps hither for pity's sake, and do not suffer us to live in this darkness, wherein absence entombs us.  
As she spoke these words, her eyes performed what her mouth could not absolutely express, and Clitie who stayed by her to dry up her tears, could have no success in comforting of her, but by recalling things passed to her memory, and by representing to her the advantageous difference there was between her present condition and that wherein she saw herself a few days before, both in respect of the security of her own person, and of her beloved Cesario. They consulted then together what course they should take to learn news concerning that Prince; and they could find no other expedient than to seek some person in whom they might have the confidence to send him to Tyridates his house, hoping that by the means of that Prince they might have some intelligence either of Cesario, or Eteocles.  
But if this fair Queen was troubled with foam disquiets, whereunto her long sufferings might have already enured her spirit, she caused as many in the mind of a man, who a few days before had passed his life in liberty enough, and the soul of Cornelius Gallus had so deeply received the dart which the Princess had fixed there, that in the morning of his love he felt himself as much inflamed, as if he had already bestowed whole years upon this dawning passion. At first he was filent, out of the respect which the Majesty of Candace might imprint upon the most licentious spirits; but afterwards he believed he might indulge himself a little more liberty, both in regard of the condition wherein he saw this person, abandoned by all other assistance but his own, and the memory of the service which he had rendered her, by which, in all probability, she was obliged to a very great acknowledgement. This consideration joined to the condition of his fortune, and the absolute power he had in Alexandria, gave him more boldness than the countenance of Candace had wont to leave him, and he believed at last (though beauty and high appearances might represent so much to him) that no reason ought to oblige him to a constraint which did incommodate him, and that he might justly hope much from a person, who was much engaged to him.  
The morrow after that day which the two Princesses had bestowed upon the relation of the adventures of the afflicted Elisa, Candace being more early up than the Princess of the Parthians, and walking alone with Clitie upon the ballistred Terrace, which belonged to her lodging, saw he self accosted by Cornelius, and having no knowledge of his intentions, nor any repugnance against his person or entertainment, but what her inquietudes generally caused in her, against every thing that might trouble her thoughts, she receided him with that civility, which she believed was due to his condition, and the importance of the service which he had rendered her.  
Gallus having taken her by the hand to assist her in her walk, entertained her a while with things indifferent, and being in a place which had a prospect into the Sea, and some of the parts near Alexandria, he showed her those places which were most remarkable either for their beauty or the memorable things that had passed there. He caused her to behold that famous place where the great Julius Caesar, whose memory was so venerable amongst men, seeing himself pressed by Ptolemy's troops, threw himself into the Sea, and swum over the straight which divides the City from the Isle of Pharos. From thence causing her to look further, he showed her the place where the battle was fought the next day, and where the treacherous Ptolemy found under the waves the punishment due to his perfidiousness, as well for his attempt against the person of Cesar, as for the horrible cruelty which he had committed upon the shore of Pelusium against the great but unfortunate Pompey. After that, causing her to look more forward upon the Sea, he showed her the place where the Queen Cleopatra first presented herself to Cesar, and desired his protection against the cruel persecutions of her brother; and the place where Anthony met with that fair Queen at the beginning of their unfortunate loves, and all other places which were remarkable for any important events during the life of that Princess, and the war she had with Augustus, wherein she lost both life and Empire.  
Candace beheld what Cornelius showed her, and harkened to his discourse with such a tenderness as brought tears into her eyes: and Gallus attributing that to compassion only which proceeded partly from another interest, was the more inflamed by the knowledge he received of the goodness of a person, in whom he had already observed all other excellent qualities in their highest perfection.  
After he had given by his discourse what was likely to be due to the curiosity of a stranger Princess, and what he more truly rendered to the complacency which his love caused in him towards her, looking upon her with eyes which partly signified his intention. But Madam, said he, now I have acquainted you with these small trifles which you desired to know of me, shall I be too curious myself, or rather shall I be indiscreet, if I take the liberty to inquire of you the name, and the condition of this admirable person, to whom by my good fortune I have rendered some small service, without knowing of her, and who though unknown, is in as high esteem with me, as if she were the wife or daughter of Caesar? 'Tis not upon any design of abusing it, that I express this curiosity to you, but only out of a desire of finding greater opportunities to serve you in a more plenary knowledge of you.  
Cornelius spoke in this manner, and the Queen who was already prepared for this rancounter, and had premeditated with Clitie what to say, seemed very little surprised at Cornelius his discourse. She did so far acknowledge the Obligation she had to him, as to have declared to him the truth of her life, and the condition of her fortune, if she could have done it without interessing and endangering her dear Cesario, whom she knew to be in that Country, and to have all Caesar's friends for his declared enemies▪ Upon this precaution, which she believed was due to the safety of her beloved Prince, she resolved to conceal her name, her birth, and the greatest part of her adventures; & upon this design, after she had signified to Cornelius with obliging expressions, that his curiosity was not importunate to her, she told him that she was born in Ethiopia, of very noble parents, who during the life of King Hidaspes had enjoyed the highest dignities of that Kingdom; but that afterwards being desirous to testify their fidelity to the Qu. Candace his daughter, when she was deprived of her Kingdom by Tiribazus, that Tyrant being too powerful for them had ruined them, and so eagerly pursued them, that they were constrained to put themselves upon the Nile, with part of their most portable goods, from whence sailing down into the open Sea, with an intention to seek out a Sanctuary from his Tyranny, they fell into the hands of the Pirate Zenodorus. After this passage she concealed nothing of the truth from him, but only what would have obliged her to make mention of Cesario; and relating to him the dangers which she had escaped by reason of the Pirate's insolence, and the flames of the Vessel which she had fired, and the wave● into which she had cast herself, she powerfully moved him upon divers accounts, and filled him full of admiration at her virtue and greatness of courage.  
When he had given due praises to that noble resolution of sacrificing her life to the preservation of her honour, looking upon her with an action much more passionate than before: I should be ungrateful to the Gods, said he, if I should not be thankful to them, as long as I live, for the favour they have done me, in guiding me to the occasions of serving you, and in giving me the means to conduct you into a place where I can offer you part of what you seek; but if my interest might be considered to the prejudice of yours, and if I might afflict myself as much at my own ill, as I ought to rejoice at yonr good fortune, possibly I would say, that in this rancounter I have no more cause to commend than to complain of my destiny, and that it is as much for my loss as for your safety that the Gods caused you to land upon this Coast, and lead me into the wood where I defended you against the violence of Zenodorus.  
Gallus spoke in this manner, and the Queen, though she almost comprehended his discourse, and received it with a very grief, pretended for all that, that she did not understand him, and that she might not continue without a reply, she answered him without being moved: I should be very sorry that my arrival in this Country should occasion any damage to a person to whom I am engaged for the preservation of my life and honour, and to prevent the future, since it is not in our power to recall what is past, I shall depart without regret from a place where you have given me refuge, if my continuance here be never so little offensive to you. Alas! replied Gallus, with a sigh, how unprofitable would your departure be now, since you cannot carry away the wound, that I have in the midst of my heart, together with the eyes that made it? or rather how cruel would it be to me now, since in parting from me you will deprive my days of all that makes them desirable to me, and possibly bereave me of a life, whereof all the remaining moments are dedicated to you?  
Whilst he spoke thus, the Queen oppressed with a violent grief, upon this occasion of new crosses, which former passages made her foresee in a moment, studied for terms to explain herself, both according to the greatness of her courage, and the condition ofher present fortune, whereby she saw herself absolutely subjected to Cornelius his power; and when he had done speaking, composing her countenance to a more serious posture than before, which with the Majesty that Gallus observed in it, struck him into some awe: I am obliged to you, said she to him, for my life and honour, and I should be much more engaged to you, if you would preserve the glory of your benefit entire, and not diminish the price of it by the offence you do me. If it be an offence to love you, replied the Praetor, and if it be an infinite offence to love you infinitely, I confess that there is not a man in the world who hath offended you more than Cornelius; but if love, in the Country where you were born, be not different from that which we have observed in ours, if it makes a man abandon his liberty to bestow it upon that he loves, if it makes him forget his own proper interests, to sacrifice himself entirely to the person beloved, and in fine, if it produce no other effects, than what we have seen it produce in those places where I have passed my life, I cannot easily comprehend the ground of the offence which you can find in the love I have for you. I know not, replied the Queen coldly, eiiher the effects or qualities of that passion, but the discourse of it is not conformable to my humour, and I should be very much obliged to yond, if you will find some other matter of entertainment.  
Cornelius, though a little repulsed with the answer, which made him partly understand the difficulties he should have to conquer the spirit, which he had attempted, prepared himself to speak, when he saw the Princess Elisa approach, who having understood that Candace had been walking upon the Terrace a great while, had made herself ready with all speed to come & find her, to enjoy in her company that little consolation which she could meet with no where else. Elisa was in a very careless dress, part of her hair fell upon her cheeks without art or order, her complexion was extraordinary pale, and her eyes were dulled with watching, and red with their continual exercise of weeping, and yet she appeared to the eyes of Candace and Gallus like a dazzling Star, and made them judge that neither art, nor nature could produce any thing more beautiful or more complete.  
Candace being very much satisfied to find this agreeable diversion from the importunate conversation of Cornelius, advanced toward the Princess with open arms, and giving her the Good morrow with a great many kisses full of tender affection, she received the embraces and caresses of the fair Princess, which expressed no less affection than her own.  
After they had spent some time in mutual embrace the fair Queen beginning the discourse, I longed said she, to know how you had passed this night, and I had come to inform myself at your chamber, but that I was afraid to interrupt your sleep. Alas replied the Princess with an action full of tenderness and sweetness, how little acquaintance have sleep and I together at this time, and how ill an office did your goodness render me in depriving me, for a little rests sake, which is now a stranger to me, of a sight wherein I find all the comfort of my life. Candace repaid these words with others as full of affection, and Cornelius seeing them enter into a discourse which did not permit him to pursue that which he had begun with Candace, after he had continued a while longer with them in a conversation full of civility, he left them alone to go either to muse upon his passion, or to employ himself in such affairs as his charge required.  
After his departure the two Princesses began to entertain each other with more liberty than before, and the first discourse being bestowed in the comforting of Elisa, and upon the hopes which she might yet conceive of her Artaban's safety, (though she built but little upon them) the Princess, though she thought upon nothing else but the sad cause of her grief, for all that observed some new pensiveness in Candace's countenance, and having asked her the cause of it with a grace, which left her no liberty to deny, the fair Queen prefacing the confession she was about to make with a little smile: 'Tis, said she, because I am a little more unhappy than you, in that you did not arrive at Alexandria before me; for if Cornelius had seen the Princess Elisa before Candace, Candace would not be exposed to that persecution which she hath begun to suffer to day. Elisa easily comprehended the Queen's discourse, and receiving it with a modesty like to her own, If it be the love which you have caused in Cornelius, said she, which creates you a new subject of displeasure, I was not capable to guard you from it, and what your powers have done in one day, mine being far inferior to them, could not have done in divers years. If we had any other Judges but ourselves answered Candace, the part which you maintain would be very much weakened; but in brief, such as I am, if his words be true, my misfortune hath made Cornelius in love with me, and he hath newly made a declaration of it to me, which hath almost as mun offended, me as he obliged me by the assistance which he gave me some days ago.  
Upon these words she related to the Princess, Cornelius his discourse, and not desiring to make a secret either of this adventure, or the more particular thoughts of her soul: Besides the crosses which I foresee will befall me, pursued she, in the love of a man to whom I am obliged, and into whose power I am fallen, I cannot see without a great deal of resentment, that he who possesses as the Lieutenant of an adopted Cesar, the place which my true Cesar ought to possess as Sovereign, raises his thoughts to the same place where he hath planted his; and my dear Cesario hath received offences great enough from these cruel enemies by the loss of his dominions, his parents, and dignities, though, through his hard destiny, the same enemies did not attach him in his love, and in that thing wherein he thought himself secure from their persecutions; you have a great deal of reason, replied Elisa, but I believe that Cesario is very secure upon that part; and that if his enemies had had no greater power in relation to the troubles and dangers to which they exposed him in his tender youth, he had not only suffered very little by their persecution, but had never seen any of the dominions of Ethiopia. I had rather, answered Candace, never have seen the light, and though the affection I have for Cesario may possibly cost me a great kingdom, that loss will be so far from diminishing the content I have to have seen and loved him, that I cannot but take it well, and acknowledge myself obliged to Augustus his cruelty, from which alone I have received my beloved Prince, and without which, though possibly h● might have lived in a more peaceable condition, he had not lived for Candace. Heaven had ordained him for you, added the sad Elisa, and the admirable perfections of the fair Queen of Ethiopia could not be well matched but with the rare qualities of Cesar's son; yet I advise you, that in preserving inviolably what you owe to him, you gently manage Cornelius his spirit, and do not put yourself in danger by too rough usage of him, of making him make use of the power he hath over you. I am too sensible of it, replied Candace, not to follow your counsel, and whatsoever difficulty I have to dissemble my thoughts; yet so long as the man shall keep himself within the bounds of that respect which he hath hitherto observed, I shall forbear distasting him as much as is possible, but if he never so little trasgress, I will make him know what I am, and I have seen death often enough before my eyes already, to make me endure the face of it, rather than the least offence against my honour, or that which I owe to the love of my dear Cesar.  
The two Princesses entertained one another in this manner, and they had a very long discourse together besides, in the same place, wherein having passed from Candace's affairs to Elisa's, that Princess, according to the Queen's Counsel, was resolved to conceal neither her birth, nor her name from Cornelius, supposing upon good grounds that she could not find a better Sanctuary against the cruelty of the King of Parthia, than amongst the Romans his enemies, where Tyridates her Uncle had found refuge, and whose protection was the most puissant that she could look for in the world. Candace believed, that then she might, without putting Tiridates in danger, inform his Niece of the place of his retreat, and the obligations she had to him, which she did without any further delay, and by that discourse she wrought in the Princess great thoughts of tenderness and esteem towards her Uncle, whose person was unknown to her, and as earnest a desire to see him, as in this sad condition of her life she was capable of having for any thing in the world.  
This desolate Princess restrained herself pretty well before Candace, and indeed without laying any restraint upon herself, she found a sweet consolation in her company; but at the Core her grief was ●o violent, that without an admirable strength of spirit, she could not easily have supported it so long without sinking under it. The Image of her brave ●ut unfortunate Artaban returned incessantly into ●er memory; and after she had ran over the marvellous actions of that great man, and recalled into her ●membrance the fair proofs of love which he had estowed upon her, when she fell upon that deploable passage how she saw him thrown down headlong, and buried in the waves, all her constancy old not defend her against the violent effects of her grief, and she remained more dead than alive between the arms of Urione, or her daughter, who were eternally employed in drying up her tears, and recomposing her Spirit by all the words which piry, and the real affection they had for such a Mistress could put into their mouths. 'T was in her bed that the tears took the liberty to overflow into a deluge, and the darkness wherewith the earth was then covered much better fitting the sadness of her soul, than the brightness of a fair day, brought back in●o it the sorrowful objects in their most natural form, and left nothing in her mind but mere Ideas of death. Then it was, that after she had shed Rivers of tears, wherewith her pillow was all wet, and forcing the sobs, which would have stopped the passage of her speech: My dear Artaban, said she, is it possible that Elisa should bestow nothing but tears upon thy death, and that thou canst take so poor a payment for so precious a life as thou hast given her, and lost only upon her account? Can all the prodigious effects of thy valour, whereof she was the only aim and cause, all those so tender, so excellent, and so admirable testimonies of love, and in fine that cruel death which thou hast suffered before mine eyes in the destroying waves for my interest alone, find nothing in the weak Elisa but tears for reparation of them all? Ah! mine eyes you spend you spend your stores in vain, and though you could make a Sea as waste as that wherein my dear Artaban is entombed, i● you make it not of my blood, you will bestow bu● little upon Artaban, all my sighs, and sobs, an● complaints make no change in his condition, no in mine, and 'tis Elisa, certainly 'tis Elisa which he requires amongst the shades below, if he can require any thing. Ah! continued she, with many sighs, if it be only Elisa that thou requirest, thou hast reason to be satisfied, in whatsoever place the destinies cause thy Ghost to wander, Elisa bears thee company inseparably, and if some weakness, or some remainders of an ill-grounded hope, have hindered her from making the last attempt upon her life to come, and bear thee company below, her spirit is not absent from thee one moment, either out of any desire of life, or expectation of comfort.  
From these sad discourses she had with Artaban, wherein she found more sweetness than in all the other actions of her life, she turned her complaints against her ill fortune, and all her moderation and piety towards the Gods could not hinder her sometimes from quarrelling at the rigorous decrees of Heaven, for the cruel continuance and sad success of her misfortunes. In this sorrowful employment she passed almost whole nights, and hardly at the break of day did she give any access to sleep, and that rather out of weakness, than any intervals of repose.  
One night, during which she had extrordinarily tormented herself, having closed her eyes a little before the darkness began to quit the earth, at the time when dreams present themselves to our imagination more clear and undisturbed: After some visions without order or coherence, which most commonly precede those which seem most agreeable to the truth; whether it were upon the effect of those thoughts which had possessed ●er whilst she was awake, or upon some intelligence that heaven was pleased to send her, it seemed to her that she was again upon that unfaithful Element which she perpetually accused of her losses, and where she had seen all her joys and hopes entombed in the person of her Artaban. In this hateful place she had a while discharged her resentments against the cruel waters, by which she had lost all, when she saw arise from beneath the waters, the God of the waters, in a Chariot drawn by Tritons, with his Trident in his hand, and such as he is represented by the Poets, who after he had heard her complaints, looking upon her with a discontented air. Forbear Elisa, said he, forbear to accuse me of thy misfortunes, I detain nothing from thee, and I have rendered thee thy Artaban, whom thou shalt see again upon the Shore at the Tomb of a Faithful Lover. The God, as he spoke these words, before he plunged himself again beneath the waves, showed her with his hand the shore of Alexandria, and it seemed to this sleeping Princess, that turning her eyes at the same time towards the place which he pointed out to her, she saw upon the Shore her dear Artaban stretching out his arms to her, and calling her to him with gestures all composed of passion. This sight having produced a violent effect upon Elisa's spirit, she would have cried out with transport, and by the effoort she used in that action she wakened herself with a start. When she was awake he had her arms stretched out to the Image which was presented to her eyes when they were shut, and not being able by awakening presently to drive that dear Idea out of her imagination, she felt about the bed, and sought after that Artaban which had appeared before her, pronouncing his name two or three times. But when her sleepiness was perfectly over, and she saw herself abused by sleep, her grief renewed with violence, and seeing that object that was so agreeable to her eyes, and dear to her memory, no longer appear, she abandoned herself to regrets, and recalled her tears which had hardly stopped their course whilst she was asleep: Ah! Artaban, said she, melting into tears, thou deceivest me, and fliest from me, and thou dost not present thyself to me during these moments of sleep which thou leavest me, but to render the loss more present to me, and to renew my griefs, thou callest to me from the shore, or rather from the port whereunto thou art arrived by thy death, after thou hadst been so long tossed upon the tempestuous Sea of miseries and crosses, wherein thou leavest the deplorable Elisa; thou callest me Artaban, & by thy action reproachest me for this weakness, which hath not permitted me to go and seek with thee that tranquillity which thou enjoyest; but if thou be'st not cruel, do not accuse me for having abandoned thee out of any remainders of love of life; but believe that I am so little in love with it since I lost thee, that I am ready to give willingly the remains of it to be reunited to thee. Upon this thought divers Tragical resolutions presented themselves to her spirit, and passing from this remembrance to the former part of her dream, where the God of the Sea promised her that she should see her Artaban again at the Tomb of a Faithful Lover. Yet, continued she, 'tis no small comfort to Elisa, that she may see again at the Tomb, him whom she believed was buried in the entrails of the Fishes. I do not doubt but that my Artaban hath been faithful to his Elisa, and since I have not been permitted to close his eyes, and to receive his last breath, I could not, God of the Seas, receive from thee in reparation of the cruel outrage thou hast done, a dearer favour than thou dost me, in bringing this beloved body to the shore, and in giving me the means to enclose myself in the same Tomb with my faithful lover; I willingly fly to the Tomb that is consecrated for Elisa, and as Artaban himself is the grave wherein all my affections are buried, so I will not avoid the occasion of enclosing myself with him in the same Tomb upon the shore of Alexandria.  
Whilst Elisa uttered these sad words in a condition which might move the most insensble hearts to pity, the brightness of the approaching day began to spread itself about her Chamber, and at the noise of some words which she pronounced aloud, and some sobs that accompanied them, a young Slave, whom with divers others Cornelius had given to her to serve her (as he had given many likewise to the Qu. of Ethiopia) drawing near her bed asked her with a great deal of care if she were not well, and if she had need of any thing. Elisa being quite buried in the sad thoughts which possessed her, heard not the Slaves words, and instead of dreaming of her, resuming her discourse with many sighs; Ah dear Image of that I love, continued she, return again to me for a few moments, and since that by the cruelty of my destiny I am condemned never to see thee more but by illusion, make these illusions last as long as the deplorable life thou hast left me.  
These words pronounced with a tone of voice which might have made a passage into the most obdurate souls, pierced deep into the mind of the Slave who heard them, and she possibly being not ignorant of the effects of that passion, which was the cause of Elisa's greatest misfortunes, her compassion made her presently interest herself in the grief of a person, whom her admirable parts made her serve already with a great deal of inclination. Ah! said she, with a sigh as profound as Elisa's could be; as far as I can judge both Love and Fortune exercise their powers every where, and those which till now complained of their Tyranny may find companions throughout the whole world. She had possibly enlarged herself in this meditation, if Elisa, not being able to take repose in any posture, had not turned here self that way, and seen her by her Bed side, whereof the Curtain was a little drawn. The Princess was a little surprised to see her there so early, and having taken notice that it was neither Urione nor Cephisa, she asked her with a great deal of sweetness what occasion had brought her thither. 'Tis my desire to serve you Madam, answered the Slave, and I have heard some complaints from your mouth which made me fear that you were indisposed. Alas! replied the desolate Princess, how can you apply any remedy to my indisposition, and how unprofitably are your officious cares employed in the comfort of so unfortunate a person? As for the diseases of the mind, answered the Slave, reason, time, and the assistance of Heaven may remedy them, and there are possibly Madam, some as unfortunate at yourself, who make their reason act for their consolation, and expect from Time and Heaven the sweetening of their miseries.  
Since the time that Cornelius had bestowed this Slave upon the Princess, she had taken no notice of her; but hearing her speak in this manner, with an accent which relished something of a more than vulgar sweetness, she cast her eyes upon her face, and viewed her with some attention. Elisa's eyes were troubled with the tears which she had shed, and there was not yet light enough in that part of the Chamber, that she might discern particular objects, but if Elisa could not particularly observe the features of the Slave's countenance, she saw that she was of a very handsome proportion, and that in her eyes, as dull and languishing as they were, there sparkled something very lively and very bright; she was moved with some greater consideration for her, than people ordinarily have for Slaves, and answering her discourse with more attention than could probably be expected from the excess of her grief. They which can make use of their reason in calamities of the same nature with mine, said she to her, have left it a command over their spitit which such disasters as mine are wont to destroy, and I doubt very much that reason hath not strength enough to take away all sensibility in misfortunes, wherein all hope of remedies, either from the assistance of men, or the succour of Heaven, is quite extinguished." It would be too much to require at Reason's hands, replied the Slave, to expect from that, that it should render us insensible of those misfortunes wherein all hope hath quite deserted us; but after we have yielded to that resentment, part of that which humane infirmity can not deny it, we shall find without doubt in the assistance of reason, part of what we have lost, together with our hopes; and since it pleases you, Madam, out of an excess of goodness to permit a poor Slave to enter into discourse with you, I will take the liberty to tell you, that in the greatest calamities we partly find some remedy and consolation in ourselves, and that we help to exasperate or sweeten them by the constancy wherewith we support them, and certainly Virtue would signify little in us if we did not make use of it in afflictions, and as it serves in prosperity to make us receive good success with out pride and insolence, so likewise in adversity it ought to make us support disgraces, without diminution of courage. Whether we have drawn these miseries upon us by our own faults, or whether they fall upon us from Heaven, which for reasons hidden from our weak understanding, is pleased to try, or exercise us; In either case we can only have recourse to patience, in relation to the calamities which we deserve, or to resignation in respect of those which fall upon us, according to the will of our Superiors, against whom we are not permitted so much as to murmur. Upon these words which the Slave pronounced with an admirable grace, the Princess of the Parthians looking upon her with much greater attention than before, in the beginning of their discourse: Ah Maid! said she to her, by whom have you been so well instructed? If you practise these Maxims of which you discourse so handsomely in the condition you are in, there are but few not only amongst free persons, but those of the highest dignity, whom you do not exceed in the excellency of your understanding. Oftentimes, replied the Slave, Virtue is better known, than practised, but if my inclinations have carried me that way, I had as much occasion to exercise it, as any other Maid possibly now in the world, and it is only, Madam, upon the acount of the long acquaintance I have had with misfortunes, that I have ventured to say something to you upon a subject wherein experience hath made me but too knowing. Ah! my Girl, replied Elisa, is it possible that you have tasted of them too, and that pitiless fortune hath spared you no more than others? Alas! answered the afflicted Slave, she hath spared me but too much in leaving me my life after she had rendered it more hard and more insupportable a thousand times than all the most cruel deaths she could make me suffer, and there remained only that end to conclude all the cruelties to which she hath exposed the most unfortunate life that ever was: you may see one mark of it in the condition wherein you find me, since I can assure you that I was not born a Slave, and I will add to what you know already, that possibly servitude is the least of my miseries.  
The Slave had spoken more to this purpose, and the Princess who harkened to her with thoughts far from indifferency, and out of her natural goodness began to interss herself in those miseries, whereof she made mention, would have pressed her without doubt to a further discovery, if Urione and her daughter being got up, after they knew that Elisa was awake, had not come near to her Bed side. The Slave retired at their approach, and the Princess, who in another condition would not have let her been quiet without satisfying the curiosity she had begun to raise in her, as she was at present was contented to defer the remainder of their discourse till another time.  
A little after the Queen Candace being but half ready came into the Chamber; and sitting down upon the Princess' Bed side, she informed herself of the condition of her health, and her last night's repose, as she had been accustomed to do. Elisa continued a while without returning her any answer, pressing her between her arms with a charming tenderness, and when she began to speak: Ah Madam, said she sighing, how cruel hath my awakening been to me this morning, in depriving me of a dear sight which sleep had presented to me? I saw my unfortunate Artaban stretching out his arms to me, and inviting me to him into places whither my weakness hindered me from following him. He appeared to my eyes being closed, such as he had formerly appeared to my heart; he had the same port▪ the same actions, and the same features in his face, and that unseasonable awakening hindered me from hearing the tone of the same voice, which formerly made me such real protestations of an inviolable fidelity.  
After these words she related to her with a very passionate action all the particulars of her dream: The Queen harkened to them with the interest which she took in the affairs of that fair Princess, and did all she could possibly to find something in it that might serve for her comfort, she apparently met with it in the former part of the dream, and being unwilling to lose this occasion of recomposing a little the Spirit of this afflicted Princess, Madam, said she, the Gods without doubt contribute to confirm you in the hopes I give you of your Artaban's safety, and he that governs that unfaithful Element wherein you believe you lost him, taketh care to justify himself against the complaints you make of him, he tells you himself that he hath not detained that which you demand of him, but hath rendered it to you upon the shore, where you shall be permitted to see him again. Yes, interrupted Elisa, he tells me he hath restored it to me, but doth not tell me in what condition, and considering the small distance between the place where the unfortunate Artaban threw himself into the waves, and the shore, I do not doubt but the waves, as they say 'tis ordinary, may have carried his body to the Shore; Neptune may have restored it, but he hath not restored it alive, as he received it, and if it had been so, he would not have forgotten to give me that comfort, since he had begun to take care of it. Neither in dreams! replied Candace, nor in their Oracles themselves are the God's accustomed to explain themselves more clearly to us, and in all those which antiquity hath observed, you shall find none wherein part of the truth was not concealed until the manifestation of it by the event. But answered Elisa, the God sufficiently declares himself in that he tells me that I shall see Artaban again at the Tomb of a faithful Lover, and if he promised me that I should see him again any where else but at a Tomb, I might conceive some glimpse of hope for his life, but 'tis only at a Tomb that we must be reunited, and in that respect the words of the God do make themselves so intelligible, that it would be but folly in me to expect any comfort from them. Candace was almost of Elisa's opinion, and found a great deal of probability in what she said, but she disguised her thoughts a little, to appease her grief, and seeking upon that design for some explication of her dream, contrary to her own judgement: If it were only, said she, to acquaint you with Artabans' death, the Gods would not have taken the care to give you a belief, which is but too much established already in your spirit, and there is less probability that they meant to abuse you, in giving you false hopes by ambiguous words. As for the word Tomb which terrifies you, you cannot, as I conceive, find any just matter of fear in it, and as you never doubted but that you were mortal, you ought not to be astonished if Heaven promises you that you shall lie in the same Tomb with Artaban, in this promise there is something more advantageous than in the rest of the dream, and Heaven without doubt acquaints you, that after you have passed a great many years together, you shall be buried in the same Tomb. However it be, my dear Princess, we must always judge well of a thing when the appearances are more favourable than contrary to us, and as the Gods have more inclination to acquaint us with good than evil, we should offend them without doubt if we should not rather expect good than evil, upon an occasion when they leave us more room for hope than fear. Candace spoke in this manner, partly against her own thoughts, and Elisa out of the belief she had in that fair Queen, did what possibly she could to receive part of the consolation which she desired to administer to her.  
From this discourse, which was of some longer continuance between them, Elisa passed to that which she had had with the Slave, of whom she made such a mention to the Queen, that she made her desire to see her presently. She commanded her to be called, and a little after she came into the Chamber, and presented herself before the two Princesses. They beheld her then in a perfect light, and with more care than they had had for her before, and they found in her person wherewithal to entertain their eyes and their attention. In the condition where unto the miseries of her life had reduced her, the beauty which she might have received from Heaven could not appear in its ordinary lustre, she had almost lost all her flesh, and the vivacity of her complexion was almost spoiled by the length of the grief and troubles where with her mind and body had been perplexed, her lips did not blush with that pure coronation which formerly had covered them, and her leaness had lengthened her visage, and changed the features of it, so that upon a slight view nothing could be seen in her face which might give any ready knowledge of the beauties which she had once been Mistress of. But after that the Princesses had more nearly and more carefully observed her, they took notice of something in that almost decayed complexion that was wonderfully delicate; in the form of her mouth, and the composition of the features of her face, though they were altered by the loss of her flesh, they remarked an admirable regularity, and when she lifted up her eyes to answer the demands they made her, they saw lustres or rather lightnings proceed from thence, which dazzled her sight: As languishing and cast down as they were, yet they were full of that potent fire, against which Souls have but little power of resistance, and if their languishing had taken somewhat from the force of their regards, it had made them lose nothing of their sweetness, but seemed to have added something more tender and moving to them, they were of a bright grey as Elisa's were, and her hair very near the Princesses, her proportion was tall and straight, and finally by the ruins of this beauty one might judge, considering it attentively, that it had been one of the most excellent in the world, and according to the youthfulness of the Slave (who seemed not to be above twenty years of age) might return to its former condition, if the cause of those sorrows which had thus defaced it were removed.  
Candace looked upon her with a particular curiosity, and when she had observed in her countenance some things which moved her to a different consideration from that which we have for persons of that condition: Fair Maid, said she, I have understood some things concerning you from the mouth of this Princess, that have created a great desire in me to see you, and the report she hath made me of your person, and the virtue which appears in your discourse hath wrought an interest in me for you, that will make me willingly seek out the means of administering comfort to you in your present condition. Madam, answered the Slave, this effect of your goodness is very conformable to the grandeur and nobleness that appears in your person, and as I believe that it is very difficult to find any in the world equal to yourself and the Princess, who hath made you this advantageous relation of me, so I do not doubt but that in the honour of serving you both, I may find all the ease of my miseries that I can hope for in the condition I now am. But O Gods! continued she, with some tears that fell from her fair eyes, how hard is it to apply any remedy to my displeasures, and how much are my griefs above ordinary consolation? You are not, replied Candace, the only Maid that fortune hath ill used, and possibly you see an example in us of the greatest rigours that ever she exercised against persons of our sex and birth. If the cause of your grief proceeds from your servitude, we will employ our credit to make you change your condition, and possibly we shall have power enough with the Praetor, continued she smiling upon Elisa, to obtain your liberty of of him.  
They would have spoken more, and Candace being moved with tenderness to the Slave, and less oppressed with grief than the Parthian Princess, would have pressed this Maid to a more ample declaration of herself, if Cornelius after he understood that they were in a condition fit to be seen, had not entered into the Chamber. The Princesses received him with civility, and though the knowledge of his love began to work some repugnance in Candace, she thought herself obliged by the necessity of her present condition to lay some constraint upon herself. After the first compliments of salutation and reception, Cornelius told the Princesses, that he came to impart to them the news that he had received from Augustus, he informed them that Cesar being departed from Cyprus to come to Alexandria, where he had been long expected, had been assailed by a furious tempest, probably the same that brought the Princesses upon that shore, that great part of his Vessels were either cast away, or scattered, and that he being by a singular favour of: Heaven preserved with a few others, was landed at last at Polusium, where he stayed a few days to refresh himself before he came to Alexandria, and thence had sent him a command to stay for his coming thither, and not to meet him as he was resolved to have done. He told them likewise, that it was believed that by that shipwreck divers important persons were lost, and amongst the rest the Princess Cleopatra, of whom they could hear no news, and for whom the greatest part of the Emperor's Court was in great sadness.  
Candace was mightily moved at this news, out of the interest she took in all the Kindred of Cesario, and having asked Cornelius how Cleopatra had been enveloped in that Shipwreck, seeing the principal persons had escaped it: She was, replied Cornelius, in Octavia's Vessel, whom she accompanied in that Voyage, and some hours before the tempest, that Princess with all her attendants having passed into Caesar's Vessel, Cleopatra who that day found herself indisposed, or melancholy and unfit for greater company, stayed in Octavia's Ship with some Maids that served her, and the Seamen. A little after the Tempest surprised them with so much suddenness and violence, that the Vessels could never join again, and since that time the ship wherein Cleopatra was, was never seen, nor divers others, by whose loss the Fleet hath been diminished. Candace was very much afflicted at this relation, and having continued some moments without speaking, and yet not being able to dissemble the sadness she resented for the loss of her dear Cesario Sister: I have heard so much spoken, said she, of the beauty and virtue of that Princess, that I cannot receive the relation of her loss without grief, and I desire with all my heart, that by some assistance of Heaven she may have escaped that danger. They who have spoken to you concerning that Princess, answered Cornelius, were not skilful enough to depaint unto you either her divine beauty or her admirable qualities in that perfection wherein she possesses them, and though some years are past since I saw her, which without doubt have made a grand addition to those prodigious beginnings, the reputation of them hath spread so far since, that'tis almost impossible that any one should be ignorant of them in places more remote than Alexandria. O Gods! said the fair Elisa lifting up her eyes to Heaven with a sigh, O Sea, O fortune, how cruelly do ye sport you selves with our destinies, and how doth that unfaithful Element carry away the most precious spotls, whilst it leaves the miserable remainders amongst men.  
These words pronounced in a very pitiful manner, and with an action which proceeding from such a beauty as Elisa's was, produced miraculous effects, awakened the curiosity which Cornelius had always had to know this Princess, and having signified as much to her, with the greatest discretion he possibly could, Elisa who had resolved before with Candace to conceal herself no longer from him, taking up the discourse with an attractive grace: You see Cornelius, said she to him, you see the daughter of the Romans greatest Enemy, whom design and fortune equally conduct into your hands, to receive from Cesar the protection which he hath already granted to my Uncle Tiridates. Phraates brother to that Prince, and father to the Princess who speaks to you, is our common persecutor, and I hope that Augustus will not refuse me the refuge which I would desire of him against the cruelty of a man who sheds the blood of his nearest relations, no otherwise than if they were his most cruel enemies. Elisa had hardly any need of this discourse to persuade Cornelius that she was born in a very high condition, and she carried so many marks of it in her countenance, that it was not easy to take her for an ordinary person: But she had no sooner acquainted the Praetor with this truth, but stepping a little back with signs of astonishment, and looking upon her with the respect due to the only daughter of the greatest of all Kings, & of that King who only in the world opposed the greatness of the Roman Empire, I beg your pardon Madam, said he to her, with an action full of submission, for the faults which my ignorance hath made me commit. I judged before by all manner of tokens that your birth was not mean, but I should never have believed that fortune had brought upon our coasts the daughter of the great King of the Parthians in the equipage wherein we see you, and in the condition wherein we lighted on you, you need not doubt but that you may find under Cesar's protection all manner of refuge against the persecution of Phraates, and whilst you expect his own promise which he will make you within these few days, you shall receive from his Lieutenant all the respect and services that are due to an admirable person, and of such a birth as yours. Elisa returned Cornelius thanks with a great deal of sweetness, and after that he had reiterated his offers, and began to behave himself towards her, as towards a Princess who might dispute priority with Cesar's daughter, they passed the rest of the morning in discourse till dinner time, and Elisa made a brief relation to Cornelius of the accidents of her life, which could not be concealed from the public, and the last disasters which cast her upon the Shore of Alexandria.  
From this time forward he began to cause her to be served according to her dignity, he appointed her a number of Officers and Slaves to attend her; and though he believed Candace's quality to be inferior to Elisa's, the love he had for her making him to supply that defect, made him to treat them both, as to appearance, with little difference.  
The Princesses lived in this manner at Alexandria some days, during which the Praetor lost no occasion to testify his love to Candace both by his actions and discourse. The Queen received the testimonies of his passion with a great deal of displeasure, and if she had been ruled by her resentments, she had rejected them with all the signs of sharpness and disdain, but by experience which in so youthful an age the crosses of her life had taught her, she had learned, that it is a grand piece of prudence to dissemble when one is not able to resist, and calling to mind the hazards she had run by the violence of those persons to whom her bad fortune had submitted her, she desired to keep a lover, whose power was absolute, within the limits of that respect that he had begun to show her, by a treatment of him, which, though it was severe, and not very capable of giving him farther hopes, yet savoured nothing of rudeness or incivility. Cornelius used divers inventions to divert her, and the Princess Elisa too, from whom she was inseparable, and besides the recreations he endeavoured to give them in Alexandria, he led them oftentimes to walk without the City, and invited them a hunting, to which he had a great deal of inclination. The two Princesses received his cares diversely, Elisa, as a person, in whom all desires, and all hopes were extinguished, and Candace, as a person, in whom hope was not defunct, but her mind was prepossessed with such great cares, that she had but little attention left for all the divertisements that Cornelius could give her. She contrived it so handsomely that by Cl●tie's means she might inquire news of Cleomedon or Eteocles, and Elisa had caused the shore to be often searched to find the body of her dear Artaban, according as the God had promised her, and according to the probability there was that it was cast upon the shore; but hitherto both their pains had been in vain, and they both expected, though in a different manner, the ease of their miseries, in which they found no such sweet consolations as those which they mutually gave each other by the charms of their good company.  
They walked one morning in the Gardens of the Palace, conformable in their beauty to the magnificence of Cleopatra, Anthony, and so many mighty Kings who had bestowed both cost and care in the embellishing of them, and they had already measured part of the fair and spacious walks, when passing by a high hedge, they heard through the branches which composed it, the voice of a person that sung upon the other side, it was melodious enough to cause some attention in the hearers, and Candace in whom all curiosity was not extinct, because her hopes were still alive, staying Elisa by the arm, prayed her to hearken a few moments to that agreeable sound, which had so sweetly saluted her ear; Ellsa who was of a complying humour, stayed at Candace's request, though her grief left her but little inclination to those things wherein other persons might find divertisement, and the two Princesses harkened a while with pleasure to a very delicate voice which with a sorrowful tone breathed out amorous resentments. It was a woman that sung, but her song was interrupted by another that was near her, just when the Princesses began to be moved at it, but they were the better pleased, because they could hear the discourse of those two persons, who believing that they were not overheard, did freely declare their most private thoughts. Leave this singiug, Ericia, said she who interrupted her, leave this singing, which is no fit companion for my sadness, wherein I cannot, as I have done formerly, find either ease or comfort, let us seek elsewhere the sweetening of my grief, or rather let us seek for Sanctuary in death against the persecutions of my pitiless fortune. Let me die, let me die Ericia, and do not oppose thyself any longer to the last remedy that the Gods leave me, seeing by that only I can put an end to those cruel sorrows which my destiny hath prescribed me. This woman had hardly done speaking, but Cepbisa coming near to Elisa, Madam, said she, I know not whether you have taken notice of this voice, but I can assure you that it is the air Slave's whom you have sometimes honoured with your discourse, who comforted you so handsomely the other day, and whom Madam, said she, pointing to Candace, you desired to see and discourse with. 'Tis the very same said the Princess, who easily discerned her voice: And that, added Candace, creates the greater curiosity in me, and will make me hearken with the more attention out of the desire that I have had a long time to be acquainted with her. These words were spoken so low that they could not be heard on the other side of the hedge, and Candace having laid her finger upon her mouth to enjoin them to silence, she laid her ear nearer to the hedge, to hearken to the corversation of the two Slaves. She whose song was interrupted began to resume the discourse, and discovering by a sigh what share she had in those misfortunes which she lamented in her Song, Alas! said she, will our miseries never have an end, and will Heaven never cease from tormenting persons who have not merited by any crime the evils whereunto they see themselves so long exposed? Never possibly was a life so innocent subjected to so many disasters, and you have reason to believe, that neither by my mournful song, nor by all the tears my eyes can shed I am able to accommodate myself to the greatness of our mishaps. I am too blame, replied the fair Slave, for letting one word slip in my giief, whereby I have possibly failed of that resignation which I would always have to the will of the Gods, and it proceeds from an effect of our weakness rather than a deliberate murmur, that I have made any accusation against Heaven for the cruel continuance of my misfortunes; But 'tis certain, Ericia, that I have need of a perfect constancy to support the burden of my afflictions without sinking under them, and that so weak a spirit as mine might possibly be excused sometimes when it transgresses the strict rules of moderation: O Gods! continued she, lifting up her hands and eyes to Heaven, Gods whom I have invoked without murmur in my hardest afflictions, behold I absolutely submit to your will, and if that which I have hitherto suffered be not capable to appease your wrath, and repair the crimes of my relations, or mine own faults, throw down upon this unfortunate creature more cruel evils than yet she hath been sensible of, and only giver her constancy enough to suffer them without offending you; there are few displeasures to which this Spirit hath not been subject, few toils to which this body hath not been exposed, and few dangers into which my honour and my life have not been thrown; and yet, great Gods, I will endure all with patience, and will not make the smallest complaint against your Divine Ordinances, if you render me that which I have lost, and if you restore me that which as absolutely lost as it can be for me, keeps me in grief, in misery and slavery.  
This fair afflicted person without doubt had spoken more, if the Princess Elisa, in whom the meeting with sorrowful persons like herself wrought a puissant effect, feeling her grief revived by the Slave's discourse, had not broken silence with an exclamation loud enough to be heard at a farther distance than that which separated them. O Heaven, cried she, O pitiless fortune, 'tis not then upon us alone that you let fall the effects of your choler! These words were understood by the fair Slave, and by her who was known as well as she by Clitie and Cephise to be a companion of her servitude. At the first they were rroubled when they perceived their discourse was overheard, and they continued a good while without speaking or stirring from the place where they sat, in search of some means to repair the fault which they supposed they had committed; but they were much more amazed, when the fair Queen of Ethiopia, who had harkened to their discourse with much more attention than the Princess of the Parthians, having found a passage through the hedge a few paces off, passed to that side where they were, and showed herself to them, and presently after came Elisa, and their women that attended them. At their coming the Slave rose hastily from the place where she sat, and casting down her eyes at the arrival of Candace, she let them understand that it was not without confusion, that she saw herself surprised in a discourse which perhaps might have made too large a discovery.  
Candace desired to recompose her presently, and looking upon her with an eye full of sweetness, Fair Maid, said she, be not grieved that we have heard some words from your mouth, contrary to your intention, they have only made us know that you are in the rank of unfortunate persons, and the conformity you have with us, renders you yet more dear to those persons who had a very high esteem before of your person, as well for that beauty which your sorrows have not been able to conceal from our knowledge, though they have a little altered it, as for those marks of virtue, courage and discretion that we have observed in you; 'tis a good while since that these good parts of yours havewrought in the Princess whom you serve, & myself a great desire of knowing you more particularly thanwe do ●et, & to ease you of those miseries whereof you complain, by all the power that our own have left us, in a place where we are strangers, and seek for refuge.  
During the discourse of the fair Queen, the Slave recovered from her astonishment, and looking in her face, with eyes full of the most lively and sparkling sweetness, eyes that as heavy and as languishing as they were, could dart out a thousand most violent flames, she appeared to the two Princesses in such a condition as made them look upon her with more consideration than before. The open light of the garden discovered more beauties to them than they could so well observe in places more obscure, and they judged with a little confusion, that this beauty in its natural lustre, had not possibly been much inferior to their own.  
Candace would have gone on to discover her thoughts, when the Slave having fully recomposed herself, and arming herself with an absolute confidence before such persons as gave her so many testimonies of their affection: Madam, said she to her, I should not be displeased at all to have been surprised in a conversation, the particularities whereof may possibly have discovered something of my life, if the Princess whom I serve, and yourself might find any satisfaction in it, or any consolation to your displeasures; and the knowledge I have now of your goodness hath made me so little suspect you, that though this accident had not engaged me, I should not have refused to discover myself to you, when you should have signified your desires to me. I owe this deference (and I will speak of you with more justice than you have spoken of this unfortunate person) to the admirable beauty of two such uncommon persons, to so many rare qualities of the mind that accompany the miracles of their bodies, to the goodness of those offers full of compassion and generosity, which you have made me, and (as much as to all these considerations) to the conformity that happens out between miserable and afflicted persons. You may dislike this liberty of speech in a simple Slave, but possibly you will partly pardon me, when I shall have rendered to your commands the obedience that you desire of me. Dear Maid, said Elisa, I have found so much consolation in your discourse, that I cannot disapprove of it, and you express yourself with so much prudence and discretion, that one cannot hearken to you without esteeming and loving you: this effect of merit gives me considerations for you, which servitude cannot take from you, and though you are a Slave rather by the means of your fortune than by your birth, yet you have created such a curiosity in me of knowing you, as, in the deplorable condition wherein I am at present, I had not possibly been capable of in relation to any other thing. I shall satisfy your desires when you please, replied the Slave, and I shall make no difficulty to do it before these persons that are with you (pursued she, pointing to Urione, Cephisa, and Clitie, who without any other company followed their Mistresses) upon the confidence that I have that their discretion is conformable to the goodness of the persons whom they serve: I will acquaint you with such things as you will judge to be of so much importance as not to be communicated but to a few persons, and you will perceive by the confidence I have in you, that inclination rather than servitude engages me to obey you; but lest the discourse I have to make you should be overheard, as that was which I had with this Maid, if you please, we will change our place, and I desire you to take the pains to walk to that Arbour which you see at the corner of the hedge, where with less fear I shall render you an exact account of that which you desire of me.  
The two Princesses having a fresh admired the grace she had in expressing herself, did what she desired, and presently after went to the Arbour which she showed them, where they could not be surprised by any person. The two Princesses sat down upon the green banks, and their Maids being seated at rheir feet, Elisa made a sign to the Slave to sit down by Cephisa; but she did not obey that sign, and standing up as if she seemed not to have observed it, and beginning the discourse with an assurance, and a gesture that signified nothing of a Slave: Before I take the place which you appoint me, said she, Elisa, I must inform you who I am, that you may judge whether I be worthy of the grace you do to a Slave, and possibly you will partly pardon the liberty I have taken with you, when you shall know that▪ I am a King's daughter as well as you, and that the Slave whom fortune hath put into your service, is descended as you are, from a long succession of Monarches, who have all worn, and do yet wear to this day, a Crown upon their head.  
These words pronounced with an admirable grace, surprised the two Princesses in such a manner, that at first they could not express their astonishment, but only by their silence, and their looks which surveied the Princely Slave anew from head to foot: But a little after recovering themselves out of the confusion which this adventure caused in them, they rose up both together, and coming nearer to her with an action full of civility and deference, What, Madam, cried they out both at once, are you a King's Daughter? I am, replied the Princess, and in the present condition of my affairs I should have reason enough to conceal it, rather than publish it, if I had not received a command to do it from two persons whom I will obey being a Princess as I ought to obey them being a Slave. Elisa the more confounded of the two▪ as remembering that she had received services from that Princess, that are not usually received but from persons of the meanest birth, spoke first, and expressing her shame by a blush that mounted into her cheeks; Ah Madam, said she, in whas manner shall I repair the faults I have committed against a Princess of an equal birth to mine? I have no regret, replied the Princely Slave, for the services I have rendered you, and I will willingly continue, out of inclination, that which I have begun, in respect to my fortune, which hath made me fall into servitude: I have received from you but too many marks of goodness for a Slave, and in the condition wherein I appeared to your eyes, I could not have hoped from you the graces you have done me. Ah, Madam, answered Elisa, I am not excusable, or at least I must make my grief my Apology, which deprives me of all manner of knowledge, and hath hindered me from observing in your countenance the marks of grandeur, which discover your by th'. If I have not taken notice of the absolute truth, added Candace, I have at least conjectured a part of it, and if I have not taken this Princess for what she is, yet 'tis very certain that since the first conversation we had together, I have judged her birth to be very disproportionable to her present fortune.  
After these words Candace and Elisa embraced the Princely Slave, who making no difficulty after the discovery she had made, to receive their caresses with more equality than she had done a few moments before, stretched out her arms too, and received their embraces with tears of tenderness, which trickled down the eyes of the three Princesses, out of the consideration which they made at the same time upon that fortune, which treated three persons of so high a dignity with an equal rigour, and brought into the same place from divers parts of the earth, three King's daughters in an estate so different from their condition. O humane grandeurs and felicities, cried Candace, how are they abused that lay any foundation upon your stability, and how much inconstancy and weakness have ye to blot out all the charms that blinded spirits find in you! After these words and some others, which they added upon this Subject, they desired the Princely Slave to sit between them, and relate the Story of her life, the knowledge of her condition having much augmented their curiosity: She made some difficulty to take that place in the habit she then wore, for fear she might be surprised in a place which would have made her discover a truth which she desired to conceal: But the Princesses would not permit her to sit elsewhere, and to remedy the fear she had of being surprised, they made one of their Maids stay at the entrance of the Arbour, to give them notice when she saw any one approach.  
The Princesses being thus placed, the Slave was entreated again by the two others with all manner of civilities and caresses to discover them the events ofher life, wherein they already took a great deal of interest, and she being willing to give them that satisfaction without being any further pressed to it, After she had meditated a few moments to recall into her memory a great many accidents wherewith her life was crossed, she began her discourse in these terms.  

The History of Olympia.  
NOthing doth more strongly persuade me to beeeve the immortality of the Soul, and the passage from this life to another more happy and more quiet, than the miseries of the good, and the prosperity of the bad; and seeing the Gods are just, there is little probability that they should suffer lives altogether innocent to pass away in misfortunes, and lives highly criminal in happiness and impunity, if we were not reserved to another life, wherein vice shall receive its punishments, and virtue its recompenses: If it were not so, I should have great cause to complain of that providence, which hath the Sovereign rule over our destinies, having experimented in such a condition as mine, and in an age which hath made no great progress, miseries under which a long life would have groaned, and an ordinary constancy possibly have sunk.  
Adallus King of Thrace, who was a great friend to Anthony, and served him with his forces and his person in the famous battle of Actium, was my Father, and his Son, who bears the same name, and reigns at this day over that people, is my only Brother. I was but a very young Girl when the Queen my Mother died, and her death was to me an irreparable loss; for had she continued longer in the world, she might possibly have secured me from a great part of those disasters wherewith I have been since overwhelmed. The King my Father caused me to be educated with the greatest care and tenderness, and the persons to whom he committed my education, forgot nothing that might frame my spirit to all things agreeable to my birth: I was brought up in good manners, in the fear of the Gods, and the love of Virtue, and all means was used to work in me from my very Infancy an aversion and horror to Vice. I passed my first years without the arrival of any remarkable accident, or any thing that is worth the relating to you, having a relation to make to you of such a great number of adventures, so strange, and possibly so little correspondent to what you expect of me, that I should believe I lost time, if I employed it in discoursing of things of small importance. The change which the sorrows and the toil of my mind and body have wrought upon my countenance, will leave little credit for the report I can make of what it formerly was, and not having preserved any footstep of beauty, it would ill become me to go about to persuade you that I was once handsome: yet 'tis certain, that this was the received opinion in the Country where I was born, and that this beauty, such as it was, produced effects prejudicial to my repose, whereby I have been reduced to the miseries wherein I have passed my wand'ring and unfortunate life.  
I do not doubt, said the Queen Candace, interrupting the Princess, I do not doubt but that your beauty hath been more accomplished, than your modesty permits you to represent 〈◊〉 to us, and if your grief could be but dissipated by the change of your fortune, there is nothing so ruined and so defaced in your countenance, but that in a person of about twenty years of age, as you seem to be, a month's satisfaction may restore to its former condition, and render you one of the fairest persons in the world. I was never such, replied the Princess of Thrace, and to expect the return of that mean beauty, which the miseries of my life have deprived me of, I must likewise expect revolutions in my fortune, which really are in the hand of the Gods, but so remote from all probability, that I should be unreasonable to hope for them▪  
Howsoever it be (that I may return to my narration) at that time when my sorrows had made no impression upon me, the King my Father thought me handsome, his Subjects thought me handsome, and the Prince my Brother, to my misfortune, thought me but too beautiful: I was younger than he by 7 or 8 years, and he was almost a man grown, when I began to be Mistress of a little reason. I know not by what rigour of my destiny, he found something in me whereupon to ground an affection different from that which he ought to have for his Sister: I was not yet twelve years old, when he bagan to spend whole days in bestowing his caresses upon me, he sighed before me, and hated all other company but mine, I was so far from suspecting him of so irregular a passion, that at first I took all these testimonies of his love for the proofs of an innocent amity; I rendered him caresses almost in the same manner that I received them of him, and I conceived an extreme contentment in having a Brother so good and so affectionate, and it was without doubt by this indulgence to his love, that I gave it way to increase, to conceive hopes, and to form designs which offended Heaven and Nature: But when with a little more age I had gained a little more knowledge, I observed in his affection and in his caresses some things that did not please me, and I began to distinguish the transports of a violent passion, from the effects of a pure and innocent amity. I hardly began to doubt, but that I received assurances from his own mouth; and one day, after he had continued a good part of it expressing his thoughts with more ardour than I desired at his hands▪, finding my humour more repugnant to his kindnesses than he had observed before, he took notice of my sighs: What is the matter Sister, said he, and what have I done that can have diminished your affection, as much as mine is augmented? Is it because I love you too well that you cease to love me? Brother, said I, I shall never cease to love you, neither is it necessary that you should love me too much, for all excesses are to be condemned, and I shall always content myself with a moderate and rational amity, such as a good Brother may have for his Sister. Ah! Olympia, said he, for the name of Sister is cruel and cross to me, how far is that moderate friendship which you require from that which I have for you? and how contrary is Heaven to me, in not causing you to be descended from the greatest stranger in the world, rather than from the King our Father? You wish me ill, replied I, dissembling my thoughts, and making as if I knew not his, and if I were born of any other Parents, I should not be your Sister. That would be my greatest felicity, answered Adallus, the nearness of blood is the greatest obstacle that hinders the repose of my mind, and the preservation of my life. Yes, Olympia I love you, and I do not love you as a Brother, with a weak and languishing amity, but as an inflamed lover, and as a man so desperately in love, that if your pity doth abandon me, I shall abandon myself to despair. Be not amazed, Olympia, at this Declaration, my passion is not without example even in our own family, the laws of love are stronger than those of blood, and those that may retain common persons, are not powerful enough to bridle Kings, and oppose themselves to the repose and lives of Sovereign Princes upon a weak and slight consideration.  
This discourse, the understanding whereof I could no longer dissemble, struck me with an unparallelled astonishment, and troubled me in such a manner, that for a long time I was not in a condition to reply: You terrify yourself, a ded the Prince, seeing me in that confusion, but if your affection doth but a little correspond with mine, you will find nothing strange e either in my discourse, or my designs: Juno was the Sister, and the Wife of Jupiter, amongst our ancestors, a like proximity did not hinder a more particular alliance, and at this day, amongst divers Nations of the world, brotherhood is no impediment to marriage. To these words he added divers others upon the same subject, at the close whereof having had time to recompose myself a little, and looking upon him with an eye that sufficiently signified the repugnance I had against his horrid propositions: Adallus said I to him (for the name of Brother in you is as little conformable to your discourse and designs, as the name of Sister in me) you fill me with so much shame and confusion, that I kn●w not how to behave myself one moment in your presence, since I heard the words you pronounced but now, Heaven, Nature, you and I are offended by them in such a manner, that I would willingly give the best part of my blood, that I could give my ears the lie, and restore innocence to the most criminal thoughts that ever fell into the mind of a Prince. Ah! Sir, if you have any sense of virtue left, oppose the motions of a horrid passion, and do not dishonour your life with a stain so black, that all your blood can never wash out. I find no shame replied Adallus, interrupting me, in loving that which the Gods have made most amiable in the world, and beauty in the person of my Sister is as powerful upon my Soul, as in a stranger Princess, we have so many examples of a passion like to mine, that I shall but little fear the reproaches of men for a love, of which I feel no regret in my conscience, which would be the first to accuse me if there were any thing of criminal in it; and in fine though it were a crime and a shame to love you, I am carried to it by a power which I am not able to resist, and engaged by a necessity which will force me to love you to my grave, without any consideration of reproaches, or all the obstacles that you can oppose me with. And for my part, replied I, I am obliged by virtue, and the nearness of blood, which makes me look upon your intentions with horror and detestation, to fly from you henceforth, as from a Monster that would devour me, and to offer violence to that amity, which the relation of blood and reason had wrought in me to a Brother, by the aversion I ought to have even to my grave against your detestable thoughts. You may do it, added the Prince, and you may behold my death with the same eye that you look upon my passion, & I do not know in which of these 2 actions you will be the less criminal, either for having loved your Brother, or for having caused your Brother's death. You will not die, said I, when you shall render yourself Master of this horrible passion, which causes all the shame of your life, and though you should die upon that account, I should be very innocent of a death, to which I shall have contributed nothing but what I owe to my honour, which is dearer to me than your life or mine own. I believe replied Adallus, that you will easily comfort yourself for it: I shall comfort myself better for that, answered I very briskly, than I should do for the crime w ●h you propose to me, and though together with the loss of your life I must consent to part with mine own, I should more easily resolve upon it than upon a detestable action, the only proposition whereof makes me to tremble. I did not believe, replied he, I should have found you of so bad a nature, possibly time may alter it, and make you to consider, that it is not so slight a crime as you imagine, to throw a Brother and a Lover into his grave. If I must part with my life for my Brother, said I, I will do it without repugnance; but as for a Lover in the person of a Brother, I will avoid him as long as I live, if it be possible as my most dangerous enemy. We had more discourse besides, by which with as much sweetness as I could possibly, I endeavoured to make him discard his passion, and represented all things to him, which might strike some horror of it into him, with all the amity of a Sister, and a rationality above my age: But my endeavours were in vain, and he patred from me protesting that death only should cure his love, and that he would renounce his life, if I would not preserve it for him by an affection equal to his own.  
After this day he lived with me as a declared Lover, and though his love partly blotted out of my soul that friendship which nature had there established, and began to render him odious to me, as a man whose thoughts were detestable; yet such was his birth, that I could not avoid him, as I might have avoided any other person, if I had had the design to do it; and besides, whilst I expected that time, or reason, or the King's authority should procure some remedy, I did all that possibly I could to conceal a thing, of which, as I thought, half the shame reflected upon me; and upon this consideration I could not openly express with what repugnance I received the Prince's visits, because I would not divulge the cause; yet I could not hinder it from being quickly known, and he grew so blind in his passion, that he lost all manner of discretion, and by his ill conduct made all the Court sensible of that which he should have concealed at the rate of his own life.  
The King had knowledge of it by a thousand too visible marks, and when I was no longer able to support the persecutions of my Brother, I took my last resolution to complain of him, and to discover to my Father that which out of my care of his repose I had always concealed from him. When he was fully confirmed in this knowledge, and when upon the discourse he made me concerning it, I was constrained to confess it myself to him, he was transported with anger, and testified his displeasure by divers marks, which wrought no effect upon the Prince's spirit; He caused him to be called, and after that he had signified to him with divers words full of sharpness, the grief he had to see him fall into and persever in so uncommon a crime, he represented the deformity of it in such terms as were capable to reduce him to reason, if he had been in a condition to hearken to them; but after he had given a very quiet audience to the King's discourse, and surmounted the confusion which his reproaches might have caused in him, making an effort upon the fear which the Character of a Father ought to have imprinted upon his Spirit: Sir, said he, I wish with all my heart I were in a condition to testify to your Majesty the submission I have to your will, and I would strip myself of my strongest passions, to render what is due from me to my Father, and to my King, if reason and acknowledgement had preserved power enough over my spirit to retain it within the limits of its duty: But, Sir, by the rigour of my destiny, I see myself reduced to such terms, that I have no power left to comply with you, but only by making an end of my life, if that be disagreeable to you. 'Tis true, Sir, that I love Olympia, and I love her in such a manner, that death only can free me from that passion which you condemn; 'Tis in this that my condition is more worthy of pity than reproach, and seeing myself conducted by my ill fortune to the love of a person of whom I am not beloved, a love coudemned as a crime by the King my Father, I see no safety nor refuge for myself but in death alone, nor will I seek it elsewhere; but since I am so unhappy as not to find pity, neither in the soul of a Sister, nor of a Father, I will escape by the only remedy wherewith my passion can inspire me, from the long calamities to which it would expose my life, if the course of it were not cut short by my final resolution. He pronounced these words with so much violence, that the King was much troubled at them, & feared some violent effect of his despair, being well acquainted with his boiling and impetuous humour. This fear made him act with the more sweerness to endeavour to reduce a Spirit, which was not in a condition to be restrained by violance; but all the things he could allege to him to make him submit to reason were but in vain, and his love, as it seemed, being spurred on by the resistance that it found, grew stronger every day, and by its augmentation augmented my displeasure. I passed above a whole year in this condition, neither the treatments that I made him to extinguish his hopes, nor the King's dealing with him, who from flattery, when it was without effect, oftentimes fell to threatening, nor any humane consideration being able to remedy this disaster of our Family.  
In fine the King believing that it was his last and surest expedient, resolved to marry me to some one of the neighbouring Princes, amongst whom there were divers that desired his alliance, and he judged that by this separation from the eyes of my Brother, his passion might be mortified, and that all his criminal thoughts might be dissipated by impossibility, when he had executed his designs. I know not what would have happened thereupon, if the poor Prince could have acted his resolution but to my misfortune it was hardly form when he was seized by a violent Fever, which laid him in his grave within ten days: Before he died, amongst divers instructions that he gave his Son for the government of the Kingdom he left him, he exhorted him the most tenderly that possibly he could to quit himself of the love he had for me, and threatened him with all manner of misfortunes if he persevered in it. Adallus seeing the King near his end, dissembled his thoughts, and feigning that he was moved with these expressions of his Father's last will, promised him all he desired of him: The King preached to me too upon the same Text, and expressly charged me never to suffer that his family should be polluted with an incestuous marriage; But this command was not necessary, and the horror of my Brother's intentions was so deeply engraved in my heart, that I had no need of the King's solicitations to dispose me rather to death than to his shameful consent.  
The good King died, to my great regret, and his people's grief, whom he had govermed with a great deal of Justice and sweetness. I will not entertain you with the complaints which this loss caused me to make; you may judge, Ladies, that they were excessive, and besides the grief which the nearness of blood could not but make me sensible of in the loss of so good a Father, I was particularly interested by the loss of his protection, who had till then defended me against the pursures of my Brother. He was publicly crowned in Byzantium, and he had handsome parts enough to give his people good hopes of his government, he is comely of his person, naturally endued with spirit and courage, and if that irrational love, and the effects which it hath produced had not laid a blot upon his life that he will never be able to wipe off, he would not be the least considerable amongst the Kings who at this day wear a Crown.  
He began his government with the ordinary forms, he rendered funeral honours to the King our Father with a great deal of magnificence, and bestowed divers days about affairs of State, and the establishment of his dignity, giving me time to lament the death of my Father, without interrupting me in that sad exercise by his persecutions: And truly he made me conceive some hope, that I might for the future be exempted from them, and that the King's last words, or the change of his condition had produced this effect upon his Spirit: but I saw myself cruelly deceived in this hope, and whereas before I had had only the pursuits of a Brother to suffer, who had no command over me, I found myself subjected to the power of a King, who demanded that of me with authority, which before he had sought by the ways of love and sweetness: Yet the first marks he gave me of the continuation of his love were upon the former terms, and he was minded to make use of the civility of a Lover, before he had recourse to the power of a Tyrant.  
I will not tell you, Ladies (for my narration would be of too excessive a length) all the amorous discourses that he made me for divers months, whereby he thought to change my mind, and make me consent to marriage, nor the answers I made him in that time, to make him comprehend the foulness of the crime which he proposed, and to imprint in his heart the shame of an▪ action that would be detested by all the world. He alleged to me instead of all reasons, that Kings were not subject to the Laws they made themselves, and that they governed themselves by other Maxims than they did their people. At last having observed that the ways of sweetness were to no purpose, and that instead of expressing any desire to comply with his intentions, I conceived every day more horror against his design, he resolved to employ his authority, and declared to me, that seeing neither as a Brother, nor as a Lover he was able to move me either to love or pity, nor make me consent to a thing whereupon the preservation of his life depended, he was constrained to act as a King in his dominions, and to seek his own safety by that power which the Gods and his own birth had bestowed upon him. At this cruel declaration I continued rather dead than alive, and looking upon himwith eyes that signified my grief and just resentment, What Sir, said I, will you make use of your authority to force your Sister to an action which will draw upon you the indignation of Heaven, and the detestation of the whole world? will you not consider that I am tied to you by such a nearness of blood, that you cannot desire any greater alliance with me, without rendering yourself abominable? and will you not call to mind that I am descended from too noble a blood, as well as you, to be exposed to that violence which is not practised against the meanest Subjects? If I had any other ways, replied Adallus, to persuade you, I should not have recourse to those you force me to make use of, and you know yourself that I have forgot nothing which was probably capable to prevail with you; but in the extremity whereunto you have reduced me by the hardness of your heart, either I must needs die, or serve myself with the power which I have received from Heaven to save myself. Ah! Sir, replied I, transported with displeasure, you will not die, but this unfortunate creature which hath so unluckily troubled your repose, and by her beauty, such as it is, reduces you to the necessity of committing horrible crimes, will die without doubt, if other mean be wanting to deliver her from that authority with which you threaten her; 'Twas in you that I hoped to find protection against any foreign power; but since the Gods permit, that in the person of a Brother I find a persecutor and a cruel Enemy, they leave me those ways to free myself that are open to all the world.  
The King was a little touched at these words, but he was not a jot staggered in his resolution, and looking upon me with an eye divided between submission and authority, You have no reason, said he, to throw yourself into despair for these testimonies of my love, which any other person but yourself possibly would not call persecution; I think you cannot hope to marry a Prince with whom your condition would be better or more sublime than with me; and as for the crime which you fear, if there be any, it will lie all upon me who cause you to do a thing contrary to your inclinations by the power which I have in my dominior●. This will be your justification before the people, and your defence against the reproaches of your Conscience, which you fear. I will not proceed to extremities (whatsoever impatience I suffer from my love) before I have once more tried the wa●es wherewith I have hitherto served myself, and by which I hope I shall mollify and change your mind; but when I have practised them a while, to as little purpose as I have formerly done, do not think it strange, Sister, that for the preservation of my life, I make use of all my rights to work you to a thing which you ought willingly to embrace.  
He left me half dead with grief at these cruel words, and the tears which he saw in my eyes at our parting were not capable to move him or divert him from his cruel intentions. I abandoned myself to sorrow all the rest of that day, and for divers others, and not being able to digest this violence from that person in the world from whom I ought to have feared it least, I wanted but a little of throwing myself into Tragical resolutions. What, said I, shall the Daughter of a King be used with such tyranny as is not exercised upon the vilest persons? and shall that Brother, whose power ought to secure her from violence and oppression, be the person by whom she shall see herself exposed to outrage and indignity? Shall Olympia, in whom the Gods have implanted some love to Virtue, and inclinations averse from vice, and thoughts though never so little criminal, suffer herself by her weakness to be exposed to public shame, and the reproach of the whole world? Ah! no Adallus, no Tyrant, for the name of Brother is not due to thee because of the outrageous violence, which thou committest against a Sister, who possibly was not unworthy of her birth, neither dost thou deserve the name of a King by reason of the injustice which thou beginnest to practise against persons who ought to be least subject to it: No Barbarian, thou art not yet absolute enough in thy dominions to extend thy authority over spirits, & such a Spirit as Olympia's: I am not ignorant of the ways to escape oppression, and to defend that which thou assaultest, I will arm myself with a courage which possibly thou didst not think to have found in a young Princess, and the Sister of a man so little conformable to her disposition.  
In this manner I bemoaned myself, and deplored my misfortune night and day with a flood of tears: But all in vain, the barbarous man was not moved at them, and the repugnance I expressed to marry him augmented his desire, and seemed to redouble his passion; I spent divers months in this manner, during which time he saw me every day, and tormented me perpetually. Sometimes he entreated me; and when by his prayers he could not incline my spirit to his design, he fell to threatening, and protested to me, that he was resolved to make use of his authority, without any longer delay. A few moments after he grew milder, seeing some tears fall from my eyes, his love having given me some power over his Spirit.  
There is no necessity that I should detain you any longer upon this account, when he saw that all his flatteries were to no purpose, and that he was past hope of making me consent to his desires, he resolved in good earnest to put his threats in execution, and commanded me with a terrible countenance to dispose myself to marry him within eight days, without any longer delay. I wept, but to no end, I threw myself at his feet, but in vain, after that cruel command, all this was not able to move him, but he protested to me before the chiefest persons of his Court, that since I abused the indulgence he had for me in this manner, nothing could hinder him from making trial, whether he was King in his Dominions, or nor.  
I passed the eight days he had given me in the saddest employments in the world, and when I gave any intermission to my regrers▪ 'twas but to invent some means to save myself from his tyranny: I was fully resolved, if all other ways failed me, to embrace death rather than to consent to an action, upon which I could not cast a thought without horror, but I was minded first to try whether I could preserve myself from my misfortune by flight; I knew well that I could not find any sanctuary in my Brother's Dominions against his power; but I verily believed that if I could escape out of the places under his command, and be so happy as to get as far as Cilicia, I should find a retreating place there with the King, who was Brother to the deceased Queen our Mother, and probably though my Brother was near to him in the same degree, would not desert me in so just a cause. There was some uncertainty in the success of this enterprise, there was danger to run, and trouble to support, and difficulty to save myself: But yet this seemed to me more sweet than death, and finding no other way at all but death, or flight, I preferred flight before death, out of a fearfulness incident to my sex and age.  
Before I had well taken this resolution, the time he had given me was almost expired, and I had not put those things in order which were necessary for the execution of my enterprise. At last, when I was fully resolved upon the design, I showed the King a little better countenance than I had done before; and having seen him in my Chamber the seventh day of the eight which he had given me, after I had again made trial of prayers and tears, which wrought as little effect as before, feigning that I suffered myself a little to be overcome, and fixing my eyes upon his face with a kinder action than ordinary: I see well, Sir, said I, that I do resist your will in vain, and am too weak to oppose the power of a great King in his Dominions: I confess I find a great repugnance in my nature, as to the thing you desire of me, which hitherto I have not been able to overcome: but at last I must resolve, after I have made all possible resistance against an absolute authority, and all that is necessary to justify myself from an action to which you constrain me: I desire eight days longer of you, which I will employ to surmount the difficulties which yet remain as impediments to an ultimate resolution, and after that time, Sir, I promise you, you shall find in me no contr adiction of your desires. The King was transported with joy at this discourse, and expressed an excessive deal of contentment in his countenance, and in his words, he easily granted me the eight days I desired, and protested to me that I should be the most happy Princess upon the earth with a Husband who would adore me whilst he breathed. I confirmed the promise I had made to him with a very sad countenance, for fear he should discover my policy by too quick a change.  
After I had begun to put my affairs thus in order, I desired to lose no more time, knowing well that that which I had gotten was necessary to make preparation for my departure; but than it was that I saw myself reduced to no small trouble; For though I had divers persons in my service, that were very affectionate to me, yet I doubted whether I should find any bold enough to oppose the King, in serving me upon this occasion, and to expose themselves to ruin, as they would apparently do, by favouring me, and accompanying me in my flight: I feared likewise that those to whom I should discover myself would betray me, and by discovering my design to the King deprive me of the means of putting it in execution. This fear kept me one day in a strange perplexity, but at last I was resolved to put it to the venture, and I cast my eyes upon Eurilas, the most ancient of my servants, and Husband to a Lady that was my Governess; I had obsetved in him by divers marks a great affection to me, and I believed that I might better confide in him than in all the world beside. I sent for him into my Closet, and having represented the sadness of my condition, which was not unknown to him, I acquainted him with my design, and the desire I had to trust my life, and whatsoever was more precious to me, upon his affection and conduct. Eurilas was amazed at my bold resolution, and represented to me the difficulties and the dangers of it; but seeing that all things relished better with my spirit than the violence that would have been done me, he declared to me that he thought himself highly honoured by the confidence I reposed in him, and that he would willingly embrace the occasion of hazarding all, yea, and of dying too for my service. After this he named me the persons whom he thought most affectionate to me, and whom he judged that I might make the companions of my flight, and this little number was composed of his wife my Governess, and three of my Maids, one of which you see before you named Ericia, who hath always been the dearest to me of all the rest, and three or four servants the best known, and most necessary. He did not think it fit that I should be attended upon by any more persons, for fear lest in a greater number some or other might be capable of betraying me. After this resolution, and the decision of some petty difficulties, upon which we bestowed part of the day, he went to give private order for providing a nimble Vessel furnished with all necessary accommodations for our voyage, there was always a great number of them in the Port of Byzantium, and Eurilas had credit enough amongst those that commanded them to have the liberty to depart thence at what hour he pleased, without any hindrance.  
I will abridge this part of my relation as the most troublesome, and I will only tell you that the fourth day we were assured of the persons that were to attend me, and all things sorted as well as we could desire to the execution of our enterprise. The 5 day, the night whereof was designed for our departure, I feigned myself sick, and having entreated the King, who had spent some hours in my Chamber, to give me leave to repose myself till the morrow, he retired himself, and having given order that no person should enter into my apartment, I had absolute liberty to put in execution what I had resolved.  
When we were free, having made all the persons, who were not to go with us, retire into their chambers, I clothed myself in man's apparel that Eurilas had brought me; my Governess and my Maids did the like; and if we had disguised ourselves upon a less sad occasion, I should have had some divertisement to see ourselves so trans-habited; but the account that obliged me to do it, and the fear of being surprised made me tremble continually, and my fears made me almost incapable of performing what I had resolved. At last having reassured myself the best I possibly could, and having taken with me the greatest part of my Jewels, I went down by a little pair of stairs which belonged to my apartment, into the great Garden of the Palace, whether I had always free entrance, and from thence by a gare, whire of Eurilas had the Key, we came to the port near adjoining, where we were attended in the Vessel by the persons whom Eurilas had left there.  
We passed by those we met, covering our faces with our Cloaks, though, without that precaution, the obscurity of the night, and the habits we were in were favourable enough to our design. We entered at last into the Vessel an hour within night, having hastened our departure to take the advantage of the whole night, and to be far enough off before they perceived our absence, or put themselves into a condition to pursue us. We hoist up our Sails, and made off from the Port with all speed, taking the way of Cilicia, which our Pilot was well acquainted him, and when he began to quit the shore, turning my eyes towards the City and the Palace of my Father, I forsake thee, said I, my native Country who hast been more cruel to me than the most unknown Region could have been, and seeing that in thy bosom the daughters of ●hy Kings are not exempted from violence and oppression, I go under the conduct of Heaven, which will never abandon me to seek out in a strange climate that repose which I could not find in that Country where I received my birth, and to put myself into the protection of the Good▪ if I be left destitute by men.  
With these few words, and some vows I made to Heaven, recommending to i● the conduct of my life I fled from the shore of Byzantium with all the swiftness I could possibly, and I chose rather to commit myself to the infidelity of the waters than to attend upon the effects of the cruelty of men. Neither the sear of the waves under which so many thousand persons have found their graves, nor the dangers which threatened me in a long navigation, were capable to intimidate the Spirit of a Maid, who to avoid the violence prepared for her, would have thrown herself into more manifest perils, and of all the evils that the condition of my life could represent to me, I only feared my being too slow in my flight, and falling again into my brother's power.  
You had good reason, Madam, said Candace to Olympia interrupting her, and few persons born with virtuous inclinations like to yours, but would have taken the same resolution; you really followed the way which virtue inspired you, and Heaven in so rational a design ought to have favoured you with all its assistances. The most innocent intentions, replied Olympia, are not always most seconded by the succour of Heaven, and you will see in the sequel of my unfortunate life, that the most criminal actions were never possibly more rigorously treated by fortune, nor the lif● of the most culpable persons subject to any chastisements comparable to the miseries to which hitherto I have seen myself exposed.   
The End of the first Book.   

Hymen's Praeludia: OR, LOVE'S Masterpiece.  
PART 6. LIB. 2.  
ARGUMENT.  
The Princess Olympia continues her Story, She and her company are surprised at Sea by a furious Tempest, and Shipwrecked upon a little Desert-Island. There by the help of her Servants, she saves the life of a young Gentleman of most noble aspect, newly cast upon the Shore. He, at first sight, is captivated by Olympia's beauty, and she at the same time, is very much taken with his exquisite perfections. They both, for a while, conceal their affections; but at last he overhears Olympia's discourse with Ericia to his advantage, & so steps in and discovers his fllames. As she is about to relate his Name and quality she is interrupted by the coming of Cornelins Gallus. Agrippa arrives at Alexandria, visits Elisa, and falls in love with her. Cornelius invites him and the Princesses a hunting. They receive intelligence of the rape of Cleopatra and Artemisa: Agrippa and Cornelius post to their succour. Candace in her return to Alexandria, spies Cesario at a window, but fcaring to discover him, she defers her further satisfaction to a safer privacy.  
WE quitted the shore of Byzantium with a prosperous gale, and the fear I had of being pursued and taken by those whom the King might send after me, making me continually solicit the diligence of the Mariners, We passed the Thracian Bosphorus with admirable speed, and through the strait of the Hellespont, we entered into the Egean Sea with full Sails. I thought myself then in some security from the pursuits of my Brother, and I began to take a little breath after those terrors that had tormented me the first days of our navigation: Neither the peril whereunto I was exposed by the infidelity of that Element to which I had trusted my life, nor the dangerous adventures that might occur upon the Sea, could any way equal the satisfaction I had in my mind to see myself escaped from the violence of the King of Thrace, and I rendered thanks to the Gods upon that account, as if I had been already in the securest harbour.  
In effect, both nature and reason had made me conceive so much averfion and horror for the design he had against me, that to free myself from it I despised all manner of inconveniencies, and should have precipitated myself into the most manifest dangers without consideration: Yet I could not reflect upon the condition of my fortune, without making some small complaint to Heaven, nor consider with an absolute moderation, how the Daughter of a great King was handled by her destiny, which forced her being of so youthful an age, and so tender a complexion, to fly her native Country, and to hazard herself upon the inconstancy of the waves, to save herself from an Enemy who ought to have been her Protector, and to avoid him as a Monster, from whom in all probability she ought to have hoped for refuge against all manner of misfortunes. How know I, said I sometimes when I was most troubled with these sad considerations, how know I, but that in the same places where I seek for Sanctuary I may find more enemies? and who will give me any assurance of those persons who are allied to me by some proximity of blood, if I have met with nothing but persecution and cruelty in my own Brother? Will an Uncle be more pitiful to me than a Brother? and may not I fear that he will prefer the amity of the King of Thrace before the protection due to me, and that he will put me again into the hands of a Prince, whose alliance is more considerable to him, than the occasion of assisting an afflicted Princess, and drawing an enemy upon him, whose power is not contemptible? Ah! without doubt I have not sufficiently deliberated upon this difficulty before I embarked myself in so hazardous an enterprise, and I should have considered that the Maxims of Kings, and the interests of State are very different from the thoughts which Virtue and Piety inspire us with: Whether the King of Cilicia shall put me himself into my Brother's hands, or refuse me the refuse I desire against him; In either of these two misfortunes I see my loss absolutely infallible, and what way soever I turn my thoughts, I know no other way for my safety, Well, added I, raising up my courage, if Gods and men abandon us, death cannot fail us, and we will receive it in the same manner either in Cilicia, or in the waves, as we would have received it at Byzantium, rather than satisfy ●he horrible designs of our persecutor; than we shall be more excusable than we should have been upon Adallus his first attempts & we shall sacrifice our life to our misfortunes & our duty with a great deal less regret, after we have tried the means that Heaven hath left us for the conservation of it.  
I oftentimes entertained myself with these discourses with Eurilas, with my Governess, and this Maid named Ericia, on whom I have bestowed my most tender affections from my Infancy, and they took the pains to comfort me, and to represent to me the little likelihood there was that the King of Cilicia my Uncle should refuse me his protection, to which he was obliged by consanguinity, virtue, and all manner of considerations, nor need I to fear that the King my Brother would obstinately demand me, or undertake war against my Protector upon a quarrel which would expose him to the blame of all the world. They made me some other discourses besides, wherein I really found reason and consolation, and receiving my disasters from the hand of Heaven, I expected the end of them with all the patience that possibly I could.  
In the mean time we followed our Voyage with a great deal of diligence: We had coasted the Isle of Lesbos, we had a view of Eubea, as we passed by, we had left Crect upon our right hand, and Rhodes upon the left, and we had gone a good way betwixt Cyprus and Cilicia, when fortune which had favoured us ever since our departure from Byzantium, changed her countenance, and made us know, that changing of a Climate altars not destiny, and that unfortunate persons drag the chain of their mishaps after them whithersover they go.  
We were but one days journey from the nearest port to Tharsus, where the King of Cilicia makes his residence, when, contrary to all appearances, the weather changed, the winds became impetuous, and all the Sea was agitated by a furious Tempest: Never was storm so sudden and so violent, and though our Mariners were very expert, and our Vessel in very good condition, the tossing of the waves was so vehement, that within a few moments, the Sailors, who had often been in the like dangers, cried out we were lost, and began to despair of our safety. You may judge fair Princesses, what my fears were then, and if the Spirit of a young Maid, though already prepared for all manner of disasters, was slightly troubled at the approaches of a terrible death: I was afraid, I sent up my vows to Heaven with prayers and tears, and yet I could not repent myself, that I had thrown myself into this danger, to avoid that whereunto I was exposed in my native Country. 'Tis hard, said I in myself, 'tis a cruel thing for a Princess to lose her life among the waves at such an age as mine: but it would have been far more insupportable for me to live in the shame and crime to which Adallus his violence had destinied me. We will die if the Gods have so ordained it, but we will die in our primitive innocence, without polluting it by any unworthy repentance, or regret for having sacrificed this unfortunate life, to that which we owe to consanguinity and virtue.  
In the mean while as the Storm redoubled, our Mariners did all things possible for to save us. They cut down the Masts of the Ship, discharging it of all their heaviest lading: and forgot nothing that their experience in this art could prompt them to put in practice, possibly their care hindered us from perishing all among the waves, but it could not hinder the loss of a part of our company; and after we had parted a dreadful night in the continual terrors of an approaching death, at the break of day we discovered the main land on one side, and on the other side part of those rocks which render navigation dangerous near the Coast of Cilicia. We would have done our endeavours to reach the land, which we looked upon with some remainder of hope: but the winds were not only contrary to this design, but our Vessel was no longer in a condition to be conducted by the science of men; and when it had resisted a little longer the impetuosity of the waves, it was taken by a gust of wind, which with a swiftness comparable to an Arrow out of a Bow, dashed it againsl the point of a Rock, where it split into a thousand pieces,  
I had perished at this time if I had not been reserved for greater misfortunes, and the Gods who had destinied me to them, were pleased that I should be saved from this Shipwreck, to pass the remainder of my deplorable life in a more cruel tempest than that which they permitted me at that time to escape. I was preserved by the care that divers persons took of my safety, two of my Maids were drowned, with many of the Men; and together with Eurilas, his wife Ericia, and some other of my servantr, and the Mariners, I was carried up on the Rock all wet, and half dead with fear, and the pain I had endured: Yet the Gods were pleased to our extraordinary good hap, that the provisions which we had in the Vessel were driven upon the Rock, and by the pains our people took about them, the greatest part of them was preserved, had it not been for this, hunger would quickly have made us found, what we were lately threatened with by the cruelty of the waves.  
Whilst I lay upon the Shore quite spent with toil and grief, where holding my eyes fixed upon Heaven, I silently accused it of my misfortune, instead of returning thanks for the preservation of a life, which in that place, and the condition we were in, could not probably be prolonged but for a few days: Some of our men being mounted up to the top of the Rock, found sand, and some trees, and walking a little further, they saw we were landed upon a small Island of five or six hundred paces long, but craggy, desert and uninhabited. Upon the report they made me of it, Eurilas coming to me, and stretching out his hand, prayed me to arise to go and take some place less inconvenient, in expectation of the succour of Heaven, from whence we might yet receive assistance. I arose from my seat with my face all bedewed with tears, and looking every way upon the pitiful remainders of our shipwreck. Ah! Eurilas, said I, what would you have us now expect from Heaven, ean any thing remain for us in the place and condition we now are, but a miserable day or two to live in grief, and want of all necessaries? With these words casting my eyes again upon the bodies of the two Maids that were drowned, which the waves had driven to the shore, I poured out a stream of tears for their loss, and afflicted myself for it in such a manner, that the care of those which remained could hardly oblige me to take any consolation. Ah! cried I out, 'tis not just that a life begun by such cruel crosses, and by the death of those persons who were dear and faithful to me, should be of a long continuance, and I should offend the Gods who look upon me with indignation, if I should make Prayers to them for an unfortunate person, whom they judge to be worthy of their anger. Madam, said Eurilas to me, you cannot by any of your actions, have drawn the anger of Heaven upon you, and nevor possibly had any person more reason than you to expect particular assistances from thence, the most innocent persons have fallen into the same disaster which hath lately befalen you, and I have hope still to see you rescued hence, by the protection which without doubt is due from Heaven to your virtue. Let us go then, Eurilas, said I as I rose up, and let us not despair of Heaven's succour since we cannot do it without further provoking of it against us. Upon these words, after I had given the last Adieu to those poor Maids, whom hey took up, together with the other persons that were drowned, to render them the last devoirs of burial, as the place and condition we were in could permit, I walked by the assistance of Eurilas upon the brink of those waves, whose rage was not yet appeased, and we took, under the conduct of those that had already discovered it, the plainest way to go to the least incommodious place of the little Island.  
But behold, to entangle me in new disgraces, much more sensible than those to which I saw myself already exposed, 'twas the will of fortune, that after I had walked near upon a hundred paces upon the shore, I saw at my foot the body of a man, which the water had cast up there upon a plank which he still embraced. I stayed myself at this spectacle, and thought at first that it was one of our own people, whose loss we had not observed, and I turned myself toward the rest, to make them see if their companion was still in a condition to receive any help, or to cause his body to be buried, if he was absolutely dead; but we quickly changed our opinion when we saw the richness of his habit, upon which though it was wet and soiled with the some and sand in some places, the gold was presently spied by those that advanced to his succour. This made them take a little more notice of that person; and though I was already cast down at my owm misfortune, & incommodated by the wetness of my garments, I conquered mine own inconvenience by the compassion I had upon a person fallen into the like disaster with myself, and I stayed to see his face, and to behold with some attention the event of the office which my servants went to render him. His legs were still in the water, his body lay along upon the plank, which he held fast, and his face was turned towards the ground, and almost buried in the sand. They drew him quite out of the water, and turned his face upwards, but it was so covered with some and sand, that they could not at first perceive the figure of it; they presently threw water upon him, and when he was cleansed from the filth which covered him, they perceived as well as the pale wan colour of his face would permit, all the lineaments of an admirable beauty in a person of his sex. His age seemed not to be above nineteen years; his person was the most complete and best proportioned in the world, and his long black hair, which the moisture of the water could not deprive of their natural Curls, hung about his cheeks, and added an extraordinary grace to the whiteness of them: but a great part of his beauties was clouded, his eyes were fast closed, his lips were discoloured, and a deadly paleness being spread all over his visage had banished thence that vivacity of complexion, which doth so advantageously set off the lineaments and proportion of a handsome face. Yet in this languishing form he appeared more comely to me, than all that had been represented to my eyes till then, and out of a presage, whereof the cause was unknown to me at that time, I felt a throbbing of my heart, which seemed to me to foretell part of that which this adventure hath made me suffer since.  
There appeared but little show of life in this person, but Eurilas having laid his hand upon his heart, found there some motion, and some heat: This man is not dead, said he: Then we must succour him, added I presently, and give him all the assistance we can to endeavour to save his life. Immediately all the persons that were with us employed themselves about it, and two or three men having taken him up by the feet, and holding his head downwards, the salt water, with which his belly was all swelled up, began to run out of his mouth in such great abundance, that we were struck with wonder how the body of a man could contain so much. After he had cast it all up, he continued some moments longer without showing any other signs of life than those they had already observed, and though I was in an incommodious condition myself, I had the patience to wait a while longer to see if he would recover his senses. The Gods were pleased that my expectation should not be long, and the fair unknown began, by his motion, to show the effect of the assistance which had been rendered him; a little after he opened his eyes, and recovered his senses and knowledge: I was very joyful to see him return into that condition, and out of an unknown principle, I already interested myself in his preservation, so as I partly suspended the memory of my own danger. He turned his eyes for a while round about him, to observe the place where he was, and the persons which had succoured him, and his astonishment discovered its self in his countenance, where the colour began to come again, and with that the exact perfection of beauty in a person of his sex. At the first he was troubled to discern things, and what to judge of his adventure; but when the vapours that clouded his understanding were a little dissipated, he recalled to memory what had passed, he remembered his shipwreck, and began to guests at part of the truth. When he had a little reflected upon it, he sat up with a little pain, and looking upon us with eyes which expressed the remains of his astonishment; I know not, said he, whether it be by Heaven's assistance, or by yours that I have recovered my life, but I think it is not very long since I was exposed to the mercy of the waves, and I am ignorant in what place I am, by what means I came hither, and to whom I am beholding for my safety. You owe it, replied Eurilas, to the assistance of the Gods, and next to them, to persons whose fortune is little different from yours, and who by a Shipwreck like you, have been driven upon this little I stand, with very little hope or means to get out of it, without the extraordinary helping-hand of Heaven. The fair unknown whose memory and understanding recovered more and more, and whose eyes resumed a vivacity and sparkling light, which gave an unusual Luster and Majesty to his countenance, looked upon the preservers of his life with more affection than before, and having cast his eyes upon my face, he found something there which gave him a particular respect for me.  
I was not clad then in man's apparel, with which I disguised myself to get out of Byzantium with the more facility; but after we came within sight of Cilicia, out of the repugnance I had to this disguise so little sorting with modesty as I thought, I had together with my women resumed the habit of my sex, to enter in a more decent manner into the Country where I went to seek for refuge. The vuknown had no sooner taken notice of me amongst the other persons that stood about me, of whom, by the respect they gave me, he judged me to be Mistress, but all his acknowledgement turned towards me, and striving with his feebleness to crawl to my feet: Madam, (said he, in the Roman tongue, which was the same wherein Eurilas had spoken to him, and which we all understood as well as our own language,) 'tis to you, I think, that I ought to render thanks confo mable to the benefit I have received of your goodness: Though I were not obliged to it by the preservation of this life for which I am indebted to you, I would render you that by way of adoration, which acknowledgement order me to, and from persons less capable of knowledge your face will always receive those homages which are due to divinities: I know not what I can offer you for the succour I have received of you and yours, and this life which I owe to your assistances is now of too mean a value to satisfy my resentments: but if, such as it is, I durst offer it at your feel, I would protest to you with the highest truth, that the preservation of it shall not be so dear to me, as the occasions of parting with it for your interests.  
The fair unknown spoke in this manner, but it was with so uncommon a grace, that in the most happy condition of my life I could not have harkened to him with a more entire attention: And when he had done speaking, looking upon him with a countenance that expressed more satisfaction than our present fortune could probably have left me: Neither my person, said I, nor the assistance you have received of us can merit either your acknowledgement, or adorations: the succour that hath been rendered you, as it was due to all men, so it could not be better employed than upon such a person as yourself: and that which you have observed in my countenance (if I may give absolute credit to your discourse could move no other thoughts in you, but what pity might inspite you with towards persons reduced into a condition like your own; the assistance that hath been given you will only serve to prolong for a few days that life which you thought to have lost upon the waves, if its continuance be not longer than what we hope for in relation to our own. We are upon this Rock, whither the tempest hath driven us an hour since, without any vessel, with little victuals, and without any hope of return, if Heaven doth not afford us some miraculous succour. Heaven, replied the unknown, hath not placed in your person whatsoever it had most great and admirable, to abandon you in the danger which you represent to me, and you ought without doubt to hope from thence whatsoever its providence can perform for those things that are most worthy of its protection: however it be, if I can be moved with the news that you tell me, 'tis only in consideration of your danger, which hath expunged all memory of my own out of my mind, and I should not be ill satisfied with my fortune, if I could sacrifice this life which I hold of you to the preservation of yours.  
He had spoken more to this purpose, if the interest which I already took in him had not made me consider that he was weak and weary, and in a very bad condition in respect of his health; he had hardly recovered strength enough to stand up, and we were fain to make him lean upon two men, to conduct him with us to a less incommodious place, where some of our men had already cut down good store of branches; and began to make little lodgings for to shelter us. To be short in my discourse, they made divers of them, and one I caused to be given to the unknown, with two of our men to attend upon him, I took one of the most spacious they could make for myself and my women, and the men disposed of themselves in the rest. They had saved some clothes which served us whilst our own were dried, and they easily got fire out of the flints that lay in great number upon the shore. Eurilas took the care of husbanding our provisions to make them last as long as he could, seeing all the remainder of our hopes relied upon them, and we could hope for no more but by the miraculous arrival of some vessel: we made ourselves beds with leaves, only upon mine they laid some part of the clothes that were left, that I might lodge with the less inconvenience.  
The first night passed in this manner, part of which I spent in sleep, and the rest upon the consideration of the misery to which I was reduced: ay I would add, if I durst, that my thoughts divers times inclined to the remembrance of the fair unknown, and that in spite of my misfortune, I could not banish out of my mind, the Idea that was established there, of his Majestical and stately mine, and the admirable grace he had in his action and discourse. The reflection I made upon it, did not presently produce any powerful effect upon me, it only raised some motions in my mind which I was not used to feel: and I took some pleasure in calling to mind the extraordinary things I had observed in that unknown person.  
The next morning, the first thing that came into my thoughts was to inquire how he did; and I had no sooner done it, but I repented myself of my precipitation, and a blush that mounted up into my cheeks, reproached me for having too much care of a man, who already encroached upon my liberty: Ah! Olympia, said I upon this consideration, what a fool art thou to cast thy thoughts upon a stranger, whom thou never sawest till within these few moments? Thou which wouldst possibly have seen the greatest Princes of Asia whole years in thy service without being moved at it, how little reason hast thou to make any reflection upon a man, at a time when all men ought to be banished from thy remembrance, and at a time when thou oughtest to dream upon nothing but thy death, which thou seest present before thy eyes, and which thou canst not defer above a few days? What doth it concern thee to hear news of this stranger's health, in a condition wherein the care of thine own would be unprofitable, and the saving of thine own life is enough to take up all thy thoughts? And why dost thou inform thyself of it, when thou shouldest only inform thyself of some means to get out of this desert Island? Dye Olympia, since thou must die, in the free condition wherein thou hast hitherto kept thyself, and do not permit that purity, to which thou hast sacrificed thy life, to be blemished with the least stain: Thy thoughts hitherto are innocent, compassion and an extraordinary merit might produce them without any culpable effect; but the time, if there remains any longer time to live, may render them less excusable, and 'tis by these beginnings that people engage themselves in that passion which I never felt, nor ever had any experience of.  
By this discourse I would have fortified my heart against the weakness whereof I suspected it, and I took a kind of resolution to impute all to compassion, without any other interest, and not look upon this unknown otherwise than I did upon all other men. I had almost form this design, when I was told, that by his rest the last night he was perfectly recovered, and was at the entrance of my lodging, where he waited till I was in a condition to receive his visit. As I had not unclothed myself, so I was not troubled to make myself ready, but only raising myself from the leaves, where I had passed the night with inconvenience enough, I gave order for him to come in: I did verily believe that I could not see him without some small disturbance, but, I must confess, I was much more moved than I feared, and he entered into my lodging in such a manner as without doubt would have surprised a mind better fortified than mine. Whatsoever the Sea, and the toil he had endured the day before, had done to diminish his natural beauty, was dissipated by the repose he had taken, the clearness of his complexion, the sparkling of his eyes, and the Majesty of his port and action were returned with all their ordinary advantages; 'tis certain that there was not one of those persons who saw him in that condition, but looked upon him with admiration, and took him for a man far different from the ordinary sort. He was of a taller size than ordinary, but so strait, so clean, and so well-proportioned, his gate so noble, and the air of his countenance composed of so natural and so excellent a grace, that 'twas impossible to see any thing more complete in every part. The good opinion I had of him, and the advantageous judgements I made of his exquisite parts, obliged me to receive him with all the civility I could have rendered to a great Prince, and he accosted me with all the marks of the most profound submission. Yet I observed, or at least I thought I did so, that before he opened his mouth to speak to me, he continued some moments in a maze, and looked upon me with marks of some astonishment and confusion: He had some trouble, as I thought, to recompose himself upon a sudden, but having done it at last, with a boldness that is very natural to him: Madam, said he, I come to beg your pardon for the faults I committed yesterday in a condition when I was not capable of rendering what I owed to your person, and the benefit of life which I have received from your bounty. If the Gods would please that I might employ the remains of it in your service, the preservation of it would be much more dear to me than it is out of the natural desire we have of it, and I should be farther engaged to yourself, if you would admit me to the opportunities of testifying my acknowledgements to you, than I can be to those generous assistances to which I owe my safety.  
He uttered these words in such a noble and such a charming fashion, that I continued a while in an incapacity of giving him an answer, and 'twas not without trouble that I began at last to speak: I am very much satisfied, said I, to see you in a condition so different from that wherein you appeared to me yesterday; and that secure upon which you set too high an esteem, produces in you an acknowledgement which exceeds the benefit: I could wish it had been rendered to you to greater purpose, and that you had received that from us for many years, which neither you nor we are like to enjoy but for a few days. Those few days, replied the unknown with a sigh, and an action wherein there appeared something of an interessed person, will be very different to me from those I have passed hitherto, and I do not believe that the Gods, by your assistance, would have saved me from a common or single death, to make me perish by a death which will give me great cause to accuse them of cruelty. I would not suddenly penetrate into the sense of these words, though the action of him that uttered them, and mine own inclination made me partly suspect what they meant; I answered him likewise in such terms as might make him judge that I did not understand them. We entered into a conversation full of civility, the handsomeness of his person, and the marks of as high birth, which appeared in his countenance, having wrought in me as much consideration as I could have had for a great Prince.  
The day being clear and fair, and very much different from those which had preceded it, we went out of our lodging, and walked up and down the little Island, which in some places we should have found agreeable enough, if we could have looked upon it otherwise than upon the place of our Sepulture. Eurilus caused some to stand Sentinels upon the top of the Rock, to discover some favourable Vessel sent by Heaven for our succour, and our little company did incessantly make vows to Heaven to obtain assistances from thence, of which they had little hope.  
This day being passed, the succeeding night filled mind with importunate thoughts, & the Idea of the fair unknown presented itself, and fixed itself there, more pertinatiously than I would have desired: his gallant mind, and the sweetness of his countenance intermingled with Majesty, his noble deportment, and the admirable grace which attended his discourse and action came again into my memory in a very advantageous form, and made good their possession maugre the endeavour to expel them thence: Leave me, said I, leave me troublesome Idea which presentest thyself to my imagination so inconveniently and unseasonably, it must be in some other Spirit than mine that thou mayst find part of that complacency which thou seekest for, but in Olympia's thou shalt never produce any effect, if the Gods do not forsake her. If this unknown be handsome, if he be amiable, if he be admirable in all parts, what doth it concern the unfortunate Olympia? And what interest can she take in a man, with whom her acquaintance is but of a days standing, whom she cannot know but for a few days more, and whom she would not know at all, if that knowledge must disturb her repose? Let him serve himself against some other heart than mine with all the advantages that he hath received from Heaven and Nature, and let him work admiration and love every where else; but let him leave a mind in peace, to which neither nature hath given, nor her fortune left any dispositions to receive the thoughts which he would introduce there. By this reasoning with myself I put off for some moments this persecuting remembrance, and embraced, as I thought very strongly, a resolution never to think upon him more: But a little after, maugre my resolution, this importunate Image came again into my memory, and made me fix my thoughts in spite of my teeth, upon the consideration of those marvails which I had found in the person of the unknown: This agitation of my Spirit permitted no access to sleep, and seeing the greatest part of the night was passed, and I had not been able to close my eyes, I began to be really angry both with these thoughts, till then unknown to my spirit, and with him that caused them. What, said I, shall this unknown usurp that already with authority, which possibly he would not have sufficiently purchased all his life time? Have I scarcely seen him, and must he oppose my sleep, & encroach upon my repose and liberty? In a condition of life when I ought to think upon nothing but death, shall he alone be capable to withhold my thoughts, and shall he possess them so, that I should lose my sleep, my repose and liberty? Ah! my liberty, Ah! my repose, ye are but weakly grounded in my soul, if the first sight of a man can so easily overthrow you and if ye abandon me for having seen a man a few moments, in whom possibly all appearances are deceitful, a man that possibly hath nothing amiable but that outside which blinded me at first sight, a man, it may be of no birth or virtue, a man which loves me not, nor possibly ever will whilst he lives. Wilt thou Olympia, hazard they affections upon such doubtful terms? & are they of so little value that thou oughtest not to settle them in a place conformable to thy birth & the profession which hitherto thou hast made of a large share of virtue? It would have been much better for thee, if thou hadst been buried under those waves which have spared thee, or if they had swallowed up this enemy which they have driven upon this shore to ruin thee: and if thou findest thyself so weak as to suffer thyself to be taken with the seducing charm, which appears in his face, thou must hate him as a Monster ready to devour thee, or at least thou must avoid him as an enemy ready armed for thy destruction.  
With these words I really gave way to some resentments, and some motions of choler against him, and making a very violent effort upon these importunate thoughts, I diverted them in such a manner, that a little after I fell fast asleep: But in my sleep I was more strongly assaulted, and I was hardly asleep but the cruel enemy of my repose presented himself before me with something more great and more extraordinary than all I had observed till then, and looking upon me with a countenance, which as full of passion as it seemed to be, did yet express a great confidence in his fortune: Olympia, said he, in vain dost thou arm thyself against me, let the destinies take their course, 'tis to no purpose to oppose them, 'tis the will of Heaven that you should love me, 'tis for me only that thou hast been brought upon this shore, I am not unworthy of thy affections, and how soever thou wouldst dispose of them, I tell thee from the Gods that 'tis for me that they are absolutely reserved. It seemed to me that as he finished these words, and was going from me, he laid his hand upon his heart to show me the wound I had made there. I awaked a little after, so troubled with my dream, that I could not recompose myself, I knew not whether I ought to take it as a real advice from Heaven, which amongst the vapours of sleep doth frequently acquaint us with future things, or for an effect of those thoughts which had so strongly agitated me when I was awake: Howsoever it was, I could not hinder myself from being moved at it in such a manner, that I had hardly any knowledge or use of reason; & the Idea of that which was presented to me during my sleep was so strongly imprinted in my imagination, that I could not disengage my memory for a moment.  
After I had meditated a good while upon this, not being able to quit myself of this pertinacious Image: Ah! Gods, said I within myself with a sigh, can it be possible that my destiny should be such as ye tell me by the mouth of this enemy of mine? and that ye have brought me out of my native Country, and caused me to suffer shipwreck upon this Rock, to see there the cruel effect of his threatenings. If it be your intention, great Gods! I know it would be but in vain for me to resist it, but till I am more fully informed by some other way, than by a mouth which I very much suspect, I will defend myself with all my power against the assaults of this presumptuous person, who hath already so much confidence either in his merit or in his fortune. This was then my intention, and I really summoned to my assistance all the resentment and choler I could form against this audacious person which had so highly threatened me. For all this it was impossible for me to sleep one moment longer, but I felt myself so tired with watching, and the persecution I had suffered from my importunate thoughts, that I desired to bestow part of the day in reposing my mind and body, and it was almost Noon before I thought of quitting my sorry lodging.  
Ericia coming to me about that time asked me if I would not rise, and told me that the unknown was at the entrance of my Cabin, and enquired how I did, and if he might be permitted to give me Good Morrow. My blood was moved at Ericia's discourse, and rallying up all the resentment wherewith I had fortified myself: I cannot see him to day, said I, to Ericia, tell him I am indisposed, and do you keep him company if you will, for he cannot possibly expect mine. These words escaped me before Ericia, and I should have been very sorry, if it had been before any body else, but this Maid, whom I have always trusted with my most secret thoughts. She was troubled at this discourse, and at the action with which I pronounced it, and fearing I had received some displeasure from the Unknown: Madam, said she, have you any occasion to complain of this man, who is beholding to you for his life, and expresses such great resentments of that obligation? No said I, but I cannot see him, go and entertain him if thou wilt, and leave me a little to my repose. Ericia did as I gave order, and a little after my Governess coming to me, I told her that I was troubled with a pain in my head, occasioned by my want of rest that night, and that I would try if I could take the other nap.  
It would be a hard matter for me, fair Princesses, to represent to you what the agitation of my Spirit was at that time, I know very well that of all the passions which strove for place there, choler took up the most room, and I was so ill satisfied with myself, for the weakness I observed in myself, that I thought myself unworthy of my own esteem and amity. What, said I sighing, What Olympia, in one day, and with a stranger too? With a stranger, repeated I, and in one day, Olympia? These thoughts turmoiled me in such a manner all that day, that my mind enjoyed not one moment of repose.  
In the mean time Ericia, as I had commanded her, went to entertain the fair unknown, and she had no sooner acquainted him (as she told me afterwards) that I would not see him that day; but she observed great signs of sadness in his countenance. After he had kept his eyes fixed upon the ground a while, looking this Maid in▪ the face with an afflicted air. Could it be possible said he, that I should be importunately troublesome to your Lady, or that I should be so unfortunate as to displease her by any of my actions? No certainly, replied Ericia, considering the manner of the conversation you have had with her, it would be hard if she should have received any trouble or displeasure from you: but she is a little indisposed, and 'tis no wonder, considering what she suffered at Sea, and endures still by her bad lodging, her sorry bedding, and the inconvenience of all manner of things, which without doubt might alter a complexion much less delicate than hers. If the unknown was troubled out of fear of having displeased me, he was no less afflicted with the opinion he conceived of my indisposition, and looking upon Ericia with an action that signified to her that he took a great deal of interest in me already: I would willingly render back, said he, this life of mine to the waves, from whence you have rescued it, if any one of my actions hath been disagreeable to that Princess, to whom I owe all, both in respect of the infinite merit of her person, and the preservation of my life. But though that misfortune should not betid me, I cannot but be very unhappy in the knowledge you give me of her indisposition, and I cannot but be nearly sensible of all the ills to which a person so extraordinary, and to whom I am so much obliged, can be exposed. Her malady is not very great, replied Ericia, she is only troubled with a pain in her head proceeding from want of rest last night. If watching answered the unknown, and the loss of rest must produce this effect upon a complexion somewhat stronger than hers, there are some possibly that would be more indisposed than the Princess is, and without doubt they would have given something more precious than their health for the return and preservation of hers.  
He had divers other discourses with her, by which he discovered some disorder and alteration in his soul, till dinner time, and then he dined with her, and Eurilas, and my Governesle, I keeping close, though with a great deal of pain, to the resolution I had taken not to see him that day.  
The succeeding night was as restless to me as that which went before, and the next day endeavouring to make my Spirit yield to the constraint, which I had laid upon it the day before, and to hinder myself from seeing the cruel enemy of my repose, that in so small a time had made such strange depredations in my soul, 'twas impossible for me to dispose myself to it, and to deny Ericia the permission to see me, which she desired on his behalf. I saw him, not without trouble and emotion, I saw him as he appeared to me in my dream, which came incessantly into my remembrance, and I saw him in a condition capable to overthrow all the resentments that I had mustered up against him in my Spirit. He spoke to me, as I thought, with a great deal less assurance than before, and I believed that every time I spoke to him, I discovered some part of my own disorder.  
I will not amuse you with the particularities of all our discourse, which proceeded no farther yet, than to things indifferent, or at least very distant from those thoughts which took up the greatest room in our Spirits; we talked concerning the incommodities and miseries of our shipwreck, what hopes we had of our safety from Heaven, and what resolution we ought to take to die courageously, if we received no succour, before the little provision we had was spent: and when we were upon this subject, I plainly perceived that the fair unknown expressed more resentment for the danger which threatened me, than for his own. The more he proceeded in his discourse, the more he spoke to me with an unassured countenance, his words were always accompanied with sighs, and his looks, which were sometimes fixed upon my face, lost all their confidence, when I looked upon him. Though I had no design to engage myself to this unknown person, who probably was not of a birth proportionable to mine, and with whom, in the evident danger we were, I could not contract any friendship without the imputation of folly, yet I confess, my heart having made him way, it was with some joy that I observed this alteration in his spirit, and having been afraid till then, that, besides the disproportion of his birth, he had but little disposition to love me, I could not begin to dissipate that fear without some satisfaction. I had a great desire to be informed by him of his name, his Country, and extraction, but then I met with great difficulties, and I no sooner opened my mouth to ask him about the business; but it was stopped with the fear I had to understand something that might displease me; He was not forward of himself to declare himself, and I durst not venture to desire any fuller intelligence of him, for fear of finding something in his extraction that might make me condemn the thoughts I had for him. This fear really hindered me from expressing my curiosity, and always when this desire urged me, this fear expelled it so, that I had not the confidence so much as to inquire of Ericia, to whom he might have discovered himself more familiarly, than to me.  
Divers days passed in this manner, I not daring to inform myself any farther, and in the interim I found so many amiable parts in this unknown, or rather so many parts capable of surprising the hearts and souls of persons less apt to receive the impressions of Love, that neither the difference that I believed to be between our conditions, nor the uncertainty of being beloved by him, nor the apprehension of an approaching death, wherewith we were so evidently threatened, could hinder me, fair Princesses, (I speak it with some confusion) could hinder me, I say, from loving him. It must needs be that this affection was decreed from above, seeing it received its original by such extraordinary ways, and in a condition when, according to all probability, our Spirits should have been incapable of its impressions: but in conclusion, whether it were out of Sympathy which ordinarily produces such effects, or by destiny which acted conformably to my dream in this adventure, I began to love this unknown to the prejudice of mine own interests, and all the resistance I could make, was not strong enough to defend the entrance of my heart.  
I fear, Ladies, that you have not indulgence enough to pardon this weakness in me, and that you have reason to find it a thing very much to be condemned in a King's daughter, to have so hastily engaged her inclinations to a man of whom she had no knowledge, but the good opinion she had conceived of his person; one that she had never seen but a few days before, and to whom she was not beholding for any service, or obligation: and truly I will not excuse it, either by the extraordinary merit of the unknown, or by any of those reasons which are wont to be alleged in a justification of this nature, but I will impute it only to the force of my destiny, which, as you will judge by the sequel of my discourse, acted extraordinarily in this engagement of my soul. 'Tis true I began to love this fair unknown, whatsoever endeavours I used to the contrary, but I conserved command enough over this growing affection, to frame a very strong resolution, never to make the least discovery of it, till I knew that his condition was such, that without any blame I might hope one day to receive him for my husband (if the Gods were pleased to prolong our days by those succours which were necessary for us to get out of this little desert Island, where in all likelihood we could hope for nothing but death) and if it were my misfortune not to find him such as I might desire, to suffer death rather than ever to declare to him my affection, in which without eclipsing my honour, and incurring reproach, I could not rationally expect any good success. This was my resolution, and I found myself capable of putting it in execution, a great deal more than I was to resist this passion, which had assailed me with so much impetuosity, and from this moment I began to curb my looks, and to lay a restraint upon all things that might give the unknown any intelligence of the advantage he had gotten upon my Spirit: I entertained him as seldom as in civility I could, and he observing that I retracted somewhat of that which I permitted him at first, became a great deal sadder than ordinary, and favoured my design himself, more than I would have wished, in seeking solitude in the most retired places of our little Island. I confess for all that I was troubled at it, and though I did all that I could possibly to avoid him, yet my desire was that my distance only might separate us one from another, without his contributing any thing on his part, and I was well pleased that he should look after me, though I was sometimes troubled to meet him. Yet the complacency I had with my affection made me suspect that it was not out of aversion that he kept from me, and that I had possibly wrought something upon his Spirit which rendered him more circumspect in avoiding the occasions of displeasing me, but the uncertainty I was in very much troubled me, and the condition of my Spirit being strangely changed, I was as much afraid then, that I was not beloved by him, as I was at first that I loved him better than I should do.  
Whilst we were upon these terms, when any other Spirits than ours, would have found another subject for their thoughts than that which took up ours, we saw no Vessel appear to succour us, and our provisions decreased in such a manner, that we had no more left than for eight days: 'Tis true our men had found an invention to catch fish, and there was in that little Island a spring of fresh water, and by that means we hoped to spin out our days a little longer, when all our other victuals failed us; but this was but a very sorry shift, and there was little probability that a tender complexion should long subsist upon no nourishment but only fish and water, besides the incommodities of lodging and bedding, might in time ruin a more robustious constitution than mine. All our people were in a very desolate condition, and though they expected some return of the prayers which they continually made to Heaven, all hope had almost deserted them. I was the least troubled at the apprehensions of death, and the unknown made it sufficiently appear to me, that if he was moved at it, 'twas not upon the only consideration of his own life. I should be very unfortunate, said he to me one day, if I have only prolonged my life to see the end of yours; and the succour I received from your goodness would be very cruel to me, if I must purchase these few days which it hath added to mine by the greatest of all displeasures under which a courage can suffer. Ah! If my destiny be so, I may well accuse Heaven to my last gasp, for not permitting me to lose my life amongst the waves where all my company have found their sepulture. If that must happen, answered I, we must conform ourselves to the will of the Gods, who with sovereign authority dispose of our days, and your murmuring will not make them change their decrees. No, added the Unknown, but it will convince them of cruelty and injustice, and where there is so just a cause of complaint, it is no easy thing to keep within the bounds of an absolute moderation. Virtue, replied I, aught to produce this effect in us, and from that only we may receive ability to support the utmost rigour of our destiny. Ah! Virtue, cried he with a sigh, if thou oughtest to succour me, why is thy assistance so slow, and why hast thou not defended me in a far greater necessity than this danger is to which our lives are now exposed. Ah! Madam, continued he, looking upon me with an ill-assured countenance, how much inequality will there be, if the God, have so decreed it, in the end of our days, and how great ought the difference to be between our grief in respect of the losses we must have. In uttering these words he let fall some tears, and I was so moved at them, that I had almost let him understand by some marks of weakness, that in the death which we expected, or in the thought which then took up our spirits, there was no such great difference as he imagined.  
We passed divers days in this manner, without his giving me any more particular knowledge of his cruel inquietudes, which I could not impute only to the fear of death, and he went alone to spend the greatest of the day in the most private and unfrequented parts of the little Island, that he might not be interrupted in his musing and melancholy humour; and at those hours when he was obliged in civility to visit me, he accosted me, and spoke to me with a countenance so troubled, and so different from that, which he had showed me some days before, that it was easy to judge by exterior appearances, that he had inwardly received some powerful alteration. According to his example I sought occasions of solitude, and oftentimes quitting the company of my Governess and Eurilas, I went abroad to walk with Ericia only, in those places where we might be least disturbed in our conversation. This Maid had related to me all the discourse she had heard from the mouth of the unknown, in which one might easily observe some particular interest; and having an absolute confidence in her, I had discovered to her, though with a little shame, all my most secret thoughts, and the inclination I had for the unknown. Ericia was not troubled at this declaration, and whether it were that her complaceney to me hindered her from condemning me, or whether she was favourable to the man, because she suspected his thoughts to be of the same nature with mine, she did not strive to suppress this inclination in the birth, but oftentimes told me, that if any man was capable of producing a sudden affection, without doubt it was the unknown, and that if it pleased the Gods that he were of a birth never so little near to mine, one could not see a couple in the world better matched. This indulgence which Ericia had for my thoughts, made me love him the more, and I declared my mind to her with the greater liberty. We often made conjectures together, upon the actions and discourses of this man, to judge if I was beloved by him, and though we had great suspicions of it, we were still in uncertainty, when fortune sent us an occasion to clear our doubts.  
I went one day out of my lodging, only with this Maid, to entertain myself with her concerning that which at that time wholly employed my thoughts, and leaning upon her arm, I walked to the least frequented parts of the little Island, when approaching to one of the extremities of it, where there was a little thick tuft of trees, and some points of a Rock above the Shore, Ericia made me take notice of divers inscriptions engraved upon the bark of the trees with a bodkin, or the point of a knife, the letters which composed the inscriptions were Greek, and the little knowledge we had of that Character hindered us from discerning them handsomely; but amongst the inscriptions there were wounded Hearts, True-lovers-knots, and other pretty representations much used amongst amorous persons. We were amazed at first at this accident; and in regard the Letters were but newly cut, we knew very well they could not have been there long, and that consequently they were made by some person then in the Island. Amongst my retinue I judged that none but Eurilas was capable of these things, and yet both his age, and his humour too, in the condition we then were, were so little conformable to this gallantry, that I could not accuse him of it, and I was immediately of Ericia's judgement, that it must needs come from the fair Unknown, Never believe me; said Ericia, if these be not the effects of that which I have so much suspected, and if this man, who is as passionate in my imagination as any man can be doth not communicate to trees and things insensible that which his respect and the fear of displeasing you hinders him from discovering to you. I was almost of her opinion, but I answered only with a sigh, which I could not possibly contain, and leaning my head upon hers, I looked upon the inscriptions in several places with some tenderness and interest: But a little after, Ericia being gone a few paces from me, found some words upon the Rock written in Latin, which she understood, And after she had read them, returning to me with extraordinary speed: I pray, Madam, said she, be pleased to take the pains to come and see some things that will fully confirm you in the judgement we have made. And with these words, pulling me by the arm, she lead me to the foot of the Rock, which stood over the shore, where amongst divers characters like to those which were upon the trees, I saw these words engraved in the same manner in the Roman language: Here long vishes, here declares its passion to things incapable of knowledge, an heart inflamed with love, an heart upon which respect lays a cruel violence: Ye insensible witnesses and confidents to whom I communicate my dear secret, be ye as discrect as he that trusted you. And a little lower were written these words in the same language and character: Why have the Gods preserved me from the water, to make me perish in the fire? why have they hindered me from dying free, to make die a Slave, and in what could this change of my destiny advantage their glory? In another place a little further off were engraved these words. I do not complain of thee, my heart, I do not complain of thee my liberty, your destiny could not be more honourable, than to be sacrificed to the divine O. There was no more than this first Letter of my name; but I was almost confident that by this beginning he meant Olympia, and with a new emotion which this sight caused in me, I continued to read that which followed in this manner: But my heart! but my liberty, to what end do ye hazard yourselves, do ye believe that in bestowing yourselves upon this divinity, ye have made her a present worthy of herself, and do ye know that eternal sufferings are all the reward ye can hope for thence? Suffer then, my heart, these glorious pains, and never complain of them, since you have submitted to them without resistance, and Heaven itself contributes thereto. I finished the reading of these words with pain, and not being ignorant, as I thought, either of the cause or the author, I could not read them without taking an interest in them, which caused an extraordinary emotion in me. I sat down upon the body of a rree that lay close by me, and leaning my head upon both my hands, I began to meditate upon this adventure, when Ericia coming to me: Well Madam, said she, do you not think that I am right in my conjectures? I believe, said I, that the Unknown may have written these words, and I will tell thee more, if thou wilt, that I will not assure thee that he did not write them for me; but though it were true that he loved me ardently, if he be not of an extraction worthy to be allied with mine, what can I expect from his love but a torment to my soul, and an eternal displeasure? and though by on extraordinary favour of Heaven, his birth should prove such as I could desire it, what can I expect in our present condition, whilst we look for death, which threatens us both within a few days?  
I spoke these words simply, not believing that they were overheard, but I was deceived; for the Unknown of whom we spoke, lay about four paces from us, within a point of the Rock, from whence he had seen all our actions, and heard all our discourse. At these last words which he had heard, supposing he had found the fairest occasion that ever he could hope for in his life to present and declare himself to me, he rose, and discovered himself to me in such an unexpected manner, that I cannot yet call to mind that adventure without some astonishment. The place where I saw him was so near to me, that I could not but believe immediately that he had heard my discourse, and I was so full of shame and confusion at it, that my countenance changed colour a hundred times in a moment, and not finding confidence enough in myself to look in the man's face, who had learned so much of my secret, contrary to my intention, I could do nothing else but turn my head the other way, and lean it upon Ericia's shoulder.  
In the mean time he drew near me with an unsteady pace, and as I understood by Ericia afterwards, with a diffident countenance; he cast himself presently at my knees, he fixed his eyes upon the ground, which he durst not raise up to my face, and beginning to speak with such a tone of voice, as, in spite of his natural boldness discovered the fear and trouble of his Spirit: Madam, said he, I would not present myself to you in the criminal condition, wherein I now appear, if in my conscience I did not know myself to be very innocent in relation to you: I have thoughts of adoration for you which I cannot deny, but they are so conformable to those which we have for the Gods, that if you were devested of all that is humane, you could not possibly find in them any real subject of offence. If silence was necessary to observe religiously the respect which is due to you, Heaven is my witness, that I have not violated it, but have been betrayed, contrary to my intention, by those insensible things in which I imprudentlie confided; If my rashness displease you, howsoever I would excuse it, I will inflict that punishment upon it which it deserves, by throwing again amongst the waves that which you saved from thence, and depriving this unfortunate man of your sight for ever, whose audacious thoughts have been capable of meriting your anger: but if they may find any justification in those things which possibly render them a little less disproportionable than they have appeared to you, I will take the liberty to tell you, Madam, that if by my person and my services I can merit any approbation from your goodness, you will not possibly find any thing in my birth which may make you condemn it, and that I am born of a blood sufficiently noble to entitle my thoughts to any thing that a man can aspire to. The unknown expressed himself thus, with a grace and action which notwithstanding his prostrate humility, did marvailously authorise his discourse; and in his last words I found something so agreeable to me, and so satisfactory against the doubt which I had of his birth, that the trouble which had seized me was partly dessipated, and the resentments I had against his rashness began insensibly to grow calm.  
By little and little I turned my eyes towards his face, and in this submissive humble condition, I found it so handsome, and so capable of making itself beloved and of disarming my anger, that when I thought to open my mouth to condemn his temerity with words of rigour, my heart could never consent to it, but stifled in my mouth the discourse I intended. I turned away my eyes once more from his face, to recall a resolution which this sight did too strongly oppose, and I began to examine myself, and study what discourse to make to reconcile my duty with my inclination, or to comply with my inclination without offending against my duty. I know not whether my silence and confused action did embolden him, but after he had waited a while for my answer, seeing that I opened not my mouth to reply: I see very well, said he, that my rashness is condemned, and 'tis reasonable that I should expiate the offence I have done you with that life which I owe to your goodness, I will willingly sacrifice it on that score, and all the regret I can have in so doing, will be, that in parting only with my life, I shall part with nothing that is mine for the reparation of my crime. Command me, Madam, to restore back again to the Sea, that which by a secret order of Heaven, it threw at your feet, or command me to take out of the world this object of your resentment by any other way that is capable of giving you satisfaction: and if you find me slow in obeying you, judge, as you may have reason to do, that I have undertaken to serve you with a courage too low for so high an enterprise, or if Heaven, which hath subjected me to you by so uncommon a way, stirs up your pity in my favour, and disposes you to suffer my adorations, as it suffers them its self, do not oppose those pitiful inspirations, and look with a gentle eye upon the most religious and submissive slave that ever your divine beauties could make conquest of. Whilst he was pronouncing these last words, I had a little recomposed myself, but not so much neither but that there remained enough disorder and confusion in my soul to hinder me from forming any rational discourse. I turned myself a little towards him, and seeing him in that submissive posture, which he had used all the time: And who art thou, said I, that comest to assault my heart with such arms as oblige me to look upon thee as my enemy, and one who in a place, and a condition where, and when we expect nothing but death, endeavourest to trouble the tranquillity of my last days? What is thy thought, what are thy hopes, what is it thou offerest me, and what is it thou desirest of me? I offer you, replied the unknown, I offer you a heart that was never offered to any but yourself, and I sacrifice unto you the most innocent thoughts that ever any mind conceived; I only desire you to allow of this respectful passion which fixes me at your feet for that short time of my life which yet remains, the fear of approaching death which you set before my eyes, hath not been able to oppose its birth, and if it please the Gods that our days receive their period in this place where we seem to be deserted by their assistance, the glory of these last days, when you have owned them, will be more dear to me, than all the time of my life I have passed hitherto in a more composed condition; if I trouble the repose of your days, and make an attempt upon your heart with arms too weak to make any impression there, impute it to your own powers which are too strong to find any resistance in a soul that is susceptible of love, and to the destinies which have acted after an extraordinary manner in this engagement of my liberty.  
Whilst he was speaking in this manner, by little and little I enured myself to look upon him, and hearken to him, and to a mind prepossessed as mine was, all things appeared in him so agreeable and so advantageous that I could no longer retain the motions of my inclination which urged me to let him know that I did not hate him. In conclusion I could not be so much Mistress over them, but that I blushed and expressed myself to him in such terms as quickly discovered my thoughts to him. I see nothing in your person, said I, but what appears to be worthy of esteem, and your thoughts do not seem so criminal to me, but that with a little indulgence they might be excused if they were accompanied with that which ought to authorise them: but two obstacles are in the way, which should have stifled such thoughts, the danger in which we are, when probably such a passion as you represent to me could not but have an unseasonable birth, and my extraction which ought to have extinguished all your hopes, if you be not of a blood proportionable to your designs. I pronounced these words with so much shame, that it hindered me from proceeding, but the face of the unknown was filled in a moment with all the marks of joy, and beginning to speak with an action full of transport: As for the fear of death, said he, Madam I confess it hath not been powerful enough to blot out of my heart the fair image you have imprinted there: and as for the consideration of your birth, that hath not extinguished my hopes, because I believed (if I may say so with respect) that the blood from whence I am descended is not inferior to yours: I will no longer conceal from you who I am, and if you had given me order, I had discovered to you sooner a truth, which possibly would have made you find less crime in my andacious thoughts. I am—  
Olympia would have proceeded, when Ericia who stood at the entrance of the Arbour, to hinder her from being surprised in her discourse, gave notice that Cornelius was coming, and immediately after, the Princesses saw him approach, attended upon by divers of his followers. Olympia presently removed from the place where she was seated, that she might not be taken for any other than a slave; both Elisa and Candace received a very sensible displeasure to see her narration interrupted when their curiosity expected most satisfaction; and they would have been more troubled at it if they had not hoped to prevail with her to resume her discourse when they should be freed from Cornelius his company, & in the mean time; with some marks of discontent they rose up to receive him. After he had given them the time of the day, and by some expressions of civility, wherein his looks spoke particularly to Candace, he had signified to them that the care he had of their repose and divertisement, had held them that morning in some inquietude, he obliged them to return to their apartments, to take their repast, the hour being already come. The Princesses could not contradict him, and taking leave with their eyes of Olympia, who with Ericia turned another way, they not daring to make any greater demonstration for fear of discovering her, they marched along with Cornelius through a a spacious Ally to the stairs by which they had descended into the Garden, and from thence into the Hall, where their Dinner was prepared.  
They were at the end of their repast, when the Praetor had intelligence, that a body of two or three hundred horse were lately entered into the City, and presently after he was told it was Agrippa, the worthy Favourite of Cesar, whom Virtue rather than Fortune had advanced to the highest dignities of the Empire, who for some affairs that obliged him to it, came to arrive at Alexandria some days before the Emperor. He was already in the Court of the Palace, when Cornelius understood that it was he, and he was much troubled that he had not been informed sooner of his arrival, that he might have gone to meet him, and render him that which was due to his merit and fortune; He hasted to him with all the speed he possibly could, but he could not be so nimble, but that he found him already upon the stairs, followed by a stately retinue of the young Roman Nobility, whom his virtue and generous humour engaged to his person, more than his favour. If Agrippa was the chief at Rome, in regard of his great credit, and the esteem both of the Emperor and people, or at least if Marcellus did dispute those advantages with him, whom his youth had not as yet permitted to manage important affairs of State, and to have great commands of Armies, wherein Agrippa had acquired so high a reputation, Cornelius was likewise one of the most considerable persons of the Empire, and if he made Agrippa the most honourable reception that he could devise, Agrippa conversed with him too, as with a man who was dear to Cesar, and placed in the fairest dignities. Gallus complained of him at the first for coming in this manner, without giving him notice of his arrival, and time to receive him, as he ought to have done, in all respects; and Agrippa, whom his fortune had never infected with pride, but in all the actions of his life expressed a marvellous modesty, found fault with his discourse, and told him that he did not desire to be treated otherwise by him, than as his familiar and ancient friend. Cornelius having conducted him to the lodging which was appointed for him against the time when they supposed he would come with the Emperor, caused him to be served a little after with as much magnificence as could be used: for the small time there was of making preparation. A little after Agrippa communicated to him part of the affairs which obliged him to come thither some days before the Emperor's arrival; and after they had passed some hours in this entertainment, Cornelius acquainted him, how that the only daughter of the King of Parthia, and inhetrix of that mighty Empire, which only vied power with that of Rome, was then in Alexandria, and in the Palace in a lodging not far from his: He did nor make so much mention to him of Candace, believing that her birth was not answerable to Elisa's, and not desiring to be over lavish in discoursing of a person in whom he already took so much interest as might make him suspicious of all things. Agrippa seemed surprised at this news, and after he had meditated a little upon it, he believed that Augustus would be highly satisfied to see the only daughter of the powerful Enemy of the Romans refuged in his Court, and disposed himself to go and give her assurance of the protection she might expect from Cesar: But if he had this thought out of consideration of her birth, it was much more strongly grounded in his mind by the discourse which Cornelius made him of her admirable beauty, which he described to him in such terms, that Agrippa being moved with an extraordinary curiosity, would no longer defer the bestowing of a visit upon the Princess. Cornelius sent her notice of it, and a little after they went together to her chamber, where they found the Queen of Ethiopia with her, whom the desire of seeing a man so famous and renowned in the world, had detained there. At the sight of those two Princesses, Agrippa and those that attended him were all astonished, and though they had seen in Cleopatra and in Julia such excellencies as could not be surpassed by any mortal beauty, yet in the delicacy of Elisa's features, and the Majesty of Candace's lineaments they found some subjects of admiration which they had not expected.  
The Princesses were very well satisfied with Agrippa's presence, and they found all things in his person conformable to his dignity and reputation; his proportion was completely handsome, his mind high and gallant, and his age about three and thirty, or four and thirty years, in which time he had made himself known to all the world, as well by the great things he did at the battle of Artium the glory whereof was almost totally due to him, as by a great number of other signal victories, whereby since the coming of Augustus to the Empire, he had amply enlarged the extent of it on every side: The report that universally went of him caused a greater attention in the Princesses, than they would have had in the condition of their fortune, for a less considerable person: and the sight of their admirable beauty immediately struck Agrippa with a respect that is not ordinarily conceived for moral persons. He addressed himself to the Princess of the Parthians, whom Gallus showed him; and with a discourse full of civility and sweetness he signified to her that the Emperor would receive with great joy the occasion of protecting so great and so fair a Princess, and offered her his own particular services to comfort her in her afflictions, and to defend her against all her enemies. Elisa answered him with that admirable grace which accompanied all her actions, and thanked him for his offers with exression full of acknowledgement.  
Notwithstanding the cloud of her mortal sadness, her beauty still preserved its Empire, and though it languished a little, yet that, in stead of diminishing its powers, seemed to add new ones to it, by that interest which affliction is able to form in generous souls. Agrippa made a very remarkable experiment of it, and that martial spirit which had spent all the years of his life in warlike employments, without ever submitting himself to the yoke of an imperious beauty, at the first sight of Elisa, felt an alteration in that repose and liberty which he had so long preserved: The sparkling eyes of that Princess threw flames insensibly into his breast, and the charms he found in her countenance and discourse, did so enchant him, that he continued a long time as it were quite dazzled and amazed at the meeting with so many miracles. Though his mind began to be prepossessed, yet that did not hinder him from observing prodigies in Candace's person, that were not inferior to Elisa's: And besides the respect he received for so extraordinary a beauty, the intelligence which Cornelius gave him, that she was born a Princess in Ethiopia, obliged him to trear her with a great deal of honour. He addressed himself to Elisa for all that in the greatest part of their conversation, both because he thought that most was due to the King of Parthia's Daughter, and because his inclination carried him to it. Cornelius was not displeased at it, and as his passion made him observe all things wherein he might be interessed, so he joyfully took notice that Agrippa was more fixed upon Elisa's than Candace's beauties. He had great reason to be afraid of a rival so redoutable, both in respect of his merit, and his power with Ces●r, and in all the Roman Empire, but the thought of those which mignt have some pretensions to Elisa, raised a more terrible storm, and more difficult to be calmed in Agrippa's infant love, than all that ever fortune could have caused till then.  
This first interview was spent in offers on Agrippa's part, and in discourses touching Elisa's affairs, wherein Agrippa began already to take too much interest, and Cornelius having desired that he would sup with the Princesses, after their repast he entered again into conversation with Elisa, and found in her discourse new occasions of being inflamed and farther engaged.  
This employment hindered the Princesses from bestowing that evening as they had resolved, upon the sequel of Olympias narration, and the part which they had begun to take in her fortune, had caused such an impatience in them to hear the rest, as made these two men's company unpleasant. Elisa was less troubled at this passage, than Candace was; for Agrippa's thoughts being as yet unknown to her, she received no other disquiet or importunity from his sight, than what her sadness made her find amongst all persons with whom she could expect no comfort. But Candace was not in the same condition, and Cornelius having a free opportunity, whilst Agrippa discoursed with Elisa, employed all that time in giving her assurances of his passion, and desiring of her some testimonies of acknowledgement. Candace received these discourses with a great deal of coldness, but yet she▪ was not willing to break out into any impatience, for fear of his power to which she saw herself subject, and believing upon the account of her former adventures, that she might retain his Spirit within the bounds of respect much better by sweetness of carriage, than by declaring to him the disesteem she had of him. Cornelius being desirous to give her all the divertisement he could, and to show Agrippa some passetime, whom he highly esteemed for many reasons, proposed a match of hunting the next day, knowing how well Agrippa loved that exercise; and they engaged the Princesses to see the Course of a Stag in the woods near Alexandria. They could very well have omitted any such diversion, but they could not refuse to comply with such persons in so small a matter, and therefore they promised, that seeing they desired it, they would bear them company.  
A little while after seeing it grew very late, Agrippa bade them good night, and Cornelius having reconducted Candace to her chamber, had some farther discourse with her concerning his vehement passion, which she received with some trouble, but so, as the present necessity of her condition obliged her to do.  
Elisa being alone in her chamber, the Princess Olympia entered presently after, and no body being with her who was not acquainted with the truth, Elisa made no difficulty to receive her and caresse her according to the knowledge she had of her condition, and Olympia willingly forgot the garb of a Slave to receive her endearments, and to return them with that equality, which the small difference between their births permitted. Elisa's caresses were not such as they would have been at another time, when she was not so much dejected by her mortal sadness, but they were not the less obliging for being the less spriteful: an Olympia knew very well that she was in a condition too full of grief to express her resentments by over-passionate demonstrations: My dear Princess, said Elisa to her, since my last disaster I have not been so sensible of any displeasure, as of that which I received when your discourse was interrupted, and I was at that time so much interessed in your fortune, that my fresh and pressing grief was allayed by that means: though it be late enough to go to rest, yet I should not let you be at quiet before I was acquainted with the remainder of your story, if the fair Princess, to whom you have declared, as well as to myself, the beginning of your life, had not the same curiosity, and ought not to be present, as well as I, at your relation. The fear I should have of displeasing her, in desiring to prevent her in the knowledge of a thing, wherein, I assure myself, that she takes the same interest that I do, or of creating you the trouble to repeat the same discourse twice, makes me suspend mycuriosity till to morrow at our return from the Hunting match, to which they have engaged us, at which time I hope you will have the goodness to finish a discourse which I as greedily hearken to as if it concerned my own self. It shall be done, answered Olympia, whensoever you desire, and as long as I live, you shall have an absolute power over a Princess, who is not so much your Slave in regard of her fortune, as of her inclination. This effect of your fortune, replied Elisa, doth not hinder me from esteeming you as my sister, and I will endeavour, by rendering for the future what is due to a Princess of your quality, to repair the faults which my error made me to commit. As for this condition of a Slave, which conceals you from the knowledge of those persons that see you, I suppose you may easily get out of it, and though you should not discover yourself to Cornelius or to Cesar, who upon the declaration of your birth would without doubt restore you to the condition wherein you ought to be, I know a person that hath credit enough with Cornelius to obtain your liberty of him, whensoever you shall please to demand it, without making you known, contrary to the intention which perhaps you have to conceal yourself for a longer time. 'Tis true, said Olympia, I am obliged to continue a while longer in this condition because of my affairs, and nothing urges me yet to desire my liberty the loss whereof I shall support with patience, as long as I shall have the happiness to be near you.  
With these words the two Princesses embraced each other with a great deal of affection and tenderness, and sitting down both upon Elisa's bed, that Princess made a brief relation to Olympia of those particulars of her life which she was ignorant of. The fair Slave had been made acquainted with what the Princess had related to Cornelius, but she learned a great deal more from Elisa's mouth, who confessed to her the love she bore to the great and unfortunate Artaban, which she had not discovered to Corneli●s, nor to any person in whom she could not repose an absolute confidence. Olympia admired at the grand adventures which till then were not come to her knowledge, and her grief was augmented when she understood the just occasion which Elisa had to afflict herself for the loss of so great a man, and one whom she had so dearly loved. Part of the night being spent in their converse together, Elisa desired Olympia to lodge with her, instead of returning to a bed and a chamber unworthy of her, and pressed her to it very earnestly, but the Princess of Th'ace would by no means consent to it, telling her that that would be enough to discover her without any necessity, and that being used to the place which was assigned to her, her lodging was not inconvenient. Elisa not being able to prevail upon her resolution for that night, permitted her to depart the chamber, and going to bed, she presently after composed herself to sleep, as well as her cruel grief could possibly suffer her.  
But Agrippa passed this night in a different manner from all the nights he had ever passed in his life, and the beauty of Elisa had wrought that upon his Spirit in one day, which a less extraordinary one would not have done in whole years, and that which had not been done in so many years by all the Roman beauties, and so many others of the highest reputation, amongst whom he had insensibly spent his life. The image of that admirable Princess, in whom grief had appeared as in its Throne, and that 〈◊〉 a languishing and dejected condition had preserved vigour and force enough to conquer the proudest liberty, had penetrated that martial Spirit, with such a power as presently put all into a flame, and Agrippa no sooner reflected upon what he had seen that fatal day, but he found himself to be amorous and all on fire. He could hardly at first digest this change of his condition, and reviewing his whole life with some disdain as to what was past, and with some confusion as to the present, What is the matter, Agrippa, said he, and by what misfortune dost thou so suddenly permit trouble and disorder to enter into thy soul? Hast thou seen the Emily's, the Octavia's, the Julias, and the Cleopatras, without endangering thy liberty, and wilt thou yield up thyself at the first sight of a young strange maid? Shall that courage which hitherto had found no employment capable to engage it but in war and the government of the Empire, submit itself to a beauty in one day, at one single view? Ah! my heart what weakness will thine be accounted, if thou givest up thy arms with so little resistance? What will the Romans say, who have seen thee at the head of their troops in those famous combats, which have so successfully decided the Empire of the Universe? And what will those famous beauties say who possess the highest ranks in the world amongst those of their sex, if thou sufferest thy ●el● to be overthrown by one single look of the daughter of a barbarous King, the daughter of the cruel enemy of the Romans? These were his first discourses, by which he thought in some sort to oppose the birth of his love: but a little after insensibly yielding to its force: But what dost thou find, went he on, so strange in this rancounter? Hast thou an heart of stone, or brass? hast thou a more warlike soul than Alexander, than the great Julius Cesar, or so many others, who amongst the combats wherein they passed their lives, have suffered themselves to be vanquished by the power of beauty? or dost thou find either by reason or example that love and valour are incompatible? Have those famous beauties from which thou hast defended thyself, or rather to whose Empire thou wast not destined, any thing more great and high than this young beauty, to which, it seems, thou art ashamed to submit? Is that of the Julias and Cleopatra's more accomplished, or more admirable than Elisa's? Are the graces which ought to accompany beauty, with greater advantages in those Princesses, than in the Princess of the Parthians? And as for birth, can a higher be looked for even in Cesar's family, or rather is there any blood in the world that can compare in Nobleness with that of the Arsacidaes? No Agrippa, continued he, it will be no offence in thee to love this Divine Princess, and if thou hast any thing to fear in doing so, it must be torments, it must be sufferings, perhaps to no purpose: 'Tis, it may be, an engagement in the Princess' Spirit, which will render her insensible of thy love, and not the reproach and shame of having submitted to the fairest yoke that ever fortune could impose upon thee: Rather fear that this Princess being born with an Arsacian heart, and an Enemy of the Roman name (though the necessity of her affairs compels her to seek for Sanctuary amongst the Romans) hates thee as a Roman, and disdains thee as one born of an inferior blood to hers, though by the favour of Cesar thou art in a condition not to envy Kings, but seest a great number of them every day below thee. That power which thou hast acquired either by thy merit or thy fortune, will possibly be less considerable to her than a long series of Royal Ancestors, and besides Elisa is the only daughter of Phraates, and Heir of the Empire of the Parthians, who will never suffer that the dominion of their Country should fall into the hands of a stranger, and of a Roman. This is the truth, Agrippa, and where thou seekest excuses for thy passion, thou findest difficulties great enough to divert thee from it, if thou leavest reason any command over thy Spirit. This consideration kept him a while irresolute, and at a stand, but a little after encouraging himself against this obstacle, which seemed to have terrified him: 'Tis no matter, added he, if Elisa be the daughter of our enemies, if Elisa be the heir of a Kingdom which will hardly submit to a Roman, that is not capable of repulsing such a courage as mine, and if by my love and services I can gain Elisa's inclinations, whilst she continues in the Roman territories, and whilst she flies the persecutions of her Father, the power of Cesar, and of Rome, who will take up arms for my sake, will possibly do the rest; and though Cesar should make war upon the Parthians in my quarrel, and to preserve the rights of their Princess, he will make no new Enemies to the Romans, but will only continue what his predecessors have begun, and do that to which he ought to be animated by the blood of so many Romans, who under Crassus and Anthony found their graves in Parthia. In this manner Agrippa encouraged himself in his resolution to love Elisa, and suffering himself to be flattered by his passion, he slightly passed over some difficulties, which in another condition he would have taken more notice of. Sleep had hardly closed his eyes when the day appeared, and of all the time he continued in his bed, he bestowed not one hour upon his repose.  
As soon as Elisa was ready, she went into Candace's Chambmer, who that day was a little more drowsy than she, & was still in bed. Elisa coming to her with a countenance that appeared to Candace not so sad as ordinarily it was: What, Madam, said she, are you so drowsie upon a Hunting day, and will you get up last to go to a meeting upon which you engaged▪ so willingly last night? I have nothing to catch to day, answered the Queen with a smile, but you to whom new preys are destined, have reason to be up with the first to go to the Chase. I understand not your discourse, replied the sad Elisa, and I do so little dream of taking preys, that if I had not been awakened by other cares, I should have been still profoundly asleep. I am much deceived for all that, added Candace, if you have not begun already▪ and all my conjectures are false, if you have not laid a strong foundation of love in Agrippa's soul. 'Tis for such beauties as yours, replied the Princess, to work such sudden effects, and by that which you have produced in a moment in Cornelius his heart, you make this judgement of a power much inferior to yours. I could easily convince you, answered Candace if I would, in a discourse which your modesty prompts you to make against truth and reason. But not to enter into that dispute with you, I will tell you that in my opinion you are not indifferent to Agrippa, and if you do not take that prey to day, 'twill only be because you did it yesterday. If that should happen to me, said the Princess of the Parthians, seating herself upon the Bedside with a sadder countenance than before, or if it be befallen me, 'tis much against my design, and I shall attribute that conquest, which you twit me with already, to my misfortune only, rather than to this beauty, which is not capable of making itself beloved by such a person as Agrippa. 'Tis the knowledge I have of its admirable, power, replied the Queen, that hath so strongly confirmed me in my suspicions, and I do not think it strange, that this man, of what humour soever he be, should give you that in one day, which, if I were in his place, I should give you in a moment. I would very willingly, answered Elia, stretching out her arms to the Queen, produce that effect in you, if it were possible for me, and you could not make more haste to love me, than I did to give myself wholly to you: but from Agrippa, or all men living besides, I desire no other thoughts but what compassion may inspire them with towards unfortunate persons. Your desire is not necessary, said the fair Queeny to gain you hearts less susceptible of love, than Agrippa's is, and ●ou will hardly imprint pity only in all souls that will be capable of another passion. Ah! my fair Queen, added the Princess with a gesture all composed of charms, you make yourself sport with a miserable creature, and you derogate from your own goodness by this cruel raillery, at a time when you know very well 'tis not seasonable for me; rather let Agrippa follow the destiny of Cornelius, and do not put that upon me which is your due, which I will not dispute with you. If Agrippa hath applied himself to me with a little more assiduity than to you, 'tis because he thought there was more due to my birth which he knew, than to yours which he was ignorant of: but if the equality of our conditions were known to him, do not you believe that the difference he would put between us could be to my advantage. I yield to you in all things, My fair Princess, said Candace embracing her, and I freely give you Cornelius and all the men in the world besides, except my dear Cesario, whom you would not take from me, and whom, it may be, my cruel destiny hath already deprived me of.  
This thought stopped her short, and took away all desire of pursuing her raillery with Elisa; and after she had expressed her resentments by some sighs, she rose out of her bed, and caused herself to be made ready: and using at that time but little art in her dress and habit, she was quickly in a condition to go out of her chamber, and as soon as they knew that the two Princesses might be seen, Agrippa and Cornelius came to give them good morrow. Candace presently observed something in Agrippa's countenance, that partly confirmed her suspicions, and she saw that in accosting Elisa he changed colour, he appeared a little troubled, and lost some part of his natural boldness. Elisa, upon Candace's discourse, took some notice, but what she took notice of was with a great deal of displeasure, as foreseeing great crosses of her quiet in this man's love, for the little time her grief would suffer her to live. He accosted her with all the respect and submission that could be, and having asked her if she had rested well that night: I rested as I use to do, answered the Princess; and the nights hence forward, upon my account are not so much destined to repose as to torment, and the remembrance of my misfortunes. 'Tis true, replied Agrippa, that when the mind is disturbed by a violent passion, the body doth not easily find repose, and 'tis not long since I had experience of it, having passed a night in such thoughts and such disquiets as I never was sensible of before. It would be hard, said the Princess but that such a person as you, employed in the management of the most important affairs in the world, should have some interruption in his sleep, and the cares you take for the government of the Empire are pressing enough, so as not to leave always an absolute quiet in your mind. The government of the Empire, replied Agrippa, is in such hands as are able to govern the whole earth, without having any need of the assistance of my cares, and 'twas not the thought of the Commonwealth's affairs, that interrupted my sleep that night, I mentioned to you, but the first motions of a passion, to which my Spirit had never before been subject, and which in its very birth had strength enough to make me suffer that in one night's space, which possibly I should not have suffered in many years.  
As he spoke these words, Candace cast a look upon the Princess, to let her understand that she was not deceived in her conjecture, and Elisa who had received some impression of it by the Queen's discourse, no sooner observed her action in the close of Agrippa's words, but she began to be of her mind: and this opinion beginning to find room in her Spirit, she remained much troubled and confounded: yet she would not continue without an answer, for fear that Agrippa should judge by her astonishment and silence, that she began to know a thing, which she was resolved to be always ignorant of, and endeavouring to dissipate that emotion, which might have been taken notice of in her countenance: Of all the passions, said she, which might trouble your repose, I am sensible of none but grief, and by the effects which that produces upon me, I very easily comprehend what the others may make a mind endure, when it is assaulted by them. Grief▪ replied Agrippa, is certainly the passion which makes the most cruel impressions upon the mind, or to speak more properly, 'tis only by the mo●ions of joy and grief that we are made sensible of the other passions: yea it seems that the effects of all the rest are confounded to lead us to these two; Love produces fear in our Spirits only▪ to bring us to grief, and it causes hope only to entertain us with joy, desire is only form by the hope of accomplishment, and the mind doth not dispose itself to joy, but that the fear of bad success opens a passage for grief: in jealousy all the effects conduce to sorrow, and in hatred, if the memory of the injuries which have caused it entertains grief, the hope of revenge may be an occasion of joy: Hope and fear do only serve the rest to bestow their effects either upon joy or grief, and they seem to me to be nothing of themselves but as they minister to joy or grief: All things finally, if you except a few that are indifferent, which are not so much as taken notice of, incline our Spirits either to joy or grief, or to speak more plainly, our whole life is absolutely rolled upon the wheels of these two passions, seeing it is wholly composed of good and evil, which are their objects. Alas! interrupted the Princess, how unequally is my life divided between joy and grief, and how many days have I spent in grief, in comparison of the few moments which have afforded me any joy? It may be, replied Agrippa, that the accidents of your life have furnished you with more matter of grief, than joy, and that in your fortune the evil hath exceeded the good, but though they should have been equally divided, I will tell you, Madam, that evil (to which we have a natural repugnance, or rather which of itself is contrary to our nature) is otherwise felt and otherwise observed than good is, which seems to be essential and conformable to us, and born in us, and consequently not so capable of making us sensible of it but by privation: this is easily perceived in the quietness of the mind, the health of the body, and the abundance of riches, which are not felt like unto inquietudes▪ sicknesses and poverty; for when these pinch us, than we perceive there was good in their contraries, which we hardly took notice of, when we had them in possession.  
Agrippa would have spoken more to this purpose, and possibly from this general discourse, he would have passed to particulars, finding an object in Elisa's presence that encouraged and inflamed him more and more, if Cornelius had not interrupted him to lead the Princesses to dinner which stayed for them, and was hastened a few hours, that they might the longer enjoy the pleasure of hunting: They took their repast together, and they had no sooner made an end of it, but they went down into the Court of the Palace, where all things were ready for that day's divertisement. The Princesses mounted into a light Chariot, drawn by six white Horses, open before and upon the sides, and covered only behind as much as was needful to shade the Princesses from the beams of the Sun, without hindering them from discerning all the objects in the fields. They were seated together, and Clitie. and Cephisa at their feet without any other company. Agrippa and Cornelius being mounted upon two stately Horses, marched by the Chariot, each as his inclination lead him, the persons of their train fol-Iowed them in a very handsome equipage, and the Hunters with all their company attended at one of the City gates. Agrippa and Cornelius were in a Hunting garb, but they had affected more neatness and elegancy than they were wont to make use of in their ordinary habit, and Agrippa whose dawning passion had quite metamorpholed him in a day's space, out of a particular care, had forgot nothing that might set off his good parts: The two Princesses would not add any thing to their apparel, and had excused themselves upon the account of their sadness, and the condition of their fortune, for not accepting of those habits which Cornelius had sent them that morning to accouter themselves conformably to that day's exercise. The two Lovers marching by the side of the two Princesses all the way they had to go to the place where the Chase was to begin, entertained them with some constraint; Agrippa not daring so suddenly to discover his thoughts to a Princess whose birth and Majesty obliged him to a more respectful silence, and Cornelius not having the opportunity before Elisa and Agrippa, to pursue the discourse, whereof the fair Queen of Ethiopia had heard the beginning with an ill will. Their inquietude might be read in each of their countenances, and if Candace knew too much already of Cornelius his passion, Elisa began to suspect as much of Agrippa's as grieved her to the very heart.  
When they were come to the Hunter's Rendezvous, which was at the entrance of the wood, a shrill noise of horns, and the cry of the Dogs, and the voices of the Hunters, made the shore of Alexandria ring again for divers furlongs, and they found all things as ready as they could wish for their divertisement, by the good order that Cornelius had taken. They presently put up the Stag before the Dogs, and the Princesses had not only their part in the beginning of the pleasure, but the wood being divided into an infinite number of ways, so that their Chariot might go almost any way, the greatest part of that which passed in the Chase was in their sight. Agrippa and Cornelius laying aside that day the earnest inclination they had for that exercise, kept themselves almost all the while close by the Ladies, and the Huntsmen to whom they committed that care at that time, served their intention so well, and turned the Stag so handsomely, that he was brought to a bay within sight of the Princesses and almost at their feet, Agrippa killed him with his Sword.  
They had spent part of the day in this divertisement, and the Sun began to decline, when the Princesses passing along one of the ways, and their two lovers at the side of the Chariot, they saw a Horse without a Master, that leaping and bounding passed just by them, and drew near to the Chariot Horses. He was all bloody by reason of a wound he had in his flank, and the blood trickled down upon the grass as he went along: Cornelius seeing him in this condition, believed in all probability that his Master might be killed, and that there had been some combat near that place: and as his charge obliged him carefully to inform himself of the business, and to remedy the disorders that arrived in Egypt, he parted from Candace, and galloped towards the place whence he saw the horse come. Candace conceiving with herself, that in all adventures her Cesario had some interest, and that in all combats where there was blood shed, her beloved Prince was in some danger, desired that the Chariot might take the same way, and when they knew her mind they ●●●ned the heads of the horses thitherward, and Agrippa followed them with all the company out of complacency and curiosity: but because Cornelius, being carried on by a greater interest, had put on his horse with greater speed, he got a great way before the troup, and he had not gone far into the Wood, but he saw more horses feeding upon the fresh grass at liberty, and a few paces thence a great deal of blood shed, and seven or eight bodies of men completely armed lying dead upon the Turf. The Praetor stopped at this spectacle, and after he had viewed the dead, and the great wounds which had put them into that condition, with surprise and astonishment, he turned his eyes every way, to inform himself concerning this adventure, and commanded some of his retinue to disarm the faces of these men, to s●e if there was any amongst them that had so much life left as to declare the truth: Two of his men were already employed in that office, when he saw a man come out from between the trees, who drawing near him with an assured countenance: Sir, said he, all these men which you see deprived of life, lest it by the hand of a single man on foot, and without any other arms but his Sword: they have been punished for their crime by a blow of Justice reached from Heaven, and one single man hath performed the combat, whereof you see the bloody marks. The victory and the field were his, but he could not hinder by the admirable effects of his valour, but that two great Princesses, for whose defence he fought, were carried away by the companions of those whom he hath slain: I learned the truth of it just now from one of these men, who died here in my presence when I saw you appear. Gallus was astonished at this discourse, as well in regard of what he understood concerning the man's valour, as in respect of the carrying away of the Princesses, whose arrival in the Countries under his government he had not heard of, and desiring to be farther informed: And who, said he, are the Princesses who were carried away, and the valiant man that so generously defended them, and what are they that carried them away? The two Princesses, replied the man, are the Princess Cleopatra, and the Princess Artemisa, Sister to the King of Armenia, he which defended them is unknown▪ both to me and those he fought against, they that carried them away are Armenians, who did this violence in this Country by their King's command; this is all I could learn from one of these men, who did not live long enough to tell me any more. What, ye good Gods! cried the Praetor, is the Princess Cleopatra, who was thought to have suffered shipwreck, lately carried away, and are not you abused by the discourse that hath been made you? As for what relates to the Princesses, added the man, I can certainly assure you of it, I saw them with my eyes, I know them very well, and I have continued with them ever since yesterday, I would likewise have been farther informed, and have known the place whither the barbarians carried them: but, Sir, trouble yourself no farther with me, who am not able to give you any more ample instruction, but hasten to the assistance of the fairest Princesses in the world, seeing Heaven hath given you so fair an occasion. The man finished his discourse in this manner, and was already gone from Cornelius, who being very much surprised with so unexpected an accident, was preparing to hasten to Cleopatra's assistance, when the two Princesses in their Chariot, and Agrippa not far from them, arrived at the place. They were affrighted at the first of the sight of the dead bodies, and Cornelius having given them an account in a few words of what he had learned from the man's mouth, strongly moved Candace and Agrippa upon Cleopatra's interest; Agrippa as a friend of that Princesses, and of all her family, and Candace as one obliged by a great renderness to all Cesarios' kindred. Ah, Sir, said she, to Cornelius presently, if it be the will of the Gods that Cleopatra, that Princess of whom you yourself have made me so advantageous a relation, be not perished in the waves, do not suffer her to be without succour in those places where you have so much authority. There was no need of saying any more to a man, to whom the occasions of pleasing Candace were as dear as the obligations of his charge, neither was she in a condition to make him any longer discourse, having cast her eyes upon the man who had spoken to Cornelius, and whom, cross the trees, amongst which he retired himself, she thought to be Eteocles the Governor of her wellbeloved Prince. She jogged Clitie with her knee, who sat at her feet, and laying her head to her ear: Look Clitie, said she, and observe if that man of whom Cornelius hath had all his intelligence, and whom thou seest retiring a great pace amongst the trees, be not Eteocles. Clitie raised up her head at the Queen's desire, but though she saw the man, she saw nothing but his backside, and observed only that he was of Eteocles his pitch, and had such clothes as Eteocles wore that day they parted. The fair Queen was not quite free from the emotion which his ●ight caused, when Cornelius approaching to her, to the Princess Elisa, and to Agrippa, desired permission of them that he might acquit himself of his duty in pursuing Cleopatra's ravishers, and departed with some of his men, leaving a good number of the rest to reconduct them into the City.  
Agrippa was already sufficiently engaged to Elisa, not to stir from her upon a slight occasion, but the respect he had for all Cleopatra's family, and for his own honour, which obliged him to succour the oppressed, being powerful enough to make him offer this violence to his inclinations, he took his leave of the Princess to go with Cornelius. Had it been for persons of less importance than Cleopatra and the Princess of Armenia, the Praetor would have been contented, in relation to the duty of his charge, to have sent some of his men to their assistance: but for Princesses of that consideration, he believed that he ought to go in person, and Agrippa, though Cornelius with words full of civility and respect endeavoured to divert him from the trouble, did too much esteem Cleopatra's birth and person, to neglect this occasion of going to render her that which was due to her from all virtuous persons. They which stayed with the Princesses, who were still above twenty horse, some belonging to Agrippa, and some to Gallus, returned back with them upon the way to Alexandria, and Candace was satisfied with nothing more, than that she conceived that to be the way which the man went which she took for Eteocles. She was so much moved at this adventure, that she could not for a long time pronounce one word; and after that she had a little recomposed herself, she spoke only to Elisa. My Princess, if you knew▪ what I have seen, you would bear a part in the astonishment which you may observe in my countenance: I do not think it strange, answered Elisa, that you should be a little troubled at the sight of these dead men which we have seen, and if my grief had not rendered me insensible or stupid as it were, I could not have beheld this spectacle without amazement and terror: But I did not think that besides the compassion and the horror, which this sight might move in persons of our sex, you had any particular occasion of astonishment. Besides that which is common to us both, replied Candace, I have something that concerns only myself, and since I do not desire to conceal any thing from you, I will tell you, that the man, which it may be you saw, and from whom Cornelius received his intelligence, if I be not the most deceived person in the world, is Eteocles, Cesario Governor, of whom I have made you a long mention in my discourse, and whom I left some days ago with that Prince; this makes me believe that he himself may be somewhere near at hand, and Eteocles would not have stayed so long here▪ if he were not attending upon him. I believe it as well as you, replied Elisa, and I hope this adventure will prove successful, seeing all probabilities are favourable. Ah my dear Cesar, added the fair Queen, lifting up her eyes to heaven with a very passionate action, what can hide thee from my eyes, what can deprive my heart of the knowledge of thy retreat?  
She spoke in this manner, and Elisa rejoiced with her in the hopes she saw her conceive; when by the road which the Chariot, and those which guarded it followed, they drew near to a very fair house, which was at the outside of the wood, by which they must needs pass in their return to Alexandria. The Chariot with all the company passed along the brink of a little Moat, which encompassed the house, and as the Queen by reason of her amorous inquietude, turned her eyes every way to try if she could see Eteocles, she cast them upon one of the windows of the house, where immediately she spied a man leaning; his Head and shoulders appeared without the window, and as much of his body as was seen was almost naked, and in the condition of a person rising out of his bed; his head was bound about with a linen cloth, under which his long hair, more nearly approaching in colour to fair, than black, fell carelessly upon his shoulders. His countenance was very pale, like one that had been long sick but what change soever we might have received, and what distauce soever there might be from the window to the Chariot, and how speedy soever the pace of the Horses was which drew the Chariot, all this could not hinder the Queen of Eshiopi● from observing in that face some features very like to Cesario and conceiting with herself, either according to the Idea she had of it in her Spirit, or according to the truth, that it was Cesario himself. If she kept herself from breaking out into exclamations at this sight, it was not so much by the power she had over herself, as by the force of her astonishment, which tying up her tongue, and all the functions of the body, by which the resentments of the soul might be expressed, left her immovable in the Chariot, only holding her eyes turned towards the dear object of her heart as long as she had the liberty to see him. Before that she could come again to herself, the Chariot was gone so far from the house, that though she should have put her head out of the boot, and herself into such a posture that she might look still towards that which she left behind her, the object was too far off to be any longer discerned. She came to herself, as out of a profound sleep, and signified the return of her spirits by a great sigh, which Elisa observed, and having taken notice of her action, the interest she took in it making her unquiet, she pulled her by the arm: Madam, said she, What is the news, have you seen Eteocles again, or any thing that confirms you in your hopes or destroys that them? Ah! Madam, replied Candace, embracing her, and whispering in her ear, that she might not be heard by those that marched behind the Chariot, I have seen all that I could desire to see, and I would it had pleased the Gods that you had seen Artaban as sure as I saw Cesario from a window of that house. Is it possible, answered Elisa, and are you not deceived? No certainly, added Candace, 'tis hard if I should be deceived by an Image, which I carry eternally in my heart, I have seen my dear Prince himself, whose features are too familiar to me, for to be mistaken by me and I do not account it strange that his countenance is grown pale, because of the wounds which probably he received in the combat wherein I left him engaged some days ago. The Gods be praised for it, said Elisa to the fair Queen, rendering her her caresses, and though they have not the same goodness for me, I beg of them for you with all my heart that satisfaction which they refuse me. 'Tis certain, replied Candace that I now receive from them the greatest favour that ever I could desire of them, and since I am assured of my Cesario life, all my other losses, and all my other displeasures are incapable of making any impression upon me: I can not at present follow the impetuosity of my affection, which would carry me to this dear house, where all my happiness is enclosed, and I have not sufficient power over these men which accompany us, nor confidence enough in them to entreat them to conduct me back to my dear Cesar, since without doubt I should put his life into a very manifest danger, if I should discover his abode in this Country to these persons, who ought to be all suspected by me; but since I know that he is alive, and in that house, 'tis so near to Alexandria, that I may hope by the assistance of the Gods, and my own invention, to find some means to give him intelligence of me.  
These words of the Queen were followed by some others, in which▪ she testified to Elisa the satisfaction of her Soul for that happy accident, and the fair Princess of the Parthians, though she deeply sighed for her own misfortunes, was more sensible of the Queen's contentment, than in all probability she could be in the sad condition of her Soul. She expressed as much in words full of tenderness and sweetness, to which the fair Queen replied with prayers and vows to Heaven that the same happiness might befall her, and this conversation full of the expressions of mutual affection, ended not till they arrived at the City, where they entered not long after, just when the Night began to spread her black Mantle over the Earth.   

Hymen's Praeludia: OR, LOVE'S Masterpiece.  
PART 6. LIB. 3.  
ARGUMENT.  
Agrippa following the pursuit of Cleopatra's ravishers loses all his company, and himself in a wood, where he meets with Coriolanus on foot. He lends him his horse to go in search of his Princess, and, it being dark, he takes up his lodging under a tree. There he hears the amorous complaints of Philadelph, who had wandered thither in search of Delia, and 〈◊〉 him pa●t from thence at the break of day follows him at a distance. Philadelph lights upon two women asleep, and conjecturing one of them to be Delia, as he is going to make a more perfect discovery, he is interrupted by one who calls him to the combat. They fight and are parted by Agrippa and the Lady who proves to be Delia indeed. The mutual joy of Philadelph and Delia at this unexpecting meeting. Agrippa invites them to Alexandria. At their e●●●ance there Olympia espies the fair Stranger, who had fought with Philadelph, and falls into a swoon, and after that into a Fever. She is visited by Elisa and Candace, who endeavour to comfort her, and after a while they leave her to her repose.  
IN the mean time Agrippa and Cornelius making haste to the assistance of Cleopatra and Artemisa, had crossed a great part of the Wood without finding any person that could give them any intelligence, they had observed the tract of the Horses as exactly as they could, and being come to a place where it equally parted into two ways; that their pursuit might be with the greater hope of success, they resolved to divide themselves, and Cornelius with his men taking the way upon the left hand, Agrippa with his party, went to the right, after they had promised each other mutually to meet the next night in Alexandria, if they were not detained by some great impediment.  
Agrippa marched a great while along the Road which he had taken, turning his eyes and ears every way. The night was already near at hand, when he thought he heard a great noise in a part of the wood which he had left upon his left hand, this opinion made him stop a while to observe the place from whence it came, and when he thought he had sufficiently discerned it, he turned his horse that way at full speed. He crossed a great deal of ground in a small time, but whether it was that he had mistaken the place where the noise was made, or that the persons which had made it, were gone before he came, he sought and looked about every way to no purpose, neither could he find any body to direct him. This displeasure did not befall him alone; for being mounted upon one of the fleetest Horses in the world, his men that spurred after him could not keep pace with him, and in a small time they lost him amongst the trees, which deprived them of his sight, so that when he turned that way where he thought they were, he found himself alone, and this chanced to be just as daylight failed, and the darkness began to cover the earth. He stayed a while upon the place in expectation of them, and called them divers times with a loud voice, but all in vain; for in the error whereinto the swiftness of their course had lead them, they had taken another way quite different from his, after they had lost the view of him. This accident did much displease him, seeing himself alone, in the dark, and in a Country where he was unacquainted, and consequently deprived of all means of rendering Cleopatra those assistances that were due to her, and after he had continued a while uncertain what to do, he resolved at last to seek them out, and marched amongst the trees at all adventures, calling them ever now and then as loud as possibly he could: but because the night was not very clear, and he was quite out of all the ways, he wandered more and more up and down the wood, and knew not which way to go, either to find his men, or to return to Alexandria. Any other soul but his would have been troubled with melancholy at this petty accident, but he was only displeased that he had succeeded no better in the design of doing a good action, and moderating his passion by the greatness of his courage, he continued marching at adventure whither his fortune would guide him, supposing that when he was out of the wood, it would not be difficult for him to find the way to Alexandria.  
In the mean time as he called out often to make himself heard by his men if it were possible, a man which wandered, as he did, at those hours in the wood, being drawn thither by his voice, drew near the place where he was, and when he was at a distance that Agrippa might hear him: What art then, said he, thou which makest the woods to Echo with thy exclamations at a time when all things else are buried in silence? He that spoke these words was on foot, and Agrippa by reason of the darkness, spying him only a little amongst the trees, and coming nearer to him: " But who art thou thyself, said he, thou which demandest who I am, and who, as well as myself, dost take this solitary walk during the shadows of the night? I am, replied the man, a miserable creature abandoned by the Gods, and by fortune, a man to whom thou wouldst do a pleasure in killing of him, or in furnishing him with any means to get out of the misfortunes into which he is fallen. Hearing these words, which the unknown accompanied with some sobs, Agrippa believed that this voice was not absolutely unknown to him, but seeing little appearance in the Idea which presented itself to him, he would not ground any thing upon it, but the better to inform himself: Thou must needs be, answered he, very much afflicted, seeing thou desirest death, to which we are not wont to have recourse but only in the extremity of misery: and in stead of being a means of that I would more willingly bestow some ease upon thy grief, if the opportunity of doing it were in my power. Thou speakest like a generous person, added the unknown, and if I be not deceived, thy voice resembles a man's who is likewise generous enough to administer consolation to the miserable in their distress. I know not, replied Agrippa, whether thou findest any resemblance in my voice to any person that is known to thee: but since thou hast begun to speak to me, I have thought the sound of thine to be so like a man's with whom I have had long acquaintance, & whom I very much esteemed, that if there were any probability that he might be in this Country at the hour and in the condition I meet thee, I should certainly have taken thee for the same man: For my part I have no intention to conceal myself, and I have no enemies that can oblige me to deny that I am Agrippa.  
Upon this discovery, the unknown continued a while without speaking, but a little after resuming his discourse: Your voice hath not deceived me, said he, and I knew it at the first to be Agrippa's, but the time of night, and the condition wherein I meet you made me have reason to doubt of a truth, which seemed to me as improbable, as that I should be here alone, by night, and on foot in a place which my misfortune hath made my enemy: I tell you enough to make a perfect discovery of myself to you, and I suppose you are not ignorant now▪ that I am the unfortunate Juba Coriolanus, upon whom you once bestowed a share of your friendship, and who probably may have lost it by becoming Caesar's enemy. The confidence which I have in your virtue, and the small reason I have to be in love with my life banish all the fear I might have had of discovering myself to you in a Country where I can not be known without manifest danger: but though you should be of the mind of my most cruel enemies (which I have all the reason in the world to believe since the change of Marcellus and Cleopatra) though you should acquaint Cesar, that I wander alone and unknown in his dominions, and though by declaring myself to you I should run upon the infallible loss of my life: in losing this wand'ring and unfortunate life, I shall lose nothing but what is odious to me, and which I would have sacrificed myself to my grief this deplorable day, if I had not thought it my duty to employ the remainders of it in the service which I owe to that ungrateful creature to whom I have devoted it all.  
Whilst the valiant King of the Moors was speaking in this manner with a throng of sighs and sobs that accompanied every word, Agrippa harkened to him with an amazement and irresolution which kept him a long time immovable and quite astonished; He owed all he had to Caesar's bounty, and he could not without some offence to his virtue conserve any amity for his greatest enemies: but besides the esteem he had always had for the admirable qualities, and the sublime virtue of Coriolanus he thought he should brand himself with a detestable baseness, if in so deplorable a condition as he saw him in, which he partly knew by the loss of his dominions, and by what was represented to him in his discourse, he had conserved the thoughts of an enemy, and had looked upon him according to the consideration due to his fortune, rather than according to that compassion which is due to virtuous men in misery. After he had made a short reflection upon it, which by reason of his excellent nature, and the greatness of his soul, wrought a much more sudden effect upon him, than it would have done in a person of more common thoughts, he ●igh●ed from his horse, judging it not to be civi● to ●● on horse back before such a Prince as he, as long as he stood on foot, and according him with an action which expressed the consideration he had for him as much as the obscurity of the night could permit: I cannot, said he, without a very great astonishment, see you in your enemy's country in a condition so disproportionable to your birth, and the rank you held some months ago: 'tis true I am bound to Cesar by such strong obligations, that without ingratitude I can make no distinction between his enemies and my own, but the esteem I have always made of your virtue and of your person, hath opposed those resentments which probably ought to be common to me, with him, to whom I owe all, and besides I have found so much justice in one part of your actions, and even in those which have made Cesas your enemy, that at the report of those great things which you had done for the recovery of your dominions, I was not moved as possibly I ought to have been by the part which I ought to take in the interests of Augustus. You might have received some proof of it in this, that I have avoided the occasions of going to bear arms against you, & if I had not expressed some repugnance as to that employment, Domitius possibly had not commanded that Naval Army which you defeated, and I should have had the charge of that expedition as well as of divers others, which I joyfully undertook, and from which I returned with success enough. I was afterwards afflicted at your ill fortune, more, possibly, than is honest for the servants of Cesar to confess, and I could heartily have wished, that by a happy reconciliation, he would have left you at peace in the Kingdom of your Fathers. You have put yourself into no danger by discovering yourself to me, and instead of doing you hurt in a condition which obliges all virtuous persons to comfort you, I will serve you in what I am able without wronging the fidelity which I owe to my Master. 'Tis certain, he is your enemy, and your life would not be in security if you should be known in these Countries; either depart speedily from hence, or keep yourself concealed, if you be stayed here by any necessity of your affairs, and in the mean time let me understand what service you desire of a person, who will always respect, as he ought, both your birth and the eminent qualities of your person.  
Agrippa expressed himself in this sort, and Coriolanus, after he had meditated a little upon an answer: I did not almost doubt, said he, but that I should find in you still, all the marks of that generosity whereof all the world hath taken notice, I am too much obliged to those remains of friendship which hindered you from employing against me that valour of yours, against which without doubt I should not have had the same success which fortune gave me against Domitius. I have little resentment against those, who during my absence have deprived me of a Kingdom which I could not go to defend, and of which I can make no great account since the loss of my repose, neither do I desire any proof of your amity which may clash with your duty to Cesar, I shall always esteem you too much to desire any thing of you that may hinder your fortune, or diminish the esteem you have acquired all the world over, and I am not so fond of my life, nor any thing that is left me besides, to look any security or refuge by your means, at a time when I seek for it no where but in death; but only I would desire of you without any longer discourse (for the pressing condition wherein I am, doth not permit me to converse any longer with you) the means of pursuing the Ravishers of Cleopatra, who was lately carried away in my presence, having been too faintly defended by me. What, said Agrippa interrupting him, are you then that valiant man, who alone, and without arms slew so many armed men for the defence of Cleopatra? I am that wretch, replied Coriolanus, which had not valour enough to guard that Princess from the violence of a few barbarians, I have now arms upon my back, but I am on forth, and I have so wandered in the wood, that I cannot find the way back to the place where I might recover horses to post to the assistance of that Princess. Such a grand action, answered Agrippa, as that whereof we saw the marks upon the place where it was done, must needs proceed from such a hand as yours, I was going, as you were, to Cleopatra's assistance, and just as you did, I wandered and lost all my company in the turnings of the wood, and the obscurity of the night: If you could stay till day, you should find all manner of assistance amongst us; but in that urgency which you express, I can only offer you this horse, which you may make use of, as one of the best the world affords, to go whither your desires, or your fortune shall direct you.  
Coriolanus, what necessity soever he had, at first refused Agrippa's offer, making some difficulty to leave a man of that importance, alone, on foot, in the wood, and in the dark: But Agrippa being offended at his modesty; When ou are upon a business of such consequence, said he, you ought not to stand upon punctilios, I would not deal so with you upon the like occasion, and you use me as an enemy if you refuse any longer that which is now in my power to offer you; you will constrain me to follow you on foot if you continue obstinate, my attendants are not far off, the worst that can come to me, is to pass the rest of the night here in expectation of them at a season, when my stay will not be incommodious, I have no reason to fear any accident in a place where all persons are my friends, and where I shall find no body from whom I may not receive assistance.  
Though Agrippa had added a great many more, and more prei●ing expressions, Coriolanus would never have suffered himself to be overcome, if he had had any other business in hand but the assistance of Cleopatra: but upon a necessity of that importance, at last he closed his eyes against all that civility could possibly represent to him, and receiving the horse which Agrippa presented to him. Both you and my bad fortune, said he, constrain me to do an action, which I would never have consented to for the recovery of my Kingdom, the Gods will recompense you for it, if I cannot, and in the mean time rest assured, that during the small remainder of my life, I will treasure up in my heart, as I am obliged to do, the memory of so generous an action. As he ended these words he put his foot into the stirrup, and mounted into the Saddle, Agrippa holding the Bridle of the horse himself, and promising him that when he found his men, he would post after him to Cleopatra's aid. Adieu generous Agrippa, said Coriolanus to him at parting, pardon this action which you force me to do, and believe that if I live never so little while, I will not die ingrateful for this good office. Having spoken these words, he parted from him, and turning the head of his horse that way which he thought might lead him after Cleopatra, he posted away amongst the trees with as much speed as the darkness would permit.  
Agrippa remained amazed at this accident, as well to find that Prince in so strange a condition, and in so unexpected a manner, in a place where there was little likelihood of his being found, when he thought him to be a great way off, as to hear him express so much interest, and so much earnestness for Cleopatra, to whom he thought, as well as a great many others, that he had been unfaithful. He reflected then upon it, not having had time during the conversation they had together; or at least Coriolanus his impatience not having permitted him to inquire why he tormented himself so for a person, whom, according to the vulgar opinion he had ingratefully forsaken. This consideration took up his thoughts a good while, before he could pass any judgement upon the uncertainty which this adventure afforded; but a little after he believed that Coriolanus, whose generosity was known to all the world, might do that merely upon the score of Virtue, which another would have done for love, and that having seen the Princess, whom he had dearly loved, in some danger, he had fought for her, and was so passionate to assist her, only out of the motions of his Virtue. He did not find it strange, knowing himself to be capable of doing as much, and easily guessing by his own inclinations at the thoughts of virtuous persons, he meditated a while upon this accident, and turning his memory with compassion upon the divers revolutions of fortune, who did so differently sport herself in the life of this brave African, whom ever since his birth she had made the object of her inconstant Capricies, making him fall before he was born, from Royalty into servitude, favouring him in a thousand gallant actions which had acquired him immortal glory amongst men, and after she had caused him to remount his Throne maugre all the forces of the Empire, tumbling him down again with the same suddenness into the loss of all, into misery, and that deplorable condition wherein he had met him, he could not but be very much moved at it, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven with a sigh: O Gods, said he, how incomprehensible are your judgements, and how inconsiderable is the life of man, since the greatest and most virtuous are subject to so many misfortune? 'tis in the fortune of this Prince, the bravest person that ever the Sun shined upon, that the instability of humane things is easily remarkable, and thence we learn a very observable lesson how little confidence we ought to have in things so inconstant and so apt to perish. He had stayed longer upon this consideration, which produced powerful effects in such a soul as his, if his new passion, which at that time left little room for other thoughts, had not insensibly banished thence another man's interests, to take full possession of his mind its self.  
By the misfortunes of Coriolanus, which love alone, for the most part, had produced, he foresaw what he might fall into himself by the same passion, and making a short mediation thereupon: Alas, said he, that which I deplore in another, may possibly ere long befall myself, and Elisa without doubt is able to cause the same disorders in my soul and fortune, that Cleopatra had caused in Coriolanus': I have all the reasons that can be to fear it, seeing in the space of one night and a day, that imperious beauty hath ruined my repose, which to all appearance was so well established, and hath made a greacer progress in this little time, than another could have done in divers years: I feel and suffer already all that persons grown old in love can feel and suffer, and if in the very beginning my passion handles me with so much violence, what may I expect when its forces are augmented, and its powers are absolutely established over this heart, which it spares so little already? Ah! continued he, a little after, though I should have all the reason that might be to be afraid of this fatal engagement of my heart, yet it is too handsome for me to make any attempt to break it off, and that destiny that brings a divine beauty from the farthest parts of Asia, and from out the midst of our cruel enemies, to work that upon my soul which the Roman beauties could not do, binds me up already so powerfully, that it hath not left my will so much as one single motion or desire to disengage myself.  
As he uttered these words he laid himself down at the foot of Oak, being resolved to pass away the rest of the night there; for it was at that season of the year when they are at the shortest. In this place, he used some vain endeavours to catch some sleep, which fle● from him, and the image of Elisa which gained an absolute power over his Spirit more and more, did not a great while permit him to find any repose, in the least conformable to the first violences of his love: What, said he, with a little motion of choler, or resentment, have I lost all in so little a time, and will sleep approach my eyes no more, since the beauties of Elisa have fatally appeared to them: Well, pursued he, let us submit to the force of our destiny, and seeing we must watch, let us watch with the Stars which bear us company, and which can only bear witness of our sighs, and the words which Love draws from our mouth.  
Agrippa spoke these words as he thought very loud, certainly believing that at such an hour, and in that desert place, he was not overheard by any body, and that he really had only the Stars at witnesses of the effects which his passion might produce; but he was deceived, and that night being to him a night full of adventures, 'twas the will of fortune, that a few paces from him, there lay a man under the trees passing the rest of the night, and expecting the approach of day in employments not much different from his. This man whose soul was much more inflamed with love, than Agrippa's was, and possibly as much as a soul was capable of, no sooner heard the amorous words, which Agrippa had uttered, but he found some consolation in that rancounter, and after two or three impetuous sighs, beginning to speak loud enough to be distinctly heard by Agrippa: Alas! said he, is it possible then that I am not the only man, whom Love causes to spend the nights in this dark and solitary place, whilst sleep exercises its dominion over the whole earth? Agrippa who expected not that accident, was a little surprised at it at first, thinking he had been in a place where he might freely discover his thoughts to the face of Heaven: yet being of a Spirit not easily daunted, he quickly recomposed himself, and finding, as well as the unknown, some consolation in meeting with an amorous person, he thought it not amiss to enter into a discourse with him that might render their solitude the more comfortable, and returning an answer to those few words he had spoken, without stirring from his place: No, said he, you are not the only man, whom Love causes to sigh at these hours in solitude, and though fortune hath conducted me hither, yet 'tis certain that Love only keeps me company, and takes up all my thoughts. They can not be more worthily employed, replied the unknown, and even amongst those whom hope hath almost deserted, there are some, which find all the entertainment of their life, only in the thoughts of their Love. As for those, answered Agrippa, whom hope hath abandoned, their thoughts can not but be very full of grief and affliction, and hope doth not ordinarily leave us but in such extremities, when no hardly can tell what to think upon: yea divers persons believe that after the loss of hope, Love can not be easily preserved, and as hope, in Love, cannot be entirely lost, but by the loss of the object beloved, so by the same loss, it is probable that Love abandous us together with our hope. Alas, added the unknown, with a sigh, how little experience have you, so far as I can judge, in the effects of this passion, to which nevertheless, it seems, you have submitted your Spirit. 'Tis true, answered Agrippa, that I have passed a good part of my life in liberty enough, and 'tis not long since that my soul hath been made Love's subject by such powers as have disarmed my heart at the first sight, and which at the very beginning have already made me feel whatsoever others have felt most violent in whole years. I easily believe it replied the unknown, and I do not doubt but that at the first sight a heart may be disarmed, and submit itself to Love's greatest cruelty: I have had experience enough of it myself, to make me believe it upon another's account, but if your passion be yet in its infancy, upon which all souls do not equally fix themselves at first, or at least if you be not so far engaged that you have no power left over your Spirit, avoid, if it be possible for you, any farther engagement, and stop the course betime of an infinite number of pains and sufferings: in comparison of which all others are trivial, and by which life is rendered worse than the most painful death. O Gods! continued he, with a new supply of sobs, how different would mine have been from this deplor able condition, wherein I miserably spend my days, if I had followed the counsel which I venture to give to others? how many evils had I been spared from, under which my unfortunate soul hath always groaned? how many troubles both of body and mind had I avoided, under which both have deeply suffered? and yet, O my adorable (there he stopped because he would not name her) and yet, O dear Mistress of my heart, how sorry should I have been if I had followed these counsels, which were profitable indeed as to my repose, but contrary to the glory, and the satisfaction which I find in passing my days for your sake in these miseries, which are a thousand times more sweet and more dear to me, than all the pleasures and felicity I could have tasted in my life, if I had not devoted it to you.  
The unknown spoke in this manner, and suffering himself to be carried away by the current of his passion, he held some other discourses by which Agrippa observed, that never possibly any other Spirit had been more strongly or more really possessed with love, and being of a noble and compassionate mind, he could not choose but be troubled for the unknown, and beginning to speak when he had done: I know not what you are, said he, and yet I cannot but take part in your displeasutes, and believe, by all appearances, that few persons have more sincerely loved than you. You have reason to do so, replied the afflicted Lover, and 'tis very certain that never possibly did a foul so entirely sacrifice itself to love as mine hath done, nor devoted its life thereunto with a more perfect resignation; They are not hopes (that we may return to our former discourse) alas! they are not hopes that maintain it, and though they are not absolutely extinguished in me, by reason of the natural disposition we have to preserve some relics of them to the last extremity: yet according to reason, and probability there is so little hope left, and that little is so disproportionable to the greatness of my love, that in all likelihood 'tis not by my hopes that my love is preserved. I love with a disengagement from all other thoughts, that which appeared amiable to my eyes, that which my heart loves without reservation and interest, that which it may be neither is nor ever was sensible of my love, and I love, O Gods! that which possibly hath no longer a being in the world, either for me, or any man besides.  
He concluded not these words without some sobs, which confirmed Agrippa in the opinion which he had already conceived of the greatness of hi● love, and desiring to give him some consolation: Your condition, said he, would be truly deplorable, if it were such as you represent it, but since you are still permitted to hope for better fortune, I advise you to expect from Heaven those assistances, which it seldom denies to persons whose intentions are innocent and conformable to virtue. We see things fall out every day very far from our expectation, and oftentimes in the most desperate affairs the Gods have sent remedies unlooked for, and contrary to appearance; In the mean time take a little rest, if you can possibly, and when the apppoach of day shall permit me to see you, as the darkness hath permitted me to hear you, I shall perhaps desire a farther knowledge of your person, out of the disposition which I have already to esteem a man, whose thoughts do not seen to me to proceed from a common person, and it may be I shall find some means of giving some ease to your displeasures, in a place where I have some acquaintance and some credit.  
Agrippa made him this discourse, out of the disposition which he really felt in himself to esteem and serve him, and by reason of some approaches of sleep which began to seize upon him, and after two nights watching, and that days toil lay heavy upon his Eyelids. The Unknown answered his offers with all the civility his grief could leave him for a man, of whom he judged very advantageously already, and after some replies between them, Agrippa grew very drowfie, and at last fell fast asleep. The fair Image of Elisa, wherewith his soul was continually possessed, appeared to him as he was asleep, with all those powers, which had so suddenly made him her subject, and he had the contentment to entertain her, and to give her assurances of his passion, during the time of his sleep; but it was for no long continuance, and at the coming of the day, which appeared a little after, he was awakened by a noise which the man made, with whom he had conversed, as he rose from the place where he was, and mounted his horse, with two Squires which had spent the night some paces from him. At another time this man, which wanted neither acknowledgement nor civility, would not have gone from that place without being better acquainted with Agrippa, or without thanking him for the offer he had made; but having his soul prepossessed with a passion, which extinguished in him all other desires, and all other remembrances but of his beloved object, he would not engage himself in the company of a man, from whom he feared he could not retire to seek either that which he had lost, or solitude which was much more dear to him than the society of men. He was already upon his horse, by that time Agrippa was fully awake, and the Roman being got up at the noise he made, saw him amongst the trees parting from the place where he had spent the night, and taking the way on the right hand with his two Squires, who following their Master's pace, marched very slowly.  
Agrippa judged by this departure of his, that he had no desire to make himself known: and easily pardoned in him, out of the knowledge he had of the preoccupation of his Spirit, that which a less rational person would have taken for want of civility; he conceived a greater desire to see him, and to inform himself more fully concerning his fortune and his person, whereof he already had a very good opinion. Conducted by this curiosity, he followed him at a distance amongst the trees, and that was not difficult for him to do, because the unknown having no certain way to go, but being directed rather by chance, than by design, went on a soft pace, deeply engaged in a profound musing: Agrippa did already discern the handsomeness of his body as he road, and the fashion of his arms which were black, enriched with some Jewels of great value, his Casque was covered with a black Plume of Feathers, somewhat spoilt with the rain, and worn with a long voyage, and that which appeared of his Casaque was black too, covered with an embroidery of silver, which had been very handsome. Agrippa might observe all this as he walked amongst the trees, and though he was on foot, and in a condition unconformable to his quality, he was grown more curious upon ●is adventure than naturally he was, or probably 〈◊〉 be at a time when his growing passion sufficiently employed his Spirit.  
The unknown had marched a good while without breaking silence otherwise than by a few sighs, and then calling one of his Squires to him, But Dion, said he, dost thou believe that I ought to ground any farther assurance upon that man's discourse, and is it probable that his science should give him knowledge of my fortune for the future, when possibly he is ignorant of his own destiny? That is not without example, Sir, answered the Squire, and by that which he hath told you concerning the present condition of your soul, you may give some credit to what he hath promised you for the future. He hath promised me nothing punctually, replied the unknown, but hath only given me some uncertain hopes, which I should not have fixed upon, if I had any designs which that confidence might divert me from: Seek not, said he, as I remember, seek not far from the shore of Alexandria, that which thou hast lost; thou shalt not find it any where else, and thou mayst hope that the Gods will restore it to thee in the same condition they gave it thee at first. These were has very words, said the Squire, and I expect some success from them, because of the impression which his science hath made upon my Spirit. The success, added his Master, is in the hand of the Gods that can do all things, and 'tis from you, O ye great Gods, continued he, lifting up his eyes to Heaven, 'tis from you only that I ought to expect the end of these miseries, to which this deplorable life is condemned.  
As he had finished these words he perceived himself to be near a little brook, which arising from a neighbouring spring, ran amongst the trees down to ●●e Sea, which was but a few furlongs off. This ●●●t revived some remembrances in his mind, which ●●●ewed his sighs, and stopping at the place to look upon the clear waters which glided along upon the little pebble stones, with a pleasant murmur. Alas! said he, 'twas in such a place as this, that my destiny presented my Delia to me, and if the Gods would please to restore me what I have lost in the condition wherein they gave it me, it must needs fall out that upon the brink of this rivulet I must find out my adorable Delia.  
The amorous Philadelph (for these words did sufficiently discover him to be the amorous Philadelph) had hardly spoken these few words, but casting his eyes along the brook, whilst his horse was going over it, he thought he saw at a good distance off some persons lying upon the bank, and looking that way with more attention than before, he perceived they were women. At this sight, he knew not why, a shivering ran over his whole body, and stopping the bridle of his horse, he continued with his face towards that object unmoveable and astonished. Dion which followed next to him, seeing him stand still in this posture, and reading in his countenance, which was partly visible his beaver being up, all the signs of a strange amazement: What ails you Sir, and by what surprise is your visage so suddenly changed? Dion spoke thus to him twice without receiving any answer, and Philadelph was so moved and troubled, that for a long time he was not in a condition to make a reply: at last endeavouring to dissipate this strong emotion. Behold, said he, pointing to the place, behold those women which lie upon the bank of the rivulet, and remember that it was in this condition that fortune sent me Delia. This sight and the resemblance of the place and the accident, with that which was so fatal to my life, have so much moved me, that 'tis impossible for me to recompose myself, and if the Gods be but pitiful, it may be amongst these persons I may find my Delia. It may be so, if it please the Gods, replied Dion, and things more improbable often come to pass: but it may be with more likelihood that it will not fall out so, and I do not advise you to ground any hope upon it, that may redouble your displeasures when you find yourself deceived. I will hope for nothing said the Prince, and yet I will neglect nothing, it must be by some extraordinary adventure that Delia shall be restored to me, if she be still in the world for one▪ and though I judge that the extraordinary motions where with my heart is agitated, proceed from the violence of my love, rather than from any presage that is sent me from Heaven, yet I am resolved not to part from this place without satisfying myself in this point, and without seeing the faces of these persons, whom fortune presents to me in the same condition wherein I first saw Delia.  
With these words he alighted, and leaving his horse to Dion, he walked along the bank of the brook with an uncertain pace, and went towards the place where the women lay along upon the grasie.  
By means of the delay which this adventure had caused, Agrippa had the more time and convenience to follow Philadelph, without being perceived, he heard part of the words which were spoken to Dion, he saw him alight from his horse, and guessing at something of the truth by his discourse, the goodness of his nature made him interess himself in this adventure more than before, and wish the man, though he was unknown to him, happy success in his business. The richness of his Armour made him already conjecture that he was of no mean condition, and every thing in Philadelph's person pleaded for his advantage. The passionate Prince marched towards the place where he saw the Ladies lie, with an extraordinary emotion and throbbing of his heart, and he was so troubled between some beams of hope, and the fear of being deceived, that he hardly had strength and assurance to go along. He came at last with the least noise that was possible, to the place where upon the green grass two Ladies were asleep, at first the number displeased him, remembering that Delia went from Cilicia with her Aunt and her Sister, but he stayed not long upon this consideration, judging that in the voyages she had made since, she might be separated from part of her company. He looked upon the two women with a very passionate action, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven in a very suppliant manner: Immortal Gods, said he, (but with his heart more than his mouth; for that continuing mute for fear of making a noise, left all its functions to the heart) pitiful Gods, if by a miraculous effect of your goodness, ye permit me amongst these persons which chance presents to me, to find my Delia, how much should I be beholding to your pity, and for which should I be most obliged to you, for the former life which I have received from you, or this latter which you render me? He passed from this thought to some motions of an uncertain and wavering joy, but immediately after that was destroyed by contrary appearances, and his heart freezing again with fear, which had been thawed by hope: Alas! replied he to himself, what reason can I have to imagine that this adverse fortune, by whose means I have passed so many days in so deplorable a condition, should deal so favourably with me to day? Have not I seen a hundred thousand women since I sought after my wand'ring and fugitive Delia, without meeting her in all that great number, and must I hope because she appeared thus once to me, that every thing which presents itself so afterwards must needs be my adorable Delia? Ah! vain hope, how hast thou abused me to no purpose, and how easy is it to judge that my reason is troubled by my misfortunes, seeing I hope so easily for that which I desire, contrary to all probabilities? 'Tis not in woods, nor a dreadful solitude that Delia spends her nights, and if my destiny caused me to find her there that fatal day, when I lost myself, must I expect the same fortune every day? Go thy way then unfortunate man, to pursue thy uncertain search, seek that which thou hast lost in the company of men, rather than in the retreat of beasts, and do not disturb the rest of those persons which dream not of thee, nor so much as know thee.  
Being deserted by his hope, and abandoning himself to grief, he sat down upon the grass full of sadness and irresolution, and continued a long time in deliberation, whether he should go on his way without relying upon the vain hope which had deceived him, or whether he should have any indulgence for those extraordinary presages which endeavoured to persuade him, that he should receive satisfaction from this adventure. At last, said he, though I should find myself deceived in this expectation, which flatters me, I shall be in the same condition I was a few moments ago: if I fail of finding Delia here in this place, she will be no more lost to me, nor any farther from me, than she was before, and seeing I live only to spend my life in search of her, I ought not to neglect any occasion of finding her, how improbable soever it be. Let us try our fortune then, with a firm resolution to expect from Heaven, whatsoever it shall please to send us, and let us beg of it, if it refuse to give us Delia, either constancy enough to support the redoubling of our grief, or weakness enough to yield to it, without linger out this wandering and unfortunate life any longer.  
With this resolution he rose up, and drawing nearer to those persons, he viewed them over in a trembling posture, and endeavoured to take exact notice of their faces; which was not easy for him to do without waking them, one of the two having her face covered with a linen cloth, and the other lying in another posture, leaned one of her cheeks upon her right arm, and covered the other with her left which she had laid over her head; 'twas to her that he addressed himself, because she had black hair, and her companions fair hair made him know very well, that he must not expect her to be Delia. Never, in the most evident danger, did the most fearful soldier march with so much fear and confusion, and if the amorous Philadelph had seen death present before his eyes in its most terrible shape, he would certainly have encountered it with more assurance and resolution, than this shadow or appearance of Delia whom he sought throughout the world. He stood a while upright before them with his arms across over his breast, in the posture of a man deprived of a part of the faculties both of body and soul, not daring hardly to venture his looks to seek between those envious arms, the face which they concealed from him. He had continued a time in this condition, when he was assaulted by a new fear, which till then had not assailed him, and making cruel reflections upon what was passed: Alas! said he, though by some favourable miracle it should be true that this is my Delia, I should have found her again, possibly to my greater misfortune, and considering the inhumanity she had to defend herself against my love, in a Country where I gave her so many testimontes of it, and to forsake me by a flight which exposes me to so many miseries, just when I believed that by my love I had merited the utmost recompense I had pretended to, ought not I to fear that my presence will be disagreeable to her, and that she will fly from me still, as from an enemy, whom she avoids in all parts of the world. If so many obligations could not move her in the place of my birth, what ought I to expect from my importunate pursuits in this desert, whither possibly she is conducted by some affection which renders her insensible of mine, which robs one of her sight all the world over, and which without doubt hath caused all my misfortunes, both by her flight, and by her hard heartedness when she was in Ci●ici●. This thought afflicted him very sensibly, but it was not able to interrupt his design, and he resolved to try whether this woman that lay asleep, was his ingrateful or his acknowledging Delia.  
After he had rallied up the remainders of his courage, he kneeled down upon one knee before her, and lifted up his eyes to Heaven, begging his Delia of the Gods, with sighs and vows proceeding from the bottom of his heart, as if he had expected from them, that if this woman was an unknown person, they should transform her into Delia at his request. After this he put himself to the venture of looking what he could discover in her face, but, as ill luck would have it, it was so closely covered by her arm, which was jealous of his content, that he could discern nothing: this put him into an inquietude full of impatience, not knowing whether he had best attend her awaking, or interrupt her sleep. If this be not Delia, said he within himself, why should I trouble the repose of a person, whose sex I ought to honour, and if it be Delia, why should I take the liberty to awake her, since I may patiently wait till the end of her sleep? Ah! added he, correcting himself, if this be not Delia, a little incivility, which may be pardoned in relation to such a passion as mine, will presently free me of this error, and if it be Delia, she will easily pardon this small dissturbance of her repose, when she remembers that for her sake my life is absolutely deprived of all quietness, and that for her sake, I spend my nights without sleep, and my days without joy and comfort.  
Upon this thought he reached out his arm to raise up that which covered her face, but at the same time his fear pulled it back, and in this uncertainty, devouring, as it were, the unknown person with his eyes, and bowing down his head towards hers with transports full of ardour and violence: Delia, said he softly, if you are my divine Delia, as my heart tells me, more than all appearances, open, open, those fair eyes, whose first looks made so ready a passage to my heart: and with those fair eyes, my Kings, my Masters, and my Gods, which sleep too cruelly hides from me, look upon the unfortunate Philadelph, which seeks after you all the world over▪ and can neither find repose nor resting place in all the world without you: or if you be not my Delia, whosoever you are, pardon an error in me which is not injurious to you, and believe that I do you no wrong in taking you for that which I adore, and for that, than which the whole world can show nothing more fair and amiable. This thought troubled him again, and kept him for a while uncertain what to do; but at last not being able to master his impatient desires, and fearing (as unfortunate men have reason to fear all things) that some accident might deprive him of this favourable opportunity, he ventured so far as to lay his hand upon the arm which was contrary to him, and to endeavour to remove it from her face, as gently as he could: He had already discovered that part of her forehead which was towards him, and began to see one eye close shut, and seemed with an excess of contentment to perceive nothing but what confirmed him in his hopes: when the person half awaking at the touch, removed herself, and turning more upon one side, she put herself into a posture much more contrary to Philadelph's desires.  
He drew back his trembling hand, and out of a fear which love only could cause in him, he continued for some moments more immovable than a statue: But at last supposing he had surpassed the greatest difficulty, and that by what he had seen conformable to his desires, they were become more violent and impatient, he put himself again into a condition to give himself more ample satisfaction, and beginning again to uncover the Lady's face, his own was so near to hers, that his mouth did almost touch part of that cheek which appeared: but as he was very earnest in his discovery, he was disturbed by the voice of a man, who cried out to him a few paces off: Hold, hold insolent, or thou diest. These words having made him turn his head that way which the voice came, he saw an armed man, who rising up from between the trees where he had lain a while, covered his head with his Casque which he held in his left hand, and with his right hand drew his sword, with an intention to fall upon him with a great deal of fury. If Philadelph's grief and trouble had left him time to consider the face and the whole person of his enemy, he would have seen, that possibly there was not a man in the world more handsome, or more complete in every respect, his age was not above two and twenty years, and his face being of an exact Symmetry, had in it so noble and so agreeable a fierceness, that any one but a person threatened and assaulted, as Philadelph was, would have looked upon him with respect and admiration. He hastily threw on his Head-piece upon his long curled hair, which covered part of his shoulders, but in stead of his face, the proportion of his body might be seen, which was somewhat taller than Philadelph's, but the straightest, and the most exactly form that could be. His arms were all composed of little silver scales filletted with gold, his Casaque of cloth of silver, and his Casque covered with a great Plume of white Feathers. Philadelph had not time to observe either his armour or his person, but as soon as he saw him running towards him, he arose from the posture wherein he was, to defend himself, and drawing out his sword to oppose his enemy, he advanced towards him full of resentment and grief, not so much for his threats, and the attempt he was going to make against his life, as for being an obstacle to his satisfaction.  
The Lady whom this noise had startled out of her sleep, hastily got up, and ran with her companion behind the trees, to put themselves into some security, or to see the event of a business, whereof they knew not the cause. Philadelph breathing out fiery sighs through the passages of his Head-piece, would have turned his eyes that way to look after his Delia, but his enemy gave him no time to do that, nor hardly so much as to put himself into a posture of defence. Then his choler mounted to the highest extremity, and looking upon him with eyes inflamed with indignation: I know not, said he, why thou settest upon me, whom I never injuried, nor possibly ever saw, but what occasion so ever thou mayst have, thy life shall make reparation for the bloody outrage thou hast done me. Thine rather, replied the unknown, holding up the arm which he had raised before, is forfeited by thy insolence, and at that rate thou shalt learn what respect is due to such Ladies as thou lately injuredst.  
Philadelph might easily have defended himself against this accusation, but he would not justify himself to an enemy against whom he was infinitely enraged, and by whom he thought himself to be infinitely injured: besides he thought he should sooner make an end of the combat with him, than declare his innocent intentions to him, and in that choler which transported him, he imagined that man would make but little resistance: but he was deceived in his opinion, and he had to do with an enemy, who in valour was not inferior to him, nor hardly to any person in the world. By the first blows they bestowed each upon other they took notice one of the others strength, and their arms with which they both held their shields bowed under the weight of them: they seconded the first with a great number of others with more fury and precipitation, than judgement and address, and in a few moments they were engaged in a combat, in which one, or possibly both, of their lives was in manifest danger, if Agrippa who was a spectator of it, though at a far distance, and by these beginnings had conceived a marvelous opinion of both their valours, had not quitted the place, from whence he attentively beheld these accidents, to go and hinder what might come of such a furious combat. As he ran towards them, he cried out to them divers times to hold, but they were so eager that they took no notice of his calling to them, and he was got up to them before they turned themselves to look towards him.  
Though Agrippa was alone on foot, and without any other arms but his sword, his courage which had carried him upon so many great and famous designs, made him easily slight the danger, that might be in going in that condition to part two armed men, quite blinded with choler: and Philadelph's two Squires, who upon equal terms, would not have dared to assist their Master, being very joyful for all that to see the endeavour which Agrippa used to part them, advanced towards him to help on that design as much as possibly they could; Agrippa being come near to them, and laying his sword upon the point of theirs: Valiant men, said he, be not so obstinate in fight, possibly, for a slight cause, no body will hinder you from proceeding, when the reason of it is known to be of an importance enough to endanger the lives of two such men as you seem to be: but in the mean time forbear a while at my request, and at the command I lay upon you by the authority of Cesar. Agrippa spoke in this manner, and possibly he would have had somewhat to do to obtain what he desired of two men extraordinarily enraged, if the Lady which had been the cause of the combat, had not run to him to second him in his intention, and conjured him in the Name of the Gods, not to permit (if he could possibly hinder them) these two men to fight any longer.  
At the tone of her voice Philadelph being struck to the very bottom of his heart, turned his eyes that way, and such was his fortune, that in that face, wherein by admirable presages he had hoped to find Delia, he really observed all the lineaments of his wellbeloved Delia. No joy, transport, or ravishment was ever comparable to his at the sight of that adored countenance, which had been so much sought after all the world over, and after he had expressed his first resentments by a loud exclamation, slighting the enemy he was engaged against, and the danger which threatened him, if he were never so little negligent, he let fall his sword and his shield upon the grass, and ran to Delia with so much suddainness, that he had embraced her fast about the knees, before that either she or his enemy had time to perceive his intention. The transport which possested him, depriving him of the use of his speech, he expressed it at first by his action only, and Delia seeing herself between the arms of a man whom she knew not, because he had not had time to discover his face, was more troubled than before, and he that had fought for her, being ignorant of his enemy's design, maugre the hindrance he had received from Agrippa and Philadelphs Squires, advanced towards him with his sword elevated: when the Prince of Cilicia violently tearing off his Head-piece, and at last beginning to speak, amidst a throng of sighs which hardly gave him liberty to express himself: Delia, cried he out, my divine Delia, the Gods do then restore you to him, whom you fly from throughout the whole world, and my heart did not deceive me, when it persuaded me that in your person I should find my Delia. In the conclusion of these few words he made divers exclamations without order, or coherence, by which his violent passion discovered its self to those who observed his action, and particularly to his enemy, who having stayed himself when he saw him no longer in a resolution or a condition to fight, looked upon him with more amazement than the rest.  
Delia (for this was really she, and the Gods for this time had with compassion looked upon the sincere and violent passion of Philadelph) could not any longer mistake either the voice or visage of that Prince, but was so surprised at it, that for a long time, she did not appear capable to express her resentments, and her astonishment was taken notice of by the standers by in her countenance, her silence, and her immobility. When she had had a little time to ruminate upon this adventure, and partly to recover herself from the amazement into which this accident had put her: her face which in Agrippa's judgement, who looked upon her with admiration, might compare with the most beautiful upon earth) was spread over with a blush, which gave it a new lustre, and it was hard to discern whether it proceeded from a principle of shame to see herself accosted by a man with so much expression of passion, or whether it was for joy of having met a Prince to whom she was so much obliged, and towards whom she was not insensible. At last her astonishment being a little dissipated, by the power which naturally she had over her Spirit, and by that admirable prudence which she had expressed in all the actions of her life, she endeavoured to reduce her countenance to the former marks of tranquillity, and possibly laying some violence upon herself not to discover to Philadelph her more passionate thoughts by more tender endearments, she reached him one of her fair hands with a great deal of sweetness, and looking upon him with an air, which in a person of Delia's humour, might persuade him to any thing to his own advantage: Philadelph, said she, I am too much obliged to you to fly from you, and the memory of those obligations I have to you is too dear to me, for me to let slip out of my heart the esteem and the acknowledgement which I owe to your goodness and to your person. Nothing ever kept me from you, but the effects of my bad fortune, which hath exposed me to great crosses since our separation, and I see you now again with as much joy, as I can be sensible of at the meeting of those persons which ought to be most dear to me.  
As she made an end of these words with an admirable grace, she made use of that hand which she had reached out to Philadelph to raise him up, and the passionate Prince, who could hardly get himself loose from her knees, yielding to that little violence with transports of joy, which his discourse was not able to express, and raising himself out of a posture, wherein Delia would not let him continue any longer, fixing his eyes with a violent ardour upon that beloved face: Great Gods! cried he, is it possible, that you should restore me Delia, whom my cruel fortune had taken and detained from me with so much cruelty? And you Delia, or that which appears to my eyes under the shape of Delia, is it possible that you should be really that Delia, to whom I gave my heart the first moment I saw her, and whom I have carried in the middle of my heart, in all the journeys which I have made in search of her? or am I not abused by some dream or illusion, which in all manner of objects presents to my crazed imagination the image of my divine Delia? Then he continued some moments viewing that fair person from head to foot, with an action that easily made the company take notice of the violence of his love, and Delia, who was tenderly moved at it, and could hardly herself conceal part of her own resentments, desiring to help him out of this astonishment, Yes, Prince, said she, I am Delia herself without illusion, and you can not any longer mistake her in me, if you have preserved any Idea of her, and if it be true that you have been so mindful of her as you would persuade me.  
At these words, Philadelph perfectly confirming himself in the knowledge of his happiness, had scarcely force to resist the joy, which violently seized upon his soul: It wanted but a little of depriving him of his senses and knowledge, and it was as much out of weakness and inability to sustain himself, as out of design, that he let himself fall the second time at Delia's feet, which, notwithstanding all the endeavours she used to put him out of that posture, he washed with a flood of tears, which the excess of his joy drew from his eyes at this accident as abundantly as grief could have done. 'Twas in this condition that he found himself incapable of making any coherent or rational discourse, and abandoning himself to passion which entirely possessed him, he spoke things, and did actions more capable to persuade the strength of his love, than of his judgement. At last, quitting Delia's knees by the little violence which she used to him, and lifting his hands and eyes to Heaven: Immortal Gods! said he, your goodness hath surpassed my hopes, and since that by so great and uncommon a benefit, you blot out of my soul the remembrance of those misfortunes, to which my unfortunate life hath been exposed, I beg your pardon for those murmurings, which out of humane frailty I may have made against your divine wills: and you my pains, and my sufferings how dear and precious are you to me now, since by your means I find again the Jewel of my life, and the only good for which the remainders of this wand'ring life were preserved.  
He made, after this, divers discourses of the same nature in this transport, which wanted but a little of prejudicing his reason or his health, and Delia, who in all the Prince's actions, observed the progress of that great Love, whereof she had received such fair proofs in Cilicia, and which possibly she took notice of with more joy and satisfaction than she durst express, after she had given some time to this first heat, and this first impetuosity of Philadelph, taking up the discourse with a composed action, and a look wherein, as modest as she was, a part of her thoughts was discovered: Generous Prince, said she, I do not deserve the testimonies which you give me of your affection, though I can truly protest to you, that I am as joyful to meet you as you would desire, and certainly I should be very ungrateful for the goodness you showed to one unknown, to a maid exposed to the disgraces of fortune, if I had not received into my heart the resentment due to it, and for your person all the esteem which such an extraordinary merit as yours ought to introduce there.  
Delia spoke in this manner, and the amorous Prince being highly taken with her discourse, harkened to her with transporting ravishments, which might be observed both in his action and in his countenance: when the valiant man who had fought against him, and till then had seen their actions, and heard their discourse without interrupting them, pulling off his Casque as Philadelph had done, and approaching to him with a countenance, which not only had nothing of an enemy in it, but might cause love or admiration in the most insensible souls: Generous Prince, said he, I take too much interest in the good affices you have rendered Delia, and your virtue is already too well known to me by the handsome effects which it hath produced in its own favour, not to be obliged to desire of you, together with your pardon for the vain attempt I made against you, some part in your friendship: I owe this desire both to the particular obligation I have to ●ou, and to the merit of your person.  
Philadelph who till then had taken little notice of any thing but Delia at this discourse of the unknown turning his eyes towards his face, found occasion enough in the compleatness of his person to fix them there with astonishment: He found him but too handsome, and too complete in every respect, and seeing in what manner he was with Delia, and what interest he took in the good offices which he had rendered her, he imagined presently that he had met with a rival, and such a rival, so far as so little a time could discover, as was not contemptible. This thought immediately made a chillness run over all his body, and his jealousy was almost as strong in its original as if it had been of long continuance. He looked upon him without returning any answer, with thoughts that had little conformity to the discourse which he had heard from his mouth, and meditated with himself, as unresolved what answer he should make him, when Delia reading part of the truth in his looks, and desiring to draw him out of the disquiet whereinto he began to plange himself; Philadelph, said she, do not refuse this Prince your amity which he desires of you, and who merits it upon all manner of considerations: there is no possible reason that ought to hinder you from it, and on can not grant it to a person, who is or aught to be more dear to me. What repugnance so ever Philadelph had already conceived against the unknown, he had a love for Delia, and a submission to her will, which did not permit him to refuse what she desired, and so turning towards the man with a countenance not so full of kindness as his, I know not, said he, what obligation you have to me, nor what service I have rendered you in the person of Delia, but what interest so ever you take in that, the proofs I have had of your valour could not but give me thoughts of esteem for you, and the attempt you made against my life, leaves me no resentment, but what your merit and Delia's command may easily dissipate. I perceive very well, replied the unknown with a smile, that you have not absolutely pardoned me: but I hope that effect from the services which I shall render you, and from the assistance of Delia.  
With these words he embraced him with an admirable grace in his caresses, and Philadelph paid him back as much as he believed himself obliged to do by civility and Delia's will.  
All these things passed in Agrippa's presence, who ever since the endeavour he had used to part the two combatants, had stood almost immovable to hearken to their discourses, and to observe their actions, wherein he thought he ought not to interrupt persons from whom their passion took away all other consideration: But by the name of Prince, which they▪ had often pronounced, and that of Philadelph which had many times reached his ears, judging of the qualities of these persons, he interessed himself in their adventures more than before, and resolved to offer them his assistance, in a condition when they might have need of it, and in a Country where he had credit and authority. Upon his design coming to Philadelph, who was better known to him than the rest by the conversation which they had had together the night before. Prince, said he, the discourse we had together last night, when we did not see each other, caused a great desire in me to serve you, and though you shunned me this morning with a kind of disdain, that slighting did not make me lose my design, nor hinder me from serving you in getting near enough to hinder your combat: I believe your condition is changed, and the sadness which you expressed to me by your discourse last night is dissipated by this happy meeting; I take a great share in your satisfaction, in regard of the knowledge I begin to have of you, and in respect of that which the very sight of you, and that which you did in my presence, persuade me to, to your advantage: and upon that which I have understood of your birth in the discourse of that admirable person; I offer to you now as to a Prince, and to those which are with you, as to persons of a condition little different from your own, whatsoever, upon your present occasions, you shall possibly desire of one who is interessed in you affairs, and is not without credit in these parts.  
Agrippa expressed himself thus, and Philadelph, as deeply engaged as he was in his passion, turning towards him, and having looked upon him very attentively during his discourse, easily knew him by his voice, for the same man with whom he had entertained himself in the dark, and by whom his enemy and he had been parted in their combat. His discourse was not only obliging and generous, but signified too that he was a man of authority, and though Agrippa was alone and on foot at such an hour, in a desert and solitary place; yet his garb made something extraordinary remarkable in his person, and his habit which he wore that day, to appear in Elisa's presence, though it were but a hunting suit, was yet set out in divers places with Gold and Jewels, and did not ill become Agrippa's gallant appearance.  
Philadelph having viewed him a while, was about to return him an answer, though he did not know very well how he should treat with him, when they heard a great noise, and at the same time saw a great troop of horse appear, who came up to them as soon as they had spied Agrippa, Delia and her company were troubled at this sight, and the unknown and Philadelph were putting themselves into a posture of defending themselves, if these men should offer any incivility, but by their action they saw they had no need to fear them; for they all alighted and came round about Agrippa with such submissive respects as made them judge that he was their master. They were indeed the people of Agrippa's retinue, who having sought all night for him in places far distant from that where he was, came thither at last having searched all the corners of the wood: he that was the chiefest amongst them coming to Agrippa before the rest: The Gods be praised, Sir, said he, that we find you in so good a condition, after we have spent all the night in search of you, not without cruel apprehensions that some accident had befallen you. They made likewise great excuses for having lost him, laying the fault upon the swiftness of his horse, which had so far outstripped theirs, that they could never find him again, having unluckily followed different ways from that which he had taken. Agrippa received their excuses without passion, and in the mean time the fair Delia, the brave unknown, and the Prince of Cilicia, confirming themselves by this great train, and by the respect which the persons gave him, in the opinion which they had begun to conceive of Agrippa's dignity, looked upon him with more attention than before, and Philadelph to whom he had particularly addressed himself, taking up the discourse to answer his civilities: I have not deserved, said he, the goodness you express to me by interessing yourself in my affairs, as you do, and if I went from you this morning without giving you thanks for the offer you then made, it was not for want of acknowledgement, but out of the knowledge of my own melancholy humour, which made me avoid all manner of company, because it made mine troublesome: 'tis true my condition is changed, at least if I do not find in the Spirit of this adorable person whom you see, an aversion or an insensibility which may throw me back into my former miseries, and having found that which I sought for throughout the world, and the only thing for which I continued in the world, the mortal grief wherein I have passed so many days, and of which you observed some marks in our last night's converse, is changed into a joy which my soul is not able to contain; be pleased to pardon the transports which it hath caused me, and the faults I might commit against you, and judge if you please, whether the miraculous recovery of such a loss as mine was, and the loss of such a person as appears before you, might not cause some alteration, and trouble in a more solid and less passionate Spirit than mine. As for what you have judged of our birth by our discourse, I will confess to you that I am a Prince, and that the incomparable Delia is such, that there is neither Princess nor Queen under Heaven, to whom the services and the respects of all virtuous persons can be more justly due. As for this valiant man against whom this happy adventure caused me to draw my sword, I can give you no accounnt of him, having never seen him before: but all the marks in his countenance, and in his whole person are so extraordinary, that one can not but judge very advantageously of them. The judgement you make of them, replied the unknown, is too favourable on my part, and 'tis not by the marks which appear in my person that my birth can be discovered: Delia will answer for me that it is none of the meanest, and then possibly you will grant me a part in your friendship, which you can hardly vouchsafe me now.  
Philadelph was going to reply, whilst Agrippa having accosted Delia with respect and admiration, offered her all manner of service and assistance: when Dion coming to his master, informed him, as he had learned of his followers, that this was Agrippa. Agrippa was known over all the world, for his dignity in the Empire, for the greatness of his actions, and the favour of Augustus: there was not a King, that was acquainted with the Roman power, which did not seek his friendship and assistance; and as he had joined a great number of excellent virtues to the dignity whereunto he was advanced, so next to Cesar's there was not a Name amongst men more famous and more reverenced than his. Philadelph had no sooner understood this, but turning towards him with a more respective action than before: I had observed before, said he, by divers marks, that you were no common person, but I was not informed of the truth, and I desi●e our p●●don if I have not rendered you that which is due to the name and person of the great Agrippa. At the name of Agrippa, the fair unknown stepping some paces back, and viewing him with more attention than before▪ 'Tis certain, said he, that it is a Name to which all men, and particularly all the Princes that are friends and allies to the Roman Empire, owe respect; and I esteem myself very happy, by this adventure, to see a man, whose great actions make him so well known over all the world. Agrippa answered both their discourses with a great deal of modesty, and reiterated the offers he had made them, when they saw Cornelius Gallus arrive at the place, followed by a party of those which had accompanied him in the search of Cleopatra: as soon as he saw Agrippa, he road up directly to him, and alighting because he saw him on foot: I was extremely in pain for you, said he, and having understood by one of your retinue, that you were wandered from your company, I have employed in search of you all the time we had, since we lost the search of Cleopatra: And have you no news of that Princess, said Agrippa, with great signs of discontent? I have spent the night in quest of her as well as you, replied Cornelius, and but an hour ago I met with two men who saw her yesterday with her companion between the arms of their ravishers, and having followed them at a distance by their outcries, they saw them carried into a vessel hidden behind the rocks upon this coast, which immediately after went off, and put to Sea with full sails. O Gods! cried the virtuous Agrippa, shall not that Princess be succoured then? All that I could do, added Cornelius, hath been to send order for some vessels to go from the port in pursuit of them, and by the command, which you know I have received from Cesar, nei●her you nor I are permitted to go far from Alexandria: and besides, the persons which I have sent to her assistance, will render it her, without doubt, with the same success, that we ourselves might hope for. May it please the Gods to guide them, replied Agrippa, for it would be a great loss, if such a Princess as Cleopatra should continue at the mercy of her enemies, whosoever they be.  
After these words and some others which they had together upon this subject, by which Agrippa particularly expressed how much he was displeased that he could not go in person to the assistance of Cleopatra, Cornelius cast his eyes upon the fair Delia, and upon the admirable unknown who was by her, with the Prince of Cilicia: the sight of these three persons, who were of no ordinary appearance, made him presently make a stop, and he turned his eyes towards Agrippa, to be informed by him, when preventing the effect of his curiosity: I perceive, said he, that you look with some astonishment, upon these persons who carry such uncommon marks in their countenances: mine was no less than yours when I first met with them, and I judged conformably to the truth, that under such noble appearances persons of the most sublime condition were concealed. They are Princes of rare merit, and extraordinary valour (as far as I could judge in the small time when I saw them have occasion to express it) whom fortune hath brought into the Countries under your government, and I thought I should not be disowned by you, if I should offer them a place of retreat here, and all the assistances which they could desire of virtuous persons. Both in these Countries, and throughout the whole Empire, replied Cornelius, my power shall always submit to yours: and if upon your own account, you had not offered what is due to such persons, they carry enough in their garb to command entertainment and service, as they shall do at Alexandria, so far as I can promise them upon all the credit that Cesar hath given me there.  
The fair unknown taking occasion at this discourse, and addressing himself to Agrippa and Cornelius: I did not doubt, said he, but that all manner of assistance and courtesy might be found in such persons as you, and I do less attribute it to that which might appear somewhat advantageous in us, than to your virtue only, and inclination which carries you out to generous actions. As for these Ladies and myself we will not refuse, in the present condition of our affairs, the retreat which you offer us, and as for Prince Philadelph, I do not think he is willing to quit Delia so suddenly. Philadelph blushed at this discourse of the unknown, and laying a restraint upon the suggestions of his jealousy: 'Tis true, said he, that after I have sought for Delia over all the world, there is little probability that at that very moment when the Gods have restored her to me, I should part from her upon any consideration but her own command, and if she be pleased that I should wait upon her, you may answer for me, as you do, that I will never he divided from her whilst I live. I esteem your person too much, replied Delia, and am too much obliged to your goodness, to refuge your company: it shall not be by my will that we should part so suddenly, and the meeting with you ought in all reason to be too dear to me to lose the benefit of it so soon. Ah Delia! cried the Prince of Cilici●, with a countenance, wherein his contentment was visible to all the company: Ah Delia how charming are you in your generous goodness, as well as in that admirable beauty in which the Gods have given you an advantage above all the persons of your sex? and how well do I know that you are the same Delia, sensible as to acknowledgement and pity, but insensible in the way of love.  
He would have spoken more to that purpose, if Agrippa and Cornelius, after some other discourses full of civility, had not entreated them to take horse to go towards Alexandria.  
The fair unknown and Philadelph had horses in their Squires hands, and Delia and her Companion made use of such as Cornelius furnished them with all. They were not so delicate, but that by the accidents of their life, and the voyages they had made, they were accustomed to more difficult things, than to ride on horseback, and Delia being mounted by the assistance of Philadelph, drew the eyes of Agrippa and Cornelius upon her then, more than she did before. She seemed to Agrippa more beautiful than all that he had ever seen, except Elisa only, Cornelius could find no equal to her in his remembrance, but the Queen Candace, and if this judgement, which (besides its conformity to the truth) was backed by their passion, permitted them to go beyond their own interest to find a beauty not inferior to hers, none but Cleopatra could be she. Indeed there was hardly ever seen in the world, a more exact beauty than the fair Strangers was, and besides the advantages, which by the sparkling quickness of her eyes, and the just proportion of the lineaments of her face, she had over the most illustrious beauties, never did the fairest visages carry in them so many marks of modesty and virtue as hers did, in which they might be seen as in their most real and most natural place. The Symmetry of her whole person was so composed as that it might securely outbrave envy, her port and her action were accompanied with a grace, wherein nature had imprinted something as great and high as she was able to represent.  
The amorous and transported Philadelph marching by the side of this admirable person, by the compliance of Agrippa and Cornelius, who knowing the strong interest wherewith he was engaged, were willing to give him free liberty to entertain her, and looking upon her with eyes almost sparkling with the ardency of his affection: Divine Delia, said he, Delia, the only aim, and the only cause of my life, where shall I begin to declare to you the thoughts of my soul, or desire to know yours, upon which my days are inseparably fixed? Shall I blame you for that cruel flight, by which you have made me wander so long in the most deploplorable condition, that ever an unfortunate Lover was reduced to? Shall I represent to you the grievous sufferings, wherein I have passed my life, occasioned by the loss of your sight, and almost of all my hopes? Or rather, shall I ask of you, if there remains still in your Spirit any remembrance of my love, any relics of pity, or any favourable intention for your faithful Philadelph? Alas! 'tis upon this last point only that I ought to insist: my complaints will work no more effect upon your Spirit, than they did heretofore in Cilicia: you will apprehend nothing of the pain which your absence hath made me suffer, but what you know already by the knowledge you have of my love. All that is passed is pleasing to my memory, when I call to mind, that 'tis for you that I have suffered all, and in stead of calling it to mind by my discourse, 'twere much better Delia, that I should ask you, and expect from your mouth the destiny of Philaladelph. But O Gods! here it is that my courage fails me, and I continue without resolution or assurance in expectation of a sentence upon which my life or death doth certainly depend. I am still ignorant whether amongst the thoughts of acknowledgement, which work some effect upon such a a soul as yours, there was formerly intermingled any motion of a particular affection. I know not whether those thoughts, whatsoever they might be, continue in the same condition, in relation to me, as they were discovered to me in Cilicia; whether your departure out of our Country, was not caused by something that destroys all the hope which my love had permitted me to conceive; whether that hardheartedness, which you always had for me, be not increased by absence, or rather Delia (and I tremble in speaking it to you, both for fear of offending you, and for fear lest my suspicions should be too true) whether all the avenues of that heart, which I have so vainly attempted with so much love, be not blocked up against me by some other affection which received its birth since our separation, or before our acquaintance.  
Philadelph spoke these words with some pain, and finished them with his eyes cast down to the ground, with an action that signified to Delia, a great deal of fear and confusion: the fair Lady looked upon him a while in that condition, without returning him any answer, and a little after smoothing her countenance with a little more than ordinary sweetness and serenity, and giving the passionate Prince a look, able to recall him from the grave: Be pacified Philadelph, said she, and believe that if my Spirit was ever capable of any affection, or may be so for the future, it never was, nor ever shall be, but for you: by this assurance you may be secured against all your fears, with part of which I could find some occasion to be offended, if the obligation I have to you did not make me easily pass over slight considerations. As to the reproach you make me concerning my departure out of Cilicia, I thought I had been partly justified by the reasons which I alleged you for it, in the paper which I gave you at our parting, and I believed that you would find enough there to excuse a procedure which appearances made you condemn. Ah! Madam, cried the Prince, interrupting her, I understood nothing upon that account, and if the Gods had left me that means to let me know my fortune, it may be I had not wandered so long in search of you, with so much misery and grief: that sacred paper wherein the secret of my life was enclosed, was taken from me by an incredible misfortune, and the religious observation of the prohibition which you made me when you gave it me, caused me a loss whereof I was more sensible, than I should have been of the loss of my Father's Crown.  
Upon that he related to her how he lost the Cabinet where the paper was enclosed, and he made her that discourse in such terms as made her more and more acquainted with the violence of his passion, and when he had done speaking, Delia, who had quietly harkened to him, taking up the discourse with a smile: You have lost nothing, said she, since by our meeting, the address I gave you to inform yourself of me is rendered unnecessary. If you might be accused of negligence, for having ill kept a thing, which in regard of the interest you take in it ought to be of some importance to you, yet the respect you had to the request I made you when I gave it you, aught to satisfy me, and I receive it as no slight proof of your affection, which shall always be as dear to me as you can desire. I did a little wonder to hear you talk in such a manner as might make me judge that you were still ignorant of those things which you might have understood by that means: you shall shortly understand them from the mouth of a person, who is too much obliged to you to use any disguise with you whilst she lives, and then I will acquaint you with the adventures which have befallen me since our separation, which were the cause that you failed of finding me in the Country where I was born, which I did not conceal from you.  
Philadelph even surfeiting with a joy which his soul was hardly able to contain, was about to answer Delia's obliging discourse, when the brave unknown, who looked upon him with a countenance full of all the marks of amity, road up to his side, and came to participate in their conversation, Philadelph, who upon another account would have looked with love and admiration upon the wonders that appeared in his person, and who naturally had a soul as full of sweetness and courtesy as any man in the world, beheld this man with a repugnance which he could not dissemble, and seemed as little sensible of the testimonies of esteem which he gave him, as if he had lost his judgement and knowledge. The meeting of a man as highly accomplished as ever any nature framed, in Delia's company, and the familiarity that seemed to be between them, was so much suspected by him, that had it not been for the respect he bore to Delia, he had made the effects of his jealousy appear against him without any farther delay: and whilst Agrippa and Cornelius looked upon him as an admirable man, and as one that did equal at least all the completest persons that ever they saw, all the confidence he had in Delia's words, and the long experience he had of her admirable virtue could not hinder him from looking upon him as a Tiger ready to tear his heart in pieces: The brave unknown highly courted him without being repulsed at his coldness, and guessing somewhat nearly at the cause: I hope, said he, that you will not be always insensible of the esteem I have for you, and that you will bemoan me in stead of hating me, when you shall know that my ill fortune can move nothing but pity in such persons as you are; He spoke only these words to him holding him by the hand, and being unwilling to interrupt him any farther, breathing out a deep sigh, he turned his horse toward Cornelius, just as the company was arrived close by the gates of Alexandria.  
Cornelius would willingly have lodged this last company in the Palace of the Kings of Egypt, with Elisa and Candace, had it not been for Cesar's coming, for whom all the lodgings were already taken up, though Cornelius had left his two illustrious guests in theirs, supposing that the Emperor himself would be well pleased that he had rendered this civility to the Heir of the Crown of Parthia, and he conducted them to one of the fairest lodgings in the City, which he had sent one of his men before to take up for them. The brave unknown and Philadelph were completely armed, but they had given their Headpieces to their Squires, and marched bare-faced through the streets of Alexandria. The brave unknown road by Cornelius his side, and his handsomeness drew upon him the eyes and the admiration of all that were present at his passing by: amongst those a woman, who with some others; stood upon one of the Balconies of the Palace, had no sooner looked upon him and viewed him a little while, but without considering how many people were about her, lifting up her hands and her eyes to Heaven, O Gods! cried she, O great Gods! and at the same time being overpressed with some violent motion, she lost her senses, and fell down between the arms of those persons who were near her. The fair unknown was not so far off, but that this voice came confusedly to his ears, and he took notice of the bustling of the people upon the balcon, that carried away the woman that swooned, yet he did not hear the tone of the voice distinctly enough to discern it perfectly; neither did he hear so little, but that he presently felt an extraordinary emotion thereupon: the Idea which was present in his memory carried the sound into the middle of his heart, with so much trouble that it was taken notice of by Cornelius, and not being able to dissemble it: Am I a fool? said he, changing his colour two or three times in a moment. Agrippa makinog a sip to look upon him asked him if he found himself ill, and the unknown endeavouring to recompose himself: 'Tis nothing, said he; but something must be indulged to a man, whose imagination is a little crazed, and who is not always himself. As he spoke these words, he endeavoured to dissipate that which he attributed to his imagination, and recovering his former condition as much as possibly he could, he road on, & arrived with Cornelius at the lodging which he had designed for them.  
Cornelius after he had given order himself, for their accommodation, with a care whereunto he was not obliged in relation to persons of a meaner quality than those of Sovereign dignity, and had learned from Philadelph's mouth his birth, and a small abridgement of his principal adventures, returned to the Palace to dispatch divers affairs, which were then upon his hands, and (more than upon any other consideration) to see Candace, and to render her some account of the diligence he had used in the service of Cleopatra, wherein he had seen her interessed. He found that fair Queen in the Princess Elisa's chamber, where she had lain that night to discourse with her concerning the discovery, she thought she had made, of her dear Cesario. Ever since that moment, wherein that wellbeloved countenance appeared to her eyes, the Spirit of that great Princess could not recover its ordinary composure, and all that an excessive joy, yet moderated with a fear of being mistaken, could produce in a soul, had agitated her's without intermission. All that night sleep never approached her eyes, and she experimented that joy was much more contrary to it, than grief which ordinarily causes sleep, and doth not keep the Spirits in that agitation, which hinders the repose of the body. The sad Eliza was constrained to watch a good part of the night to answer the Queen's discourse, and to give her the counsel she desired upon that adventure. Candace was very uncertain what way to take, to inform her Cesario of her condition, and having no man near her whom she could trust with a secret of that importance, she remained very much unresolved and ignorant what to do. But however it was some comfort to her to know (if her sight did not deceive her) that her Cesario was at so little a distance from her, and if the paleness which she had observed in his countenance, did grieve her in relation to the bad condition of his health, she assured herself on the other side, out of a belief she had, that in that case Cesario could not suddenly go far from Alexandria, and so she should have what time she desired to make use of this adventure. She was not likewise without some hope that the Prince had seen her from the window where he leaned, and reflecting upon that thought: If my Image be in his heart, said she, as his entirely possesses mine, without doubt he saw me and knew me, and he did not fix his sight so much upon the persons of our company and our train, but that he discerned amongst that number, her, who not long since, was the object of all his thoughts and all his affections. From this brief reasoning with herself, she passed to a consnlation with Elisa how to find out some means to help herself, and after she had sufficiently meditated upon it, she believed it could not be better done, than by the assistance of Prince Tiridates, to whom she was already beholding for her life, whom she had acquainted with part of her adventures, and whom she knew to be very generous, and well-affected to her interests.  
Upon this thought addressing herself to Elisa: My fair Princess, said she, the Prince Tiridates your Uncle is a Prince so virtuous, and so worthy of the esteem of all his relations, that you can not without injuring yourself, neglect the opportunity of knowing him, and I should be ingrateful for the obligation I have to him, if I should not contribute whit I could to the making of you known to each other: though he discovers himself to few persons, and especially to those of Phraates his family, I assure myself he will take it well at my hands when I shall have procured him the sight of such a Niece as you, and of a Princess who is discontenced, and that flies, as well as he from the cruelty of Phraates: the aversion he hath from company, and the difficulty there will be to persuade him to quit his solitude, to come amongst the world of people in Alexandria, obliges me to propose a walk to you towards the house which he hath chosen for his retreat: Cornelius will willingly furnish us with a necessary equipage for this design, and I presume upon my small interest, which partly obliges me to make you this proposition, to make use of Tiridates his goodness, after I have discovered Cesario retreat to him, which, so far as I can judge, is not far distant from his. By the assistance of this courteous Prince, to whom I have discovered my name and part of my affairs, I may, without doubt, see my dear Cesario, or find out some means to let him know where I am. Candace expressed herself in this manner, and Elisa having a little meditated upon her discourse: That which you propose to me, said she, is not very imptobable, and besides the desire I may have to know a man of mine own kindred, and a virtuous man too, as you describe him, and as the common report goes of him; I shall be very much satisfied, my fair Queen, if upon this occasion you can find out any means to serve your intentions. I will go with you to see both Tiridates and Cesario, and I shall receive no small consolation of my own displeasures, if I can any way contribute to the case of yours.  
Candace tenderly embraced Elisa upon this discourse, and they were still engaged in this conversation, when Agrippa and Cornelius came into the chamber. The sight of Cornelius was not very welcome to Candace, since she 〈…〉 love, and the susition Elisa had conceived of ●● grippa's affection, closed her ey 〈…〉 deration of his great quality 〈…〉 what was trouble some and 〈…〉 they received them both, 〈…〉 of Agrippa, and the obligation 〈…〉 Cornelius. The Queen of 〈…〉 lie asked what news concerning Cleopatra, and Cornelius having told her as much as he knew, and what disigence he had used towards her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ce, put her into as much inquietude for her Cesar's sister, as her own affairs could permit her to be capable of. Agrippa gave them an account in his turn, of the employments he had had that night: but if he said nothing to them of the meeting of Coriolanus, for fear of doing that Prince some hurt by discovering his abode in his enemy's Country, he enlarged himself upon the rancounter of Philadelph and Delia, and made the two Princesses harken with great attention to the relation he made them of that adventure: he represented to them the admirable beauty of Delia, the handsome use of Philadelph, and insilled particularly upon the description of the wonders he had observed in the person of the fair unknown, whom he represented to be one of the most accomplished men in the world: Ah! if you had seen my Artaban, Ah! if you had known my Cesario, said the two Princesses to themselves, at the same time, you would be silent concerning all other men; to give them alone all the praises which you bestow upon the unknown: They continued a while in this conversation, and though the two Lovers had something else upon their hearts, Agrippa durst not declare himself to Elisa before Candace and Cornelius, nor Cornelius proceed in that he had begun with Candace, before Agrippa and the Princess of the Parthians.  
After they were gone forth, the two Princesses hath some farther discourse concerning the resolution they had to go and seek out Tiridates and Cesario, and they agreed to take that walk the next day if Cornelius would give them opportunity to do it. After they had pitched upon this design, they thought upon the Princess Olympia, towards whom for her beauty and for her rare qualities they were very affectionately inclined, but they had not seen her that day. The evening before, the trouble wherein Candace's spirit was, in relation to the adventures which had befallen her, had hindered them from desiring of her the continuation of her history, but when they saw themselves a little free, they reflected upon it, and found themselves very desirous to be acquainted with the sequel of it, and to give the Princess new testimonies of the amity which they had already contracted with her. They would have gone presently to visit her in her chamber, and they were not ignorant that they owed that civility to a person, who in birth, and all manner of excellent parts was little inferior to them, but they knew she had no intention to discover herself, and that they could not render that good office to a slave, without making that suspected which she desired to conceal. They contented themselves for that time to send Cephisa to her, to know how she did, and to make their excuses, because they did not visit her, out of fear of displeasing her. Cephisa went to do her message, and a little while after, she returned to the Princesses with some astonishment in her countenance: Candace having presently asked her the cause; Madam, said she, the Princess of Thrace is not in a condition to give you a visit to day, and I have left her upon her bed in a violent fever, with greater troubles in her mind than there appears disturbance in her body. The Princesses at this report, had no regard of their former circumspection, and made no doubt but that in this case they ought to go and visit Olympia. Let us go see her, Madam, said Elisa to Candace; for I have such an esteem and affection for her, that I can not hear of her being ill, without being afflicted at it. I will bear you company very willingly, replied Candace, and as far as I can judge, that Princess is so worthy of the affection and esteem of those persons that know her, that I should be very sorry that you should go beyond me upon that account.  
Having spoken these words, they went together to the chamber of the Princely slave, which was hard by theirs, and as they came in they were ashamed to find her in a place so unconformable to her condition. She was upon the bed just as Cephisa had told them, and only Ericia with her, who had shut the windows, and left but little light in the chamber. As soon as the Princesses were come near, Candace sitting down upon the side of the bed, and leaving Elisa a chair at the bed's head: What is the matter, my fair Princess, said she, and what alteration have you received since yesterday in your health, which is very dear to all the persons that know you? The alteration, replied Olympia, is very great, both in my health, and my condition, and you see me now, as it pleases the Gods and Fortune, in a very different estate from that wherein I was this morning. And what is bef l en you of so great importance, added Elisa presently? be pleased to tell us, that we may take our share in it, as we have hitherto done, out of inclination and knowledge, in every thing that concerned you. I am so discomposed, answered Olympia that I know not whether I shall be able to express myself, and all the passions are confused in my soul with so much violence, that my body is not able to resist them, and I have hardly so much as my speech at liberty, I know not whether it be joy that puts me into this condition, or whether is be grief that works this effect both upon my body and my Spirit, but however it be, I will tell you, if I can, seeing you have the goodness to interest yourselves thus in my fortune, that the man of whom I formerly spoke to you with so much passion, the fair unknown, to whom by a strange fatality I gave my heart at the first sight, he who afterwards by divers great actions, and great proofs of his love took the absolute possession of my soul, he, for whose sake only I have survived such long sorrows, and for whom I preserved this unfortunate life with a little hope of seeing him again, is now in Alexandria. O Gods, cried Candace, what do you tell us Olympia, and what assurance have you of his arrival? That replied Olympia, which my eyes gave me, and being with Ericia, and some other persons upon that Balcony which looks into the street, when Agrippa and Cornelius returned, I saw him with his face uncovered, I saw him so plainly that I could not be mistaken, and I could not see him but with so great a trouble and emotion, that my senses failed me, and I fell in a swoon betwixt Ericia's arms. Ah! without doubt, added Candace, 'tis the fair unknown, of whom Agrippa speak to us with so many Eulogies, he, whom he found in the wood with a Lady, whose admirable beauty he represented to us. 'Tis the very same, answered Olympia, and Agrippa could not speak to you of him with so many praises, but he must forget some admirable qualities in his person, he, for whom I have breathed out so many sighs, is at last returned to me, and he for whose sake I lingered out my days in slavery and misery, comes to be a witness of my captivity, and servitude, which I supported with patience through the love I had for him. Well, said the sad Elisa, interrupting her, Well, my dear Olympia, see, you have the greatest occasion of joy that ever you could desire, and in the mean time it produces in you such effects as do not ordinarily proceed from any thing but grief: Alas! you recover all that you had lost, and Elisa only remains without hope of ever seeing again that which the pitylesse destinies have taken from her. 'Tis indeed to me, replied Olympia, with two or three sighs, the only occasion of joy that I could wish for, to see him again whom I so dearly loved, and the Gods bear me witness, that had it not been for the hope I had of it, my unfortunate days had not been of so long a continuance: but 'tis indeed to me a greater occasion of grief if I see him again unfaithful, than if I had never seen him again, nor outlived so many miseries, only to be a witness of his infidelity: It had been more acceptable, and much better for me to have lost this deplorable life, either amongst the waves, or in those miseries wherewith hitherto it hath been turmoiled. You have some reason, said Candace much troubled, but what knowledge, or rather what suspicion have you, that this man, from whom you have received so many restimonies of love, is now unfaithful to you? I have, answered Olympia, the same that you yourself gave me, when you told me, that he was found in the wood by Agrippa with a Lady of admirable beauty; those few words you spoke of it exasperated my wound with a violent pain: but besides that, I will tell you, that being come again to myself out of my swoon, whereinto so unexpected a sight had cast me, and being hardly able to give credit to my eyes upon the report they had made to my heart, nor believe that this object of my life had appeared to my sight any otherwise than by illusion, or the effect of my imagination, I desired Ericia to go presently to make a farther discovery, and having enquired out the house, where Cornelius had lodged those strangers, I commanded her to mingle herself amongst the other slaves which were employed in their service, and to go into the house with her face covered, to take notice of him who had put me into the trouble I was in: She punctually executed this order, and easily found means to slip into the chamber, whither he was then retired, she saw him, and she knew him so well, that she could not doubt in the least, but that it was he. But, O Gods! she saw him with that young Lady, of whom Agrippa spoke to you, who divers times in Ericia's presence threw her arms about his neck, and used many affectionate expressions, which this perfidious man answered again with caresses full of all the marks of Love. The report which Ericia plainly made me of it put me into the condition you see, and there needs no more to send this unfortunate creature to her grave.  
She ended these words with a many sobs, and a multitude of tears, which her resentment drew from her fair eyes.  
Elisa and Candace sympathized in her grief, and were nearly touched with compassion at it; they reflected at the same time upon the report which Agrippa had made them of the beauty of Delia, and the marks of amity which in his presence she bestowed upon the unknown, and upon the remembrance of this discourse they conjectured that the suspicions of the sad Olympia might be rational enough, yet they would not confirm her in them, nor declare ●heir real thoughts to her for fear of aggravating her affliction. And Candace resuming the discourse, after she had been a while silent: My fair Princess, said she, your grief would be justifiable, if you should really find in fidelity in a man, to whom you express so much affection, or rather this grief ought to make way for a just resentment, which with reason enough might banish him from your heart and memory; but you ought not, upon slight appearances, to entertain this belief which is the enemy of your repose; and the importance of it is so great that you ought not no neglect any thing that may instruct you in the truth. Olympia in stead of returning an answer to Candace's words, lifting her eyes to Heaven in a very pitiful manner: Great Gods! said she, ●f my Prince be unfaithful, do not permit me to survive a moment after this cruel discovery, & end the course of my unfortunate days by a favourable effect of your pity, rather than expose this miserable Princess to the only effect of your indignation, which as yet she hath not felt. She accompanied these words with divers others to the same sense, at the end whereof the two Princesses being tenderly moved, used all the arguments their invention could furnish them with, to comfort her, and to banish out of her mind that cruel opinion, which put her into so pitiful a condition. After they had spent some time with her in this employment, they believed she had need of rest, and that her passionate expressions in their presence might redouble her fever. This belief obliged them to quit her, after they had promised her that they would return within an hour, and not leave her till she was better settled in her mind.  
The end of the third Book.   

Hymen's Praeludia: OR, LOVE'S Masterpiece.  
PART 6. LIB. 4.  
ARGUMENT.  
Philadelph misconstrues Delia's kindness to her fair Companion. His jealousy, almost heightened ●o revenge, is dissipated by a discovery that he is not the Lover, but the brother of Delia▪ Delia discovers herself to be Arsinöe daughter to Artabazus King of Armenia, and relates her Story to Philadelph. She tells him of her departure from the Cilician Court under the conduct of Antigenes, who, in stead of conveying her into Armenia, carries her by force into Cyprus; and there having unsuccessefully used all probable means to gain her Love, he at last resolves to storm her chastity. As he is about to act his villainy, Arsinoe's outcries call in Britomarus, accidentally there, to her rescue. By the death of Antigenes and his companions, Britomarns frees the Princess and undertakes to conduct her into Armenia. At Sea they are set upon by Pirates, but by the valour of Britomarus, and of a gallant Slave in the Pirates Ship the Pirates are discomfited. Britomarus leaves Arsinoe to the conduct of her brother, and suddenly departs. Ariobarzanes upon some important occasions takes Egypt in his way, and near to Alexandria they are found in a wood by Philadelph.  
IN the meam time the charming Delia, the fair unknown, and the amorous Philàdelph passed the rest of the day in little differing cares and employments, in the house where Cornelius had lodged them. Philadelph being alone in his chamber, began to study with a profound meditation, what judgement he should make of his fortune, and considering the blessing he had received from Heaven that day, he was ready to give himself up to transports of joy, but he quickly found that modeated by the motions of his jealousy. I have found my Delia again, said he, and after so long a search, and an absence so cruel to an amorous spirit as mine is, the Gods have looked upon me with pity, and have restored to me the only aim and object of my life. I will live no longer in that dreadful darkness, wherein my soul hath been so long entombed, and I shall be permitted to look upon my Delia with the same eyes, which have shed so many tears for her since our separation. Ah my sorrows! Ah my languish! Ah my tedious nights! you are all dissipated by this blessed day which Delia hath brought back into my soul, and from hence forward the sad remembrance of my cruel sufferings, shall work no other effect upon my Spirit, than to render the good things I am to taste, more sweet, more charming, and more sensible.  
He paused a while upon this consideration of his good fortune, but a little after, that passion, the enemy of repose, which having its original from love always endeavours its ruin, that importunate jealousy which corrupts the best thoughts, bringing to his remembrance the fair unknown, and the marks of amity, and familiarity which he had seen between Delia and him, overclowded all his joy, and troubled him in such a manner that he was but very imperfectly sensible of any part of it. What doth it avail me, said he, to have found Delia again, if I find her unfaithful? and what advantageous change have I received in my condition, if I see her again whom I loved so dearly, only to see her in a rivals arms? She travails up and down the world, she lies in woods in the company of a man endued with all manner of lovely parts, she caresses him, and treats him with friendship in my presence, and indeed forgets nothing that may occasion a just suspicion. Ah! Delia, how strange an alteration is this in you, and how different is this manner of life from that severe and scrupulous virtue, which caused me so many sufferings in Cilicia?  
But on the otherside, added he, checking himself, seeing I have so many testimonies of the virtue, the sincerity, and the purity of Delia's heart and spirit, ought I upon the first conjecture to overthrow an opinion grounded upon so many proofs? did I find any change in her countenance, or in the entertainment I received from Delia? and have not I received from her own mouth more clear and ample assurances of her affection, than ever she gave me heretofore? did there appear any constraint in her countenance in the performance of that action? did she vary in any thing which might make me suspect her inconstancy? and do not I owe respect and consideration enough to the knowledge I have of her Spirit, to give absolute credit to her words? All this is very true, pursued he, but yet, who is this fair unknown? what is this man, who possessing so many amiable qualities, accompanies her almost alone in her voyages, that passes the nights with her in the woods, that armed himself against me with so much fury when I would have accosted her, and that receives so many testimonies of affection and familiarity from her in my presence? what is this unknown if he be not a Lover, if he be not a man, beloved and favoured by Delia? Ha! whatsoever he be, continued he, growing into passion, he shall be the object of the most just resentment that ever soul conceived, and if it be true that he deprives me of Delia, the respect I have for her, which tied my hands to day in her presence, will not be able to hinder me from killing him in any patt of the world where I shall find him, or from leaving at the point of his sword a life, which he hath already more cruelly assaulted, than he can do by the way of arms.  
He entertained himself thus in his thoughts, when he heard a noise at his chambet door, and casting his eyes immediately that way, he saw the brave unknown come in, who at that time took up all his thoughts, and who was no less the object of his hatred and resentment, than Delia was of his Love. Philadelph who was not prepared for this visit, grew pale at the fight of him, and by the changes of his countenance made him easily guess at the agitations of his soul, and the little inclination he had for so unexpected a sight. The fair unknown was not repulsed by the coldness of his entertainment, but accosting him with a countenance, wherein if there were not all the marks of joy, there were at least all the assurances of amity: I come, said he, to render you that which I owe you, both in relation to the merit of your person, and to the obligation by which you have engaged both me and my relations to your service. You are not obliged to me, replied Philadelph, except you pretend to be so for the services I rendered Delia, when her fortune made her land in our Country, where she received nothing from me, but what she might expect from all persons that were capable of knowing her. 'Tis upon that very score, answered the unknown, that I am redevable to you, and you could not render Delia those assistances which she received from your generosity, in defending her against the enemies, which your affection raised her, and preserving her with so much care and bounty from those dangers which threatened her life and reputation, without laying a strong obligation upon a man, who interesses himself in Delia's preservation as much as in his own. I free you from that obligation, replied Philadelph, beginning to be choleric at this discourse, and if my desire was to preserve Delia from those dangers whereinto she fell by my misfortune, 'twas never my intention to preserve her for you, or for any person else, that might make benefit of the effects of my love and duty, as long as I have a drop of blood or a moment of life left to defend my pretention. If I be not obliged to your intentions, said the unknown, I am so, without doubt, to the effects of them, and 'tis that which partly enjoins me to desire that friendship of you, which you have little disposition to grant me, though Delia herself desired it of you for me. You have, answered Philadelph, all the qualities that might gain more important friendships than mine, but that aught to be very indifferent to you, seeing I can not receive yours, nor look upon you but as upon the most crnel of my enemies, as long as you shall dream of Delia, and pretend to reap the fruit of the services which I have rendered her. There is no necessity of dissembling any longer. No, you can not but be my enemy, and the resentment you express for an office, which I never had a design to render you, kindles another in my soul, which renders our two lives incompatible. If you interest yourself in the service which I rendered Delia, so much as you make show of, or rather if you love her as well as you would express, you must dispute her with me other ways, than by offers of a friendship which I cannot receive from you. The respect I bear to Delia hindered me from declaring in her presence that which hath been upon my heart all this day, but since she knows very well that the love I have for her hath made me fail a hundred times in my duty to my Father, she will pardon me, what the same passion shall make me undertake against a man, whom she looks upon but too favourably to my misfortune, and whom she ought never to have looked upon to the prejudice of such a fidelity as mine.  
Philadelph spoke in this manner, & by these words vented a part of his inward fire with a furious impetuosity, when the fair unknown looking upon him with his former coldness, and adding a smile full of sweetness to the moderation which appeared in his countenance, I know not, said he, whether I ever wanted courage hitherto, or whether dangers and threats have over much affrighted me in the occasions I have met withal, but I very well perceive that you will hardly make me resolve to draw my sword any more against you, and if Delia can not be disputed between us but by arms, the pretensions we may have to her will not be suddenly decided. I am very unhappy to find in you such a hardness of heart as I thought not to have met with, and no body but yourself would possibly be so cruel as to deny me a friendship which I thought I might merit by the desire which I have expressed of it. You deserve better, answered Philadelph, and you have but too excellent parts to be my enemy; I should have had less disposition to become yours, if you had nothing but ordinary in you, and this is an effect of my ill fortune that finding in you whatsoever, upon another account, might have attracted my esteem and affection, it must needs be, that principally in that respect, you are so much the more odious to me, by how much you are the more redoutable: But I wonder, pursued he, looking upon him with a severer eye than before, that you persevere in this manner of acting with me, seeing the little sensibility I express of your kindness, and it seems you have a mind to make a piece of raillery of the most important buisiness that ever you meddled with in your life. If you really love Delia as your words and actions do declare, there is little probability that you should desire my friendship so much as you would persuade me you do, and I know not upon what consideration you court a man, for whom this concurrence can leave you nothing but repugnance and aversion: and if you do it to insult over an unfortunate man in your happy condition, know that as yet it is but ill grounded, and you have not so contemptible an enemy of me, but that you have need of all your power to preserve that, which at the rate of your life he will dispute with you to the last moment of his own.  
Philadelph uttering these words with violence, and not being able any longer to endure the sight of the unknown, was going to fling out of the chamber, when he stayed him by the arm, and having much ado to hold him: Stay Philadelph, said he, and if you can not endure me as the Lover of Delia, at least endure me as her brother. As her brother? cried Philadelph, looking upon him with an action full of astonishment: Yes as her brother, replied the unknown; Delia is my sister, and upon this confession which I make to you hence forward our amity will be n● more suspected by you. O Gods, said Philadelph, what is it you tell me, could it be possibly that you should be the brother of Delia, or is it to make yourself more spor● that you make me this discourse? I am the brother of Delia, replied the unknown, and she knowing that our amity caused your jealousy, would not have me deser any longer the discovery of this truth to you myself, I was not unwilling to give her that satisfaction, and besides what the knowledge of your merit might produce in me since I saw you, the relation she made me of your generous procedure towards her, caused so much esteem and so much affection in me for you, that there was hardly any thing in the world which I could more ardently desire than the opportunity of seeing and serving you.  
With these words he strerched out his arms to him, and Philadelph receiving him into his with an excessive joy, O Gods, said he, how happy am I, if it be true that you are the brother of Delia, and how satisfied shall I be, that now I may love and adore in you those admirable parts which caused so much jealousy in me? Never doubt, answered the unknown, of a truth which in time and at leisure you will learn from Delia's mouth: my actions shall make you yet a fuller discovery, and you shall receive from me, as from the brother of Delia, such services in relation to her, as you could not expect from her lover. I beg your pardon then, added Philadelph, transported with joy, for the faults which my error made me commit, and I conjure you with a real repentance, to grant me that friendship now which my indiscreet jealousy made me so unhandsomelie reject.  
With these words they embraced each other with a real brotherly affection, and Philadelph looking upon him then as Delia's brother with different eyes from those which his jealousy before had opened, felt himself presently inclined to love and admire him, who had a little before caused so many suspicions in him; they continued a great while embracing each other, and after they had made divers mutual protestations of eternal amity: Delia, said the unknown, must perfect our reconciliation, let us go and visit her together, if you please, and you shall begin to know whether I interest myself in Philadelph's satisfaction, as the brother, or as the lover of Delia.  
Having done speaking these words, they went together out of the chamber, and passed into Delia's, which was not far off. That fair Lady was laid down upon her bed to repose herself after a little wearyness, and she no sooner saw the two new friends approach, but addressing her discourse to the unknown: Well brother, said she, have you appeased that enemy, which had so much repugnance for the brother of Delia? The brother of Delia, answered Philadelph, is and shall always be as dear to me as my life, but the person of a lover, and of a lover favoured by Delia could not but be very odious to me. You shall never, replied Delia, causing him to place himself in a chair near her bed's head, you shall never have cause to envy the favours you shall see me do any other, and since the time you have seen me, you might have known me well enough, to believe that it is not easy to find any lovers favoured by Delia: 'Tis true this man, whom you have so much suspected is my brother, and a brother, continued she, making him sit down upon the side of her bed, and embracing him with a great deal of tenderness, who is as dear to me as my life: but I will make no difficulty to tell you before him, that he is not more dear to me than Philadelph, and though the qualities of your person had not been capable to produce the effect you may hope for from them only, the remembrance of your pure and generous affection continues in my heart with such a real resentment, that nothing will ever be able to efface it thence. I lived in Cilicia with some circumspection, that possibly you did not approve of, and I went from thence at a time when you might probably expect all the acknowledgement that might be of your affection, but 'tis time now, Philadelph, to declare to you those reasons which may justify my actions, and to let you know that Fortune hath not been so blind, as you believed, in making you address your affections to a person of a base and obscure birth; truly you have been generous and disinteressed in loving with so honest and so rational intentions, a Maid, whom you believed to be infinitely inferior to you, and designing for her, merely out of the knowledge you had of her face and virtue, a Crown and a place which the greatest Princesses of Asia would gladly have accepted of: but it was not the will of the Gods that this generosity should remain without recompense, and they have permitted you, in the person of that obscure Delia, to love the daughter of a great King, and a Princess that might pretend, being known to you, to that which you so freely offered her before you knew her. What, Madam, cried Philadelph, are you a King's daughter? I am so without doubt, replied Delia, and the daughter of a King of the supremest ranks of Asia. Ha! Madam, answered the Prince, falling upon his knees by her bed's side, this discovery causes me more grief than joy, and if I take part in the satisfaction which you have in being of a birth conformable to the greatness of your virtue, what excuses shall I be able to find for so many faults, which my error hath made me commit against you? 'Tis that, added Delia, for which I have great cause to commend you eternally, and though you had known my true condition, I could not desire more respect from you, than you have always expressed to me. Ah! without doubt, replied the Prince, I might have perceived by so many marks of greatness which appeared in your person, and your actions, that you were not born of an obscure blood; and I had great suspicions of the truth, which I have often communicated to the Princess Andromeda: but this belief was stifled by the little reason we saw in you to conceal that truth with so much perseverance, at a time when this declaration might have freed you from a great many displeasures, and given a great deal of satisfaction to those persons of whose affection you could not doubt. I had some reasons for it, answered the Princess, which other persons possibly might have passed by, but in those of my humour they were capable of doing what they did; and if it were advantageous for me in your mind to declare that I was born of a Royal blood, it was dangerous for me to confess that I was of a family, which is an enemy to yours, and so much hated by yours, that I could expect nothing upon any consideration but a shameful and cruel usage from the King your Father. Ha! Madam, interrupted Philadelph, though you were the daughter of Artabazus, and the sister of the cruel Artaxus King of Armenia, who by the death of our near relations hath done such bloody injuries to our family; you carry that in your countenance which might guard you from all dangers, and you should have always found me your slave, that would have defended you to the last drop of his blood against his Father as well as against the strangest enemies. I was afraid too upon your account, replied the Princess, not of any ill usage, being so well acquainted with your virtue and goodness, which without doubt would have protected me, though Love had not interposed, but some change, or coldness in your affection of which I always had a high esteem: but since it is come to the proof of such a declaration, I will make no more difficulty to confess to you that I am Arsinoe daughter to the King of Armenia, and sister to the same Artaxus, from whom you have received such bloody displeasures in your family, and this Prince for whom at first you had so much aversion, is the Prince Ariobarzanes my brother, of a very different humour from the King his elder brother, and who had no hand in that cruelty, which caused so great a resentment against Artaxus in the Spirit of the King your Father. See now, Philadelph, whether you love Delia still, or the sister of Artaxus, and whether I have not lost what my good fortune had gained upon your Spirit, by being born of a blood which is odious to your Family. Ah! Madam, cried the transported Prince, imprinting almost by force a fiery kiss upon Arsiones' fair hand, though Artaxus should have exposed me myself to the most violent effects of cruelty, the Princess Arsinoe his sister, and yet my adorable Delia, is no less amiable, nor less worthy of my respects, and I do not only continue in the former terms of my love to her, but upon her consideration Artaxus is no longer odious unto me, and seeing he is Delia's brother I would serve him with my life and blood.  
Upon these words the Prince Ariobarzanes stretching out his arms to him: And may not I, said he, who did no way contribute to those actions which gave you so just an occasion to hate the cruel Artaxus, I who was a great way off from the place where they were committed, and after I had heard of them always looked upon mine own brother with aversion and repugnance, may not I hope more justly than he, that the same goodness which causes you so easily to pardon the culpable, will incline you to love the innocent, and those which have never offended you nor yours? Philadelph tenderly embracing Ariobarzanes: What resentment so ever, said he, my jealousy caused in me to day against you, you are composed of such admirable parts, that it would be no difficulty for you to gain the hearts of your most cruel enemies, and if any thing could remain upon my heart against you, it would be because I believed you were the Lover of Delia, and not because I know you to be the brother of Artaxus: But, Madam, continued he, turning to the Princess, you surprise me with your discourse, I have been informed that in the King of Armenia's Family there was a Prince Ariobarzanes, and a Princess Arsinoe, born both with admirable qualities: but there came a report to us since, that as they were going to Rome, both Arsinoe and Ariobarzanes perished by a shipwreck, which made all Armenia deplore their loss, as being two imcomparable persons. We did really suffer shipwreck, replied Arsinoe, and I believe we are dead still in the opinion of the Armenians, and of the greatest part that of those that knew us: but the Gods to whom the person of Ariobarzanes was precious, would not let him perish, but saved me too for his sake. This is that which I would now acquaint you with, and after that I have briefly made known to you the reasons which caused me to conceal myself in Cilicia, and which obliged me to depart thence, I will give you an account of that which hath befallen me since our separation, which hindered me from retiring into Armenia, as my intention was to do.  
With these words she caused him to sit down again in his chair, and in the mean time the Prince Ariobarzanes, not judging it necessary for him to be present at a relation, whereof he knew all the particulars, and desiring to give the two Lovers leisure to discourse of their adventures with all freedom, whilst he went to entertain himself with those thoughts with which his Spirit was disturbed, went out of the chamber, to go and walk in a garden, which he saw under the windows. Only the Princess' maid continued with her own and Philadelphs Mistress, and the Princess having kept silence a while to call to remembrance those things which she intended to relate, she began her discourse in these terms.  

The History of the Princess ARSINOE.  
THere are few remarkable things in my life wherewith you are not acquainted: those of the most importance befell me in Cilicia, whereof you were a witness and the principal cause: and you are ignorant of nothing almost, but what hath happened since our sepatation, and that I shall acquaint you with at large, after that I have succinctly passed over former businesses, and those reasons which may defend me against your accusations.  
I will not begin my discourse with the beginnings of my life, which have nothing of importance in them, but what is known throughout all Asia; my first years passed away with sweetness and tranquillity enough, and the time of our tender infancy was spent in a flourishing Court, and a peaceable and fortunate Kingdom: but I hardly began to have the use of reason, or any knowledge of our condition of life, when by the cruel surprise of Anthony, the unfortunate Artabazus our Father was carried prisoner to Alexandria, and all his family with him, except Artaxus our elder brother, who succeeded him in the enjoyment of the Crown. My brother Ariobarzanes, my sister Artemisa and myself lived in a captivity in a pompous Court, till I was about eight or nine years old, and this loss of our liberty (the sorrow whereof was so cruelly redoubled by the deplorable death of the King our Father, which I believe no person is ignorant of) was not repaired till after the defeat and the last misfortunes of Anthony and Cleopatra, at which time Cesar being master of Alexandria, and the Empire too by the fall of his competitour, freed us from captivity, and sent us back with an honourable convoy to the King of Armenia our brother, whom he received into the number of his Friends and Allies.  
Prelate this to you in a few words as a thing sufficiently diunlged, and I will not entertain you with the reception which Artaxus gave us, who looked upon the wrack of our family with great resentments for our common misfortune. We lived in his Court with all the splendour we had lost, and we recovered there, together with our liberty, our former rank and dignity. We were brought up, my brother, my sister, and myself, with great care, and it was not the fault of those persons who were put about me, that the slight advantages which I might have received from nature were not favourably seconded by good education. There was nothing forgotten, which might frame my Spirit to the horror of vices, and to the love of virtue, and I will say, if I may do it without offending against modesty, that I had my inclinations naturally carried to esteem that, which seemed good, and to avoid that which appeared to me to be vicious. I had a good Governess, the very same you saw in Cilicia, whom I made to pass for my Aunt, who took a great deal of pains to cultivate whatsoever she thought she observed of good in me, and contributed as much as possibly she could to form me according to her desires, & virtuous inclinations.  
About this time, as you know, the King my brother prompted by a very just desire of revenge, made war upon the King of the Medes your Ally, and in the first year he had some advantages, which made him hope the absolute ruin of his enemies. 'Tis true, by what we could understand, he dis-honoured them by his cruelty, and the Gods likewise to punish him for it, stopped the course of his good fortune by the succours you gave Tigranes, which changed his fortune, and forced him to be gone out of the Dominions of your Allies. 'Twas at that time that he committed that action, which hath been so much condemned by all virtuous persons, to cut the throats of two Princes of your blood, prisoners in a just war, and against whom he could have no lawful resentment.  
This was that which made him lose the valiant Britomarns, whose valour had been so favourable to him in the first years of the war, and upon the relation which was made me of the generous quarrel he had with the King for the safety of his prisoners, what cause so ever I had otherwise to blame the presumption of that young warrior, I could not but have his virtue and greatness of courage in admiration, and that esteem made me forget some part of the resentment I had against him. Ariobarzanes, who by the Kings command continued at Artaxata, as well because of his youth which as yet was not capable of bearing arms, as to keep the Armenians in obedience, whilst their King made war in foreign Countries, wept for regret and grief at the relation of this cruelly, and made all those judge who saw him at that time, that his inclinations would be very different from those of the King his brother. I enlarge myself particularly upon this action of Artaxus, because it was upon this account that the hatred of the King your Father was so violently exasperated both against him and his, and it was upon the resentment of this action that he made an oath never to pardon any person of the blood or Alliance of Artaxus whom fortune should cause to fall into his hands, and it was upon this knowledge, and out of the fear of this choler, that I obstinately resolved upon so long a disguise in Cilicia. You know better than I, what were the last successes of that war, and how at last it was ended by Augustus' authority, who by the terror of his power, made these Kings, who were cruelly bend to ruin each other, to lay down their arms, and forced them to peace, when the weakness of them both might sufficiently have disposed them to it, if their hatred had not maintained the war, rather than their forces. 'Tis true, (said Philadelph, interrupting the Princess' discourse) that the King my Father retired with so much grief and resentment against Artaxus for the death of Ariston and Theomedes his Nephews, that to revenge himself of that cruelty, there was no cruelty but he would have exercised; and I believe if fortune had made you yourself fall into his hands with this miraculous beauty and these divine graces, which might have disarmed the rage of a hunger starved Tiger, he would have made you to have felt the effects of his indignation without any respect. Do not think it strange then, if I was afraid of him, replied Arsinoe, and do me the favour to believe still, that the consideration of my life was not the cause of my greatest fears, and I had not used so much care for the preservation of it, if I had not thought it due to my honour, which in his indignation an implacable enemy might possibly have exposed to ignominy to take the more severe revenge upon Artaxus' his cruelty. I should not possibly have had this fear of a man born of a Royal blood, and of one that was your Father, if it had not been confirmed in my Spirit, by the knowledge he gave me of it, as you shall understand in the sequels of my discourse.  
You know that a little while after this forced peace, Augustus sent to demand Ariobarzanes and myself to be brought up at Rome near him, with divers King's children which were educated there in the same manner, and were kept by Augustus near himself, either to testify his affection to their Parents, or to have a greater assurance of their fidelity by means of those hostages. Artaxus knew not presently what to judge of it, but he durst not disobey Augustus' will, of which in all probability this was an obliging effect on his part, and having communicated to us the order which he had received, he found us not unwilling to go the voyage. Ariobarzanes being naturally amorous of great things, joyfully received the proposition which was made him of going to that stately City, Mistress of the greatest part of the Universe, to pass some years in that pompous Court, where almost all the Kings in the world came to pay their homage: and besides he had small inclination to the severe dealings of Artaxus, but being of a sweet and pitiful disposition, he could not live without repugnance with a man so cruel and inexorable towards those who had offended him.  
These were the reasons which obliged Ariobarzanes willingly to undertake the voyage to Rome, and his good will easily gained mine, without him I should hardly have ventured upon this enterprise, but ever since we were little ones there was contracted so near an amity between us, that we could hardly live one without the other & I did more easilielresolve to go all the world over with Ariobarzanes, who was as dear to me as myself, than to stay at Artaxata without him.  
It would be to no purpose to relate to you the preparations for our voyage, and the regrets which Artaxus and Artemisa expressed at our departure, it will suffice me to tell you, that all things were ordered as they should be, with an equipage beseeming our birth, we departed from Artaxata upon the way towards Italy, and marched as far as the Egean Scene, where we embarked; after we had crossed a good part of Armenia, and coasted Licia and Pamphilia by land, without any memorable accident. From the Egean Sea, in stead of passing over the Straight, to descend into Macedonia, and to take shipping again upon the Adriatic Gulf, as that was our most direct way; fearing the tediousness of those long voyages by land, where with we were already tired, we turned upon the left hand towards Peloponnesus, and descended into the Mediterr avean Sea, believing, that though it would be the longer, yet it would be the easier way, not being obliged to embark and disembark so often. It was rather our destinies that would have it thus, and the Gods who reserved Ariobarzanes & I for other adventures, had not ordained that we should see the banks of Tiber.  
We had been but a small time upon this Sea, when we were seized upon by that furious tempest, wherein we suffered that shipwreck, which you have heard spoken of, and lost our lives in the opinion of so many persons. I will not describe to you the particulars of that impetuous storm, I will content myself to tell you, that the winds immediately rose so contrary to us, that they made us take a quite contrary way to that which we had begun to sail; and after we had been tossed up and down two days and two nights in perpetual fears of death, which presented itself to our eyes; they cast our battered vessel upon that coast of Cilicia which is opposite to Cyprus, where navigation is so dangerous by reason of an infinite number of small rocks, which reach no higher than the superficies of the water, against one of which our vessel being disabled from sailing, was dashed all to pieces and left us exposed to the mercy of the pitiless waves. I could not know then what became of Ariobarzanes: and though the strict amity which had always been between us, rendered his safety as dear to me as mine own, yet I was in a part of the ship, distant from that where he was employed, and the dreadful danger I was in at that time, made me forget every thing else but the preservation of my life; I had little hope of it, and yet I would not neglect the means which Heaven might give me to prolong it. I closely embraced a piece of the mast, upon which I laid hold just when the vessel split, and my Governess and one of my maids who were always close by me, were likewise companions of my fortune, and holding by my two sides they were carried above water by that favourable piece of wood, to which I owed my safety, the violence of the waves made us many times almost let go our hold, but necessity gives strength in such extremities as those, to which next to the assistance of Heaven we owed without doubt the preservation of our lives. By good fortune the shore was not far off, and after we had been a long time tossed up and down with little hope, and small strength or knowledge left, the mast which sustained us, by a wave, which was more impetuous than all that went before, was driven on shore with so much vehemence, that we found ourselves upon the sand, when we almost despaired of ever reaching to it.  
We continued lying a long while upon the shore, half dead with wearyness, the coldness of the water, and so many miseries as we had suffered, where I looked upon what had befallen us as upon a dream, and had hardly so much knowledge left as to reflect upon my shipwreck. We were in this condition, when Briseis that good woman, at whose house you met me, arrived as she was walking upon the shore, and being moved with compassion at so pitiful a spectacle, she presently offered us all the assistances we could desire of her in our present misery. I did not refuse her offers in the necessity we had of her succour, and I easily disposed myself to go with her to her house to dry myself, and to take some rest which I had need enough of: But I hardly began to know that the Gods had saved my life from the danger which had threatened it, but I remembered my brother, and upon that remembrance, grief wanted but a very little of making me lose that which the waves had spared, I would not leave the shore as wet and weary as I was, without searching it as far as my strength would permit, and calling on every side with a feeble voice upon the name of Ariobarzanes.  
I will not Philadelph, describe to you the particulars of my grief, that discourse would be too troublesome to you but I will protest to your truly & the Gods bear me witness, that the loss of my dear brother, hindered me from being sensible of any joy for my own safety, I earnestly complained that Heaven had permitted me to survive so amiable and so wellbeloved a brother. and if I had not been flattered with some small hope that he might have received from Heaven an assistance like to that which saved me, whereof being much stronger than I, he might make much better use, my grief would have been strong enough to have given me that upon the land, which I avoided upon the water. The comfort which my Governess laboured to give me in this uncertainty, and the endeavours of Briseis, who applied herself to comfort and serve me with a great deal of goodness, wrought no effect upon my Spirit, and I spent the three or four first days in tears, which no discourse could dry up; I had the name of Ariobarzanes perpetually in, my mouth, and his visage eternally before my eyes, losing no time in the mean while, in making the shore to be searched every way by Briseis' servants, to learn some news of him.  
This affliction which absolutely took up my thoughts, did not permit me for above eight days so much as to inform myself in what place we were; but when I was rendered capable of some discourse, and the first transports of grief were a little dissipated by a ray of hope which I conceived, that the destiny of Ariobarzanes might be the same with mine, I gave my Governess leave to inquire, and I understood that we were but a day's journey from the capital City of Cilicia. This intelligence filled me with as much fear as I was capable of in my profound sadness, and not being ignorant upon what account the King of that Country was an enemy to our family, and an enemy full of hatred, which could let me hope for nothing but all manner of shame, and ill usage if I was discovered in his dominions, I resolved to disguise my name and my birth, and understanding by Ericlea my Governess, and by Melite, who, as you knew, is the maid who is still with me, that they had not acquainted Breseis with any thing of the truth, I concealed my true name under that of Delia, and my condition under that of Ericlea's Niece, praying my Governess to carry herself towards me in public as her Niece, and Milite to treat me as her sister. This was performed as I desired, and the same day Briseis was informed by us of those things which we desired she should know, and which were related to you a few days after: I had divers Jewels upon my clothes, which I took off the better to disguise the truth, and I caused part of them to be given to Briseis by my Governess in acknowledgement of her generous bounty, though she refused them a great while, and did not resolve to take them till we threatened to be, gone from her, if she refused those small tokens of our gratitude and amity.  
We were upon these terms, Philadelph, and waiting for some favourable opportunity to return into my own Country without being discovered, I spent my time, when I could get free from those women, in solitude, which was more agreeable to me than any company, by reason of the sadness which the loss of Ariobarzanes had established in my soul, when it pleased the Gods that I should meet you in that fatal wood, whither our common destiny conducted us. You know better than I all that befell me in Cilicia from that day till the day of our separation: but you did not know part of the resentments and the thoughts which▪ possessed my soul since that time, I will give you a brief account of them before I proceed to the relation of that which befell me since your departure out of Cilicia.  
Do not think, Philadelph, that I could look upon so many proofs of so pure, and so perfect an affection, from a Prince so highly accomplished as yourself, with that insensibility wherewith you have so often reproached me. I had eyes, as well as any other person, open, and clear-sighted in the knowledge of your excellent qualities; I had a Spirit capable of resentment for so many good offices as you rendered me, and I had a soul upon which this resentment and this knowledge might produce all the effects which are not contrary to virtue; I did really esteem you as much as in reason you could possibly desire, as soon as by a little experience I had observed the conformity of the exterior qualities of your person to the beauty of your interior perfections, and this esteem was so strongly fixed in my Spirit, that I did not believe there was any person in the world more worthy of it than yourself. I began at last to approve very well of your affection, after that the purity of your intentions was made known to me; and I could not see a great Prince, as you were, love an unknown maid with so much sincerity and respect, and with a design to make her his wife, without feeling myself tenderly obliged to such obliging intentions.  
For a long time you gained nothing more upon my Spirit, than this esteem and acknowledgement; & besides that I believed that this was all I could in reason grant you; till than my Spirit had never had any disposition to engage itself in that passion which is a troubler of repose, and which, in my opinion, how just a ground so ever it may have, is not absolutely permitted with decency to persons of our sex. I had seen but one man in my life, composed of admirable parts, in whom I observed particular thoughts for myself, and though his person was such, that if his birth had been proportionable to mine, I should have looked upon him without repugnance; yet the inequality which was between us made me look upon his boldness with aversion, and rendered all his good qualities useless to his intentions. I had my Spirit free then, when I came into your parts, and this liberry, Philadelph, defended itself a long time against all the testimonies of your love.  
You began at last to make some attempts upon it, and it does not trouble me to make this confession to you, when I call to mind that the most obdurate soul in the world would have been moved with so many proofs of your passion. Yet I opposed myself divers days against the birth of these particular resentments, till then unknown to my Spirit, and to which my heart could not accustom itself. I was offended at the weakness which I found in my Spirit, and I endeavoured to fortify it by calling to mind my former resolutions, which till then had opposed all manner of engagement, and by all the considerations, which in the condition I was then, might divert my inclinations from it. The best remedy I could find for the defence of that, which you too strongly aslaulted, was to desire leave of the Princess your sister to be gone, and to fly the occasions of engaging myself any farther, by leaving of Cilicia: I had other pretences enough without discovering that, and besides the desire of seeing my native Country, and our family which without doubt had resented my loss with some affliction, and of getting out of a condition which was so different from that wherein I was born, and the danger which threatened me, if I was discovered in the King your Father's Court; the troubles which I raised there, and the divisions which I innocently caused between the King and you, were a sufficient motive to make me hasten my departure out of Cilicia. This was that likewise which I oftenest alleged, both to the Princess your sister and yourself, when I prayed you both to consent to my return. You know I pressed you very often to it, and at last I had concluded upon it, if I could have upheld my resolutions against the grief which you expressed at this proposition, and the protestations you made with tears and oaths, and with all the marks that might persuade a verity, that you could not, without dying, endure this separation.  
'Twas in that weakness, Philadelph, that I knew I loved you, and you might have taken notice of it yourself, whatsoever intention I had to conceal it, if you had considered that complacency only was not capable of making me expose myself to so many disgraces as had almost ruined me through the indignation of the King your Father, nor to make me continue in his Kingdom against the orders which he sent me to be gone, and to put myself into danger of an eternal confinement, and of poison, by which a little after you saw me reduced to the utmost extremities: 'Twas in this rancounter, Philadelph, that my soul received a very sensible impression for you, and though I could accuse nothing for my approaching death, but only your love, in stead of having any resentment against you for it, you did so move me with your grief, that I was hardly sorry for the loss of my life but only for your sake, & I should not at that time have desired the prolongation of it, but only to bestow the rest of it upon you, when the change of my condition, and the consent of my friends would have permitted me to do it handsomely. You may remember how that when I thought I had been at my last gasp, I began a discourse by which you might probably judge, that I was going to discover to you some things which till then you had been ignorant of, and 'tis certain that it was my intention to acquaint you with that then, which I have declared to you to day, and to free you at my death from the regret or shame which might remain to you, for having debased your thoughts and your designs to● person unworthy of you in regard of her birth. Alas! cried Philadelph, interrupting the Princess' discourse with a sigh, Alas! Madam, how well do I remember that passage of my life, and how often hath it come into my memory since our separation, as one of the most remarkable things and most worthy to be fixed in my memory? 'Tis true that when you were in a better condition you repented yourself of the good intention you had had, and though I urged you very much upon it, you made as if you had forgotten what you had so well begun. But since that time, Madam, after you had received such proofs of my love, as could not in reason permit you to be thus close, and distrustful of me, and then too when by your virtue you had reduced the King my Father to desire, and request so earnestly himself of you, that which till then he had so much rejected, what just reason could you have to conceal from me the truth of your birth, and what could you fear upon this confession in a place where you were adored by all the persons who had any power there? I was afraid of every thing, replied Arsinoe, and besides what I heard you say yourself every day, of the hatred you bore to the King of Armenia, which might make me apprehend some change in your affection (for as for any other ill usage I was secure on your part by the knowledge I had of your virtue) my fears were redoubled by an accident which discovered the King's thoughts to our family, more fully than I had understood them till then, and I will tell you, if you do not know it already, that about the time that you recovered of that sickness which reconciled you to him, and he began to signify by his discourse that he would no longer oppose your intentions, he came one evening into the Princess your sister's chamber, who having been indisposed that evening, had no body with her but myself and two of her maids, one of which read to her the history of Dionysius the Tyrant of Syracuse. When the King entered into the chamber, she had newly heard read of the cruelty which the Syracusians exercised against the daughters of that Tyrant, making them die the most cruel death they could invent, after they had exposed them to all manner of shame and ignominy: The Princess who had her mind full of the Idea of that which had been read, could not forbear speaking immediately to the King, with detestation and horror, concerning the cruelty of the Syracusians, making imprecations against those barbarians who had used such young, such fair, and such innocent Princesses with so much inhumanity. The King after he had patiently harkened to her: This action was very cruel, said he, but a just and violent resentment may carry us to many things, and though I have not a natural inclination to cruelty, the outrage I received from the King of Armenia in the death of my Nephews, hath filled me with such a grand resentment against him, that I believe that if fortune should put into my power any persons of his family, of what age or sex so ever they were, I should use them as bad as possibly might be, to revenge myself upon that cruel man. These words filled the Princess who heard them full of horror, but if they had observed my countenance in those emotions, they would easily have perceived the strange effect, which they produced upon my Spirit. All that night, nor for many days afterwards, I could not overcome the fear that this discourse caused in my Spirit, and I conceited every moment that I was ready to be discovered, and exposed by the King's implacable hatred against our family, to all manner of bad usage. This was that which at last made me take a full resolution to be gone out of Cilicia, and to wait for an opportunity to put it in execution in good earnest.  
Not long after it offered its self of its own accord, when Tigranes being outed of his dominions, came to Tharsus to beg succour, and it was resolved that you should go at the head of an army to restore him to his Kingdom. This is another passage, Philadelph, wherein I confess my weakness, as I observed it myself in that transaction, I believed that nothing but your absence could give me courage enough to depart out of your Country, and if you had stayed there still, I know not whether I should ever have been able to resolve to leave you in that grief, whereinto, as I might judge by former probabilities, my departure would put you. Besides, Philadelph, 'twas not without some displeasure upon my own part, that I disposed myself to be gone from you, and you might have taken notice by divers marks that you were not indifferent to me. I judged then that I ought to take this time in your absence, to free myself from all difficulties, and from all the impediments which your affection, and all that was on my part, had laid in my way to hinder my departure; but believing that without ingratitude I could not part from you for ever, and make you lose all the hopes which in regard of your love and services you might with a great deal of reason have conceived, I desired partly to exempt myself from the reproach which you might lay upon me for it, and to comply with mine own inclination, which would not have permitted me without grief to part with you for ever, and upon this design, I thought it best (by some way or other, which might not retard the effect of my intention) to acquaint you with the truth of my name and birth, and the place whither I intended to retire; to the end that if you persevered in your affection, after you knew who I was, and to whom you ought to address yourself, you might find out some means to come and see me, and obtain me for your wife of the King my brother, by those ways which are ordinarily used amongst persons of our birth. And moreover I will tell you (and that will possible make you excuse in part the refusal I made of the honour which the King your Father presented me) that though I might have been discovered in his Court without any danger, and though my inclinations had been more favourable to you, I should never have consented to the marriage which was proposed to me, without putting myself into the power of the King my brother, and obtaining his consent in my absolute liberty, and not whilst I was in the power of his enemy. This likewise was one of the strongest reasons that made me hasten my departure for your sake, thinking that this was the best way for me to be gone as soon as possibly I could to that place, in which only you could hope to find your satisfaction. Behold, Philadelph, the naked truth of my intentions. In order to the executions of them I meant to serve myself with that paper which I gave you, and knowing the sincerity of your love, I made no difficulty to trust you with it, after you had promised not to open it without permission. Seeing you have lost it, I will tell you the contents of it, which were expressed almost in these words.  
To Prince Philadelph.  
I Am constrained at last to take that leave, which you have so long refused me, and to seek a retreat in our own family, where with more conveniency than in yours, I may receive the testimonies of your affection. Upon this design your absence is favourable to me, seeing it secures me from the complaints and reproaches of a Prince, whom I could not leave in grief without resenting a great deal of it myself. 'Tis to the Court of the King of Armenia my brother that I retire myself, and if, after you know this, you have any love left for the sister of your enemy, 'tis in that place you may seek for Delia, in the person of Arsinoe, and there learn that my birth is not inferior to yours. By this declaration I partly justify what you condemned, and you will know without doubt that the sister of Artaxus had reason to keep herself concealed in the King of Cilicia's Court, and that a Princess of Arsinoe's extraction was obliged to a greater circumspection in the conduct of her life than a mean and unknown Delia. You know the ways you must use to acquire me, if you retain any desire to do it, the enmity which is between our families will not hinder Artaxus from considering the obligation I have to you, and the merit of your person, if the King your Father desires his alliance: I am obliged by decency and by virtue to submit myself to his will, but as far as they can permit my inclinations to act for you, I promise you that Arsinoe will be as favourable to you, as you can expect from the honour and the generous treatment you have showed to Delia.  
O Gods! O omnipotent Gods! cried Philadelph, having heard out the words of Arsinoe's Letter, from how many pains and troubles, and sorrows worse than death might I have secured myself, if I had been permitted to read these sacred words wherein my destiny was contained! O my too regular obedience, and yet such an obedience as I can not repent of, how many tears hast thou caused me, how many torments, and cruel traverses hast thou cost me! Accuse your negligence rather, replied the Princess smiling, seeing by your negligence only in not preserving of that which you say was so important to you, you exposed yourself to all the displeasures you have been sensible of: yet I will willingly pardon it upon the score of the obligation I have to that regular obedience whereof you complain, and to give you some comfort upon that account, let me tell your that though you had read that letter, the loss of which hath so much afflicted you, would have received no other satisfaction by it, but only to have known that in the person of Delia you had loved the daughter of a King, without knowing, for all that, the place of my retreat, which hitherto hath been quite contrary to my intention. I wrote the letter in these terms, I gave it to you, and I exacted of you the promise which was necessary for my security, and I saw you depart, if I may be permitted to say so, with more regret than I expressed to you either by my countenance or discourse: yet you observed by that, that I was not insensible of that separation, and 'tis certain, though I may be blamed for this confession, that you were not so indifferent to me, but that I felt the grief of it at the bottom of my heart: I endeavoured to dissemble one part of it, and discovered the other, believing that I was so far obliged to you, that I might, without crime, give you these marks of my acknowledgement and affection. Nevertheless I would not quit your Country immediately after your departure, that I might receive news from you, which was very welcome to me, and that the Princess Andromeda might not judge by my sudden going away, that your consideration only detained me with her. During the stay I made there, I heard, with a great deal of joy, of the happy success of your arms, and the particular relation of your gallant actions, in the glory where of I interessed myself, possibly a little more than I should have done, and at last, when I judged that the affairs of that war were very forward, and that you might shortly return into Cilicia, I resolved upon my departure, to the end that if your return was more speedy than was believed, you might not find me in a place where possibly your presence and your prayers would have stayed me still, contrary to my intention. 'Twas the knowledge of my own weakness which made me hasten my voyage, and I was very sensible of the trouble I had to resist those tears, and those marks of grief and despair which had retained me so long in Cilicia.  
I will not repeat particularly to you the difficulty I had to obtain leave to go of the Princess your sister: but truly you have this obligation to to her amity, that out of the care she had of your satisfaction, she spared neither prayers, nor tears, nor any testimony of the most ardent affection, to stay me. I continued divers days before I could dispose her to let me go, and besides the displeasure she expressed at my departure upon her own consideration, she protested to me that I could not have that design, except I meant to take away your life, and that I committed an action of ingratitude and inhumanity unworthy of myself: I told her, but in vain, that the matter was not so bad as she made it, and that in the letter which I had given you, you would find wherewith to comfort yourself, and all the address you could desire towards an absolute satisfaction and contentment, which doubtless would be more dear to him, than my continuance in Cilicia: She took all this discourse for a put-off, and I believe I had never wrought her to consent, if she had not remembered the request you made to the King, and to her, to use fair means only to retain me, and not to offer me any violence. This consideration brought her at last to that which I desired of her, when she saw that my resolution could not be altered, she acquainted the King with it herself, and prayed him, as I had requested her, to cause me to be safely conducted to one of the Cities under the obedience of the King of Armenia. I desired no more for fear of declaring myself too far, and I knew well enough, that when I discovered myself in the King my brother's dominions, I should find all manner of assistance and convoy to Artaxata.  
The King himself, after the Princess had done, employed a great deal of care to stay me, and protested divers times to me that he was as desirous now that I should be his daughter, as he had been averse from it before. At last when he saw me resolved upon my design, he offered me all I could desire for my voyage, and after he had considered whom he might trust to conduct me, he gave the employment to Antigenes. This man at first I suspected, because he had formerly made love to me with a great deal of earnestness, and with assurance to marry me by the King's favour, who as you know, upheld him in that design, yet remembering how he had behaved himself towards me since the day you prohibited him to see me, the respect he expressed to me in all his actions & all the Apologies he often made me for those things which he was constrained to do in obedience to the King's command, I believed he had absosutelie lost that intention, which he only pretended for fear of incurring the King's displeasure, and I as easily imagined that he would acquit himself of his commission with more affection than another, that by that means he might the better gain his Prince's favour. At last I disposed myself to depart under his conduct, after the King had assured me of his fidelity and discretion, and after I had taken my last leave of the Princess Andromeda with a great many tears upon both sides, and received from the King all the testimonies of love and goodwill, I mounted with my Governess and Melite into a Chariot which the King caused to be provided for us, and Antigenes accompanied us on horseback being attended by seven or eight men in the sam● equipage.  
The good usage I received from the King your Father after your departure, the endeavours he used to retain me, and the belief I owe to the word of a King, and of a King who is the Father of Philadelph, always hindered me from suspecting the treason that was practised against me, which might proceed only from the villainy of that person which committed it, or if it was by any order, I never accused any body for it but the Queen your Stepnother, who hath always born a great deal of reentment against me, for being, though innocently, ●n hindrance to your marriage with the Princess ●●ania her daughter. Howsoever it was, we departed from Tharjus, and travailed the first stage the direct way to Armenia: but the next morning, without being perceived by me, by reason of the little knowledge I had of the ways, Antigenes made us ●ke one quite contrary, and having no body with ●m but such persons as he absolutely disposed of, ●e followed his premeditated way, without being ●pposed by any body in his intention. All that ●y I mistrusted nothing, marching under the faith my Conductor, and not suspecting any such indelitie in a man in whom the King had reposed so such confidence; but the next day I was amazed ●hen I saw myself upon the Sea side, and saw a ●essel that waited for us by Antigenes' private order, ●o which he told me I must enter.  
Though I was so ignorant of the Country, as not perceive the first cheat they put upon me, yet I ●s not so simple, but that I knew well enough, ●t to go the direct way out of Cilicia into Armenia, there was no Sea to pass, and I had seen in the Map, and had often heard that the way lay by land, crossing over Mount Taurus and entering into Armenia the less, I presently let Antigenes know as much, and refused to enter into his Vessel, telling him I knew very well that that was not the way to Armenia. Antigenes at first would have amused me with words, and have made me believe that I was mistaken in my Map: but when he saw me steadfast in my opinion, and that he had no hope to get me into his Vessel by his discourse and persuasions, he took me under one arm and making one of his companions do so by the other, these two men carried me by force, and put me into the Vessel, my words, my cries, and all the resistance ● could make, not being able to save me from it. They which followed did as much by my Governess and Melite, and they were not much troubled to d● it, finding them fully resolved to follow me in ● what part of the world so ever my ill fortune should conduct me. In conclusion they shipped the charie● and the horses, and after they had hoist up they sails, they commanded the Pilot to steer toward the Island of Cyprus, which as you know, is separated from Cilicia, but by a little arm of the Sea.  
You may judge very well, Philadelph, without my striving to represent it to you, what my g● was upon the knowledge of this cruel treason, a● with what fears I was seized, seeing myself in t● power of a man, who had had the confidence of committing this disloyalty. I am not naturally apt be over●passionate, and if I may say it of myself patiently support the assaults of my bad fortune but in this unlucky adventure, by which I was come the prey of a traitor, and of a man who by this action made me sufficiently judge him capable of any thing that might afflict me, I lost my constancy and moderation, and looking upon the perfidious Antigenes with eyes inflamed with indignation: Traitor, said I to him, is it thus that thou acquittest thyself of what thou ow'st to the fear of the Gods, to the command of thy King, the interest of thy Prince, and the honour of our sex? are all the considerations of honour, fidelity, and virtue extinguished in thy soul? or if they have no power to set the hor●or of thy crime before thy face, dost thou not fear to be punished for it by so many enemies as thou raisest against thyself by thy infidelity? Madam, answered the disloyal man, I hope to be pardoned by Gods and men and yourself too for the offence which you reproach me with, and the Gods will not be angry with me for it, seeing they themselves have visibly contributed to it. Do not judge, Madam, by the constraint which I laid upon myself in respect to Philadelph, that the love, which formerly I expressed to you is either extinguished or diminished, it was never so strong and so violent in my soul as now, as you may judge by this action, seeing it makes me to despise all that any other man might fear in relation to the anger of the King and Prince Philadelph, and abandon all things, to confine myself with you in a place, where without any obstacle, or disturbance, I may give you testimonies of that love which you have so much dislained. Fear not, Madam, nor afflict yourself, your destiny will not be had with a man, who adores you, and you ●ught not to grieve for a Prince whose inclinations possibly are already changed, nor for a Crown which you never would have possessed, and which you quit yourself by retiring into Armenia. To these words, the perfidious man added a great many others, to cause some moderation in my grief, but it was exasperated the more by them, and throwing a look upon him that partly signified my intention, Do not think, said I to him, do not think thou monster of infidelity that 〈◊〉 base flatteries can gain any thing upon my Spirit: thy Person which before I did only disdain, is now made as odious to me by thy treason, as the most detestable man in the world, and; most cruel enemy. Do not hope that these thoughts may be changed, but only by the repenting of thy crime, and returning into the way by which thou promisedst thy King to conduct me into my own Country, and be well assured that whensoever thou shalt add violence to thy flattery, thou shalt see that I can so much despise death, that the face of it shall be much more supportable to me than thine.  
Though Antigenes might partly have known my humour in the time I had stayed in Cilicia, and have observed a great deal of constancy in my resolutions, yet he believed I might be changed in time, and being willing to let the heat of my first resentments cool, he ceased from afflicting me any farther with his discourse. 'Tis very certain, that in this encounter I had need of that little courage, and strength of Spirit, which the Gods had bestowed upon me, and had it not been for the resignation I had to their will, I should have died rather, than have any longer patiently endured the miss▪ fortune whereinto I was fallen. Ericlea and Melite though they were well acquainted with my humour, ye● they did not so much trust to it, but that they always kept close to me, to hinder me from attempting any thing against my own life. They did not see me any way go about it, but they had much ado to make me take any nourishment, and I rejected all as poison which my infamous ravisher caused to be offered to me. In fine they represented so many things to me, and did so plainly convince me that I ought to commie the conduct of my destiny to the Gods, and that I might still hope for succour, after the example of divers persons, who in as miserable a condition as mine had received visible assistances from them, that at their entreaty I took something, after I had fasted almost two days.  
We passed the Straight which separates Silicia from the Island of Cyprus, and being landed in that Island, Antigenes put us again into the Chariot, and with the same violence, as before, carried us whither he pleased. He chose this retreat because his kindred were originally of this Island, and his brother dwelled there, to whose house it was his design to carry me, supposing that the news could never come to the King your Father, nor to you, and that being born of an obscure and unknown family, there would be no body to inquire after me, or ever think upon me after I was gone out of Cilicia. Besides if you should know the truth, he believed he was secure, being out of the dominions under your obedience, and if he could conceal it, as he hoped he should, by the distance of place, and the separation by Sea, he had the conveniency to return to Tharsus, leaving me with his brother, where he thought me secure, and report to the King that he had executed his commission.  
In conclusion whatsoever his thoughts were, or howsoever I could express to him, that he should never gain any thing upon my Spirit either by fair means or by violence, he carried me to his brothers, who was as bad as he, whose house was situated upon the bank of the river Lapithus in a place very solitary, and proper for his intention. He was received there according to his expectation, and I was treated there as a person whom they desired to pacify with their caresses.  
You are willing, Philadelph, as I suppose, that I should relate these passages, the most disagreeable of my whole life, as succinctly to you as I can possibly, and you will content yourself that I should tell you, without descending to the particulars of all the discourse I had with this perfidious man, that he forgot nothing which he thought was capable to persuade me, and dispose me to his intentions. He made a proposition of marriage to me, as a great advantage for me, and would have made me believe that my condition should be very happy with such a man as he, who passionately loved me, and was master of no mean fortune, that in time he should make his peace with you, and the King your Father, and might recover all the possessions and diggnities which he had in Cilicia, and which he forsook only for my sake; but I rejected his propositions with so much scorn, that he not being able to endure such usage, which (judging of my birth as he did) he imputed to an unjust pride; from fair means he fell to threatening, and made me fear all things from the violence of his passion, and the power he had over me. You must have a King's son, said he to me sometimes in his choler, and you will look upon no body under a Crown, and such a Prince as Philadelph. This ambition is very laudable Delia, but you may be very certain that Philadelph dreams no more of you, and if the King his Father had had any care of it be would not have committed you to the conduct of a man, whose love and intentions were known to him: He spoke divers other words to persuade me that the King your Father was not ignorant of what had befallen, and that you would make no account of it when you knew it: but besides the little disposition I had to suspect either▪ of you of that infidelity, I thought so ill of every thing that came out of such a man's mouth, that I gave no credit at all to it.  
Milite, when she saw him transgress the bounds of respect, would have had me declare the truth of my condition to him, and I was often almost resolved to do it, but I considered at last, that this knowledge in stead of making him respect me the more, would have rendered him the more bold to injure the sister of Artaxus, out of hope of being easily pardoned by the King of Cilicia, whose hatred was so cruel against our family; or possibly if he could not work me to his will, he would put me himself into the King's hands, from whom I might expect the worst that could be, if I were known to be the sister of Artaxus. He kept me in this manner above two months at his brother's house, who being as bad, or worse than he, employed every day both prayers and threatenings to make me change my humour. But neither of them could prevail, and the wicked Antigenes after he had tried both ways in vain, at last flew out to the extremities of insolency and villainy, and let me know the perfidiousness of his intentions in a business that threatened me with manifest danger, if the Gods had not succoured me  
I am going now to relate to you, without any farther delay, the most disagreeable passages of my story. I was permitted to walk upon the bank of the river, which washes the foot of the house, and in a great wood which environed it in on every side, but never without having with me, either Antigenes, or his brother named Thrasillus, or many times both of them with six or seven men at their heels.  
One day, attended by this convoy, having followed the bank of the river, where the walk was very pleasant, and being gone farther from Thrasillus' house than ever I had been before, drawing near to a little brook which there about ran into the river, being bordered on both sides with a tuft of trees thicker than the rest of the wood, upon our right hand, some paces distant from us, I heard, after divers sighs and sob●, the voice of a man who by the violence of his grief was forced to complain in that solitary place before insensible witnesses. At the first sound that reached my ears, I stopped and lent attention, but not out of any motion of curiosity, which at that time had little room in my soul, Antigenes who followed me stayed as well as I, and we had not long continued attentive, but we distinctly heard the complaints of that afflicted person. To what intent, said this disconsolate man, to what intent, wretch as thou art, dost thou spain out the remainder of thy unfortunate life in an extremity of misery, when thou seest thyself abandoned by all hope? what motive can any longer make thee endure this deplorable life which hath been divided between glory and misfortunes, and what effect at last dost thou expect from thy grief to execute that, which thine own hand should have performed? Dost thou believe that by that courage which hath acquired thee some reputation amongst men thou oughtest to support with constancy, or rather with insensibility evils worse than the most cruel deaths, from which one death only might have secured thee? The Sun doth now unwillingly lend thee his light, and after the perfidiousness and ingratitude of men, whereby thou seest thyself exposed to so many miseries, all things are contrary to thee, all things are cnemies to thee; there is no more day, there is no more light for thee amongst men, and if that which made thee love the day, be yet a live, it is no more for thee, poor wretch, it is no more for thee, the outcast of men and fortune. He stopped a while after these words, and it seemed to me that this tone of voice was not an absolute stranger to me, although I could not well discern it. I turned myself towards Melite to communicate to her what I thought of it, but I was diverted from it by the sequel of his complaint, which he continued in this manner: O the obscurest night! O the most gloomy darkness, how dear and agreeable are ye to me in comparison of this importunate Sun, which possibly gives light to day to the Fortune of my enemy's! All the rays it darts upon me are so many witnesses of my mis▪ fortunes, and by its light henceforth I can behold nothing, whereupon to fix my sight without repugnance, since that for ever, alas! for ever I have lost the sight of my adorable Princess. Ah! my grief, ah! my just resentment, is it possible that upon so sad a remembrance you can leave my soul in so great tranquillity? Can you content yourselves with a few regrets, and a few tears, which testify my weakness as much as my affliction, when you ought to have made yourselves known to all Asia by Tragical and dreadful marks, and by rivers of blood which should repair such bloody injuries. Ah! without doubt my hand will serve me still upon that design, and that valour which hath acquired me some reputation, amongst men, will arm thousands of them still in my quarrel, if I would wear this sword amongst them to which heretofore they have attributed the gaining of battles: but alas! I have my hands tied by a respect which I ought to preserve to my grave; and my adorable Princess is so much the more worthy of it, as she is innocent of my misfortunes, and hath sympathized in them by her pity; neither can I accuse any body of them but the cruelty of men, and my own ill fortune. The sad unknown accompanied these last words with a throng of sighs, which stopped the passage of them, and sighs and sobs were the only language in which his grief did conclude its expressions, not a word more proceeding from his mouth that we could understand.  
Some moments after, having heard, as I believed, some noise in the place where we were, and avoiding nothing so much as company, he arose from the place where he was to look out one more private, and permitted us to see, as he retired between the trees, the handsome proportion of his body, and part of his face. By that which appeared to our eyes we knew that he was extremely pale and wan, and I perceived very well that his grief might be taken notice of by other marks besides his complaints. My heart was tenderly moved at those which I had heard, and though it seemed to me, as I told you before, that the voice (though a little changed with weakness) was not an absolute stranger to me, I conjectured by the words which I had heard, which spoke of Princesses and the gaining of battles, that he which uttered them was no common person. I mused upon it being very pensive, as much as the remembrance of mine own misery could penrmit me, when Antigenes who had heard all as well as I: This man, said he, whosoever he is, eases his grief by his complaints, whilst another man more wise than he would have been seeking remedies for it. 'Tis, replied I smartly, because he is not a villain, because he is not a ravisher, and because he rather chooses to be miserable all his life, than to owe the end of his misery to his crimes. You see how well he fares for it, answered Antigenes, and how happy his condition is, for having been so respectful and circumspect. 'Tis more happy than yours, said I, being much nettled and much concerned in this discourse, and besides that, he possibly hath the comfort of being beloved by a person whom he serves with respect, as much as you are hated and detested by her whom you use so basely, he hath the satisfaction of not being troubled with any remorse, whilst your conscience may well torment you worse, than the most cruel death.  
I saw that Antigenes grew pale at these words, and was like one amazed, he changed his colour divers times in a moment, he trembled from head to foot, and he seemed to me in the condition of a person that meditated upon some grand design. I confess that the changing of his visage, and his troubled countenance made me afraid, and seeing him in such a form as he had never appeared in to me before, I began to tremble myself out of an apprehension of fear which promised me no good. I was not fearful without reason; for the disloyal villain approaching to me with a furious look: If I am so much hated and so much detested by you, said he, I must merit this hatred and detestation by such actions, as may secure you from the blame which you would have for hating me unjustly, and if I must be exposed to remorse, it shall be for a crime which may yield me some profit, and not for those respects and adorations, which hither to I have so unprofitably rendered you; my patience is stretched to its uttermost dimensions, and I will know this day, whether a heart which is invincible by love and pity can be tamed by any other ways.  
Upon these words (I know not whether his action was premeditated or not, as in probability it was, or whether the occasion prompted him to the design) having made a sign to his brother, and another of those which followed him, they came at the same time to pull Ericlea and Melite from off my arms, who held by me on both sides, and Antigenes putting himself in Ericlea's place, began to lead me by force towards the most private part of the wood, whilst his brother, and one of his men held my two women by violence,  
This action made me desperately afraid, and believing that in such an extremity a disguise was no longer necessary: Antigenes, said I, think what thou goest about, and look no more upon me as an unknown Delia, but as the daughter of a great King, and as a Princess who in what part so ever of the world thou shalt retire to, will make the vengeance of they crime light heavy upon thy head.  
I believe that Antigenes gave no credit to these words, which he thought I was inspired with by the pressing necessity wherein I was, to draw him off from his design by the respect which they might imprint in him. Howsoever it was, he did not seem to be moved at them, and not vouchsafeing so much as to give me a reply, and continued dragging me with all his force towards the most solitary part of the wood. In this extremity I made the wood to Echo with my cries, and my women whom they hindered from coming to my assistance were as loud as I: Their cries and mine without doubt did us more good, than our resistance could have done, and they drew a man to us, who was retired into that thick and solitary place, whom we presently knew to be the same, whose complaint we had heard a little before: He came out from between the trees where he sought for silence and obscurity, and casting his eyes upon us, he presently saw the cause of our cries and the violence they offered to us, and his grief not being capable to extinguish generous resentments in his soul, and the remembrance of the succour that was due to oppressed maids, he ran to us with more speed than could have been expected from the languishing and dejected condition where in he appeared to us. Antigenes seeing him come, and fearing the hindrance of his design more than any other harm he could do him, being accompanied as he was, called his brother, who leaving my women in the hands of two of his men, came to Antigenes with the rest. This number did not trouble the unknown, but addressing himself to Antigenes without so much as looking upon the rest, Base fellow, said he, with an imperious voice, stay, and do not oblige me to give thee thy death for a punishment of thy crime. Antigenes seeing himself fortified by the number of his companions mocked at the pride of the unknown, and not vouchsafing to forbear from his design for him, he made a sign to his brother either to stay him or punish him; but he had to do with a man who was not so easily corrected in that manner, and though he had no more than Antigenes and his companions had, only his sword, without any other arms, he presently presented it to the eyes of his enemies, and fell upon them with as much assurance as if he had been backed by a greater number than theirs. O Gods! Phiiadelph, what proofs of valour did he give us in a few moments, and what speedy execution did he make before our eyes, of five or six men, who seemed as nothing in his single hands? The first that fell under his sword was the brother of Antigenes, whose right arm he cut off at one blow, and made a large passage in his side, through which his soul bore his blood company: and almost at the sacred time, having avoided a blow which another enemy made at him, he thrust his bloody sword into his body up to the hilts. I could see that action, and those he did afterwards, because the perfidious Antigenes no sooner saw his brother fall, but leaving me with a great cry, he ran either to revenge his death or to bear him company. These two which were left to guard my women ran to Antigenes at his cry, and these three enemies fell upon the Valiant Unknown, just as he had cloven the head and half the face of the last of the others with a back blow. He cared as little for these as he had done for the former, and picking out Antigenes between his two companions, he gave him a mortal wound in the throat, with which he fell at his feet, and presently after was choked with his blood and died. My valiant defender received at the same time a slight wound upon his side, which did but encourage him the more, and hastened the death of him who gave it▪ for as he was just turning his back to run away, he thrust his sword into his reins and laid him dead close by Antigenes. The last seeing so bloody an execution, had not confidence any longer to resist so terrible an enemy, and committing his safety to the nimbleness of his heels, he ran cross the wood in a deadly fright.  
I cannot tell you whether was greater in me, the astonishment at so prodigious a valour, or the joy of seeing myself delivered from the hands of my treacherous ravisher, or the horror of being amongst so many dead men, who had lost their lives upon my occasion. I was so amazed, and so troubled, that I had not so much as the power to return thanks to my valiant deliverer, and I continued in a confusion not knowing how to begin to speak to him, when he approaching to me with his bloody sword in his hand, and with a colour which the heat of the combat had raised in his face: Your enemies are dead, Madam, said he, and if there remains any thing to do for your service, I have strength enough still to free you out of a greater danger. He speak no more, because astonishment cut off the thread of his discourse, and he had no sooner cast his eyes a little nearer upon my face, but he was full of amazement, and confusion: My surprise was no less than his, when having looked upon him with attention, and discerned the tone of his voice, maugre the change which three or four years, and an extraordinary paleness might have wrought upon his countenance, I thought I knew him for that brave and valiant Britomarus, of whom I made some small mention to you in my discourse, who by his miraculous actions of valour in a few months attained to the highest martial employments in the service of the King my brother, and quitted it out of a generous resentment against that cruelty, which caused the King your Father's hatred against our family; the very same, who being puffed up with the glory of his gallant actions, had the boldness to raise his eyes to me; and the same, whom, as I told you, I repulsed with choler and disdain only for the meanness of his birth, not finding any thing else in his person which might not make him aspire to the highest fortunes.  
I have heard much talk of Britomarus, said Prince Philadelph, upon this passage of the Princess' relation, and besides the esteem which the same of his great actions hath given me for him, the obligation I have to him for this last, adds to it an acknowledgement and an affection which will render him dear and considerable to me as long as I live: but why must it needs fall out that the punishment of the perfidious Antigenes should be reserved for any other hand than mine? and how could it be just that any other but Philadelph should free his Princess from the danger whereinto she was fallen by the imprudence of the King my Father? It was not necessary, replied Arsinoe, that you should add that obligation to so many others for which I am redevable to you, and I had received sufficient proofs of your affection, without having need of this last, which without doubt your virtue only would have prompted you to, upon the score of an unknown person reduced to the same extremity.  
I doubted still that my eyes did abuse me in the knowledge of Britomarus; but he cleared my doubts in desiring to satisfy his own, and after he had looked upon me a long time with an attention that signified the surprise of his Spirit: O Gods! cried he upon a sudden, can it be possibly that you should be the Princess Arsinoe? I am Arsinoe, answered I, but is it true that you are Britomarus? Yes, Madam, replied he, I am Britomarus, and Britomarus much more happy than he durst hope to be in the deplorable condition whereunto he is now reduced, since he is permitted to see a Princess living, whose death is published all over Asia, and since he hath had the fortune to render you a service which may partly repair the offence by which I formerly merited your indignation.  
These words recalling what was passed to my remembrance, made a blush mount up into my face, but did not hinder me from returning him an answer in these terms: The offence you did me might be repaired by repentance and discontinuation, and the service which you have rendered me is of such a value, that it may not only repair such an injury, but command all the acknowledgement that is due to the generous defender of my life and honour.  
I spoke these words with a real resentment, as without doubt was due to the importance of so great a service, and yet I was not without some displeasure to see myself fallen again into the hands of a man that had made love to me, and though by the knowledge which I had of his virtue, I thought myself secure from those violences and dangers which I had lately escaped, I was aftraid of the company of a man, whom I could not look upon with a particular affection, without being ungrateful to Philadelph's love, and betraying my own courage, which made me formerly so much disdain his presumption: I believed too, as we are apt to flarter ourselves in the good opinion we have of ourselves, that I might have partly caused, either by my disdair, or by the report of my death, his sadness and solitude, and I did not make a sudden reflection upon the words, which I had heard him speak a few moments before which might partly have freed me from that suspicion.  
I know not whether my countenance did any way express the thoughts wherewith my Spirit was at that time disquieted, or whether Britomarus observed any thing by it; but how●ever it was, he spoke to me as if he had seen my very heart, and resuming the discourse after he had been a while silent: If the discontinuation of my fault, said he, may make me hope for pardon, I hope, Madam, that you will look upon me without anger, and though such impressions as are received from such divine powers as yours can hardly be erased out of a soul, yet 'tis certain that mine hath repent of its boldness; time, and the fear of your displeasure, and other adventures wherein my life hath been since employed have wrought that change upon me, that I need not to be any longer odious to you. Do not make any difficulty then to receive those services of me which I am able to render you, and which may be necessary to you in the condition wherein I meet you, and be fully assured, that during the time that I shall be obliged to bear you company, either to complete your delivery from your enemy's power, if you have any yet left, or to reconduct you to the place whither you designed to retire, you shall see nothing in my actions that may importune you, or at least make you fear the return of that passion which you justly condemned.  
These words of Britomarus made me very joyful, and having a good opinion of him, as all those had who were acquainted with his virtue, I presently gave absolute credit to them, and made no difficulty to commit myself to his discretion in the urgent necessity wherein I was at that present, but speaking to him with a more assured countenance than before; I shall never doubt, said I to him, but that virtue will be your guide in all your actions, and you are so habituated in the practice of it, that I should be much too blame if I should be afraid to find any thing troublesome or disagreeable in you: The change you have received in that passion, which I condemned out of a natural repugnance I had against it, rather than out of any disdain of your person, adds a new obligation to the service which you have rendered me, and in this condition you may believe that I shall esteem and respect you as long a● I live, as the merit of your person, and the importance of the assistance I have received from you do oblige me: I do not refuse the generous offers which you make me, and though I have suffered much for having committed myself to the conduct of men, I will not be afraid to trust myself with you, because of the knowledge I have of you.  
After these words, which he received with a great deal of respect, he asked me what my intention was, and I having told him that I would return no more to my enemy's house, where I had been a long time captive, and in the danger out of which he had rescued me by his valour: he told me that he was lodged but a few furlongs from that place at a friends house who was a native of that Country, where he had been stayed by a sickness which had detained him there some days, and that if it pleased me to take my retreat there, I should be secured from all manner of enemies to the last drop of his blood, and in the mean time he would give order to accommodate us with a vessel, and other necessaries to conduct me into Armenia, or any other part of the world whither it should please me to retire. I thanked him very much for his good intentions, and did not refuse the effects of them, making the extremity whereunto I was reduced, my excuse for the incivility which I was constrained to commit, in suffering him to quit his own interests for mine, and to interrupt the designs he might have to protect me in Cyprus, and to conduct me into Armenia.  
After I had desired his pardon, I made no difficulty to follow him, but permitted him to lead me to the house where he had taken up his abode. It was distant from that place about a quarter of an hours walk for softly goers, and Britomarus seeking after nothing so much as solitude, a voided the company of his servants, and all persons that might interrupt him in the entertainment of his sad thoughts. We found there some number of domestics, who durst not follow their master in his walks, though they would not part from him in his voyages, what change of fortune so ever might befall him. Though the house was not very great, yet I had a very convenient lodging there for myself and my women, and I was served with all the respect that I could desire of so vet●uous a man a● Britomarus. The master of the house (who was one of his Officers) had the care of procuring from the next Town all things that were necessary for us for the stay we were to make in that house, and another of his servants went the second day after to go seek and stay a vessel at the next port upon the way to Armenia.  
In the time of our tarrying there, I received from Britomarus, as much as his sadness would permit him, all the consolation he could give me in my displeasures, and I did all that possibly I could upon my part to mitigate the mortal grief that appeared in all his actions: but in that I laboured in vain, and though he constrained himself very much to make his company supportable to me, I think that during all the time of our continuance together, I did not see him ' laugh so much as once, or any way express to me that his affliction had been eased for so much as a momen. His sighs made continual sallies out of his breast, accompanied with sobs, and sometimes with some complaints, which with all his moderation he could not refrain, and at those hours when he did not think himself obliged to keep me company, he went abroad in the morning to seek for solitude in those places which were least frequented by the society of men. He kept his promise very exactly with me which he had made not to give me any marks of the return of his former passion either by his discourse or actions, and in stead of making me fear any such thing, he made me judge with a great deal of probability, that that passion had given place to a second, where with his Spirit was at that time disquieted; and which in my thoughts, made up the greatest part of his displeasures and inquietudes. As I saw no design in him to discover himself any farther to me, so I did not desire to press him to it, and I expected that only from his own will, which I could not ask him without indiscretion, yet one day having expressed a little more curiosity than ordinary, yet not so much as to make him judge that I desired to know more of him than he was willing I should, forcing some sighs which commonly broke off the thread of his discourse, and hardly retaining some tears which were ready to overslow his eyes: Madam, said he, if there were any thing of divertisement in my life, I would have given you a relation of it, to pass away the tediousness of your solitude: but of all that I have to tell you there is nothing worthy of your attention. I will only tell you, that Fortune hath diversely sported herself with my destiny; she hath given me in all places, where I have worn a sword, all the glory and reputation that I could desire amongst men; by a little valour which she hath well seconded, she hath sometimes put me into a condition that the most considerable King's daughters in the world would have endured the declaration and progress of my love, without being offended at it, and she hath sometimes puffed me up with such a pride, that I could hardly look upon the most puissant Kings upon earth as my superiors: but if she hath served me in my glory she hath abandoned me in the repose of my life, and hath left me nothing of all the good I received from her or myself, but the regret of having lost all, and the cruel remembrance of those fair hopes which possibly I had unjustly conceived. Since this hard change, or rather since this deplorable fall, I wander like a Ghost amongst men, finding nothing amongst them but ingratitude and infidelity, and I spain out a languishing life by an absolute command which hath not permitted me to dispose of my destiny, as without doubt I should have done, if an obedience, which ought to continue as long as my life had left me at liberty.  
Britomarus spoke in this manner, and I perceived that he was not willing that I should know any more, so that I expressed no desire that way, I only let him know that I sympathized with him in his displeasures, and I did all that possibly I could, by such reasons and examples as I alleged to him, to make him hope for some happy change in his condition. I was not so reserved towards him as he was to me, but the second day I spent in his company, I told him plainly all that had befallen me since his departure from Armenia, believing myself obliged to put that confidence in a man to whom I was so much redevable, and not seeing (after the change of his affections) any reason which engaged me not to acquaint him with the truth. I may truly say, that by the relation which I made to him of your generous and sincere carriage towards me, I rendered him very affectionate to you, and he often testified to me by his discourse, that he should be much satisfied in the opportunities of serving a Prince, whose virtue he infinitely esteemed upon my narration.  
In the mean time, I know not, Philadelph, whether I am obliged to tell you what place you possessed at that time in my memory, and whether modesty will permit me to confess that my thoughts were daily upon you, as a person whose Idea did pleasingly flatter me, and as a Prince, whom without ingratitude I could not forget. 'Tis certain, Philadelph, and I will tell you as much without any fear that you should abuse it, or make any ill construction of it, that during the time I continued captive with Antigenes, and at liberty with Britomarus, you came oftener into my mind than possibly you should have done, and when I complained of my misfortunes, I complained of them more upon your consideration than upon mine own. I will speak no more of this Philadelph, and without doubt I have spoken enough to make you judge that I have wanted neither acknowledgement, nor inclination for you.  
Our stay at that house was longer than we expected, and though the man whom Britomarus had sent to make stay of a vessel, executed his commission with a great deal of diligence, yet we were fain to wait till the wind, which was then quite contrary to our intended course, became favourable to our navigation, and in the mean while, by a misfortune which made me shed a great many tears, and which I still do oftentimes deplore, my Governess Ericlea, whom you saw pass for my Aunt in Cilicia, and to whom I had dear and tender obligations, as well for the care she had bestowed upon my education, as for her readiness to comfort me in my afflictions with a great deal of constancy and firmness of courage, fell sick, and died within fifteen days. I was very nearly sensible, of this loss, as well for the reasons which I have alleged to you, as in respect of our friendship which was much more strongly established in my Spirit by our voyages, and common crosses, than if we had never stirred out of Armenia; but after I had bestowed some days in deploring her death, the acquaintance which I had long since contracted with grief, did a little mitigate it, and made me accustom myself to this displeasure, as I had enured myself to so many other afflictions, that my ill fortune had raised me.  
After we had rendered her our last devoi S, and furnished ourselves with all things necessary for our voyage, as well by Sea as by land, we departed from that house under the conduct of Britomarus, attended by fifteen or twenty men which continued still in his service, and we went down the river Lapithus in boats, which carried us to Cemunia, where the river disembogues itself into the Sea, and there we embarked the same day in the vessel which waited for us.  
Our straightest way to go into Armenia, was to return to Tharsus, and to cross all Cilicia, and this way we had only an arm of the Sea to pass over: but I desired to avoid all occasions of being seen again in the King your Father's Court, whither you might have been returned, and where I might have been stayed by some accident, and because we could not avoid passing through a corner of Cilicia, Britomarus, who was well acquainttd with the Map, was of opinion that we should coast between that Kingdom and the Island which we lest, and go land at the foot of the mountain Amanus hard by the place called the straits of Amanus, by this means our voyage by Sea would be much longer, but our journey by land much shortened.  
I absolutely committed myself to the good conduct of Britomarus, and having so much confidence in his virtue, I hardly enquired what his intention was. He had a resentment against the King my brother, for the displeasure he had done him by the death of your two Kinsmen, which would not permit him to go to his Court, and conduct me to Artaxata, but he promised me to bring me as near the City as I pleased, and it was sufficient for me to be conducted to the first place upon the frontiers, where I believed I should find a convenient convoy, and all things necessary for the performance of my voyage: But the Gods disposed things otherwise than we had proposed, and sailing with a favourable wind we had hardly lost the sight of the Isle of Cyprus, when we met with a vessel of Pirates, which having sailed close up to us with all the signs of peace, and passed by us to view us without discovering themselves, they had no sooner observed the small number of our men, but trusting in their own, which was a great deal bigger, they turned their prow towards us, and after they had cried out to us to yield, they fell upon us with a great deal of fury.  
Britomarus' clapped on his armour in a moment, and encouraging his men with a few words, he put himself in the head of them with his sword in his hand, and finding himself more fit, for this kind of combat, than for that with arrows which the Pirates shot at our men, he gave them leave to grapple our vessel, and presented himself the first upon the deck to the enemies that would enter.  
You may judge, Philadelph, in what a fright I was at that time, and though I had a very great confidence in the valour of my defender, the great number of our enemies froze me with fear, and made me, not without reason, to tremble in thinking what might be the success of so unequal a combat, yet I was ashamed to go and hide myself, and though those enemies which could not come to handy-blows, shot arrows at us with which I might have been hurt, yet I did not go down into the Hold as Melite advised me, but stood a little out of the way, where I might see a good part of what passed, and there according as necessity presented itself to my sight, I made vows to Heaven with a great deal of fervency.  
You will not credit my discourse, Philadelph, when I shall relate to you the prodigious effects of Britomarus' valour, but 'tis certain for all that, that I shall add nothing to the truth, when I shall tell you that a batallion of armed men upon the deck could not have done greater service, nor made greater resistance than he did with his single hand, and the few men he had with him, being ranked on each side of him, and animated by his example, did things infinitely above their ordinary strength. The first that were so bold as to board our vessel were tumbled back dead either into their own, or into the Sea by the hand of Britomarus, and in a few moments he was so covered with the blood of the most adventurous, that the rest were as much afraid of his approach as of lightning and thunderbolts, and assaulted him with the more precaution. The success of the combat was still doubtful, and if the valour of Britomarus gave us some hope of the victory, the number of our enemies which exceeded our men by one half, made us partly despair of it, and in all likelihood there was as much cause to fear as to hope, when amongst the Slaves which were in the Pirates vessel, one above all the rest who had both his legs and arms laden with Irons, turning himself towards some of his companions, whilst the last of the Pirates, seeing that all their forces were but necessary, were run to the combat: Friends, said he, what hinders us from attempting to regain our liberty, free me from these Irons which shackle me, and you shall see how I will open you the way to it. He had hardly uttered these words, but two slaves who owed him a more particular respect than the others, presently took his Irons in hand, and by the help of their companions having freed him of them with some pain, he instantly clapped a shield upon his arm, which he found at his feet, and snatching, with as much swiftness as an Eagle, the sword out of the first Pirat's hand that came in his way, he laid two of them dead at his feet with the two first blows he gave amongst them, and throwing himself amongst the rest with a marvelous fury, he presently filled them with terror, disorder, and confusion. Only three or four men followed him in this encounter, and the rest being uncertain of the issue, expected it with a great deal of fear not daring to declare themselves. Britomarus' having perceived this assistance by the tumult which he saw, and the cries which he heard amongst the Pirates, resolutely leapt into their vessel, and laying the first he met at his feet, he flew amongst the others like a Lion; he was courageously seconded by his men, and to abridge the discourse of a thing wherein I have no skill, after the general fright had seized upon the Pirates they made no considerable resistance.  
In this condition the slaves who durst not expose themselves to danget a few moments before, killed a good part of them, and a small number of the rest was saved by the pity of Britomarus, and that valiant Slave which had so great a share in the victory. Britomarus and he did mutually admire each other, and if the slave saw Britomarus kill the Commanders of the Pirates with his own hand, and lay more of them upon the ground than all that followed him, Britomarus saw the slave, though without any arms more than a Sword and a Shield, give almost as many deaths as blows, and hew the bodies of the Pirates with such wounds as could not proceed but from a prodigious force.  
After that their hands had no more employment ● exercise themselves about that was comformale to their generosity, and they had cried to one nother to pardon those who made no resistance, hay advanced reciprocally one towards the other, and by their looks prevented the testimonies of mutual esteem which they desired to give each other. Britomarus' lifted up the beaver of his Helmet, but the valiant slave had his face bare, and Britomarus had no sooner cast his eyes upon him, ●ut with an admirable beauty he discerned some features which were not unknown to him. Amazement immediately surprised him in such a manner that he continued dumb some moments, but a little after having viewed his face with a little more attention: O Gods! cried he, do not I see Prince Ariobarcanes? for it was he indeed. By this tone of voice perfectly knowing Britomarus, whom his countenance and valour had almost discovered: Yes, answered he, running to him with his arms open, I am Ariobarzanes, and having seen the miracles you have done upon this occasion, I make no more doubt but that you are Britomarus. After these words they embraced each other with expressions full of affection, and all the satisfaction they were capable of receiving one from another in the condition of their fortune, but Britomarus was the most amazed of the two, to see before him a Prince whom he thought to be dead, both according to the public report, and the particular account I had given him of our shipwreck, He began to express his astonishment to him, and my brother was about to give a true relation of what had passed, when the name of Ariobarzanes was carried from mouth to mouth to the place where I was and hearing them say divers times that Prince Ariobarzanes was in the Pirate's Vessel, I was so transported at it, that running amongst the dead bodies without fear, and throwing myself into the Vessel, which was grappled to ours, I went to seek in the middle of the throng for that brother whom I had so much lamented, and who had always been dearer to me than my life. I found him, I saw him, I knew him, and he was not a little amazed when he felt me hanging about his neck, and heard me use all the expressions that so unexpected a joy could put into my mouth. I gave him no leisure a long time to inform himself, and to satisfy his eyes in those doubts, which his ears had raised upon my interrupted discourses.  
It would be very hard, Philadelph, to repeat to you our discourses full of transport and confusion and to represent to you the amazement we wer● both in at so unexpected an encounter, it would be sufficient to make you comprehend it, if you had known with what friendship we had been always linked together, and had well understood what grief we endured whilst we thought each other dead. We could not for a long time giv credit to our eyes or ears, and a whole hour, being spent in exclamations and incoherent questions, could hardly make us believe our happiness At last when we had resolved ourselves that w were alive indeed without illusion, amazemen surrendered its place to joy, and we solemnised it by all the marks that could be expressed in so uncommon an adventure. Ha! brother, said I, how can I contain the joy which I have to see you living after I had shed so many tears for your supposed death? Ha! sister, said he, what other comfort could I receive in my afflictions, but to meet so dear a sister, whom the Gods bestow anew upon me, after that, in my opinion, they had taken her out of the world? The opinion of your loss, replied I, made me out of love with life: And the meeting, with you, added he, interrupting me, makes me endure it with pleasure, at a time when my misfortune makes me support it with regret.  
We spent a great deal of time in this manner of conversation, but Ariobarzanes broke it off at last, to render due thanks to Britomarus for his liberty, to inform himself by what fortune I was in his company, and to be satisfied in a great many particulars of this adventure which caused his astonishment. Before I acquainted him with other things, as I pretended to do at large, I told him in a few words the obligation I had to Britomarus, and the adventure that obliged me to put myself under his conduct, and having let him know by this discourse how redevable we were both to him, I filled him with resentment for that valiant man to whom we owed our honour, life and liberty. Ha! generous Britomarus, said he, hugging him between his arms, with how much envy should I look upon you, if the benefits with which you have chained us to you, would permit me to do it without ingratitude, and how unjust will Heaven be if it do not recompense your virtue with the highest fortunes that it can bestow upon men? I have received great favours thence some days since, replied Britomarus, in being permitted to render a small service to those persons, to whom I owed and had vowed a great deal more, but as for this, valiant Prince, you have little reason to believe that you are redevable to me for it, and this victory which hath regained your liberty is the effect of your own valour, and the assistance you gave us, rather than of any thing I could have done without you help.  
Ariobarzanes answered the modest discourse of Britomarus with the like submission, and after a conversation full of civility, and as many caresses as two men could use, who were under the tyranny of grief, they desired we might pass into our vessel, which was not so much embrued with blood, nor so full of Tragical spectacles, as the Pirates was, in which Britomarus intended to put things in order, and set the slaves at liberty, restoring them the goods which were taken from them. Amongst them there were two Medes, whom, as we retired into our vessel, we saw fall down at Britomarus' feet, and express divers signs of astonishment and joy to meet him.  
Whilst Britomarus was discoursing with them, Ariobarzanes and I retired ourselves into my chamber, where presently we began to give one another an account of the successes by which we were saved from shipwreck, and of those things which had happened since our separation. I made a relation of my adventures first, being unwilling to deprive Britomarus who was absent and well acquainted with mine, of the satisfaction he might receive in hearing Ariobarzanes' story. The Prince was sensibly touched with my discourse, and upon the relation I made him of what you had done for me in your Kingdom, he conceived so much resentment, and so much affection for you, that he often broke our into exclamations, and protested to me that he never more earnestly desired any thing than to see you, and to express his acknowledgement to you for your generous bounty. He himself in some passages blamed my procedure of a little too much severity and circumspection, but he was partial, Philadelph, and of the opinion of all other men, to whom the rules of our duty are not known, or rather to whom the practice of them is not agreeable.  
We had passed two or three hours in discourse without seeing Britomarus, and when we enquired for him, they told us that after he had entertained himself a while with the two Medes, to whom he had restored their liberty, and the goods which the Pirates had taken from them, he shut himself up in the Cabin of that vessel, and prayed them to let him alone a few hours without interrupting him. The acquaintance I had with him, which rendered his sadness very familiar to me, made me receive this news without astonishment; and I was not at all surprised at it; presently after they served in supper, and part of the night was spent and yet we had no sight of him.  
We bestowed the rest of the night in sleep, I having certified my brother, that we could not do a greater displeasure to Britomarus than to trouble his solitude: But the next day we were no sooner awake, but we saw him come into the Cabin in such a condition as presently filled me with fear and pity. His countenance was so changed that it could hardly be known, and one could hardly have imagined that the space of divers days could have wrought that change which appeared there in a few hours, his complexion was pale and wan, his eyes wild and rolling in his head with a fierce look, and in all his countenance there was the true image of a man not far from the brink of despair. Yet he used some endeavours to refrain himself before us, and forcing some sobs that opposed the current of his speech: Madam, said he, though I had no inclination to appear again to the world in this sad condition, which makes my company insupportable, yet I had a design to render you the service which I owe you, and I should not have left you, till you had been conducted to the place where you would have pleased to have made your residence. The Gods are my witnesses that the wretched remainders of my life were employed in that office with a great deal of satisfaction, and I should never have neglected the opportunities of doing you service, upon any consideration of mine own interest: But seeing that the Gods have more advantageously provided for your conduct, than when they called me to that honour, and have permitted me to commit you into the Prince your brother's hands, who may conduct you into your own Country a great deal more conveniently than I can do; give me leave, if you please, to run that course which my destiny calls me to: my condition and the state of my mind are so much changed since yesterday, that I have no comfort nor remedy left in the world, but only what I am now going in search of. I leave you this vessel furnished with all necessaries, and of all these persons, of whom you may have need in the rest of your voyage, I will have only three of my servants along with me, and the rest shall continne at your service in this vessel; that which we have taken from the Pirates shall serve my turn, with the assistance of some persons that I have met there, who will guide me to the place, whither I must needs make all the haste, I can. Pardon, Madam, pardon, generous Prince, continued he, addressing himself to Ariobarzanes, the hastiness of my departure, and believe that the necessity which constrains me to it, renders me more worthy of your pity, than of your displeasure for this incivility.  
Having spoken these words he parted from us, without giving me time to reply, to thank him for his generous assistance, and to express my sorrow for the redoubling of his grief. Ariobarzanes having continued a while very much surprised and full of passion, arose from the place where he lay to run after him, but he was already gone into the Pirates vessel, and having caused it to be disengaged from ours, was put off to sea at full sail.  
See, in what manner the valiant Britomarus went from us, and not having heard of him ever since, leaving us a very great regret for his departure, a just resentment for the obligations we had to him, and an admiration of his virtue, which makes us preserve the memory of him as of a miraculous person.  
Ha! Madam, cried Prince Philadelph, at this passage, how much reason have you to preserve this esteem, and how willingly would I purchase opportunities to spend my blood for the interests of a man to whom I owe my Princess.  
If you were acquainted with his person, replied the Princess, you would say more, and you would judge that Fortune would not have denied him to have been born to a Crown, but only because they are all inferior to his courage and virtue.  
I am very happy, added the Prince smiling, that he was no longer my rival, and though he was not born to a Crown, I should be more afraid of him, than of those whom Fortune had best befriended that way.  
You need not fear any thing, answered Arsinoe, for besides your birth and your Crowns, you are endued with all the qualities which may make a person considerable, and more than that you have the advantage of so many services, and of so many precious proofs of affection, that I should be the most ingrateful person of the world, if I should not prefer you as long as I live before the masters of the Universe.  
But to finish my narration, I will tell you, that we would have continued our voyage towards Armenia, but the Prince my brother prayed me first to hear the relation of his adventures, and having discoursed them to me in the same place, where he acquainted me with as great and as wonderful things as ever I heard of, which you shall hear at better leisure, either from his mouth or mine; he let me know at last that he was necessarily obliged to be at Alexandria with all possible speed, believing that in that place only he might hear news of a person, to whom he had absolutesy devoted his life, and without whom he could have neither repose nor comfort. Though I had a great desire to return to my native Country, and though the memory of you might make me fear on your behalf, that, if I had any place still in your thoughts, you would seek for me in Armenia to no purpose: yet my brother's interest was so urgent, and of so great importance (as you will understand when I shall acquaint you with it) that I should have been absolutely void of friendship, and respect towards him, if I should have expressed the least repugnance to go that voyage, before I went to Armenia.  
Ariobarzanes gave me to understand that we went to seek in that Country for what he had lost, that being the only part of the world where he believed he might receive intelligence: and that if the Gods would permit him to find satisfaction there, we should go into our native Country full of joy and contentment, but if fortune crossed him, he would reconduct me out of Egypt into Armenia the shortest and the easiest way. I loved Ariobarzanes so well that I desired his repose as much as mine own, and by the relation which he made me of his strange adventures, I did so much interest myself in the fortune of that person for whom he sought, that I was the first that urged that voyage, and told him that all the trouble I could endure upon that account was not considerable in relation to a design of that importance.  
Ariobarzanes embraced me with tears in his eyes, as well in respect to the marks of affection which he found in me, as to the memory of the deplorable condition of his fortune, wherein I did so participate, that he hardly seemed to be more afflicted than I.  
We turned about our vessel, and the wind not being contrary to us, in a short time we entered into the Syrian Sea: but, as ill luck would have it, either the troubles of my mind, or the toil of my body made me fall sick, and it came to such an extremity, that Ariobarzanes, notwithstanding the impatience which carried him along in that voyage, perceiving that in that condition I could not brook the Sea, landed us at Sidon, where (to make as quick dispatch of a thing of so small importance as I can possibly) whatsoever care I took to forward my recovery, I was not in a condition to endure the Sea for above a month.  
After that time we put to Sea again, where contrary to my expectation, I suddenly recovered my health. The men which Britomarus left us accompanied and served us all the voyage with a great deal of affection; and by the diligence, and good conduct of his Mariners, without any adventure worth speaking of, we arrived yesterday in the evening upon this coast. But our Vessel was in so bad a condition, having born the brunt of a furious Tempest but a few days since, that we did not think we could lie there all night in safety: and leaving the care to our men to raccommode it, we came out of it in that condition wherein you met us to come to this City; but it was so late that night surprised us in the Wood, and so dark, that not knowing the way, we were constrained to take up our lodging under the trees, where we spent the night, and whither our common destiny conducted you, to render you what you sought for with more trouble than I deserved, and to give me the comfort of seeing a Prince again, who for so many reasons ought to be most dear to me, and highly esteemed by me as long as I live.  
Arsinoe ended her discourse in this manner, and when she had done speaking, the passionate Prince throwing himself at her feet, and embracing her knees with tears of joy, expressed himself with so much ardour, that the Princess to whom the testimonies of his love were not disagreeable, was more moved to tenderness than ever she had been before, and gave him all the marks of affection, that he could expect from so eminent a virtue as Delia's was.   
The end of the Sixth Part.